A Forgotten Shrine Novels & Stories

The sense of being watched intensified. By late afternoon, they reached the first marker. It was a stone, ancient and weathered, carved with symbols that made Elara’s skin prickle with recognition. The same symbols from the ravine, from the tower, from her visions. Maren stopped before it, her expression reverent. “The boundary stone. Beyond this point, we enter the Forgotten Lands.” “What makes them forgotten?” Dane asked. “The packs who lived here,” Maren replied. “They were erased from history deliberately. Their names were removed from the records. Their territories were declared forbidden.”

I continued, “but it wasn’t Amara. It was something else. Older. Like a title.” Kael’s brows furrowed. “Do you remember it?” I nodded once. “Ashirah.” He stepped back slowly. “That name hasn’t been spoken in a thousand years.” “I know.” We left the temple before dawn, cloaked, silent. Only Victor knew we were gone. Cyrus had vanished, but I felt the pull of him through the sigil—like a string tugging behind my ribs, drawing me deeper into forgotten woods no longer on any map. By midday, we stood before a ruin buried in ivy and snow. A shrine carved from bones and obsidian. Blood symbols ran along the walls in languages I couldn’t read—but understood.

"Then let's get it done before I talk myself out of it." Mac found the shrine two days later, a crumbling stone structure half-swallowed by ivy, tucked into a fold of hillside so far off any real road that I doubted anyone official had set foot near it in decades. It had clearly been built for exactly this kind of arrangement once, generations back, border marriages, quiet unions between people whose reasons had nothing to do with love and everything to do with survival. The priest who lived nearby, half-hermit and entirely deaf in one ear, blinked at us like we were the first visitors he'd had in years, which we probably were.

“What place?” He looked over his shoulder. “The shrine. The one where you were found.” He stepped toward her slowly. “You were not just born there. You were forged. There is something buried beneath that ground, and if we can awaken it, we will break you open.” Charollet took a step back. The idea of going back to that place—of returning to the shrine—made her stomach turn. Her first memories were of cold stone and eerie light. But even she had never been told its true purpose.

“It’s more than memory. It’s anchor. It’s where it was first denied. The original breach—sealed with blood and silence.” They were here to unearth a secret. And maybe, if they were lucky, a weapon. --- The shrine was broken in three places: where the old offerings had been stolen, where a salt-flood had swallowed the west wing, and where something beneath had clawed upward. Maya and Sefina knelt beside the largest split in the foundation. The floorboards had warped into strange angles—scratched with circular marks. Jonas stood back, hand on the only working flare, ready to light it at the first unnatural twitch.

I whispered. Andrew followed my gaze, and his breath caught. "No..." "Yes." Below the altar, deep in the chasm none of us could see with werewolf eyes, something moved. The Veil between our world and the Forgotten Realm thinned. My Sight flickered on, unbidden. And then I saw it. A shape. Tall, terrible, barely formed. Made of ash and memory and blood. The forgotten god. The one they warned us about in prophecies. The one Dorian worshipped in silence.

“I think the key might be lost. Even if there were a key, entering the shrine without a blindfold and training would be dangerous. Can you not restore the shrine from outside?” It wasn't possible, considering that the shrine was built into a large rock that could lead to an underground cave. “I’ll figure something out,” Zen told Litha and looked at the sky. “You should probably return to your village before dusk arrives. Thank you for guiding me here.” Uncertain that she should leave a vulnerable human alone in the forest after dusk, Litha hesitated. However, Zen was already busy inspecting the vicinity of the shrine. He seemed to be quite a powerful clergyman, so Litha left quickly and wish

Then he looked at his Dad “D-dad.” “Thank God you remember me.” “Kuya. What about me?” This time it was Gravity “Gravity.” He called “W-What happened to me? why is that, why do I remember so little. I can't remember everything?” I cried, he can’t remember. He can only remember little “Kuya do you remember her?” Gravity pointed me to his brother “Answer me!” “Don’t shout Grav..” I said “I-I don't I’m sorry... who are you?” He looked at me