Shadow Monarch Ashborn Novels & Stories

Chapter One Ashlyn’s POV My head was completely still. My mind, utterly silent, as angry roars rent the air. This close, their fury was palpable. Hands dragged me roughly across the palace courtyard. Not caring that the sharp cobblestones were scraping my raw skin open. Or that the heat from the sun-baked stones was searing my bleeding wounds. And most definitely, not caring that the pregnant woman they condemned for murder was their very own High Luna. “Husband Killer!”

I had no answer. She let me go. Her gaze shifted to the urn in my arms. "You won't take this when it's offered? Then I am taking it from you. "You will not see your father's ashes again." She reached. The blood in my arms went cold. The control I had been holding cracked. "Please… please don't. It wasn't me. I'll do anything, anything you want. Just don't." I was about to fall to my knees again. I would have. The pride and dignity I'd had walking in here had been gone for hours.

A breathtaking place like a king's palace, a gold gate, and a vast expanse of flowers and tall trees surrounding the inner side of the estate wall. Her feet moved with awe and fear, her steps slowing as she approached the mansion's main door as if it were a monster that would swallow her. She entered the mansion with her mother—a vast, frightening space and opulence that took one's breath away. A middle-aged man with neatly combed black hair interspersed with a few gray strands stood there. It was Chris Myers, the richest man in America. He buttoned his suit jacket and extended his hand to Lila with a friendly smile.

And he remembered the woman who had helped him flee—the one who whispered in Old Shadowborne as the alarms blared: “I have a little girl here. Just a little younger than you. One day… I’ll do the same for her.” His heart thundered as he opened the drawer. File after file. Most redacted. Most stamped “Deceased.” But one wasn’t. Subject 21-B Status: Escaped | Presumed Dead Lineage: Dragon-enhanced | Shadowborne fusion | Mother: High-tier shadow sorceress (missing) Power Level: Suppressed due to magical trauma | Potential: Extreme | Instability: High Notable Traits: Heterochromia (blue/green), irregular freckles, reactive shadow aura.

The dagger at her side gleamed, a twin to the ones Bianca wielded. They faced each other across the chamber, silence taut as a wire. The world outside ceased to exist. Only mother and daughter remained, two queens sculpted from fire and ash, each reflecting the other’s power, each bearing the weight of history. Bianca swallowed, letting her voice roll out like a blade: “I am not your shadow, Ash. I am the storm that will follow you.” Ash tilted her head, amused. “Then let the storm come, Mother. But remember storms die in fire. And fire… I command.”

The runes pulsed like a heartbeat. The shadow paused just beyond the circle. It had no clear form, but hints of a muzzle and claws flickered in and out of existence, as if it couldn’t quite decide what it was. When it opened its mouth, no sound came out — only a ripple of cold that raised gooseflesh on everyone’s skin. Jude whispered, “What the hell…” Lyra’s eyes hardened. “It’s a Hound of Ash,” she said. “He makes them from the wolves who fight him.”

"Why do you hunt us?" The figure smiled cruelly. "Because the Heartstone belongs to the darkness. It is the heart of our power." With a flick of their wrist, shadows exploded around them, forming into grotesque creatures that lunged at Ava's group. The fight was desperate. Ava's magic surged as she battled the creatures, but the figure's power was overwhelming. Just as one of the beasts closed in on her, a brilliant flash of light erupted from Ashton's sword, cutting it down. Together, they forced the figure back, but the warning was clear: the Shadowborn would not relent.

I would remind the world: I never asked for this power. I earned it through survival, through sacrifice, through truth. And if I had to burn again to keep the peace we’d built I would. 6. The Ashbound’s Arrival At dusk, scouts returned with urgent word: a host of silver-cloaked riders approached the city’s edge. Calm, orderly, disciplined. And with them flame that did not burn, and light that cast no shadow. The Ashbound had arrived.

Shadow reappeared, her eyes filled with sorrow. 🌬️Ayanna, you've fallen. Your soul is lost.🌬️ Ayanna's response was a cold, calculated smile. "I've won, Shadow. Louis is mine." The darkness pulsed, its power coursing through Ayanna's veins. Louis's vacant gaze never wavered, his heart trapped in Ayanna's spell. "Together," Ayanna whispered, "we'll seal our fate Tonight." Shadow Smirked 🌬️Ayanna, remember who you once were. Fight the darkness🌬️