Coolkid Fanart Forsaken Mga Nobela at Kwento

Not panicked. Focused. Present. Finally, she whispers. I descend the stone steps from the watchtower, and the field opens before me like a painting soaked in blood. Figures emerge from the fog—wolves twisted by rage, warlords clad in scavenged armor, former allies who now wear Enzo’s crest like a brand. The rogue banners rise on the ridge. “Take the left flank!” I bark to the nearest squad. “Keep them off the eastern wall!” They don’t hesitate.

From the darkness below, a figure emerged—a being of pure shadow and flame, its eyes glowing with a malevolent light. I gasped, my blood running cold. “What is that?” Darius’s smile was cruel as he watched my reaction. “This, Sera, is our ultimate weapon. A creature forged from the darkest depths of the Abyss, bound to the Apocalypse Key. It’s a being of immense power, beyond anything you or your precious artifact could hope to control.” I stared at the creature, my mind reeling. It was like nothing I had ever seen—its form constantly shifting, flames licking at its shadowy body as it moved with an unnatural grace.

Watching him bruised and swollen gave me a grim sense of satisfaction. After Tara passed away, I decided to cremate her and bury her ashes to rest. Tears slipped down my face. 'I'm sorry, Tara. I brought you into this world but couldn't give you a healthy body. You suffered so much pain. I hope you'll be happy and healthy in your next life.' With a heavy heart, I turned to leave, but I saw a familiar figure. Nicky stood there in a wrinkled black suit, her eyes bloodshot and face haggard. It was clear she hadn't been well, though that did not concern me. It was, in fact, somewhat satisfying.

If Kai kills them all, there won’t be anyone left to question, we’re not even sure if they’re of the same kind – or human. It has been hundreds of years since another human has set foot on the Faroe Islands, their ancestors first landed in the Middle Realm before tribes and packs were formed, they had built a barrier used from the few materials and objects from their lost realm that still held ancestral powers, giving them the ability to create a barrier to shield the islands from human-eye. If it’s not humans…it can only be our kind. The forest falls eerily silent, all noise of fighting and struggle has gone as if it were never there – other than the foreboding sense in the air.

"They live among us Walk-in our dreams And see right through Our deepest desires They hear our thoughts. And prey on our fears Their soft voices Echo in our minds with promises of forever Darkness falls They heed the call of thirst The night belongs to them Eyes burn red with hunger It's our blood they crave and it's our bloodline They wish to enslave When the birth of a new day Peaks over the horizon And our shadows rise to meet them They retreat to their sanctums And seek solace in dark places In the sun, we find comfort In the light, they disappear They are The Forsaken..." Cadence said the words out loud over and over, trying to make sense of them. After a while, though, she stopped tryi

“He was taken by something else. The corruption didn’t kill him. It embraced him.” A heavy silence settled over the room. “Then he’s the one leading the corrupted?” Lyra asked. “The ones who escaped the Seal?” “He isn’t just leading them,” Elias said. “He’s rebuilding the Forsaken.” “The Forsaken?” Nyra whispered. “The army from the Forgotten War,” Elias answered. “Creatures once sealed beneath the earth—half-wolf, half-shadow. Many of them were Alphas who fell and turned. Lucien is raising them again. And with the seal fractured, it’s only a matter of time before he tears it open completely.”

" On that journey, The cloak of conceal shall be taken away -- And their eyes shall see, Demons and angels, The good and thee of pure villainy, heaven and hell, And the land of Abaddon, Where the fates who craft the fabric of life, Dwell. A long journey shall it be, But take your ink and your skin, And write, One that has been Born By The Power, Awaits the day Chaos And Apocalypse shall Arise.

There he was. Ronan. Alpha of the Ashfang pack. Towering. Wet. Dripping. A towel slung low on his hips like it belonged there, casually disrespecting every ounce of self-control I had left. His abs were carved from stone. His waist? Unfair. A tattoo curled around his arm and crept slightly over his chest, like it had a story it was dying to whisper. I didn’t even want to think about how good he looked soaked and glistening like a forbidden rain god. “I—I—I saw nothing!” I yelped, clamping my eyes shut like that could erase what had just burned itself into my memory.

The cold up on Shattered Ridge hit hard, like every breath was pulling in sharp bits of ice mixed with that awful smell of charred wood and decay. I glanced down the path and saw those twisted shapes waiting-not really wolves anymore, but something worse, fur patchy and eyes burning red. They were Justin's creations, all twisted up by the Red Queen's Curse, his whole messed up army.