The Crone Of Midnight Embers Novels & Stories

My first thought was Ember. She was on her knees a few feet away, her body glowing faintly through the haze. Cracks of gold and red light ran across her skin like veins of living flame. Every time she breathed, smoke curled from her mouth. She wasn’t just alive — she was changing. The fire around her wasn’t pure anymore. It had dark threads weaving through it, black and alive, twisting around her like shadows trying to breathe. I dragged myself closer, ignoring the blood dripping from my side. “Ember…”

Owen Greystone's pov The howls hadn’t stopped all night. Some were wolves in mourning, while others were the cries of Mrs. Frost’s endless wailing. I didn’t need to be in her house to hear her grief—it spilt through the pack like smoke, choking anyone who stayed too long. Ember’s death broke her in a way I couldn’t understand. “Just last night she was laughing in this very room, full of dreams for the ceremony… and now, before the day has even begun, she is only a memory. Tell me, how can a heart endure such a cruel turn?”

I responded as I readied to wash up. I had a bond with the girls, but my connection with Ember was unique. Ember just... comprehends me. Much like Elara and Leon. I picked up my washcloth and made my way to the washroom. The washroom was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting shadows on the stone walls. The sound of water dripping echoed softly, creating a soothing rhythm. I grabbed a pail and approached the well. As I strolled to the distant corner of the washroom, I heard faint moans from a secluded alcove.

On the right-hand door is a black iron door knock, but I’m too far away to make out what it’s in the shape of. I step onto a small landing at the middle of the stairs with two ornately carved stone chalice-shaped planters on each side which come up to my waist in height. Devoid of any actual plants except for dead scraggly weeds, the planters are cracked and crumbling with age I observe, illuminating them with my headlamp.

When they arrived, the Heartfire flared softly, recognizing the rhythm in their steps. Arianne smiled. “You are the Children of Dawn,” she said. “Not because you were born in the light, but because you chose to walk out of the dark.” --- The Lesson of the Ember She led them to the base of the Heartfire, where its glow pooled like liquid gold on the stone. “Each of you holds an ember,” she said. “It is small, fragile, and eternal.” The apprentices knelt, cupping their lights between trembling hands. Arianne continued:

**** POV: Ember. Night settled quietly over Raven’s Peak, but Ember could not sleep. The newly repaired walls still groaned in the wind, the scent of fresh timber and ash too raw to ignore. Her fingers brushed the circlet they had placed on her brow earlier that day—an ancient thing, surprisingly light for the weight it now carried. She was Luna. But peace would not come just because she was crowned. A soft knock at the Moon Room door pulled her from her thoughts. “It’s late,” she said without turning.

I was no longer recognizable, yet I still managed a faint smile at the camera. “Today,” I said, “I buried eighteen skeletons. Exile Island was never some romantic place. It’s a graveyard for boys.” Then, the scene shifted to me sitting beside piles of stark white bones. I wasn’t the only one brought here. There were far too many. At that point, I paused, then raised my hand and waved at the camera. “Hi, Agnes. Long time no see. I wonder, by the time you see this video, will I already be dead? But even if I am, my body will stay here, just like these bones. So, Agnes, don’t forget to come and collect my corpse.”

] [Contestants have fifteen minutes remaining to identify what Daniel Cross discovered before midnight. The mirror cracked again. And this time, the woman inside it was gone.

“Traitor in the Inner Circle.” Lucien’s mother. Isolde Nerezza. Only a few of us even knew she was a source for Emberbound. “This isn’t some skirmish test,” Nora said. “It’s bigger.” Event. The word settled like stone in my chest. “What kind of event?” Elias replied instead of me. Cool, collected, hands stuffed in the pockets of his slim black coat. “One that will require strength,” he continued. “Specifically stormborn and sky-called alignments.” Iris went stiff next to me.