Author's Note
Hi! Thanks so much for reading.
I’m currently focusing on Nommie Zombies, but I’ll try to upload what I have here. I’ve finished the first quarter of it, and hopefully, once Nommie Zombies is uploaded, I can return to writing this one—because it’s really special to me.
Originally, I wanted to tell this story as a comic series, but with my current health situation, that would’ve taken too long. Writing it as a novel gives me the chance to still share this world and these characters with you.
I'll also be adding illustrations along the way to help bring key moments and characters to life—so keep an eye out for those as the story develops!
I apologize for any mistakes you might spot along the way—I’m doing my best to catch and fix them as I go.
Most of all, I hope you enjoy the journey.
Thanks again, and have fun reading! :)
Torn like paper and stitched together by fire, the heavens bled ash as the world screamed beneath them. Mountains cracked. Rivers ran black. And from the soil, the souls of the dead rose like steam—wailing, weightless, lost. Their voices tangled in the air, a symphony of sorrow that refused to fade.
The veil between life and death had come undone.
In the heart of it all stood a girl.
A reaper clothed not in darkness, but in white.
Her robes rippled in the heat, streaked with ash and blood, but somehow still soft. Feathered wings drooped at her sides, stained gold at the tips. Her hands trembled around a scythe far too large for someone so small. It pulsed with ethereal light—gentle, pinkish—its curved blade glowing like the last breath of dusk.
Around her, souls followed like fireflies, drawn not by command, but by comfort. They hovered in orbs, luminous and delicate. Children. Elders. Lovers. Lost things.
She wasn’t calling them. They simply trusted her.
Cinder Grimm’s voice cracked as she stepped forward.
“I’m here…”
Ahead, the battlefield heaved. Fire burst from the earth in jagged pulses. Buildings—temples, towers, palaces—crumbled into shadows. At the very center of this ruin stood another reaper, one cloaked in black and violet, his shoulders rising and falling with unnatural stillness.
He wore a white skull mask etched with arcane runes, and through its sockets, eyes glowed violet—cold, unreadable, distant.
His scythe was nothing like hers. It was monstrous, jagged, coiled with soul-thread and dripping void. Where he stood, the ground decayed.
Cinder stepped closer.
“Let my light guide you back to me.”
He didn’t move.
“Please…”
Her voice was trembling now—shaking beneath the weight of a thousand unspoken memories.
“I know you feel me. I know you’re still in there. Come back… please come back.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. Not just from grief—but from certainty. She knew this wasn’t a battle to win. It was a bond to reclaim. The very thread of fate still curled between them, flickering faintly.
“I never let you go…”
“Even in the beginning, I knew.”
“I knew fate wove us this way.”
The figure twitched.
For just a moment, the aura around him pulsed. The air warped. Time wavered. And the scythe in his hand—so full of silence—began to tilt toward her.
The fabric of fate rippled.
The glowing souls around Cinder leaned in, sensing the change.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please, come back to me.”
Then, without warning, a pulse of energy erupted outward—a shockwave of raw magic. Violet and white. Life and death. It swallowed them both whole.
The world stilled.
And in the hush that followed, even the souls dared not breathe.
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