Eternal Embers Book Box Novels & Stories

Rowena groused. “You know, there might be dragons out there who hoard books,” I pointed out. Rowena rolled her eyes. “Ember, darling, you’re not a dragon.” “You never know. I could be.” I held up my gloved hands and gave Rowena a sardonic smile. “True,” Rowena mumbled. “But I’ve yet to see you grow wings and a tail, so off you pop with those books.” “Yes, ma’am,” I teased and scooped up the armload of books. In the process, I knocked the cardboard box and a whole host of opened mail onto the floor.

Ethan whispered. Nathan turned to him. “Do you miss it?” Ethan nodded slowly. “Every single day.” Then he smiled. “But I don’t need to come back anymore. Because the spark stayed.” Before they left, Cam caught up to them at the front door. She handed Ethan a small box. “What’s this?” he asked. “Something we made.” Inside was a pendant. Shaped like a flame. On the back, etched in tiny letters: “Still warm.”

“Now you’ll remember what I want.” “My queen,” she whispered. I smiled. “Better.” She obeyed when I told her to bring me the black box from the altar. Inside it lay a shard of obsidian shaped like a fang. I lifted it reverently, pressing it against my heart. It melted into my skin with a hiss. “The heart of a fallen god,” I whispered. Power shuddered through Ember’s body, fierce and endless. Blood dripped from my nose; I licked it away lazily. “Perfection.”

The Keeper’s Ember pulsed gently at her side. “This fire,” she said softly, “has passed through hands bloodied by war, cracked by grief, and strengthened by love.” She looked from face to face. “But now, it passes into yours.” One by one, she approached the carriers, touching the orb gently to their flames. Each ember grew—not with force, but with resonance, a subtle harmony of light and memory. When she reached the final carrier, a boy no older than twelve from the Southern Caverns, he leaned forward and whispered, “I will remember you.”

His eyes flickered with both longing and fear, and I felt a thrill of power surge within me. I stepped closer, my fingers grazing his cheek, the warmth of my touch sending shivers down his spine. “Embrace me,” I urged, leaning in closer, my lips brushing against his ear. “You are mine. Forever.” 7 ELIAS Her words swirled around me, intoxicating and dangerous. I was trapped in her spell, torn between the desire that consumed me and the horror of what I was becoming. The asylum had morphed into a labyrinth of despair, each turn leading me deeper into madness.

Resting in her palm was a single ember. Not hot. Not cold. Just waiting. > “Then take this,” she whispered. “The flame they called forbidden. The one they were too afraid to name.” — The Flame’s Question Azriel reached for the ember. The eighth flame in his chest pulsed once, steady and warm, like a hand on his back saying: yes. And the ember didn’t flare—it opened. The sky outside split—not in fury, but in invitation. The boy jolted awake, his breath catching like a note in a broken song.

And I see it. A ring of trees scorched black at the base, yet alive. In the center, glowing like an ember from the bones of the earth, is the Heartwood Emberroot. Blood-red tendrils curl around stone. Fire dances faintly through its veins. I step forward. “Wait,” Inferno warns. “He’s coming.”

Right when I scanned my boarding pass and stepped through the gate, he called out, "Lucille, is there really no chance for us?" I did not stop walking. That was the clearest answer I could give him. The flight from Ember City to Cascade City flew by, just three hours. I had never been to Cascade City before. It was chillier than I expected. I checked into the cozy B&B I had booked instead of some fancy hotel. I wanted to feel the pulse of the place.

“Are you ok?” “Nightly dreams. It’s the purpose of the box. Keeping the flames contained.” Ember shrugged her shoulders. Sitting on the bed she began slipping on her shoes. Watching her move was distracting him. Shaking his head, he looked at the box. Getting his first look at the inside and he felt anger bubble up. Scorch marks covered the whole interior. There was no pillow or cushion. Just an empty, cold interior that didn’t look like it should fit the gorgeous woman calmly sitting in front of him. Forgetting to approach the subject delicately with his emotions getting the best of him.

So how could I have sent anything? Agnes Wright lowered her eyes, and I couldn’t read her expression. I thought she would defend Ralph Yule like she always had, but this time, she simply said, “Open it. Let’s see what it is.” The guests immediately started whispering again. “Jacob was Ms. Wright’s former fiancé. And after all that shameless cheating behind her back, it’s only natural she’d want to see what kind of trick he’s up to.” Ralph tried to stop it, but in the next second, Agnes had opened the gift. Inside was an old phone, and I recognized it instantly because it was mine. On the screen, there were seven unwatched videos.