Court Of Ice And Ash Mga Nobela at Kwento

Thicker Than Blood Azaria’s POV A stiff castle built upon the bones of this earth in shadow and on stone. The magic that was woven into it could be sensed even at the distance. Old. Cursed. It clawed at my senses, thick as oil, trying to blind me before I even reached the gates. Ashley was still recovering in a warded glade below the cliffs, under protection. I’d left her behind with a promise: I’ll bring them back. All of them. Or I won’t come back at all.

So right now ,I don't know how she's faring. I got a lawyer and Madison volunteered to testify as a victim of Felix. From what I see ,we have the upper hand if we play our cards right. Now we had to wait. It was fucking frustrating not been able to see her but I kept my cool. Her parents had put their hope in me and I wasn't going to let them down. I was back at the vault for the supposed meeting. Aslan and some lords were present dressed in black suits. They weren't much ,just the lords that were in opposition and a few that weren't.

“You think she rules you. But I know her mind. I am her mind. And I know she’s terrified of what she’ll become when you’re gone.” Amara’s hand brushed Luca’s arm. “Don’t.” “She’s trying to bait you,” she said softly. The clone stepped closer. “Tell me, Queen of Ash — how does it feel to wear a crown built on the bones of men who worshiped you?” Amara didn’t flinch. “It feels heavy. And earned. Something you’ll never understand.” A low rumble began beneath the ground. The air filled with the sound of shifting metal — the Ash Legion emerging from beneath the square. Dozens, then hundreds of them, crawling up through the marble like insects.

The runes pulsed like a heartbeat. The shadow paused just beyond the circle. It had no clear form, but hints of a muzzle and claws flickered in and out of existence, as if it couldn’t quite decide what it was. When it opened its mouth, no sound came out — only a ripple of cold that raised gooseflesh on everyone’s skin. Jude whispered, “What the hell…” Lyra’s eyes hardened. “It’s a Hound of Ash,” she said. “He makes them from the wolves who fight him.”

Hope The light is blinding to my sensitive eyes as we emerge from the depths of the cellar. we are hurried along a wide hallway leading to huge wooden double doors. The sound of men shouting as the prisioners huddle together booms in my ears. Blinking to adust to the change of light i look around taking in my surroundings. We are standing in what looks to be a large cathedral. Its beautiful marbel floors lined with gold and giant floor to celling pillars covered in intricate patterens and vines. Lanters line the walls iluminating the large room. Ive never seen anything so beautiful. A large fireplace cut out into the wall burns the chill of winter away. At the end of the room steps climb to

And he sure as hell wasn’t going to wait for Luca Ashford to step out of the trees with her at his side. He grabbed his jacket. He was going to that forest. Retreat or not - he’d already started moving. The storm came in fast. Wind clawed at the lodge windows. The fire snapped and spat sparks, lighting the room in restless amber. Althea curled on the old sofa, blanket over her shoulders, Umbra pressed warm against her thigh. The edges of her magic throbbed with new awareness - quiet, steady, but deep. Luca wasn’t pacing anymore. He was standing at the window, one hand braced against the frame, rain streaking down behind him as if the storm was tracing the lines of his body.

Rowan POV The last thing I remember before the ground rises to meet me— Is her hand still in mine. --- The red targeting lights scatter across the pavement like a constellation of manufactured stars, each one steady and deliberate and merciless, each one resting against flesh and bone with quiet certainty, and for the first time since extinction began, I understand something with brutal clarity. There are too many. Too many hunters. Too many weapons. Too much silver. Too much poison already inside me. I am running on instinct alone now.

The retreat of the Sun-Eaters had left behind a world that felt fundamentally broken. As I stood on the ramparts, leaning heavily into Silas’s warmth, I looked out over the valley. The snow, once a pristine and sparkling white, was gone. In its place was a thick, suffocating layer of pale grey ash—the remains of the ancient forest and the pulverized spirits of the Council’s ritual. It looked like a graveyard of a world that had forgotten how to breathe.