Shadow Monarch Ashborn Romane & Geschichten

But my hands were no longer commanding my steel. My right arm raised slowly, completely independent of my free will, my fingers curling into a clawed, predatory stance as hellish flames enveloped my leather gauntlets. On my brow, the smoking, blackened bone crown of the Ashen Lord fully materialized, its dark weight absorbing the remaining white-gold starlight in the room. "You cast my shadow back into the Rift once, Eclipse Queen," the Ashen Lord said through my lips. "You mistook exile for victory. This time... I return wearing flesh. The Northern pack... has a new master, High Queen."

I could feel it clearly—life draining out of my ravaged body. When she'd had her fill, she climbed off me, satisfied. Her well-manicured fingers picked up a piece of silver from the table, then dropped it onto my face with disgust. "Useless thing," she sneered. "Bones so brittle. Can't even take a little roughhousing." The door creaked open. Vince Benedict, the brothel's manager, waddled in with his massive gut leading the way. He pinched the silver coin between his thick fingers and blew on it. Then he gave my limp leg a hard kick with his black cloth boot.

she said, sounding certain. Julia frowned slightly. “You don’t think he’ll quit? After all that?” Lana shook her head once. “People like Grey don’t quit. Not when there’s something to lose especially.” “The money,” Craig added, sounding like he was in a lecture room and wanted to back the lecturer up. “The lifestyle,” Victoria said, raising a finger in the air. “The illusion,” Lana finished, silencing everyone.

She’d already collected three of his enforcers. Her phone buzzed. Unknown number. She answered with a blade already in hand. “Aria Kane.” The voice was male, rough, familiar in a way that made her wolf stir. “Or should I say Aria Voss?” Her blood turned to ice. “Who the fuck is this?” “Beta Ronan. Shadowthorn sends its regards. The Alpha requires your presence. War is coming with Crimsonfang. He knows about the twins.” Aria laughed coldly. “Tell Kael he can choke on his own knot. I’m not his anymore.”

“The moment you joined our group, we already accepted you. Just like Remus and Maximus, I also don’t have any family left. We haven’t had any since a long time or anyone to look after us. But we have each other and we look after each other. We made our own family and even though we’ve had our own differences, we haven’t gone apart.” “You are not always alone, Ash. You will always have us.” He said with such certainty that it would be wrong not to believe him. His eyes fell on her hands and he said, “You have every reason to live and no one has the right to take that away from you. If it’s too hard, then just let go and let me.” He then took her hand and held it firmly. Looking up at her, he

Marcus signaled his men to pass out syringes. I recognized the vials of pale blue liquid. Wolfsbane inhibitor. It would seal a werewolf's ability to shift, leaving them weak and vulnerable. "We can't—" one of the warriors protested. "Inject it," Horton's voice was like stone. "That is my final order." One by one, the elite warriors of the Shadow Guard injected themselves. Their bodies began to tremble, their powerful auras rapidly fading. Finally, it was Horton's turn. He took the syringe and, without hesitating, plunged it into his own leg.

She turned, And stepped through the final door, Back in the shrine, a crack tore through the air. Flame surged, The impostor screamed, And Liora reappeared But she was not alone, The child version stood beside her, No longer crying Now part of her, Whole. Sera whispered, “She brought her shadow back.” Altheya gasped. “That’s not possible…” But the impostor stumbled backward. “Impossible,” she hissed. Liora stepped forward. “Then believe it anyway.” But before anyone could strike, The sky tore, A hole opened above the shrine, pitch black, and in its center,The god from the Temple of the Ash Crown. Seven arms, Crown of whispers, And in its hand Kael, Alive And smiling.

His sharp features are twisted into a cruel smirk, and his eyes glint with malice as he surveys the scene. “Damon,” he says, his voice carrying a mocking tone. “I was wondering when you’d show up. I hope you didn’t tire yourself out on my warriors.” Damon shifts back to human form, his expression dark and unreadable. “Let the prisoners go, Asher. This doesn’t have to end in blood.” Asher chuckles, a low, menacing sound. “But where’s the fun in that?” Without warning, he shifts, his body morphing into a massive, silver-furred wolf. His sheer size is intimidating, but it’s the way he carries himself—confident, almost arrogant—that sends a ripple of unease through the room.

The shard pulsed with approval, its rhythm syncing to her defiance, its hunger fed by her refusal to yield. But then I saw it—the shadow creeping at her back, the cost she had not wanted to see. A man lay at her feet, his chest unmoving, eyes closed as flames licked the edges of his body. His hand still reached for hers, though he was long gone. Ashara’s power had saved her, but it had claimed him. The shard whispered through me, a cruel caress: She chose, as you must.

It went flying towards him and because he didn't see it coming, my attack caught him off guard, he couldn’t dodge it in time and I watched in satisfaction as the object smashed against his head, knocking him out! I stared at the unconscious figure of Asher, my breathing labored, my vision blurred by both tears and rage. I tightened my grip around the now-broken lampstand as I debated whether to strike him again or flee. The hatred burning inside my chest made me tremble. He was a Shadow-Moon, one of them. Those that murdered my people and destroyed my pack. But before I could decide on what to do, I felt a strange sensation washed over me—a soft hum in my chest, almost like a pulse, radiatin