A Forgotten Shrine Novels & Stories

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

Amethyst looked down at the note in her hand that her mother had sent her. Many emotions were going through her, chief among them, disbelief. The Eastern Kingdom had not visited their village in a very long time. Her grandmother had not been born when the trading and visits had stopped. Amethyst,

There were reasons I only took showers. Although the reason I had forgotten the bath running had purely been down to Aria… and her lack of clothes… my heart tightened at the thought. I felt the loss of my mate over and over each time I spoke to her about our days together. But, I knew I had to do this. If I ever wanted my girl back, I had to share our special moments together. In the hope something would trigger her memory…

Arthur said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Hudson. My client stated that she will not respond and doesn't wish to hear from you again. I apologize for not being able to help." Not having slept more than three hours over the past few days, James looked haggard. His bloodshot eyes were horrifying to look at. He took out a blank check and signed his name to it. "Tell me where she is, and you can write down any number you want." That piqued Arthur's interest. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he said, "I only have Ms. Sloane's number but not her address." "That is fine." James threw the check at Arthur, then immediately called Naomi.

Amber continued watching him carefully, waiting until she was convinced that he had reached the state necessary for the session. Cornell closed his eyes. For several moments, there was nothing except the quiet sound of his breathing and Amber's controlled voice guiding him deeper. Then something changed. His mind slowly drifted away from the present room and travelled backward through years of memories he had never consciously understood. The furniture around him seemed to disappear from his awareness as another place gradually formed inside his mind. Sixteen years earlier, the Winchester estate stood exactly as it had been on that distant afternoon. The enormous house appeared brighter in h

Anya stood with Dimitri, Zoe asleep in her room, unaware. Pavel checked the feed. No figure. Just a single box—small, plain—left on the threshold. He opened the door. Lifted the lid with careful precision. Inside: A child’s silver bracelet. And a card. Four words, in perfect Czech: “Blood remembers. So do we.” Anya’s breath caught sharp. Dimitri’s eyes burned cold. Pavel’s voice was grim: “It was meant to be found. Meant for her.” Anya reached out—stilled by Dimitri’s hand.

But then Gideon’s arm would tighten around me, the bond humming between us, and I would remember where I was and drift back to sleep. Each night, the waking came a little later. Each morning, the hollow felt a little further away. On the fifth morning, I walked to the back of the grounds. The shrine sat where it had always sat, in the little stone alcove past the last of the gardens, right where the mowed grass ended and the wild took over. Ten years of neglect had nearly swallowed it whole. Dead leaves crawled halfway up the stone. Brambles had grown across the front of the alcove, and the statue at its center was nearly hidden now beneath a decade of dirt and moss, the last candle I ever l

They reached the southern shrines just before nightfall, the sky above them tinged with the bruised colors of dusk, where blood and shadow seemed to blur at the edges of the horizon, as though the land itself knew what lay beneath and was already mourning its reveal. The shrines were not temples in the traditional sense, nor were they built to honor any single deity or Cycle-sanctioned rite. They were hollowed-out stones, natural arches and jagged slabs pulled from the mountain roots and repurposed by generations who had believed in truths that were never written into the lore of the Packs.