Ivy Asher Books Novels & Stories

For no matter what the enemy could do, as long as they were not deserving, the elixir would never exist in front of them. HER BLOOD was pumping deep inside her as she pushed a slightly ajar door. The door swung and crashed against the wall, earning her a few terrified looks. "M—Miss Lily!" A group of statled nuns rushed to her, although were stopped by the eldest of them. "Miss Lily Alston," she greeted, wearing an amicable smile despite the creases on her brows. "May we help you with your troubles?" Lily Alston breathed heavily and frantically looked around. Seeing none of the familiar small figure she needed to see, she quickly pushed past the nuns and entered the convent's backyard.

“Magister, why do we let garbage through the gates? Let me throw her to the stone giant and save us the paperwork.” I ignored him, but my left hand squeezed into a tight fist. My nails pressed hard into an old, ugly scar that hid my forbidden blood seal. It kept my real, dangerous ash-magic buried deep inside me. In this empire, that kind of magic meant death. It was the same power the lost Ash King used when he nearly burned the whole world a hundred years ago. “Put your hand on the stone,” Vane ordered. I stepped forward. My boots hit the hard ground, and I felt cold eyes burning into the back of my neck.

"There are some things you can’t learn from a book." Olivia opened her mouth to respond, but Asher reached out, taking her hand in his, his touch warm and familiar. "Come with me," he said, his voice a little lower, more serious now. "Where are we going?" Olivia asked, unsure but curious. "Trust me," Asher said, giving her hand a gentle tug. "There’s something I want to show you." With a small nod, she allowed herself to be led out of the library. Asher held her hand tightly as they walked through the estate, winding through corridors she hadn’t yet explored.

“No. I need to say this.” My father folded his arms, clearly unimpressed. “What business do you have here?” “Ivy belongs at Preston,” Asher said firmly. “She’s smart, capable, and hardworking. You should have seen her yesterday—everyone noticed. She deserves to be there, and taking that away from her now would be a mistake.” My father’s brow furrowed, his silence heavy. Asher pressed on. “She’s not like the others, sir. She’s different. She’s focused. She’s got fire in her. I don’t know anyone else who works at a restaurant after school and still shows up determined to succeed. That takes strength.”

Her stomach was bandaged, but her face wore a victorious smile. "Do you know what he told me just now?" She pulled a small crystal out of a bag on her wheelchair. The crystal glowed, projecting an image into the air. I saw myself thirteen years ago—in rags, covered in wounds, taken and broken by three rival Alphas. I was crawling on the ground, weeping, begging for mercy. "Shut up!" I snarled. "He said," Seraphina continued, letting the humiliating images play, "that he only saved you back then out of pity. But now, he's found the woman he was truly meant to love."

“It should have.” He hesitated. “Because of last night?” She shook her head. “No. Because of what came after.” He swallowed. “What did come after?” Althea lifted her gaze to him. And Luca Ashford—careless heir, charming threat, untouchable prince—felt something inside him surrender. Her eyes weren’t just scared. They were grieving. “I woke something, Luca,” she said quietly. “Something old.” He didn’t move. “And when it looked at me,” she whispered, “I looked back.”

Her close friends, Adam and Sarah, were there to bid her farewell with tears and hugs that lasted for long minutes before she got into the Myers family car heading towards the mansion in Asheville. Gloomy hours passed for Lila as she bid farewell to the features of New York, where she had spent twenty-two years, and the scenery changed before her to a different place—its terrain, climate, air. She was like a fish that had left its waters but had to learn to live in its new tank for her mother's sake. Finally, as the sun set, Lila and her mother arrived in front of the Myers family mansion. A breathtaking place like a king's palace, a gold gate, and a vast expanse of flowers and tall trees su

So how could I have sent anything? Agnes Wright lowered her eyes, and I couldn’t read her expression. I thought she would defend Ralph Yule like she always had, but this time, she simply said, “Open it. Let’s see what it is.” The guests immediately started whispering again. “Jacob was Ms. Wright’s former fiancé. And after all that shameless cheating behind her back, it’s only natural she’d want to see what kind of trick he’s up to.” Ralph tried to stop it, but in the next second, Agnes had opened the gift. Inside was an old phone, and I recognized it instantly because it was mine. On the screen, there were seven unwatched videos.

"I could see it in your eyes that you were desperate to find the real killer." "Thank you, Detective Taylor." One month later, Aidan was executed. He died in prison. I submitted my resignation to Ravenshire State Medical Center. Then I returned to Ashford Hollow, held a funeral for Aidan, and buried his ashes. After I went back to Ravenshire, I threw everything in my house that belonged to my mother into the trash. Once everything was cleared out, I sold the house. Then I left the country and began a new life. The following spring, I received an email from Detective Taylor. Attached was a letter my mother had written in prison. Her handwriting was neater than I expected.

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.