Exiled Novels & Stories

Jordan inquired “Who the FUCK are you questioning!? Do not make me lose my temper on you now. Because you are in my vicinity and no one will come for your rescue. Trust me Jordan” I warned staring at him with wrath and he gulped. “If I were you, I would leave before I get destroyed. That is if you value your life” Jearald advised though he wanted to deal with him too. Jordan nodded slowly and turned around walking away without looking back. “What a jerk!” Jearald cursed and we returned home.

“Stand back away from the door, I am going to try and kick it in.” “NO!!!!” The loud scream came from the other side of the big metal door. “What do you mean no? I am going to get you out of there. Carlos can no longer hurt you, you are free.” I said as reassuringly as I could muster. “You do not understand. This door cannot be opened. This whole cabin is rigged with explosives. If that door is tampered with at all, this whole thing could blow. Killing Amelia, myself and even you.”

Eternal loneliness awaits me. The flock turned away from me. Other communities sometimes accept the expelled, but these decisions are made by the leaders, and only then send an invitation to the expelled. I doubt that anyone will be interested in an uninitiated she-wolf with a completely erased memory. And just trying to come to another community and ask the leader to accept me is pure suicide. Exiles have the right to stay only on neutral lands. And if I would dare to poke my head into the territory of my pack, then only in order to meet Arthur.

The next man took his place, "Hello, my name is Lance Scott and I am just 20 years old. I am from the new market in Prisionera. I used to spend the majority of my time with my father in his ceramic and pottery shop." He took his seat and the next man stood up. "Greetings, Your Highness," he bowed, before starting speaking, "My name is Gisel Murf, and I am a native of the kingdom of Anewza, where I currently reside. In the previous three years, I had been exiled from that realm because I had betrayed the monarch by pampering his children and stealing food from their dinner tables. Not only that, but after that, I was forced to live on the streets entirely. In t

Hiding in the Exile Realm could offer only temporary relief at best. “Who would have thought that the Exile Realm, once a place for exiled criminals, would become humanity's last sanctuary?” Adrian sighed, reflecting on the bleak future. It seemed the human race was doomed to perish in the same manner. Lexie, holding Adrian’s hand, stayed silent. After a moment, Adrian suggested, “Let’s go for a stroll.” “That sounds great!” Lexie responded eagerly. Having grown up in a faction and focused on her training, she rarely had the chance to go shopping or explore.

She wanted me to be the guarantor of Ravencrest's survival. "And Elijah?" I asked. "He will be exiled," Cheyenne said. "Stripped of his name, his rank and his wolf's honor. He will be cast out into the Wastelands. If he survives, it will be as a rogue with no pack to call his own." I looked at Damon and saw the flick of his jaw. He wanted Elijah dead, but he also saw the logic. Execution made a martyr, exile made a ghost.

Kendrick asked much more sternly after hearing Damien's reply. Samantha stood next to him. Even she noticed that things were getting serious, like a brewing storm. Kendrick's expression darkened. His eyes flared up in anger, ready to erupt. He clicked his tongue. It seemed he received some bad news. "Got it. Keep an eye on it, and report back any time." Samantha gingerly asked, "Is everything alright?" Kendrick sneered. "Peter escaped. Earlier, an explosion happened at the prison. A few inmates managed to escape amidst the chaos.

When they pushed through to the final set of small trees, she stopped at her tracks. In front of them was a security place - a place of defence, covered in droplets and an area of the moonlight covered it. Flashes of firelight shone on broken windows, and figures – both men and women resembling wolves, silently walked along the outer wall, their eyes flashing in shades of gold, silver and red. “Welcome to the den,” Thoren said. “A refuge for the outcasts.” Lydia felt her tightness in her chest. The people she was seeing were more than just mere outsiders; they were exiles – marked by their pasts and carrying the weight of forgotten heritage.

I tucked myself behind a stack of old crates even though their wood bit into my palms, but I stayed still and kept my breath thin while Tarian’s voice came out sharper than I’d ever heard it, saying the plan was falling behind and the storm had thrown everything off schedul. The masked one waved a hand and said delays didn’t matter since Aziel was already half isolated from his own wolves anyway, and my stomach twisted while I leaned closer even though every instinct I had begged me to just run away. The hooded man pulled out a parchment and said something about the final steps, but the lantern’s light made the details fuzzy and shadowy, and Tarian asked if the exile had even been approved b

Refusal means exile. Failure means death. Elowen stared at the words until they blurred. The coronation anniversary was days away. They were no longer asking, they were commanding him. His breath came shallow. He pressed the cloth flat against the table as if it might try to escape. His mind raced through possibilities, plans, half formed escapes that unraveled as quickly as they formed. Exile meant more than banishment. It meant being severed from the wildlands, cut off from the bloodlines that anchored shifters to themselves. It meant losing access to the rituals that kept their magic stable. Exile killed slowly.