Forgotten Conqueror Novels & Stories

"And you'd phrase it as?" "As 'my brother occasionally knows things before I'm willing to admit he knows them, and I've learned to pay attention to that even when it's annoying.'" He paused. "Which is a significant evolution from the man who once bought a company specifically to inconvenience a woman who'd had the audacity to not return his calls." "That man needed considerable work," I agreed. "He did," Killian said, without self-pity or deflection, simply the honest acknowledgment of someone who had done the work and could look back at the distance covered without flinching. "I think he's mostly unrecognizable now. Which is, on balance, a good thing."

A faint smile touched her lips. They still had no idea who had returned. ********************* At a luxurious mansion, Oliver – the heir to the Winchester empire, was just descending the stairs alongside his assistance - Eric Painter. The Winchester estate was already awake. The entire estate operated like a kingdom. And Oliver stood at its center. Despite the gunshot wounds hidden beneath his clothes, he looked perfectly composed. Only the coldness in his eyes hinted at the violence of the previous day. "They jumped me at the hotel." Oliver said. "I killed a dozen of their men, but their fucking ringleader, he got away."

A warrior entered, bowing slightly before speaking. “We captured one of the rogues,” he said. “He’s refusing to speak. But before he passed out, he said one thing.” Eve’s heart pounded as the warrior hesitated before repeating the rogue’s chilling words: “The Forgotten will rise again. And you, Queen, are the key to our return.” Silence fell over the room. Eve swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words settle deep into her bones. The war wasn’t just coming. It had already begun.

Esmeray’s brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to grasp the situation. "There were some rules designated in the supernatural world. Rules that can't be dismissed no matter how many grudges we hold against each other. You have to sit at a table with even your sworn enemy when the forgotten name is mentioned again. Vincent the Conqueror." This time Aric King answered.

I'm nothing. Not dying. Not dead. Not existing. Just nothing. No thoughts. No memories. No Aurora. Just void. Pure. Complete. Absolute. Then. A voice. From the nothing. In the nothing. Being the nothing. "Hello, Aurora Sinclair. Welcome to the place where I forgot myself. Where I chose nothing. Where I became what you're becoming. Unless you choose differently. Unless you remember. Unless you refuse." The Forgotten One. But they're not one. They're many. Thousands. Millions. All the beings who chose to stop existing. All the consciousness that picked nothing. All the souls that forgot themselves. Combined. United. Forgotten together.

“What are they?” Elara stepped forward. “The Forgotten.” Her voice barely carried, yet it reached every ear. “They are what remains when power becomes memory. When gods fall, and their echoes find shelter in the bones of the world.” The first creature raised its head. Still faceless, yet its focus was unmistakable — centered on Elara. A voice — not spoken, but planted inside their minds like an old seed awakening — pulsed through them. “We remember you, Daughter of Ash. We remember the pact broken. The blood unspilled. Why have you called us again?”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Still, silence. Then the lead figure lifted his head. “We’ve been watching you for a long time, child of Alpha Alexander.” I froze. “What did you just say?” “You carry his blood. His mark. His pain.” I reached for the dagger I had stolen back from Kael’s chamber. “Who are you?” “We are the Forgotten,” the second man said. “Cast from the old packs. Bound to the ravine. We know who you are, Amara Hollis.”

Noah nodded. Much before. A shadow appeared in the distance. Then another. Then thousands. Cassian drew his sword. Who are they? Noah whispered: The Forgotten. I frowned. Who are the Forgotten? Noah looked at me. The things that existed before existence. My blood ran cold. How many? Noah stared toward the horizon. Too many to count. The Beginning's smile disappeared. The End raised her weapon. The final war wasn't over. It had only reached its true beginning.

But the power I’d found here—power I’d carved out for myself—was mine to keep. And maybe, just maybe, so was Matteo. And if there was one thing I’d learned, it was this: the world would always cast me as the villain. So why not play the part—and win?

I would play his game, but I would never forgive him ever. I finally returned to the country. A familiar soil but it didn’t feel like home anymore to me. I tried to rationalize my return, to convince myself that my actions were driven solely by my feelings for Logan. The truth, however, was a tangled mess of emotions, a chaotic storm of unresolved desires and lingering resentments.