Tarnished Embers Novels & Stories

“No. But she’s ancient. This child isn’t just yours, she’s theirs. The earth. The flame. The moon. She remembers them.” “What do we do now?” I asked. Ember’s eyes narrowed. “We make sure the rest of the world doesn’t come sniffing around before we figure out what else she can do.” Link We burned the bodies of the ferals that didn’t get back up. They weren’t pack. They were cursed things, twisted by old magic and starvation. I hated that Logan had seen it. Hated that Lilly was still trembling even after the worst had passed. But I was proud. Gods, I was proud of her. Of them.

"Can you read any of it?" "Some." He turned another page, and another, and then stopped, his breath catching audibly in the quiet library. "Here. This survived." Sera looked where he pointed, and even in the dim light, even with half the page scorched black and unreadable, one line remained clear, ink dark and certain against the ruin around it. The old fire does not burn the world. It burns the lies. "What does that mean?" Sera's voice had dropped to barely more than breath. "The old fire, that's what you called mine before, isn't it? The Founder's fire?"

*Amber* As I walk between Tjeck and Logan, the park looms ahead, a haunting reminder of the chaos that has unfolded. The ground still bears the grim evidence of the war… a tapestry of bloodstains, abandoned weapons, and the shells of spent ammunition scattered like forgotten memories. Each step I take is accompanied by the weight of history, reminding me that war leaves indelible scars, etching its marks not only on the body and soul but on the very fabric of the world around us.

As Caelum’s body dissolved into motes of silver light, Iris’s spirit faded too, her voice lingering like a lullaby. “Balance… at last.” Vaelor’s Ember But far below, in the heart of the battlefield, a small ember of shadow pulsed faintly. Unseen, it whispered in a voice colder than death: “Balance is temporary… but darkness… darkness is eternal.”

I leaned in, tilting my chin up defiantly, prepared to take the hit. “Oh, go on, Ember. Hit me,” I taunted, my voice a low, dangerous murmur. “I’ll tell Alpha Thane everything. I’ll let him know how his ‘precious’ Ex-Luna is back to ruin our lives—and maybe even to harm me or my child.” I lowered my gaze to my tummy, rubbing it gently and lovingly, a sneer curling up on my lips before averting my gaze back to her. At that moment, Ember froze, her hand still raised but trembling. The fire in her eyes shifted, replaced by a simmering fury.

"Lauren… is it true?" My father’s head hung low. He said nothing, but his shoulders trembled with fury. "Lauren," Nora piped up sweetly from the side, her words soaked in poison. "You’ve gone too far. Sleeping with so many men… What if you infected Michael with something dirty?" My nails dug into my palms, sharp crescents cutting flesh. I opened my mouth, ready to strike back— However, Michael cut me off, his eyes clouded with something dark. "Lauren… I never thought you could be this filthy."

And I see it. A ring of trees scorched black at the base, yet alive. In the center, glowing like an ember from the bones of the earth, is the Heartwood Emberroot. Blood-red tendrils curl around stone. Fire dances faintly through its veins. I step forward. “Wait,” Inferno warns. “He’s coming.”

Ashborn crucified in mirrors. Sirelia smiling with no mouth. And the God Below whispering, “Reflection is the first betrayal.” She stumbles back. The vision fades. But her palm still smokes. Later that night, Emberhold holds silence. Not mourning. Listening. Because something in the fire has changed. And not all the dead are resting. Not anymore.

The Keeper’s Ember pulsed gently at her side. “This fire,” she said softly, “has passed through hands bloodied by war, cracked by grief, and strengthened by love.” She looked from face to face. “But now, it passes into yours.” One by one, she approached the carriers, touching the orb gently to their flames. Each ember grew—not with force, but with resonance, a subtle harmony of light and memory. When she reached the final carrier, a boy no older than twelve from the Southern Caverns, he leaned forward and whispered, “I will remember you.”

EMBER Ember’s breath came in sharp, uneven bursts as heat flooded through her skin, making the tangled sheets around her feel suffocatingly tight against her flushed body. The loft lay shrouded in darkness, save for the neon glow that bled through the rain-streaked windows, casting erratic shadows across the walls. Outside, the city thrummed with its restless insomnia, the buzz of distant signs, the hiss of traffic slicing through wet streets, and faint music leaking from some apartment three floors below, yet none of it pierced the intimate bubble enveloping her. In that moment, all that existed was him: Ghost, his body hovering over hers like a broad, solid wall of quiet strength, pressing