Forgotten Ruin Novels & Stories

The weight of Sienna’s words settled over Elior like a storm cloud, thick with the promise of something far worse than they had imagined. The Forgotten Hand. A name none of them knew, except for her. Elior took a slow breath, steadying himself. “Then tell me.” Sienna shook her head. “You don’t get it. There are things you don’t chase, Elior. Things you don’t dig up because you might not survive what you find.”

She jokingly asked as we crawled through the tunnel and I scoffed with a shake to my head. Approaching the end of the tunnel, a smile took over my lips as we stepped foot on the ground and began walking through the rose garden and I could see Izzy smiling through my peripheral vision; she had always loved roses. As a thoughtful human, I picked out one and handed to her. My heart began pounding hard against my chest and I got extremely nervous, almost nearing a panic attack as we approached the wooden arch bridge; my favorite place in all of Julia’s architectural design. The river connected the ocean according to the information given to me by Julia, and there was a boat set aside for when th

The Forgotten Mate 4. The Baby. Months had passed since that fateful night, and yet the memory of the mysterious man lingered within the depths of my mind, a bittersweet reminder of the fleeting happiness he had brought me. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the pain of my existence persisted, unyielding in its relentless grip.

Edward felt as if air had left his lungs. Stumbling backward, he roughly rubbed his hands over his eyes and then gazed again at the mattress. The stain was still there, dry and red, screaming her innocence which he snatched yesterday. His stomach began to churn into uncomfortable knots, hands beginning to sweat. "Fuck" He cursed in his think accent, brushing his hand through his messed hair. The severity of the sin he committed was beginning to sink in, making indefinite remorse to fill his veins.

Downing multiple gulps, I leaned back and listened to the rain. After a few minutes, all I heard were her cries. I could still hear sobbing and I could see her shaking form curled into a ball. Cursing, I went into the house and opened up the second bedroom. Under the bed, I pulled out a trunk. Inside the trunk are things I deemed useless junk, one of which was an old acoustic guitar. Taking it, I brought it back outside. After three more giant swigs of whiskey and some tuning, the hum of the strings sounded good enough.

The kind that doesn't fade when the mission ends. The kind that builds something from ruin. SETUP: Shadows Stir As Eden stepped into the sunlight, her phone buzzed with an encrypted message. “You did well. But the game is far from over. Watch your back.” No signature. No sender. Her fingers trembled as she replied, “Who is this?” No response. Behind her, the city buzzed—alive, unaware. But in the depths of forgotten places, new players were already moving. Lucien’s empire had fractured, but its pieces were lethal—and hungry.

He searches around for hours. Eventually he comes across over a dozen old grimoires, none that he can read due to the protection spells on it. They were hidden underneath a floorboard. He grabs them and rushes out of the cabin, not realizing the domino effect he just caused. Not only for him but for Iris too.

“Sometimes justice requires a firm hand.” Tears kept falling down my cheeks, hot and cleansing. Finally. I had finally gotten my revenge. “It is okay, mate,” Finn said, his arm encircling my waist, drawing me against the solid warmth of his chest. “You did the right thing. She would have never stopped.” After crying, I rose to my feet before giving out my order. “Lock her up in the Forgotten Cave.” The Forgotten Cave was a place Finn had built long before I came into his life. Situated in the deepest part of our territory, it was hidden within the forest that bordered our lands. This place was untouched by duty, blood, or expectation.

Others feared it. Riven and I walked along the northern edge where the forest met the old ruins. The runes were strongest there, carved into stone that hadn’t seen daylight in centuries. "Do you think it’s still growing?" he asked. "Yes," I said. "But not aimlessly. It’s tracing something." He crouched to study the marks. "A map?" "Maybe a memory." He glanced up at me. "Of what?" I met his gaze. "Of how the world used to be—before we broke it."

“Since when did I ever claim to be a hero?” Fenrir snorted in my head, but his voice had steadier undertones. The plan stood. Hollow Oak — east of the river, a ruined furnace marked by a sigil that tasted of old bargains. The shard hummed in its lead box, a captive thing that might sing for freedom at any moment.