Romans & histoires Book Rejected And Forsaken

Utilizing the North’s intelligence network, Damian quickly pinpointed her in a remote town abroad. She was brought back to the Shadow Pack and faced judgment for deceit and betrayal. Ultimately, she was banished to the western wastelands, never to set foot back in the territory again. At the mating banquet, Damian took me to the terrace, our backs facing the dazzling night sky and serene snow peaks. “Fay, I’m not your fated mate, but I swear on my life to love you, protect you, and make you the happiest Luna under the stars.” Damian held me from behind, his voice husky but tender.

I knew which link was loose. I slipped through and took down the book I had found years ago: Prophetia Serpentis, bound in black scales that were not leather. The pages were brittle, ink faded to rust-brown. I read by the light of a single candle stub. …and the Serpent shall claim the maiden whose heart is pure, yet the heart that is pure is not the heart that is innocent. Beware the soul that has never been loved, for it burns colder than starlight and sharper than regret…

With a dejected spirit, I returned my gaze to the pages of the book that I was reading. As I read deeply through the pages, my spirit began to resonate with the stories and tales of the people of the past, the struggles they faced, and how they were able to navigate it all. However, there was something missing from everything I had read. The subject of rejection was carefully omitted from the texts. At that moment, I felt like the writer of this book had carefully and intentionally omitted those words. Just as my heart began to sink in dejection, a sudden knock landed on the door, and before I could even say anything, a familiar face stepped into the doorway.

“You will not speak with anyone. You will bear the mark of the Forsaken, those who have abandoned their vows towards the moon goddess for... worldly desires.” Something in me shattered. I sank to the floor, struggling to process her words. It felt like the world around me had faded away to this single revelation that she just made to me. My chest felt tight, and my hands kept trembling no matter how hard I tried to stop them. Viktor...had abandoned me and fled the pack to save himself. It felt like the moon goddess had finally stripped me of the one last important thing to me, leaving only emptiness and darkness. For a moment, I allowed the despair to consume me, leaving me grieving for the

Athena sneers, turning as if to stalk out of the room, “Do what you want, daughter of Hades. The book is already destroyed, and the story will now be forgotten… as it should be.” A grim fairytale best left forgotten. When Proserpina was sure that the goddess was already gone, she allowed the shadows to bring what was left of the book back to her, fingers ghosting over the pages. The story of corruption will now be no more… The book is burned. Athena is right. The book is already beyond saving. And yet–

It wasn't the first time she cut short their call but indeed it was the first time he actually tried to voice out the pain he was dying in. Grabbing her frame from his lap he stared at her innocent smiling face, on their wedding day her baby blue eyes were sparkling with love and happiness, she looked so happy even after all the things he did to her in the fire of his vengeance. She forgave him for so many things and he always took her for granted. "So this is how it feels to be rejected, to be unwanted." He whispered rubbing his thumb over her picture letting his drunk frame stand up as he wobbly walked out of the room.

I found strength I didn’t know I had and lifted my chin. “I, Iris Devenwood, accept your rejection. May the Moon bear witness that our bond is broken.” I didn’t wait to see his expression, or whatever triumphant smile Calista wore. I turned and ran as fast as my legs would carry me before I felt it. My heart breaking. Our bond snapping. Each thread unraveling, tearing away a piece of me. The pain was excruciating, dizzying. My body burned hot, trembling, unsure if the wetness on my skin was sweat, mud, or blood.

I slid the silver bracelet from my wrist—the one that symbolized our arranged bond—and held it out. “I am not less than anyone,” I said clearly. “If Caleb rejects me, another Alpha will claim me.” The tokens of our betrothal were exchanged. And just like that—after more than ten years—the bond was severed. Exactly as Caleb had always wanted. He pushed himself up, bruises stark across his shoulders. For the first time, his eyes flickered with something unreadable. He hadn’t expected me to walk away. Not without begging. Not without tears. “Quinn,” his voice was low, almost dangerous, “you really think you won’t come crawling back?”

It was a shard of the black stone from the gate, still warm, pulsing with a dim light. When I touched it, a spark ran up my arm. The child’s voice whispered again, calm and sure. “The world will follow the one who burns and forgives.” Revan called from behind me. “What did it say?” I turned to face them both. “That it’s already begun.” The light from the shard flared once, then faded completely. I looked at the burned valley one last time. “We start here.” Revan nodded. “Then let’s begin.”

He now knew he was stronger than he thought he was. He was the king of the mystical world, who was once rejected and forsaken. End.