Dying Embers Novels & Stories

She answered her husband as she said, "Yes, a piece of wood or coal that is not burning, but is still red and hot after a fire has died." "What about Flame?" "The glossy part of the fire, cuddly bear," Saavi replied pulling Dhruv's nose. "What importance does an Ember hold to the Fire, love?" Dhruv waited for his love to answer who in reply said to him, "Ember ignites the fire and in its absence, the flame dies." "Exactly, just like that, you are important to me. You are the ember to my flame and without you, I will die." Saavi smiled as a happy tear when left her eye she confessed, "I love you, Dhruv. You are The Ember To My Flame."

"She is fine. She was just worried, that was why she called." "Where is your brother?," out of curiosity, she asked him. "He left, but we have talked already." "There is an emergency, he said. Daphne's family restaurant is being devoured by a fire. Daphne is his best pal here," Simone said with a tone of speculation. She just nodded. "Let's eat now ." After eating an awfully delightful meal for dinner, they stayed for a couple of minutes in the living room watching a local broadcasting segment of a Regional TV Network.

The idea of her lifeless body somewhere in this inferno made his breath hitch. Calista struggled against the restraints that bound her to the chair. Her wrists burned from the ropes chafing her skin as she twisted and pulled. Sweat dripped down her forehead, mingling with the tears streaming from her eyes. The acrid smell of smoke filled her nostrils, and she coughed violently, gasping for air. “Please, no,” she whispered, her voice trembling. The room grew hotter by the second. Flames danced along the walls, their fiery tendrils creeping closer. Her lungs burned, each breath becoming a struggle. Memories of her parents’ faces flashed before her eyes, followed by the memory of Ranya. Her hea

"A stupid whore who couldn't kill your father and now beings like him killed her, and they are going to do the same to you!" She shuddered, her eyes narrowed, and a growl escaped her. "I said leave me the fuck alone!" Emberlynn fell to her knees, tears brimming in her eyes. The air was heavy with the stench of death, a noxious odor that clung to her skin like a shroud. She gazed upon the weathered scaffold, its wooden beams seeming to writhe in agony as if the very structure itself had borne witness to the horrors that had unfolded beneath its shadow.

Emberflame. It had not been an ordinary fire. It had been lineage-bound. Glimmering gold, sovereign-defined flame that answered only to blood and crown. It had lived in the marrow of their queen, threaded through her veins like molten inheritance. When she fell—when he had watched her flame gutter and collapse into ash beneath a sky choked with cinders—the Emberflame had died with her. Not weakened. Not scattered. Extinguished entirely. He had felt that ending in his bones, a severing that rippled through the battlefield like the snapping of a divine tether.

There’s no need to sugarcoat urgent things like this. Ember went silent for a while, she looked at Liam, reading his thoughts and she couldn’t read him. He was so good at hiding his own emotions, Ember thought. “What did you see in that dream? Or whatever it is? I think you can help us if you tell me anything that you saw, it could be useful.” Ember swallowed the lump in her throat. What did she see? A lot of dead people. Blood. She saw death. She bit her lower lip to suppress the surges of her emotions. She saw young children being burned alive.

He sat up. And saw her. Standing in the doorway. Scar under her jaw. Smoke still in her hair. But her eyes? Peaceful. And dangerous. She said nothing. He said: “Did you win?” Ember walked forward. And said the only thing that mattered. “I remembered who I am.” LOCATION: Cinder Vault – Post-Erasure TIME: 11:41 a.m. The vault was collapsing. Flames crawled along the ceiling panels, eating away the metal like old sins peeling free of bone. The purge sequence ticked louder with every step Ember took.

Ashborn crucified in mirrors. Sirelia smiling with no mouth. And the God Below whispering, “Reflection is the first betrayal.” She stumbles back. The vision fades. But her palm still smokes. Later that night, Emberhold holds silence. Not mourning. Listening. Because something in the fire has changed. And not all the dead are resting. Not anymore.