Wandering Noble Ashes Novels & Stories

Bones and Angel patrolled the outside of both, the constant litany of clear echoing over the comms from everyone’s voices. The warehouses were cavernous empty spaces, whatever storage shelves and meat hook lines they used to have inside their walls long since removed. The environmentals no longer worked and the only thing out of the ordinary they found was a tiny rag doll gathering dust in a far corner. Knight crouched down and picked up the toy, gently brushing away the dirt to reveal gleaming black button eyes. Some little girl, long since gone from this place, was probably missing it this very moment—if she was still alive. Knight had to choke back the rage that suffused him at that thoug

“The same ash they used in the gym.” The Moon Goddess’s head snaps up at his words. She moves closer, her expression darkening. “Let me see,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. My mate steps back, and the Moon Goddess extends her hand over the wound. Slowly, particles of ash rise from Annalise’s side, shimmering faintly. The goddess catches them in her palm, her eyes widening in recognition. “This...this is ash from the burned-out star in the Realm of Lost Souls,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

It had changed him, in the end. “Use the shadows to travel, they’ll take you both where you need to go.” I assured them, turning my face to the moon. Cold, churning power swirled in the air. Through every pine needle and fallen leaf, carried on the frigid breeze that rustled the branches and made the forest groan. The sliver of silver in the sky, bathing the world in silver light and endless energy, it stoked the icy rage that came whenever I pictured her face. Her gemstone eyes were wide and fearful, but they still held that fire—it was the first thing for which I had searched. “If you find him, you know where to meet. His name is Ash, and he’s a bartender at Obsidian.” “May the best man wi

Emmy has spent her life believing she understands where she belongs: beneath the protection of King Xander, the wolf king who raised her as his own, and within a kingdom that has always been her home. But on the eve of her twentieth birthday, everything she knows begins to unravel. When a mysterious amethyst amulet awakens a power buried deep within her, Emmy discovers that her fate is tied to something far older—and far more dangerous—than the kingdom she loves. The ancient dragon king, Ignisvath, has returned from the shadows, and his connection to Emmy is not one that can be explained away as coincidence. As whispers of war spread through the kingdoms and the Dragon King’s presence grow

Liora’s breath caught, For one second, the world held her between moments, between words, And then it shattered, Ashen fell like an unfinished thought, Not graceful, Not tragic, Just broken. She hit the ground hard, her small frame cracking the earth beneath her. The crown, the Hollow Crown, tumbled from her head, rolling once, then stopping at Liora’s feet. Liora didn’t move. Couldn’t, Because the air around Ashen was… undoing, Grass unraveled into linework. Stones became outlines. The soil beneath her burned white-hot, like the world wasn’t erasing her, it was rejecting her. The girl convulsed, breath stuttering, Her ink-blood seeped from the wound and spilled into glyphs on the dirt. Word

The other driver got out too, and the tension, like a thick blanket, covered the area. Asia squinted to get a better look at the esteemed driver who had managed to earn his respect. He was shocked to find the leader of the Bronze Orchid. "It's you? What does the Bronze Orchid have against such a small ant like Geumgang Pa?" Asia spoke first, half curious and fully sceptical. The expression of the patriarch before him, however, caught him off guard. Kamman's eyes were dark and piercing, like they held all the rage in the world, to the point that it was visible to any outsider. Asia unconsciously took a step back.

Threads of phoenix ash bound with dragonfire, woven so deeply into the foundation they pulsed like veins. Living wards. I’d only ever seen references in fragmented notes, the kind of scraps Headmaster Arx called fairy tales when I was a boy. Old Everley records were clear: such work was impossible, erased when the clans turned on each other. Yet here it was, breathing under my fingers, fire and ash fused in ways even Everley blood hadn’t dared try. And the maddening part? It wasn’t mine to unlock.

My breath caught as the shard’s pulse merged with my own heartbeat, binding me tighter to the vision that unfolded. I stood on soil not of Dark Hollow, but of an older land where banners dripped in crimson firelight. Before me stretched a kingdom built on stone and blood, its high towers collapsing under waves of flame. Soldiers screamed as their armor melted, and at the center of the inferno stood a woman with my face—Ashara—her eyes molten gold, her hands drenched in fire and blood. I staggered back, heart hammering, yet the vision pulled me closer, commanding me to watch.

My magic, always simmering just below the surface, surges through me. The power is overwhelming, beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. I fall to my knees, palms pressing against the blackened earth. The ash shifts beneath my hands. Shapes bloom out of the black dust like flowers made of shadow and regret. Wraithlike figures with wolf eyes and broken bones. Others are small and hunched, their faces obscured by veils of mist. All of them are etched with faint lines of light. Brands of exile, marks of shame. The signature of the Ash-born.

but she kept it to herself, walking along so that the few people behind her could say their respects. Once everyone else was gone, Mary and Bart sat beneath some nearby trees and watched Jeff and his team move the casket inside the mausoleum. They came out a few moments later and closed the door most of the way, but not all the way. Jeff lifted his hand in Bart’s direction, as if to signal they were set, and then walked away. “Well, it’s all over but the waiting,” Mary said, absently tugging at the grass.