Kengan Ashura Author Novels & Stories

he said gently, “My dad will talk to him. And I’ll be there. Kael might be strict—too strict—but he loves you more than anything.” Ashara’s head shook violently, her voice quivering. “You don’t understand… you don’t know my father when he’s angry. I’ve never seen him this way. He…” Her voice cracked. “I’m scared he’ll send me away.” Ranan’s wife leaned forward, folding her hands. “Ashara,” she said firmly, “what you did—it wasn’t a small mistake. You crossed the river. You entered the West.” “I didn’t mean to,” Ashara replied, looking up, her voice almost desperate. “I just… I didn’t know… I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to study. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.”

"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.

Everything was picture perfect. Asher's expression was perfectly neutral as he approached them. "Mother, Alpha Cassius, Thelia," he greeted, nodding to each in turn. He placed a respectful kiss on his mother's cheek, a gesture that was more habit than affection. Luna Camilla smiled, a hint of satisfaction in her eyes, as he took his place besides them.

A place where life would be saved, where hope would be reborn, where my children’s names would live forever. As I stepped out of the building, the city air felt different, lighter somehow. My enemies were tearing themselves apart, and my dreams—no, my vengeance was unfolding piece by piece. Soon, everything they took from me would return, and when it did, the world would know the name Amara not as an investor, but as a storm they never saw coming.

Cassian replied him and then moved his eyes to look at Maximus who stared at Julianne like he wanted something from her. “Who is she?” Maximus asked and Julianne looked at him. Not they? She thought and looked behind her to be sure if Marianne was still with her. She moved her eyes back to Cassian and heard him say; “Ash. She’s a newbie.” “It’s Julianne,” she made herself clear and got a grin from Cassian. “Or could be Jules,” the other one said. Funny! Julianne rolled her eyes at the back of her mind. Marianne tugged at Julianne’s cloth again and Julianne asked Cassian, “Where is it?”

Her pocket sagged with the vial’s weight, that damn glass nagging her, and Ezra’s laugh still rang in her head—his smug ass waving the key like a prize. “Grab something!” Roman shouted, voice torn over the rush, his other hand scrabbling at the wall’s edge, now just a crumbled lip of concrete. The water was winning, surging up her ribs, tugging at her soaked jacket. She gagged on it, tasting mud and salt, her arm screaming where the knife had cut—blood swirling red in the dark churn.

The guild members' resolve held strong, and they emerged victorious once more. Finally, they reached the last floor. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as they entered the final room. Samuel's voice crackled over the communication devices, guiding their movements. As they stepped into the room, the sight that met their eyes was chilling. Greyson stood before them, his expression a mix of arrogance and defiance. He was flanked by his remaining henchmen, their guns aimed at the guild members. "Jota," Greyson's voice was mocking, his gaze flickering over the guild members. "You've come to face me at last, be ready to die."

Far across the hospital, Arman sat beside his window writing another chapter of a life that had never happened. And for the first time, Aisha found herself wondering not whether the story was true. But why someone needed it so desperately.

Whatever can die is beautifulmore beautiful than a unicorn, who lives forever, and who is the most beautiful creature in the world. Do you understand me? ―Peter S. Beagle,?The Last Unicorn "All right, you fucking bastard, talk!" A rough hand shook Rurik in the chair he was tied to. Rurik could feel the tranquilizer leaving his system. If he could delay whatever torture they intended just a few minutes longer, he might be able to break his bonds and then

“You weren’t authorized.” The man grins. “I never am.” I recognize him before he speaks again. Not by face—by weight. By the way the city pulls away from him like it doesn’t want to be noticed. “Name’s Ash,” he says. “Protagonist, depending who you ask.” Jonas’s voice goes flat. “You’re supposed to be off-grid.” “Yeah,” Ash replies. “So are ghosts.” He looks at me then. Really looks. No reverence. No calculation. Just recognition.