Rising From The Ashes Book 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.

Ashara’s black eyes met hers. “Of ruin. Of fire. Of the world that once was.” And far below, in the shadows of the valley, the Prophetess raised her hands and whispered: **“Let the ashes rise.”**

“Let me help you, Rose.” “It wouldn't hurt, would it?” She asked with a shaky voice. “Have I ever hurt you?” I got no reply to that. “Okay…so how do you get in?” She asked instead. “Close your eyes and try to breathe evenly; you could do that, right?” “Y..yes, please Emmet hurried up. The only strength I've got is on my tongue, my body is closing up on me.” Just as she spoke, I turned into a thick cloud of ash. My eyes went into flames.

The sender was anonymous. I guessed it was probably a former colleague still bitter about Trehill, or someone wanting to see Daniel humiliated. I stared at the photo for a few seconds. There was no satisfaction or pity, only a near-calm indifference. The mountain that once crushed me had long since eroded into a heap of dust by the roadside, unnoticed. And I had crossed that mountain, now seeing a wider world beyond. I hit delete and blocked the number. Some images aren’t worth keeping, just like how some people didn’t deserve space in memory.

The heart of Ash Valley didn’t just burn—it dissolved, melting the air and scorching the very souls of those who dared stand within it. Ozone and sulfur clawed at Phoenix’s lungs, each inhalation a knife. She stood atop the jagged obsidian dais, three blackened scrolls vibrating violently in her hands, humming like predators circling unseen prey. Below, molten magma glowed with a brutal red, the ash above igniting into ember-like stars, falling as though the sky itself was bleeding.

"The reset is ninety percent complete. The energy of your brothers is already fueling the new firmament. There is nothing left for you to save." Ash didn't answer. He continued to climb, his face a mask of terrifying, vacant resolve. He reached the height where the ultraviolet fire was thickest, the radiation beginning to char his clothes and peel the skin from his cheeks. He didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. "You are an anomaly," the Heir hissed through her lips. "A hollow space where a soul should be. I will fill you with the void and make you the first pillar of the new silence."

Jasmine flinched but nodded, she sent the picture to Mrs Kingsley then got out. As Jasmine closed the door behind her, silence fell again. Then Mrs Kingsley smiled. “ Our dead daughter is going to be giving us fortune ” she said with an evil grin on her face. Bianca on the other hand didn't seem happy with her parents thought after all she had been in love with Ronan for years but he only has eyes for her stupid younger adoptive sister Selena. RONAN BLACKWELL’S PRIVATE OFFICE – NIGHT The room was dimly lit, soaked in shadows except for the glow of Ronan Knight laptop screen. The third richest billionaire in the country sat behind his massive oak desk, eyes cold and sharp as he read through e

"His name is Asher." Phoenix and Asher. Rising from the ashes. A new beginning born from the destruction of everything I'd once been. My sons. My hope. My reason to keep going. And somewhere, hundreds of miles away, their father had no idea they existed.

And whispered, “If you’ve waited this long, then hear me now—I will not be your puppet. I’ll shape you into something worth surviving.” From the sky, a soft pulse responded. Not threatening. But listening. --- Far across the world, in the Ashborn capital, a priestess knelt before her flame altar and screamed. The fire had gone cold. And from its ashes, a black bloom grew. ---

“It suits you. Maybe that was your name ! You don’t like it?” I hesitated, staring at the blackened wood I would just pull from the hearth. “I don’t know,” I muttered. “Maybe. Maybe it fits because I feel like something burned down… and all that is left is smoke.” She looked up then, really looked at me. “Sometimes,” she said gently, “ashes are what we rise from.” The words stayed with me long after she left the room. But no name…Ash, Paul, or any other…could fill the void inside me. My head was still a mess of fragments. Whispers in the dark. Screams. A girl crying out. A hand reaching for mine before the fall.