From Blood And Ash Book Set Novels & Stories

The familiar scent of aged paper and ink filled my lungs—a welcome home of sorts. Without a specific volume in mind, I figured it would be best to just browse through until I saw something that sounded like it would help. Trailing my fingers along the spines as I looked, the familiar leather a comfort, I stopped on a book titled "A Kingdom from Ash: The Ashbourne Reign." I slid it off the shelf, cradling its weight in my arms as I continued my search. By the time I’d looked over all the shelves, I added three more books to my pile—"A Compendium of Bonding," "The Moon Goddess’s Blessed," and "Vampires: Blood and Legend."

“Where, or what? Which one would you like to get now? Or will it be both? You decide.” Julianne knew what he was talking about. He was asking if she wanted to get the book now or get answers to the questions she had. And if she wanted both, she would have to visit the boy’s dormitory. “What is he talking about?” Marianne asked her. Cassian tilted his head to the side and said to Marianne, “So you are Ash’s new friend.” Julianne couldn’t think straight at the moment, especially when Maximus was looking at her like he knew something about her. And one thing she knows is that it was one of the two that gave her friend the bite marks. And yet, she had to help Marianne out.

He stood before me, naked and blood-streaked, his eyes burning with a protective fury. "Let them come," Kael rasped. "They’ll have to walk over my corpse to get to her." Darian spat a mouthful of blood onto the ash. "A noble sentiment, Varynx. Let's see how long it lasts when the Blood Moon rises and her power turns into a poison that rots you from the inside out." With a sharp whistle, the Nightfang vanished into the mists, leaving us alone in the freezing dark. Kael turned to me, his hands shaking as he reached for my shoulders. "Asha... your eyes. They’re still silver."

“The Blood Pact can’t be undone. You cannot escape your fate.” Darian, who had been silent until now, stepped closer to Asha. His face was tight with determination. “It’s trying to control you, Asha. Don’t let it.” Asha’s eyes locked on the creature. "I know," she said, her voice barely a whisper. She could feel the shift in the air, the oppressive magic that clung to the walls. The creature wasn’t just a physical threat—it was tied to her lineage, to the Soulbone that now coursed through her veins.

had eaten through his flesh down to the bone in a matter of seconds. "I... I can't feel them," Ash whispered, staring at his ruined hands. He looked up at her, and the grey in his eyes was replaced by a flickering, unstable gold. "Rhea... what is happening?" "The blood," Rhea sobbed, the golden light in her skin beginning to swirl violently. "The vision was right. You're the final ingredient. The fire... it’s not letting you near me because it wants you to bleed for it first." Outside the cathedral, the legion of a thousand shadow-beasts let out a collective, rhythmic thrum. It wasn't a growl. It was a cheer.

“Get your hands off her, Ashford.” “She’s bleeding,” Luca said, still unhurried, still holding her hand like a relic. “But thank you for the theatrics.” He lifted his thumb again—her blood smeared across the pad. “I was just helping.” “If you touch her again,” Noah hissed, “I will stop pretending to be civilized.” Luca shrugged. “You weren’t convincing anyone.” Althea couldn’t breathe, not with Luca’s heat on one side. Not with Noah’s grip anchoring her on the other. Not with the entire room watching her unravel.

However, the fear still made my blood run cold. Soon, a red dot appeared on my body. I ran for my life, but no matter where I went, the red dot followed me, locked onto me like I was prey. Eventually, I couldn’t run anymore, so I stopped, gasping for breath. Just then, someone covered my mouth from behind. A sharp, suffocating smell filled my nose before everything went black. When I woke up again, I was lying on a dining table. My body was arranged with slices of ceviche, like some kind of grotesque work of art. From my fingers to my toes, they were all carefully plated.

I thought of the world that was currently waking up to a silence it didn’t understand. But as I felt that tiny, second heartbeat pulse against my palm, I didn’t feel like a fugitive. I didn’t feel like a victim of a global conspiracy. I felt like an Architect. The first book was about the blood. It was about the betrayal and the breaking of the old world. It was about the trauma of the glass and the roar of the mountain. But the second book? The one we were starting right now, in this quiet French valley? That book was going to be about the Home.

Not dozens. Hundreds. They move like a coordinated nightmare—some half-shifted, some wrong in ways my mind refuses to categorize. Magic clings to them like rot. Blood magic. Grave magic. Power stolen from the dead and worn like armor. Cain is gone from my side in a blur of silver and black, tearing into the first line with ruthless precision. Vampires follow him, eyes glowing, fangs bared, moving like a living blade. Wolves answer with thunder. Ashton’s roar splits the night, his wolf surging forward at the head of his pack, massive and incandescent with moonlight. For one terrifying second, hope flares in my chest.

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.