From The Embers Pdf Novels & Stories

His dark intense eyes are intimidating. "Chantylle, this is Mr. Raymond Marzon and his son, Vren Lucifer Marzon.." His thick brows were furrowed while looking at me like he knew all the mistakes that I did since I was a baby. Like he knew the naughty things and dark secrets of me. Like he knew me... So well.

'' I mutter under my breath and he chuckles, taking a sip of his water. ''They never burn, Emma.'' He says. ''You're very close with her, I can see that. She's a wonderful person, I can see that too.'' I add, wanting to reduce the awkwardness between us; my mind drifiting apart, probably making me think that I'll receive some childhood stories from Emery.

Esmeralda threw off the blazer that had been covering her head and arms, then scrambled to get off Austin to rush back into the room. Austin instantly understood what had happened while his attention was elsewhere. He gritted his teeth and held Esmeralda back by her arm. "Your parents threw out here for a reason. Why're you going back in?" "They're still there! I have to get them out!" He saw his young self in her. "They're gone! They're buried in burning rubble!" Smoke started to fill the entire floor. The fire was spreading. More ominous cracks and creaks warned everyone of the imminent danger.

“She wouldn’t hurt Angelica, would she? I mean, she’s just a child. She can’t possibly understand everything that’s going on.” Ember didn’t answer my question right away. She held out her hand and blew softly into her palm. A small ball of flame sputtered to life, illuminating where we stood in the darkness. The light flickered and waned, dancing as its casted shadows along Ember’s high cheekbones and plump lips.

“You forget yourself.” “No,” I said quietly, stepping closer. “I just remember what’s real.” The air between us went heavy, thick with unspoken threats. I didn’t care. Not anymore. I turned before I said something that would start a war and left him to his silence. A noise stopped me. Faint, behind one of the chamber doors—a whisper of fabric, a soft hum. I pushed the door open just enough to see. Ember stood before a mirror, tracing glowing runes along her arms. They pulsed red beneath her skin. Her reflection… moved differently. Half a heartbeat late, like it wasn’t hers.

The soil remembers its blood. She lifted a hand and the world around them twisted— Fire. Screams. The mountain cracking like bone under pressure. Wolves tearing into wolves. Humans fleeing the forest. And the sky above—bleeding silver light, torn by shadow. In the center of it all, Ember saw herself. Her child. Asher. Julian. Vivianne. Even Aiden. All caught in a storm they couldn’t stop. **EMBER (shaken)** Tell me how to stop it.

Carla and Travis watched from the sidelines, hands clasped. “We did it,” Carla said, her voice steady. Travis nodded. “And we’re just getting started.” The scars remained, but they were no longer wounds. Dave, Carla, and the other victims were healing, not just surviving but thriving, their journeys a testament to resilience, love, and the unyielding power of talent reclaimed. ----- This marks the end of the Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire. Compiled short story arcs now made their way to their ends.

The night went still again. Ember stood there for a long moment,cold and shaking, feeling all the rises from her skin, she pressed her hand against the window glass. Recalling the words again “He’s not gone”. The words echoed in her head over and over until her pulse began to hit painfully against her ribs. When she finally lay herself down, she didn’t realize she was crying until she tasted salt from her middle lips. Darius’s POV

Tears welled up, and she turned and fled down the hallway, the sound of her bare feet slapping against the hardwood fading into the distance. Lucas stared at the empty doorway, the echo of his own voice ringing in his ears. A wave of guilt washed over him, mixing with the hot anger that had been simmering all night. He took another swig, then another, and another. He lost count of how many bottles he emptied. The room started to spin, the edges blurring. He pushed himself to his feet, the world tilting precariously. He lurched forward, his hand outstretched, searching for something to hold onto.

My heartbeat begins to quicken and before I can stop it I’m eight years old again. One thing that I have always found very weird is that when I have these flashback, I don’t feel the pain that I must have endured. I have these little clips in time but not the memory of the pain. Instead, I feel the emotions that I felt the terror and sorrow that I was in. I felt happy at first. It was a boring day at home. I was playing in my room shaving the hair off of my barbies and designing new outfits for them out of some of my old clothes. I had always been an odd duck and never much of a girl. I liked playing in the mud and playing sports. One this particular day I was still in my pajamas because nob