All Chapters of Beneath the Ashes, He Rose: Chapter 211
- Chapter 220
400 chapters
Chapter 211: Dual Prints
In the eternal frost, the tracks were a new wound. Attracted by the spoor of her own ghosts, Tatiana pursued them. Beyond the main lab, the passage was a concrete neck choked with more apparatus carcasses and ice stalactites. The only sounds were the hammer of her heart, the crunch of her boots, and the deafening drip-drip of ice melting somewhere deep. The tracks took her through a series of destroyed chambers, including a barracks with iron beds twisted like pretzels, a shattered armoury with rusted weaponry protruding from the ice like metallic thorns, and a gutted café with tables frozen to the floor. Then light ahead. It was a bright, white glow, not the grey, filtered light of the high windows. as well as voices. Her breath caught. A man's voice, warm and rich with laughter. The child's, brilliant and chiming with unbridled glee, was the other. She briefly believed she had hallucinated the sounds in this tomb because they were so strange, summoned from the recollection the sw
Chapter 212: Hidden Mother
Between tall, snow-capped trees, the river resembled a ribbon of black glass. The deep, engrossing calm of the deep forest, punctuated only by the sporadic snap of a tree settling beneath its frozen burden, was what distinguished this place from the tomblike hush of the lab. It smelt of cold stone and pine, and the air was razor-sharp. Tatiana stayed a hundred yards away from the figures on the ice, moving through the tree line like a shadow. She squatted behind a grove of young pines, their boughs weighed down by snow. The ideal location for hiding. The ideal position. Mira was sitting on a fallen log, hopping with enthusiasm as Alexander was tying up a pair of vintage leather skates for her. He himself was a skater. After completing hers, he gently tugged to make sure it fit, then got up and extended his hands to her. Keep in mind to bend your knees. I've got you. He gently walked her onto the ice after yanking her to her feet on the snowbank. She stumbled for a second, her arms
Chapter 213: Ice Invite
On the river's pallid throat, the words "COME HOME" lingered, a dark scar. Following a track she couldn't see, Tatiana observed from the pines until the figures of Alexander and Mira vanished into the woods. Their laughing had been overshadowed by the silence they left behind. She had not issued nor anticipated the invitation, which pulsed in the icy air like a siren cry. At home.It was a ghost of a concept. It was dust in the safehouse in Georgetown. There had never been a Harrington penthouse in this universe. Another woman owned the cottage on the seashore. In Havenfall, the motel was a waystation rather than a residence. She was a refugee from a nation that had been obliterated, and she had no homeland. The ice, however, had spoken. The tale that had haunted her with images of his joy was now providing a way out. Not the passive consumption of the fruit, but an action. a decision to enter the frame. Her head was numb from a loss so immense it felt like the tundra itself, and he
Chapter 214: Burned Plate
Her eyes were fixed on the burnt name, a mute, irrevocable assertion.Tatiana.Not "Your Majesty," "Mom," or "my love." Her real name. the essence of her, prior to the stories that were attached. Of all the labels, it was the most personal. "Is everything alright?" With his spoon paused halfway to his mouth, Alexander asked. His eyes were gentle and a little perplexed. "You've been gazing at your stew as if it were going to divulge the universe's secrets." With a piece of potato half in her mouth, Mira laughed. "Perhaps it will!" Tatiana pushed her gaze up to his face and away from the name. There were no ghosts in this Alexander's eyes. No spark of Phantom's vengeance, no dying radioactive glow, no weight of seven years in hell. The waters were nice and clear. She could die contented, drowning in their normalcy. "It's ideal," she muttered, her voice scratchy from lack of use and repressed feelings. Satisfied, he returned to his dinner with a smile. She took her spoon. Yes, it fel
Chapter 215: Frail Patriarch
The fire fluttered and gasped as the cold surged in, a serpent of Siberian air coiling around the warm room. Standing on the threshold was Benjamin Whitaker, a living reminder of a nightmare from which they had all allegedly escaped in this timeline. He didn't appear to be a merciless father figure or a giant of industry. He had the appearance of a homeless guy, an elderly man who had been forgotten and whose bones were fighting the cold.Alexander's body was a tense wall. With a courteous yet strong tone, he said, "Can I help you, sir?" as he gently moved his hand to lead Mira behind him. Despite not remembering this man, Alexander's feelings were instinctive and protective.After passing Alexander and the wide-eyed Mira, Benjamin's milky gaze finally settled on Tatiana. She glimpsed a cosmos of recognition in those faded orbs. He was acquainted with her. He recalled every detail. He was a glitch who had stumbled to this door, a fellow exile from the wiped story.His voice was like t
Chapter 216: 185 Ashes
More time was spent in the air by the number than by the dust.185.It lingered behind Tatiana's eyes as she tucked a drowsy Mira into a loft bed beneath a blanket sewn with constellations and assisted a bewildered Alexander in clearing away the dinner dishes. Like a silent metronome counting down to an unknown future, it pulsed in sync with the crackling fire.Tatiana responded to Alexander's enquiries about the identity of the man and the significance of the number with quiet promises and kisses that tasted like the lies they were. In the firelight, she muttered, "A reminder," on his lips. "The progress we've made." The questions vanished into the cosy, homely darkness as he came to terms with this version of himself that was constructed for trust.Tatiana, however, was unable to forget. She was familiar with the texture of the thread that was the number. The 194 swings and the playground's countdown of loops were stitched from the same thread. Benjamin's final dissolution only presen
Chapter 217: Lawn Diploma
Tatiana was pinned to a moment of exuberant, excruciating victory by the diploma, which was like a stab through her soul. As Mira laughed and Alexander put an arm around their daughter's shoulders, his face a mirror of pride so simple it was a foreign land, she grasped the parchment and felt the stamped seal beneath her thumb."We ought to rejoice!" Tatiana had fast-forwarded years of their shared lives to Alexander's voice, which was the same but richer. "I'll cook. "Get out of that fancy dress before you get sap on it," he said, gesturing to Mira. And you,” he turned to Tatiana, kissing her temple, “set the table on the porch. The quality plates.He made his way toward a large shed that had emerged a few ash-scatterings earlier, with the effortless authority of a man in his own realm. Mira gave Tatiana an adult, conspiratorial grin before ducking inside the house.The diploma was a dead weight as Tatiana stood by herself on the grass. The mountain air was fresh and the sun was pleas
Chapter 218: Cap Tree
There was an anticipated, rather than calm, silence when the Cap Tree was destroyed. Tatiana spent the following subjective days in an odd state of limbo. No ash seemed to scatter, no numerals burnt themselves into the woodwork, and the frenetic acceleration had ceased. After her act of rebellion, it seemed as though the narrative was halting and readjusting.The energy of Mira was a controlled explosion. Her room was a tornado of clothes, books, and nostalgia as she packed for college with a frantic excitement. Tatiana listened to plans for a semester in Norway and a major in environmental science while folding sweaters that smelt like a daughter she believed she had just met. Tatiana clung to the specifics, attempting to reconstruct a childhood from the outcomes of plans that were derived from a life she had not experienced.Alexander was silent and cautious. Tatiana noticed him staring at her when he thought she was not looking, but he went about the home with his typical cool comp
Chapter 219: Pregnant Heir
Over the course of the following day, Tatiana's skin began to dissolve the number 182, but its impression persisted, a phantom anguish beneath the surface. It was a receipt that the future itself had imprinted on her skin. The narrative was now gathering through biology and ancestry rather than requesting payment in ash.A fresh, powerful energy permeated the house while Mira was there. The deep, calm, creative pulse of gestation had replaced the frenzied energy of a departing youth. She was radiant. She discussed taking a break from her studies, creating a nursery in the sunroom, and coming up with baby names. Her schemes were realistic, happy, and intertwined with a steely independence Tatiana knew was her own.Alexander changed. He developed into a man driven by a kind, determined purpose. He constructed a beautiful cot out of cherry wood, with a pattern of interconnecting feathers that wasn't quite avian engraved on the sides. He hummed all the time. His gaze was almost religious
Chapter 220: Grandchild Wings
The hush that followed the dove's departure was heavier than the mountain air. The golden fruit was a scorching secret in Tatiana's cupped hands as she knelt on the floorboards warmed by the sun. Like a second, tiny heart, it throbbed with a soft, rhythmic warmth. She stared at Mira's sleeping face, afraid to move. Had she hurt anyone? Had anything vital been stolen by her symbolic surgery? Mira continued to breathe steadily and deeply. Her tummy no longer had the unsettling, wing-like pressures; just the full, smooth curvature of late pregnancy remained. A scene of great tranquillity was now highlighted by the sunbeam that had previously shone on the amazing and scary birth of feathers. The jay's far-off chatter had taken the place of the doves' gentle cooing. Tatiana placed the warm apple in her apron pocket. A talisman from a dimension she was urgently attempting to isolate from this one, it felt too important to leave laying around. The kitchen shears were cold and normal again