Grimgar Of Ashes And Illusions Novels & Stories

Page after page of the Grimoire opened by itself, the pages moving quickly as if enchanted. Even more frightening was the dark mist that appeared with the opening of the Grimoire. "Congratulations, Luna. You have reached the end of the game," the familiar voice echoed. It came from the Grimoire, the voice of the seventh reincarnation that had previously inhabited Rafe's body. "So this is what he's after?" I muttered to myself. I had wondered why the werewolf man had stopped appearing, and now I had the answer. He was preparing this evil plan.

I stumbled back to my chambers, wanting one last look at Gracie before I died. But when I opened the coffin, I froze. The body I had guarded day and night... was melting. The once-lifelike skin was turning into gray mud. In the middle of the pile lay a deactivated glamour rune. "A fake?" My hand trembled as I scooped up the mud. My mind blanked. Then, a tidal wave of wild, ecstatic joy crashed over me. She isn't dead! It was a double, made by an illusion! "That clever, damn she-wolf..." I was laughing and crying at the same time. "Gracie, you tricked me! How dare you run from me with a trick like this!"

The sunlight caught in the crimson liquid, and for a moment, I saw it as blood swirling in crystal. This was not just about a photo. It was about pressure. About creating cracks in their perfect façade until the whole structure came crashing down. I took a slow sip and stared out at the skyline. Somewhere across the city, Delilah was burning with humiliation, Jackson was calculating excuses, and Rosaline was scrambling to protect herself. Exactly as I wanted. They thought they had buried me. They thought they had erased me. I smiled into my glass. Let’s see how you survive the storm I have set loose.

As he turned to leave, Marcus glanced over his shoulder, hunger and suspicion warring in his eyes. Eve shivered. The cracks in the story were widening, splintering the perfect facade. She could feel the lies piling up, threatening to collapse and bury her. In this house of glass, every secret was dangerous, every glance a test. And she was running out of masks to wear.

“They know. Even if you won’t admit it.” The gate shuddered again. A second crack split through it, running from top to bottom like a lightning bolt. Light poured through the gap—not sunlight, but a sickly, grey light that made the shadows crawl. From beyond, something moved. A shape. Tall. Human, but wrong. Its skin looked like it was made of ash and stone, shifting with every step. No eyes. Just two hollows where eyes should be. “The Ash Man,” Malric whispered. His voice was almost reverent.

“Liar.” His thigh pressed higher, grinding against my soaked panties, my hips rolled before I could stop them. Shame flooded me, hot and humiliating. Zane’s eyes dropped to where our bodies met. “Jesus Christ. You’re drenched.” His hand left my throat and dragged my dress higher, bunching it at my waist. “You’re such a whore, Lila. And the good thing is I like whores.” He ripped my panties down my thighs in one violent yank, the lace caught on my heels; he didn't bother removing it, he just shoved my legs wider.

His focus went back to what he held in his hands and that stirred up some questions in my head that I had to ask. He spoke calmly and that reduced the tension in the room. “Are you some type of a genie?” “It’s not a kettle, it's an urn.” “Do you live there?” “I just said I'm a wolf shifter, young girl?” He always has this 5-7 seconds of uncomfortable pause before he speaks, like he tries to formulate words in his head. “My ashes were kept there.” His throat worked Your ash? Please, Emmett, make everything you're saying make sense and be more realistic

The Sorceress asked as she noticed the ashes that still had the arrangement of a human. Grim nodded but said nothing. He had a sleepless night thinking about what would have killed them. Grim’s heart clenched every time his heart suggested that it was the work of Althrea. He thought back to the story the Sorceress had told him about Althrea… the Sorceress who had once been known as the balance of light and dark, but who had turned to the darker side of magic. The thought of her filled him with dread, even now. But if she had truly returned, if she was behind this...

I step back while waving my hand to get rid of the smoky air before pushing the door wide open. There he is lying on the bed, indulged in draining his lungs and suffocating himself. “Leave Elysia” His rough growls echo in the room.

Throne greedily gobbled his blood, sparing not a single drop. With his head slumped against the backrest of the throne, my name fell from his lips in ragged, feverish breaths. “Xanthea… Xanthea…” “Asher…” a whimper shuddered out of my lips as my grip loosened on the flute. “No, lady Xanthea!” Azum rose from the debris of the tree, groaning as he pulled the splintered wood out of his arm and shoulder. “It’s not Alpha Asher!” Azum winced. “I hear no trace of Alpha or Icifer’s soul songs in the entity before you. That’s Madness, my lady! It’s a trap! It knows you’ll never leave an injured behind—”