Snow Like Ashes Novels & Stories

“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 howling mountain wind tore through the ravine, carrying a freezing mist that clung to the skin like a shroud of wet ash. Outside the safehouse, the dense canopy of pine trees whipped violently against the gray sky, bending as if bowing to the massive diesel engine rumbling up the narrow access road. Headlights cut through the swirling fog, two twin beams of harsh, artificial white slashing across the timber walls before the heavy silhouette of an armored tactical personnel carrier ground to a halt fifty yards from the cabin.

Vernon had returned, looking exhausted. He was even holding a bouquet of fresh flowers. He walked toward me with no trace of guilt or remorse. "Avril, I brought you your favorite roses." Red roses represented sincere and passionate love. Right now, those flowers looked like a joke in Vernon's hands. I accepted the roses. Thinking that I was no longer angry, Vernon began to explain. "It's Peggy Cahill. She's been diagnosed with bone cancer. All she wants is to marry me.

“This is how Balance mourns.” The snow fell faster, covering the mountains, the roads, the dead. The world below had burned itself clean. Now, it has frozen.

The retreat of the Sun-Eaters had left behind a world that felt fundamentally broken. As I stood on the ramparts, leaning heavily into Silas’s warmth, I looked out over the valley. The snow, once a pristine and sparkling white, was gone. In its place was a thick, suffocating layer of pale grey ash—the remains of the ancient forest and the pulverized spirits of the Council’s ritual. It looked like a graveyard of a world that had forgotten how to breathe.

ANNASTASIA MILLER As I looked around and noticed a carpet of snow. A white blanket of snow enveloped the world. Trees are heavy with snow on their tips. Daggers like icicles hanging from the trees sparkling like Diamonds. The snowflakes fall like precious diamonds from the sky.

“What happened?” “Shit,” Asher mutters, scraping his chair backward. The firelight makes one half of the cabin red and orange; the window paints the rest in washes of blue and somber purple. I didn’t notice it earlier, but there’s a scraping, wheezing noise, tiny taps as something small and hard brushes along the window. He moves to a metal plate on the wall—I could barely see it if not for the fire’s glow. He fiddles with it. “The snow has started coming down again hard. Must have taken the power out.”

I can’t move. Ash rains down in a slow, deliberate snowfall. Each fleck is a dying ember, whispering against my skin like a warning. I press my palm to the nearest column—scalding. The burn bites deep, but I can’t let go. If I let go, I’ll float away into the inferno. Somewhere beyond the crackle of fire, something moves.

Ash nods, “It’s a good strategy, so are you planning on having some losses?” He shrugs, “She wins every time we do this now, it’s been a while since we had actual snow to build with rather than marshmallows and toothpicks. Not that I’m not trying, but she’s just better at this than me. I don’t enjoy the whole tactical battle thing as much as she does.” Ash nods, and hums “I like a puzzle, but fighting isn’t my thing.” He nods,

Chapter 7: Desert Snow Abhay’s P.O.V It was snowing. The ground was completely white. It had snowed overnight and now the tiny yellow blossoms that looked like miniature sunflowers were buried under three feet of fresh snow, their petals crushed under the heavy weight. It was going to be a long, cold year ahead and the snow has only just begun.