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The Forgotten Temple

Author: Tyson Roy
last update Last Updated: 2025-06-28 02:47:32

Long after her crown was broken and her name became a hush between dream and memory, something waited in the world’s silent places.

Not in cities.

Not in books.

But in stone, kissed by storm and snow, far above the familiar paths where mortals walked.

Where silence once ruled, fire now stirred again.

High in the Ashfang Mountains—where maps twisted like fever dreams and no trail dared remain the same for more than a single season—a pulse of ancient magic shivered beneath the ice. The wind there was not cruel, but wary, as if it, too, remembered a time when legends were not yet dust.

At the mountain’s hidden heart, the Temple Without Tongue slumbered, so old that not even the wind remembered how to speak its name. There were no runes carved on maps, no tales passed by bards in crowded inns, no weathered signposts nailed to wandering trees. The world, willfully or not, had tried to forget it.

But memory is a patient thing.

And when the relics of Elara’s mercy stirred—when the medallion
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  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   The Silence That Reminds

    She said she would not rule again.And yet, when the world forgot why she left,She returned—not as flame, not as fury,But in a silence that made stars blink awake.It began not with thunder, but with a hush that swept the land clean of expectation.The silence spread from the meadows—where sheep and cattle froze mid-graze, ears cocked, muscles trembling—to the gilded towers of distant cities, where scribes paused over open scrolls and the ink slowly gathered into trembling beads. Market squares grew hushed; the swirl of commerce and gossip faded as if a great hand had drawn a curtain across the day.Across rivers, the flow dulled to a lazy trickle. The wind, so often a wild child in spring, now drifted like the breath of a mourner. In the deepest woods, even the crows, creatures who reveled in omen and unrest, tucked their wings and fell silent among the branches.It was a waiting that felt alive, thick as honey, dense as unwept grief.And beneath it all, an old question twisted thr

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   The Crown That Waited

    "Elara shattered the regalia not to destroy power, but to bury its need.Yet some things do not stay broken.And some symbols, like fire, wait quietly beneath stone until the world forgets why they were cast away."The winds that carried ash and whispers had not yet reached the granite-hollowed peaks of Mount Rithalor. Hidden within Eldoria’s eastern spine, the mountain had long been left unclaimed, too treacherous for farmers, too silent for poets. There was no curse on its slopes, only a hush that stilled birdsong and stifled memory, a hush so profound that grown men sometimes wandered up its winding paths and forgot the names they carried with them.Silence, as Eldoria was beginning to learn, had a voice. And that voice was stirring.It was the Flame Scholars of the Ash Circle who first disturbed the ancient peace. They followed the fever-dreams of Seren, the silver-eyed child who spoke in riddles as she slept: a spiral, a root, a crown drawn backwards in ash and gold.Follow the r

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   Where Blades Meet Heart

    "When the wind remembers, it does not howl. It whispers.And when ash falls without fire, it is not death, it is memory come home.She was not a ghost. She was a voice on the breath between worlds."The forest was bleeding.Twilight dripped through the skeletal branches in fractured ribbons, dyeing the clearing in bruised purples and washed-out gold. The world seemed to hold its breath, suspended between day and night, between what had happened and what might yet come. Elara stood at the heart of it all, spine stiff, shoulders squared, breath sawing ragged in her chest. Her hand clenched the hilt of her dagger until her knuckles ached. The taste of metal lingered at the back of her throat, as if violence itself had climbed inside her.All around her, the ghosts of the ambush lingered. Arrows snapped and scattered across the ground like broken ribs. The forest floor was churned to mud and spattered with blood, both red and darker. Birds had fallen silent, and somewhere deeper in the wo

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   The Dream walker’s Son

    "The dreamwalker spoke of futures Elara never dared to write.Now, his blood walks the world again, uninvited, but inevitable.For some, destinies do not return through fire.They Walk back in dreams."The dreamwalker had once spoken of futures Elara never dared to write.Now, his blood walked the world again, uninvited, but inevitable.For some destinies do not return through fire.They walk back in dreams.It began not with a warning, but with a vision.Not Seren’s.But Kael’s.Three nights after his return to the court, the dreams began to claw at him, silent at first, then growing louder, clearer, until they stole the breath from his sleeping lungs.He dreamt of silver rivers running backwards across ash-choked plains, of a lone tree shedding petals into a sky with no stars. He stood at the edge of something vast and empty, where time spiralled inward like a whirlpool, and at its center, a boy waited.Barefoot. Flame-kissed. Standing beneath a moonless sky, whispering a name Kael

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   Kael’s Return to Court

    The court had forgotten the weight of his silence.But the moment Kael stepped through the gates, they remembered.Because some blades never dull. Some wolves never stop watching.And some loyalties, do not end with the queen.Sanctum had changed since Kael last crossed its outer walls.What once had the sharp, ordered beauty of stone and iron now shimmered with something softer, more fragile, a beauty won at great cost, but vulnerable as spun glass. The marble towers, their proud banners replaced by winding veils of star-bright ivy, reached toward a dawn that felt too gentle for all the blood they had witnessed. Iron gates, melted in the old peace accords, now shaped delicate sculptures: arms upraised, hands open, silent mouths yearning. They glistened under lanterns of bottled starlight, making the whole city seem to hold its breath.But beneath all that light, Kael could smell the fracture.Not the kind that split stone or toppled banners. The kind that whispered in council hallway

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   The Shadow Bloom

    Some things do not return with noise.They take root in stillness, growing quietly in the corners of old wounds, blooming out of memory’s softest earth, refusing to be rushed. They are not portents carried by storm, nor omens scrawled in thunder. They are the world’s breath taken in, and finally, when the realm is ready, a gentle exhale.When the Shadow Bloom returned, the land did not erupt with fanfare. It simply, quietly, remembered.It began, as such things do, with small wonders overlooked.In Marrow Hollow, a river village marked more by its sorrows than its harvests, the night was thick with fog. Old men drank silently by guttering lanterns, and the children who still dared to play after dusk came home with blue-black petals tangled in their hair.The villagers noticed the first blooms in the muddy bends south of the mill. Tiny petals, midnight-stained and luminous as dew-washed obsidian, opening only after sunset. Their fragrance was nearly nothing, a soft hint of cedar, earth

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