Novel & Cerita Wandering Noble Ashes

“It doesn’t stay. It comes and disappears.” Cassian pretended to look disappointed. He wore his shirt back on and used his fingers to adjust his hair. “You should go to sleep,” he said. “You should return to your dorm too,” Julianne said to him. Cassian walked to the window and before he jumped out, he turned and said to her, “Goodnight Ash.” “Good…night.” Julianne said those words in her head. She watched him disappear in the night and she moved to the window, looking around to see where he had gone, but there was no sign of him. She released a sigh and pushed her head back in before shutting the window.

For no matter what the enemy could do, as long as they were not deserving, the elixir would never exist in front of them. HER BLOOD was pumping deep inside her as she pushed a slightly ajar door. The door swung and crashed against the wall, earning her a few terrified looks. "M—Miss Lily!" A group of statled nuns rushed to her, although were stopped by the eldest of them. "Miss Lily Alston," she greeted, wearing an amicable smile despite the creases on her brows. "May we help you with your troubles?" Lily Alston breathed heavily and frantically looked around. Seeing none of the familiar small figure she needed to see, she quickly pushed past the nuns and entered the convent's backyard.

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.

Light dimmed to eclipse for a heartbeat, painting every face in beautiful shadow. A crown, Nyxara purred. Show it what to do besides own you. I lifted my palms. “Bring me ash.” --- POV: Wolves We brought what we had ash of collars kept to remember, ash of burned vows, ash of humbled roots, ash of banners cut down when hands needed to feel sharp. Kade’s echo our boy who’d learned what to shout stepped first, both palms full. He offered it as the truth. Araya bowed; he poured. The ash vanished into her hair as if it had waited for this work.

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.

Not urgent. Expectant. Ruby mutters, “I hate it when ancient things are polite.” Gideon steps closer, awe and fear wrestling on his face. “This mark isn’t from the Frostbound King. It predates him.” That makes my stomach drop. “Predates… how much?” Gideon doesn’t answer right away. He kneels, brushing ash from the altar’s edge, revealing carvings I hadn’t noticed before—rings within rings, snowflakes dissolving into stars.