Wandering Noble Ashes Novels & Stories

I had no answer. She let me go. Her gaze shifted to the urn in my arms. "You won't take this when it's offered? Then I am taking it from you. "You will not see your father's ashes again." She reached. The blood in my arms went cold. The control I had been holding cracked. "Please… please don't. It wasn't me. I'll do anything, anything you want. Just don't." I was about to fall to my knees again. I would have. The pride and dignity I'd had walking in here had been gone for hours.

Moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching across the marble floor. I knelt on the balcony, applying a special herbal balm to the skin beneath my ribs—to the scars left by silver weapons thirteen years ago. They still ached. The scars always ached under the full moon, a cruel reminder of a past I fought to forget. "You're still using that balm." I didn't turn around. Kaelen's footsteps were loud on the cold marble. "I thought you'd forgotten that pain," he said. The anger was gone from his voice, replaced by something I couldn't quite place.

I felt nothing, only smooth skin. A shaky breath escaped me. “I died…” The words sounded foreign out loud, but it was true. I know that I died, because how much can one imagine life slipping out of their body? You don’t hallucinate the weight of betrayal like that. But then again, I was back. “I’m back.” The realization settled slowly, like dust after chaos. As much as it didn't make sense, it was coming together and I was accepting it. The weirdest part was seeing a dead man alive and well. Ethan Adams was with me, alive, talking, smiling. He drove me home.

Lila’s POV I stumbled out of the cab and the cold air hit my face hard enough to make the world tilt. My phone kept buzzing in my bag but I ignored it and leaned against a brick wall to catch my breath. Snow fell soft and quiet around me and the streetlights blurred into halos. I knew what waited if I looked online. My name was everywhere. My face next to Zane’s with headlines screaming mistress and homewrecker and gold-digger. Tomorrow would be hell but tonight I just needed to forget.

Just Nyrielle and Lucien are with me. The wind howls like a dirge as we step into the Vale. I don’t know what I expect from a place called the Vale of Bones, but this... this isn’t it. There are no graves, no skeletons. Just ash. Endless, pale ash spread across cracked obsidian ground, like the sky forgot how to mourn and decided to dust the earth instead. The silence is total. Not a bird or breeze, only the crunch of boots and hooves as we move forward.

The Final March Ashley’s POV The skies over us were unnaturally still. The type that stops and waits and holds its breath until it is covered with blood. We were in line on the border of the old battleplain where, they said, the old kings lay resting in their bones under the ground. In front of the army rode Nicholas, in his armour of silver, like splinters of moon. Across his back was flung the Moonshard Blade, where its quiet power hummed to itself in ways we could not effect.

I was tired of their frantic dramas at the same time; I didn't want to get into any form of trouble with anyone anymore. They drew in long breaths to still their racing heart, and as they puffed it out, they nodded their heads fervently. We got to the hall where the rest of the maids had assembled outside waiting for her arrival, and just before we could step out of the palace, I heard the clomping sound of shoe soles behind us. I turned around to find Asher with his elite wolves, gallantly walking towards the entrance with slow precision. Asher's gait stood out among the rest of them; his wavy hair fell down his face; it almost covered one side of his eyes, bouncing with every step he took.

The three of them, Mae, Ashar, and Riven, walked deeper into the hills beyond the restored castle grounds, where shimmering grass grew thick between cracks of obsidian-like stone, and the air shimmered faintly with the last remnants of what used to be a broken world. Ashar was ahead, moving silently through the trees, checking terrain, scanning for anything alive, or dangerous. Riven hung back beside Mae, more alert than he let on, his usual humor muted under a quiet tension.

--- As they crossed the final ridge before Hollowdeep, the winds changed. The fire inside Ashweaver stirred. But not with rage. With recognition. Ahead, in the lowest part of the valley, the black spires of Hollowdeep shimmered like obsidian teeth in moonlight. And on the largest pillar— A banner flew. It wasn’t the Flamebound sigil. It wasn’t an Assembly crest. It was hers. The sigil of Ashfall. But altered. Split in half. One side burned. One side shadowed. Below it, a single word had been carved into stone:

“You know, for someone who nearly set my eyebrows on fire last week, you make excellent breakfast.” That earned him a sideways glance. “You broke into the kitchen at four a.m. and stole my eggs, Fenrak.” He grinned. “Yes, and they were delicious. You should take that as a compliment. You cook like a woman with rage issues and a secret soft spot.” Violet’s lips twitched despite herself. “Keep talking and I’ll show you both.” The forest thinned as the dirt road gave way to stone. Ahead, ancient towers rose from the mist — tall, black spires etched with glowing sigils. The Order of Ash. The last place on earth where even wolves tread carefully.