Rising From The Ashes Book Novels & Stories

Pieces of burning debris rained down like falling meteors, sizzling as they hit the water. My lungs burned. My strength was completely gone. I couldn't swim. I couldn't fight the heavy current pulling my dress toward the bottom. As my eyes slowly drifted closed, floating in the dark sea beneath the burning sky, a single, solitary thought echoed in my fading mind: Let them believe I died in the fire. Suddenly, two powerful, gloved arms broke through the burning surface above, plunging into the dark water and locking tightly around my waist, dragging my sinking body toward an approaching shadow in the deep.

No matter how he tried to wish to be normal and experience normality, something or someone would always be there to bring him down. He stood up and gathered all the books that he had collected from Ashley. He took them outside and burnt them. As he watched them burn, he made up his mind to shut all doors of hope completely. ~~~~~~~~ Ashley suddenly felt hot after lying on her bed. "That's strange. I need to take a bath then." She concluded that after getting back from the beach, she was just too tired to even eat dinner so she preferred to sleep.

The converted monastery sat high in the hills of northern Italy, all stone walls and arched windows, the kind of place that smelled like centuries of silence and slow healing. Phoenix Rising. Lily had picked the name the day they drove past it, her voice soft but sure. “We’re rising from the ashes. Not hiding in them.”

She inhaled, long and slow, the flame in her chest growing. She wouldn’t crumble. She wouldn’t retreat. She wouldn’t vanish the way Caleb wanted her to. She whispered to herself: “This is where I rise.” And she did. She rose from ashes. From betrayal. From the loss she believed irreversible. She rose because somewhere inside her, beneath all the pain and ruin, a mother’s intuition whispered: Your story isn’t done. Your child is not lost. Find her. And one day, she would.

As if she had already chosen the world she wanted to live in. I rose. My knees left prints in the mud, half filled by the river’s edge. When I stood, the cold air pulled me back into myself. The moon trembled across the surface, broken by current. The ash began to move downstream, slow and gleaming, as if the river itself was carrying the dead toward whatever waited for them. I turned away and followed the sound of fire rising in the distance. Kael (POV) The ash came first.

That’s when she learns to fight back, to be her most vicious self that even the demons of hell fear and cower from. Or so it is said… I’m a woman with a vendetta. A woman scorned and a woman torn apart till there were only ashes left of her. But I rose from those ashes long ago. And I will keep on rising no matter how many times I am burned, scorched and shatters. Because there is nothing more dangerous than a woman who has learned to rise from her ashes; who has been violated countless times and has learned to use her body as a weapon…who has been broken and scattered to the ground …before she has learned to dust off those parts of her like fine dust on the road.

"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…"

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 wondered, as I stared up at the sky, who would come out on top or would we lose everything. VERITY I flexed my hand, feeling nothing but softness underneath, not just underneath; all around me. Lazily I slid my eyes open and saw nothing but white surrounding me, and rubbing my cheek against Shamshiel’s downy feathers, marveling at the softness against my skin. His wing shifted, opening slowly, and I saw his bare torso, the muscles rippling as his wing moved. I felt like I was coming out of a cocoon and looked up into his face, a small smile on his lips. In his hands he had the Bible. I raised a brow at his choice of reading.

Aisha looked down at the notebooks. At the life contained inside them. At the family that had never existed. And for the first time since arriving at Belle Vue, she felt something unexpected. Not professional curiosity. Not clinical interest. Something far more dangerous. Compassion. Because somewhere inside those pages she had glimpsed a lonely man constructing an entire universe simply so he wouldn't have to face the possibility of being completely alone. And somehow that felt more heartbreaking than any illness. The rain continued falling outside. Far across the hospital, Arman sat beside his window writing another chapter of a life that had never happened.