Shadow Monarch Ashborn Novels & Stories

“Magister, why do we let garbage through the gates? Let me throw her to the stone giant and save us the paperwork.” I ignored him, but my left hand squeezed into a tight fist. My nails pressed hard into an old, ugly scar that hid my forbidden blood seal. It kept my real, dangerous ash-magic buried deep inside me. In this empire, that kind of magic meant death. It was the same power the lost Ash King used when he nearly burned the whole world a hundred years ago. “Put your hand on the stone,” Vane ordered. I stepped forward. My boots hit the hard ground, and I felt cold eyes burning into the back of my neck.

she said slowly, “silver, gold, red, black… those are not pack wolves. Those are ancient aspects. Guardians of bloodlines long buried.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And if they found you… then whatever you are… was never truly lost.”

He hadn’t just lost a title—he had lost the future he had been promised, all because of a well-timed birth. "That explains a lot. It explains why Abel seemed different. There’s history there, weight. He’s not just your uncle; he’s—" "A rival," Asher finished, his voice flat. "He always has been, and probably always will be." She turned back to Asher, her curiosity not yet fully satisfied. "Do you trust him?" Asher’s response was immediate. "No." The word fell like a stone between them, heavy and final. "Abel plays his own game," Asher continued. "He might have stepped out of the pack’s direct line of power, but that doesn’t mean he’s harmless. He’s dangerous in a different way now, more subt

I looked up, my silver vision piercing the darkness. On the ridges above us, dozens of figures stood silhouetted against the moon. They weren't wearing the furs of Silvercrest. They were draped in the dark, lacquered leather of the Nightfang Vanguard. And in the center stood my father, Darian Blackthorn, holding a staff tipped with a shard of Black Onyx, the only stone capable of drinking a Moonbound’s light. "Look at the monsters," Darian’s voice carried on the wind, cold and triumphant. "The Alpha and the Witch, tangled in a cave like common beasts. You’ve made it very easy for me, Asha."

If they took it, they’d cut the head off the defense. He broke from the main fight, Arwyn at his heels. They reached the passage just as the assassin slipped inside. The room beyond was dark except for the fire pit’s dull glow. “Close the door,” Eolan said. Arwyn obeyed, cutting off the hall’s noise. The assassin’s voice came from the shadows: “You’ve made it easy for us, Shadow Heir.” The name chilled him. No one here had called him that—not aloud. “You know what you are,” the assassin continued. A flicker of movement, then the glint of steel. “And you know we can’t let you live.”

“But every vessel must bear its shadow.” Lucien looked toward the open door, where the sunlight faltered against the stone. “Then the balance begins again.” Seraphina closed her eyes. Beneath her feet, the faint silver lines in the monastery’s floor pulsed softly, like a heartbeat buried deep within the world. The whispers returned, gentle, mournful, insistent. They carried words she could almost understand. “If Light rises… Balance must remember.” When she opened her eyes again, the world seemed to tilt toward motion, like breath drawn before a storm.

"What's your name and where are your parents?" I stiffened at the mention of my parents but quickly recover to make sure his question does not go unanswered. I have to follow the rules to survive. Just three rules. That shouldn't be hard. With my head bowed and my eyes never leaving the ground, I respond, my voice calmer than expected. "Shadow. Shadow Monroe and I dont really remember my parents. I've been an orphan since I was five, Alpha, sir. "Hmm." is all he says before signaling his goons.