Forgotten Hero Novels & Stories

It is Alirion who monopolized this friendship and Prince Hagan blindly fell for that false notion. Haco shakes his head in regret for not seeing through the Prince’s intention to free Alirion from his banishment in the Green Haven sanctuary. He should have insisted to join Prince Hagan when he announced to their King that he will visit Alirion there. He could have prevented their Prince from committing yet another mistake.

said Tera. "What was that… Forgotten Winter the lord was talking about earlier?" Tera took a pause from his walk, then turned his head. "You have not known anything about them at all?" Arth shook his head. The grand knight pinched his lips before pointing a finger at a cemented wall ahead. Two, wanted posters had been attached, showing one face each. “The Forgotten Winter is the famous rebel guild hiding in secret. They’ve been terrorizing cities and the capital for years, mercilessly targeting the high ranking executives and upper class men," said Tera.

“We’re flying towards far north where our hideout is.” “Hideout?” Arth paused as the word brought back his memories of being in the Forgotten Winter guild. He had worked in their hideout as a cook, wood harvester, cleaner, and, of course, a warrior assassin. The memory suddenly led to Alice. Arth frowned as the old pain poked his chest and tightened it, making him more emotional. A year had passed without Alice, and Arth had yet been fully healed from his painful memory of seeing Alice get pierced by that damn spear. It was gruesome.

The one who had been cast out by the other gods for trying to destroy everything. The one who was known only as… The Forgotten. And as the voice faded, the crystal cracked.

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.

They turned into shapes, tall, luminous beings with eyes like burning moons and long robes. One took a step forward. He possessed crystal horns. His expression was sorrowful but compassionate. He bowed his head and whispered, "Welcome, Daughter of Flame." "Who are you?" I inquired. He answered, "We are the Forgotten." "Gods who were excommunicated for their decision to choose love over power." I looked at Killian. He looked confused, too. “You were gods?” he inquired. “Yes,” the horned one responded. “And now, we guard what was abandoned.”

“This is where it gets interesting.” Tamara turned the page. *The Moon-Blessed served the Forgotten God for thousands of years. But they were slaves, not kids. Tools, not people. Until one stood up the strongest Bridge ever born.* The picture showed a woman who looked just like Tamara—same silver and gold hair, same strange eyes, same impossible beauty that wasn't quite human. *She killed the Forgotten God. Or tried to. Gods don’t die easy. They become something else, something smaller. They hide in bloodlines and wait.*

“It is a relic of the Forgotten War. You remember that name, don’t you?” Even Malric fell silent. The Forgotten War was legendary. But none of them had ever seen proof. Until now. “You have one choice,” Lyra said, stepping to the center. “Stand with me—or fall when the corrupted come.” Malric spat on the ground. “And what army will you lead us with, flame girl? You think one mark makes you our Alpha?” Lyra’s lips curled into a slow smile. “No.” She turned and let out a sharp whistle.

Valkyrie's expression remained steady. "The oldest depiction we could find." "Of what?" Zara asked looking up at her. The vampire hesitated then answered her. "The Forgotten King." Something inside Zara's chest tightened, the name sounded familiar. "The Forgotten King?" Valkyrie nodded twice. "According to the stories, he was erased from history." The room suddenly felt colder and smaller, Zara stared at the illustration, at the white eyes, at the darkness surrounding him and for the first time a terrible thought crossed her mind.

"I needed to know if there was even a flicker of recognition left in him, some part of him capable of understanding what he'd done." "Was there?" "No." The word came out flat, final. "He didn't know who I was. Called me Kade twice. Asked the nurse, completely without malice, completely without memory, why his son had come to visit without calling ahead." He laughed, a short, broken sound with nothing of his usual charm in it. "Twenty-eight years of being the disappointment, the reckless one, the spare. And in the end, he doesn't even remember enough to know which twin tried to destroy him professionally, let alone which twin he tried to destroy in return."