Grim Dawn The Sacred Ashes Novels & Stories

Since then, everyone praised him, looked up to him, respected him, feared him—all but the Gray Pack. "After long years of pack history, and they still have not moved on." Idaliah kicked the ground and shook her head. "We're almost nothing now, and they still have the audacity to ask for the elixir? They really want to leave us with nothing, do they? But whatever have we done to them?" She stood up and grabbed her hair, and in a fit of unsuppressed anger, she shouted at no one, "What the fuck did we do to them!"

A tall warrior clad in blood-soaked silver armor stumbled through the archway, his chest armor shattered, dark red blood pooling across the white cobblestones. It was Riven Ashguard, the chief warrior of our southern border patrol. "Lady Blackwynd!" Riven choked out, coughing up a mouthful of black, tainted blood as he fell onto his knees before my wheelchair. I locked my hands onto the wheels, leaning forward as my heart slammed against my ribs. "Riven! What happened at the border?!" Riven raised his trembling arm, holding out an ancient, dark wooden box carved with the seal of the Grimshaw Bloodline.

The sickly purple aura in the sky flickered and died, replaced by the natural, biting darkness of the Northern night. A thick, ringing silence fell over the ruins. I stood up. My knees were shaking so violently that I could barely support my own weight. I was covered in a thick layer of grey dust. "Ashren," I breathed, stumbling forward blindly through the settling debris. A massive silhouette rose from the edge of the crater. Ashren brushed the dirt from his broad shoulders. His tactical jacket was shredded. His knuckles were raw and bleeding. But he was breathing. The golden light in his eyes was steady and bright in the gloom.

"She told you to kneel, so kneel. You don't get up until Hudson wakes. "She said you wouldn't bring the ashes, so she sent people to dig up the grave early this morning…" The blood drained from my face. Forgetting about the divorce, I struggled to my feet and tried to run for the cemetery. Slap. The blow knocked me hard to the ground. My cheek scraped against the gravel, tearing the skin. When I looked up, my father's urn was already in front of me again. Every hair on my body stood on end. My voice trembled uncontrollably.

The dusk sky, smeared with the red of fire and flesh, bore witness to the fury below. In the heart of the turmoil, Travis gathered a tight group of the fiercest warriors—allegiants who had stood with him through countless trials. His voice was low, urgent. “We’ve got one shot to hit Jeremy where it hurts. The dark ritual he’s banking on... it’s here, in that ruined shrine beyond the northern ridge. We take it out, we break his power.” Selene’s eyes flashed with determination. “The shrine is heavily guarded. It’s more than just soldiers—we’re facing shadow and dark magic.”

Her body began to glow, and color returned to her pale cheeks. "Continue!" the crone shouted. "Don't stop!" I pushed the dagger deeper. More light streamed from my body. I felt myself emptying out, becoming a hollow shell. But it was worth it. If she could live, it was all worth it. The silver blade sank completely into my heart. The altar exploded with a blinding light, illuminating the entire hall like daylight. And then, everything went dark.

Ash smiled slowly, reverent and pressed her palm into the torch’s flame. The skin sizzled. She didn’t flinch. “She made me in her image,” Ash whispered, voice trembling with reverence and rage. “And then she tried to bury what she’d created.” Her gaze lifted to the blackened cross still hanging above the altar. “But daughters always rise from their mother’s bones.” The crowd roared. Chanting her name. Ash. Ash. Ash. And from the smoke-filled rafters, the first snow of burning ash fell soft as blessing, cruel as prophecy.

I received a letter written in blood. "Soul-bound, 'til death do us part. I kept my promise. —Kaelen" A few drops of dried, brown blood stained the paper. Marcus stood beside me. "Should I take care of this?" he asked gently. I shook my head and placed the letter in a drawer. I heard that on the night of the full moon, he severed his connection to the Moon Goddess, letting his wolf spirit dissipate into the night sky. It is the most sacred, and most painful, way for a werewolf to die.

A Kingdom of Ash and Wolves Kieran's POV The orchard was a black scar beneath a slate-gray sky when the dawn wind blew the last embers into the frozen field. Kieran stood on the ridge, boots sunk ankle-deep in new snow that fell soft and indifferent over the burned bodies of the Iron Sons and the men he'd once called kin. The smell of scorched roots still clung to his cloak, a bitter perfume of victory that tasted like rust in his mouth.

"Please, Ryan, don't do this. He's your son! Please, don't take this from me!" But Ryan's mind was filled with anger and betrayal. He opened the urn and began to pour the ashes onto the ground. "No!" Sophia wailed, her cries echoing through the cemetery. She lunged forward, her hands clawing at the ashes as they scattered. The gray powder clung to her hair and skin, mixing with her tears as she wept uncontrollably. She pressed her head to the ground, her body trembling with sorrow. "My baby," she sobbed, her voice barely audible. "I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…"