From Blood And Ash 3 Novels & Stories

Her copper rune-threaded robes fluttered as she turned, eyes locking onto mine with a smile too sharp to be warm. “Elias,” she said, voice airy and bright as ever. “We need your help with a bit of an anomaly.” “Aurelian,” I replied flatly, not bothering to ask. “I heard.” Ashleigh didn’t deny it. She just flicked her wrist, and a scroll snapped open midair between us. “The gate scan confirmed dragonblood. Four times. Same result.” I raised an eyebrow. “And your solution is to… assign me babysitting duty?”

Isabella's voice came through, clear as day: "From the day I moved in, I've been lacing your blood packs with vervain…" "The trap with the hunters, the vervain in your blood, all my handiwork…" "So just die peacefully. Once you've turned to ash, I'll be Damien's one and only love." The audio ended with a shrill, maniacal laugh. The boardroom fell into a deathly silence. The Kindred elders and executives seated at the long table looked at each other, too stunned to speak. Just then, a violent pain erupted from Damien's Blood Core. It felt as if someone had driven a wooden stake through it, as if a piece of his soul had been brutally torn away.

Because she doesn’t run to safety— She runs into places where she can disappear. Where she can vanish. Where she thinks no one will find her. Except— I already have. The scent hits me first. Blood. Not fresh. Layered. Older. My jaw tightens. She was already injured. Already fighting. Before I ever reached her. Before the warehouse. Before she stayed. Before she touched me. And she still— Stayed. The realization burns deeper than the silver. I turn the corner— And see her.

I looked at the desk I held onto, and there laid a phone, the same model I definitely didn't use anymore. It clearly belonged to me, but what was it doing there when I wasn't using it anymore? I stared at it like it was something alive, something dangerous. Slowly, and cautiously, I reached for it. My fingers shook as I picked it up. The screen lit up and I froze, feeling the wind knocked out of me. The date read April 12th of 2013. My heart stopped instantly. No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t possible. How would I have died in 2023, but I woke up in 2013? What was going on?

On our wedding night, my wife, who almost never drank, got wasted because she was supposedly too happy. Just when I didn't know what to do, my best friend sent me a long message explaining how to take care of her. I blushed, but I still followed his instructions and soothed her the way he described. Natalie, who had been making a scene, miraculously quieted down. But just as I was about to call my friend and thank him, Natalie suddenly hugged me from behind. Heartbroken, she whispered, "Ashton Hawke, you're the one I wanted to marry." As she said it, the tattoo near her heart slipped into view: a hawk with its wings spread wide. My mind went blank. Ashton Hawke was my best friend of

Around midnight she reached the section describing Meher's gradual decline. The whispers. The forest. The growing suspicion. The fear. A knot formed in her stomach. She kept reading. Then came the murder. The rain. The clearing. Meher's final words. I have only loved you. Aisha closed the notebook abruptly. The room felt too warm. For several moments she simply sat there staring at nothing. The tragedy struck harder than she expected. Not because it was real. Because it wasn't. Somehow that made it worse. A fictional murder should not have felt devastating.

And I will be damned if my entrance into Eryndor is caused by this Gods forsaken school. I stand up shakily and move toward the washroom, grabbing a cloth and rinsing it under cold water before pressing it to my lip. It stings. But in a way, it’s grounding. I need to know I’m still here. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and cringe. I look away before I start hating what I'm looking at. I clean the worst of the blood, ignoring the dull ache spreading through my ribs and shoulder. I've had worse. I've had a lot worse.