Up From The Ashes Novels & Stories

Cameron said, sounding angry. "Fucking VIK!" Alex said, with a surprising amount of fury, "That barbarous, bloodthirsty, MOTHERFU.." he trailed off suddenly as Ash sat up, staring at him, confused. "What..?" she said sleepily, looking around at the others, before her gaze landed on the TV, now showing images of the destruction of all three buildings. Her eyes widened, and she stood, seeming to forget that she was naked apart from the blanket, that dropped to the floor.

"Sobs…Sobs…Ash!…Ash, wake up!" "Ash…Please..open your eyes. I beg you.." Athena's tears were dripping down while she pumped Asher's heart using both of her hands. They are now at the top of the ice mountain. They manage to get out of the caves. However, the bomb impact hit them pretty bad. Asher uses his body to cover Athena from being hurt, and as a result, he burned half of his body. His wound did not merge back as it used to be.

The clone fought it, scratched and clawed and fought, its black-silver blood boiling where the flames touched it, the smell of burning wrongness filling every inch of air. But it wasn’t enough. “You are formidable,” Asher said, his voice quiet now, almost gentle. His grip didn’t loosen. “But you are not the real thing.” The body crumbled. The head followed. The fire ate what was left until even the ashes were gone, and Asher was standing in the centre of the wreckage, adjusting his cuffs.

Ash sits up slowly, “Someone, presumably this Petru, mutilated our daughter, in our Mate’s womb, to be able to connect to her in the eventuality that she was rescued? And in such a way that our Matebond wouldn’t pick up on it?” Serena nods, and Ash pales, a wave of nausea unlike any he’d felt before rolls over him, he goes for the bathroom and throws up bile into the toilet. It takes a few more retches before his stomach settles, he rinses out his mouth and washes his face,

I wanted to see the man who had discarded me look up from the dirt and realize who had truly destroyed him. Asher’s heavy SUV roared down the concrete ramp, entering the garage with a deafening screech of tires. He killed the engine, slammed the door, and strode toward us, his massive frame still dripping with rainwater and grease from the perimeter sweep. His dark shirt was torn at the shoulder, revealing the hard, scarred muscle beneath.

Five pulses answered the question before any mouth could. Ashar looked at his hands as flame curled around his palms without burning him. “I am Ashar of Veydrin,” he said, but the name carried more weight than before. The air behind him shimmered with images of a civilization made of fire, stone, blood oath, and sanctuary towers built into mountains. Then those towers fell in silence, and the last flame entered him like a crown returning to its owner. “God of preservation,” he said, as if confessing to a crime.

Pastor Gideon praying over me after, hands trembling, voice too even, too careful. I'd buried it because facing it hurt too much. The silver wasn't some curse hanging over me. It was what happened when I broke. “Trauma threshold exceeded,” the voice says, calm as anything. “Activation protocol initiated to preserve agency.” “You saved me,” I whisper. “Incorrect. I anchored you.” Milo nods like he's explaining something obvious. “It doesn't save people. It stops them from vanishing completely.” Ruby drops into a chair, face white. “Jesus. They didn't just pick you. They smashed you and hoped you'd stay in pieces.”

Xander sat alone in his dimly lit apartment after the conversation with Dr. Lawrence, his hands trembling as he wheeled himself closer to the window. The city lights twinkled below like fragments of hope scattered across the dark. For years, he had drowned himself in alcohol and anger, convincing himself that he had been betrayed by life itself. But the doctor’s words echoed in his ears like an unrelenting bell: “If they come back, do you want them to return to a wreck of a man?”

"She told you to kneel, so kneel. You don't get up until Hudson wakes. "She said you wouldn't bring the ashes, so she sent people to dig up the grave early this morning…" The blood drained from my face. Forgetting about the divorce, I struggled to my feet and tried to run for the cemetery. Slap. The blow knocked me hard to the ground. My cheek scraped against the gravel, tearing the skin. When I looked up, my father's urn was already in front of me again. Every hair on my body stood on end. My voice trembled uncontrollably.