webnovel

The Eve of Ashes

LGBT+
Ongoing · 3.2K Views
  • 6 Chs
    Content
  • ratings
  • N/A
    SUPPORT
Synopsis

In the wake of a zombie apocalypse, Ash and Eve are forced together by survival, but their differences ignite a dangerous tension. Ash, sweet and naive, clings to the last remnants of hope, while Eve, hardened by a brutal world, is determined to keep her walls up. As they clash over every decision, the threat of the undead is the least of their worries—it's the growing pull between them that might just break them. In a world where trust is a luxury and love feels like a betrayal, will they survive each other—or will their enemies be the least of their problems? This is a post apocalypse lesbian love story. *Updates daily* I will be posting this story on RoyalRoad.com

Tags
6 tags
Chapter 1The First Goodbye

Ash stared at the crimson smear on the sidewalk, a sticky trail leading to the empty road beyond. The rising sun cast a calm, golden hue over the scene, as though it didn't grasp that the world was falling apart. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked—sharp, frantic. The sound carried too far in the eerie stillness.

Her dad had always said the world had grown too large, people too disconnected. "Another virus," he'd muttered weeks ago, sipping his coffee at the kitchen table. "We've lived through worse."

The house behind her was suffocatingly quiet now, the kind of silence that clung to your skin like damp air. She hadn't heard another human being in days. The neighbors had all gone their separate ways. The outbreak had begun as a whisper, rumors of people dying horrifically, torn apart. Bite marks. The hospitals overflowed, and the government issued lockdown orders. Everyone had held their breath, waiting for it to blow over like before. But it didn't.

Some were dragged from their homes, kicking and screaming, as men in white suits promised they were going to a safe place—a place where they could receive care. They never came back. Despite curfews and roadblocks, the neighbors had packed up in the dead of night, fleeing to some imagined safety. Gunshots echoed often in those early days. Now, the only sound was that damn dog.

Ash paced in the driveway, unable to bear the stillness of the house any longer. They hadn't eaten in days. Every step felt heavier, her muscles taut with anxiety. Her dad's face flashed in her mind—the creases on his forehead deepening as he walked out the door. "I'll be back, babygirl."

He hadn't looked scared. He was too strong, too stubborn to die. When everything went to hell, he refused to leave their home. Her parents had built everything from nothing after coming to this country. Immigrants with no support, they'd poured their lives into giving Ash the future they never had. He wouldn't abandon it.

But now, Ash was spiraling. Her dad was her anchor, her only family left, and he'd been gone for 26 hours, 30 minutes, and 28 seconds. She'd counted. She had nothing else to do.

Her water bottle was nearly empty—two meager drops. She stared at the sky, willing a cloud to form, just for a hint of moisture. She kicked a broken piece of cement, watching it skitter and vanish into the shadows. It wasn't just the virus that had consumed them. It was the silence. The stillness. The hollow feeling of a world reduced to ash and echoes.

The neighborhood she'd grown up in had been unrecognizable for weeks. The houses had trembled under the force of bombs, the government's last, desperate efforts to contain the chaos. From the upstairs window, she'd watched the city burn, firelight staining the sky in hues of red and orange. Rioters moved through their town, pushed out from the city—refugees and anarchists scavenging for food and shelter. Her father had worked frantically, boarding up windows and doors while Ash stood by, handing him nails and tools. "We're not leaving," he had said. "This'll blow over."

For the first time in her life, Ash thought, maybe he was wrong.

A faint shuffle of footsteps broke her pacing. She froze, her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she turned toward the sound, the silence pressing heavy against her chest. A figure stood in the distance, bathed in the glare of the sun. She couldn't make out their face, but they shuffled forward, their gait unsteady.

"Dad?" Her voice cracked.

The figure stopped. A gurgling snarl came from their throat, wet and unnatural.

Ash didn't move. The figure lurched toward her, their arms outstretched. Her feet faltered as she backed away, her heel brushing the edge of the porch. The wood creaked loudly, the sound too sharp in the oppressive quiet.

Her heart slammed in her chest as the figure came into focus. Her father.

His face was pale, his shirt torn, a dark stain spreading across his chest. His lips hung slightly open, his head tilted unnaturally.

"Dad!" The word escaped her in a strangled gasp.

He didn't answer. He didn't even blink.

"What's wrong?" she tried again, louder, her desperation rising.

Her father stumbled closer, dragging his foot through the wet grass. Something about his movements twisted her stomach, though she couldn't explain why. He looked so tired. So lost.

The empty water bottle slipped from her trembling hand, clattering onto the porch. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. She closed her eyes, willing the scene to disappear.

The scream of a woman's voice shattered the moment.

"Hey!"

Ash's eyes widened, her chest heaving as she struggled to comprehend the scene unfolding before her. The woman moved with brutal efficiency, her bat swinging in an arc that made a sickening crunch as it connected with her father's skull. Blood sprayed with every strike, droplets catching the light and splattering across the porch, the driveway, and Ash's trembling hands.

She froze, her breath hitching, as the woman brought the bat down again. The sound was wet, visceral, a terrible squelch that echoed in the stillness. Crimson seeped into the cracks of the pavement, spreading like veins, and Ash's knees wobbled as nausea gripped her.

Her father's body crumpled under the relentless blows, limbs jerking unnaturally with every impact. The woman didn't stop. She gritted her teeth, her short, wild curls plastered to her sweat-slicked face, blood streaking her forearms and staining the bat in her hands. Her eyes burned with raw, animalistic determination, a look that sent a chill down Ash's spine.

"Stop!" Ash tried to scream, but the word came out as a weak croak, lost beneath the dull thuds of metal meeting flesh. She could only watch, her legs feeling like lead, as the woman raised the bat one last time and swung it down with terrifying finality. A final crack echoed, louder than the others, and her father's body fell still.

Ash staggered backward, bile rising in her throat as the reality hit her. Blood clung to her skin, sticky and warm, dripping from her fingertips like she'd been the one to wield the weapon. She wiped at her face in a panic, smearing crimson across her cheeks and chin.

"No!" The scream tore from her chest, raw and guttural, shaking with grief and disbelief. She stumbled, her knees giving way, her voice cracking as it echoed into the quiet.

The woman straightened slowly, dragging her sleeve across her face to wipe away sweat and blood. Her chest rose and fell heavily, and her dark eyes flicked to Ash. There was no kindness in her gaze—just cold calculation.

"Are you bit?" the woman demanded, her voice sharp and clipped. She stepped closer, her fingers still gripping the bat so tightly her knuckles turned white. The blood-streaked weapon dripped onto the pavement with a rhythmic patter, each drop a reminder of what had just happened.

Ash stared at her, unable to speak, her heart pounding in her ears. The woman's intense gaze bore into her, her expression hard and unforgiving. She wasn't just asking. She was ready to act.

Ash stared at her father's crumpled body, the blood pooling beneath him glinting in the sun. The stench of copper and bile filled her nose, and the world spun violently. She staggered to the edge of the porch, doubled over, and vomited onto the cracked pavement, her stomach twisting as tears blurred her vision.

You May Also Like

The Demon King is an Idiot [BL]

Are you afraid of death? For Jie Fu Lian, who had already come to terms with his death, the thought of being alive was scarier. Although his death was quite tragic, he still lived a fulfilling life. He had done everything that he had wanted to do and he had achieved everything that he had strived for. Even as he died, he only had a single regret. He regretted the fact that he couldn't thank Hua Tianshu, an enemy who had stood up for him till the end. His death was quite painful but he wasn't unhappy with it. However, it should have ended right there. Why the hell was he now possessing the body of a tyrannical demon king?! The heavens above were certainly playing with him and laughing at his misfortune! As if possessing the body of his enemy wasn't enough, out of all the people that he could run into, why did he have to run into Hua Tianshu?! Just when Jie Fu Lian thought his luck couldn't get any worse, Hua Tianshu just had to go and recognize him as well! "Is this what an ill-fated relationship means?" Jie Fu Lian's lips twitched. It was as if even death couldn't break the red strings that had tied the two of them together. "Why are you so nice to me?" “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you the reason,” Hua Tianshu sighed. “You are falsely accusing me. I trust everything you tell me.” “I like you.” “I like you too, brother,” Jie Fu Lian beamed, however, this response only disappointed Hua Tianshu whose words had been misunderstood once again. “We are clearly not on the same page,” Hua Tianshu sighed as he turned around and left. Jie Fu Lian frowned as he tilted his head cluelessly. The new demon king is a thick-headed idiot who can’t even take a hint! Cover art by: Cherlyswan

cherlyswan · LGBT+
4.7
200 Chs

(BL) The Villain wants a Divorce!

It always starts with an accident. That’s how all these stories go. One moment, you’re minding your own business, and the next, you wake up in someone else’s body. For Caspian, his accident started earlier than he even knew. Maybe it began when his sister got him into romance novels? Or when he started really sympathizing with the villains at the ends of books? He’d never know. It was too late to worry about it now. For now, he had to find a way to fix this nightmare, or rehabilitate his image, all while trying to free himself from the fate set out for him. All because of the damn "gods" who he'd cut a deal with. These were the only two options he had available, and he wasn’t sure he could succeed at either. The man he had taken over for had been…a true piece of work. And the secret villain of the book he had been reading before he passed. It had been a harem novel. A reverse harem novel. He was trapped in a huge ass CASTLE with a bunch of men who hated him because he was taking affection and time away from their shared wife. All Cass wanted to do was be a good person, not mess around with this poor woman and her far too handsome husbands. But why would no one leave him alone? Was he too suspicious? And why, after going out of his way to avoid them like they had asked, did they keep pestering him? And where did the heroine go? How was he going to manage three, handsome men without the heroine?

CalyB · LGBT+
Not enough ratings
66 Chs

Song of the Gardener of Souls [BL]

Rowan sees beauty in death. The Order he has sworn to obey only sees defilement. As the reviled Caretaker of the Order, Rowan has accepted his role as a dutiful outcast because he believes it is the only way to prove his worth to the man who holds his sisters’ souls as collateral. With his magic and his voice, Rowan can absorb death and transform it, but only in ways the Order deems acceptable to maintain the stability of the reality it claims to protect Order must subdue Disorder. Reality must triumph over illusion. He is tainted and always will be. Rowan has never questioned those lessons, but that changes the night he harvests a crimson soul that is more than human and chooses to keep it a secret. When Rowan’s song transforms that soul into a beautiful and mysterious man he names Wren, he is forced to accept that sometimes duty is a lie and illusion is the only thing you can trust. As the fabric of the Order begins to unwind and a new kind of Disorder takes hold, Rowan will need to choose again, stand with the Order that held him down, or forge a new path with Wren at his side. He may be the only one who can restore balance to the worlds, but only if he can find balance within himself first. ************************************* Updates 3-4 times per week. Note: This story focuses on relationships. I promise an epic romance, lots of swoon-worthy moments, and a healthy amount of fluff. When it does get steamy…you might get burned. Fair warning for explicit content. I don’t shy away from my spice. There are lots of side characters and couples to fall in love with, in addition to the main couple. If you love the idea of found family, you will be happy. This book is set in a non-heteronormative world, so you will see various gender identities/expressions and types of love. ************************************* Excerpt (if you want the full steamy version, you will have to read the book!): Still reeling from the new magic that coursed under his skin and unsure of how to react to the desire that threatened to take control of him, Rowan froze. Wren's hot breath against his mouth sent a jolt of pleasure through his body, and he choked back a groan. A different kind of panic flared in Rowan's chest, burning him as if he were the one on fire. This was what he wanted, what he'd thought about every night since Wren left. But wanting more was one thing. Acting on it was another. He'd spent so much of his life hiding, he didn't know how to do anything else. One corner of Wren's mouth twitched as Rowan pulled away. When he attempted to free himself from Wren's grasp, Wren just hauled him closer. Rowan liked that he didn't have to think about what to do next. His bare chest thudded against Wren's torso, and the heat from Wren's body merged with Rowan's skin, melting him from the inside out. "What did you just do to me?" Wren's deep voice vibrated against Rowan's chest. "The Disorder of your illusion was holding you captive. I…I absorbed it." "Oh? Where did you learn to do that? Have I been gone that long?" Wren's grip loosened slightly on Rowan's wrists as if he was satisfied now that Rowan was practically sitting on top him. Rowan stared at Wren's lips. He opened his mouth to protest, but immediately closed it again. "I know you aren't going to say that I shouldn't touch you." Wren's free hand splayed over the small of Rowan's back. "Not when you started it." Rowan's breath hitched. "No. I'm not going to say that anymore. Not to you." "I thought you were afraid to be touched." Wren's fingers traced a circle over the curve of Rowan's spine as if testing for a reaction. "I know that I'm not afraid of you." Rowan waited for the panic to set in, but all he felt was desire. "With you, I want…" "You want what?" "I want more." Triumph flared in Wren's gaze before he narrowed his eyes. "Really? Then why are you still trying to get away from me?"

LivChanin · LGBT+
5.0
368 Chs

ratings

  • Overall Rate
  • Writing Quality
  • Updating Stability
  • Story Development
  • Character Design
  • world background
Reviews
Liked
Newest

SUPPORT