Forsaken Ships Novels & Stories

“Then what was it?” I exhaled slowly. “Something ancient. It called itself the Forsaken.” Killian’s expression darkened. “That name isn’t new. I’ve heard of it before, but only in old stories. The Forsaken were said to be powerful beings that existed long before our kind. Some say they were cursed. Others say they were gods that fell from power.” A shiver ran down my spine. “It said I was the vessel.” Killian’s jaw tightened. “That’s not good.”

The attempts of the other kingdoms proved to be futile after they have already trampled on the lives of so many children. Though there are some that were blinded by the offers of their kingdoms and were treated according to what they have promised but they are already too late, the first kingdom to have accepted the Carriers as they really are have already advance too far for the other kingdoms to catch up.

"You said the same thing back then, and look how that turned out." When Nicky was first starting out, I lived with her in a cramped basement and ate cheap takeout. She was moved by my dedication and promised to buy me everything I wanted once she succeeded. However, those promises faded and were replaced by contempt. I would rather see her dead than offer her a fresh start. "Jensen, I was wrong. Ryan clouded my judgment. Please forgive me. I can't live without you," she pleaded regretfully. I looked at her without an ounce of sympathy and replied, "I don't love you anymore, Nicky. I've never felt more at peace since I left you. If you can't go on, then go ahead and end it. Maybe you'll meet

Each gesture is subtle, yet obvious: a man clearly drawn to the woman before him, taking careful, patient steps to make his feelings known. I give it no thought, no consideration. All I hear is the same lie and empty promises Varyn once fed me, all to claim my body. I say to myself twice: Forsaken will kill me. And yet, each day, I picture what a ravaging test Rauth will be.

The carvings shifted, forming a symbol — a circle split in half, one side flame, one side moon. Revan stared at it. “That’s the mark of the first covenant.” “What covenant?” I asked. “The one that created the packs,” he said. “And the one that destroyed them.” The light grew brighter. The ground beneath us trembled again. Jordan grabbed my arm. “Lora, step back.” But I couldn’t move. The stone was pulling me closer. The voice inside me whispered again, louder this time. “The truth sleeps beneath. Wake it, and you will see what must end.”

Faster now. Focused now. Not speaking. Because whatever was ahead of them was no longer theory. It was real. And it was close. Far too close.

“I’m not good at pretty words. But I can promise you this—Ethan Blackwood will only ever love one woman. You.” The confession hit me like a blow I never saw coming. No one knew how much I’d once envied the women who stood beside Caleb. We were all in our twenties, yet I’d spent my prime in the shadows, watching someone else be loved. Crying alone at night, clinging to the hope of something that was never mine. But now… Now I wanted something else. A love with no chains, no mate bond politics. Just mine. When Ethan and I made it official, the news spread like wildfire through the pack.

He did not argue anymore. Using Ace’s vanishing spell on their ship so it wouldn’t be detected, they sail to the port of Foth. It was set aside on the shore from the other ports where ships landed. At the port of Foth, they saw fleets of ships about three hundred, just like Ace said and as terrifying as it looked, they already had their mind made up.

In their panicked flight, the Medina family's ships headed toward Forgotten Shore. "What's that?" Krish Medina looked toward the family head, Calum Medina. The Medina apprentices following behind couldn't help but exclaim excitedly, "Ships! There are so many ships!" "Did we stumbled upon a harbor?" "It’s definitely a harbor, there must be immortals on the island." "God has not forsaken the Medinas!" Calum clenched his fists. This was their last resort, so Calum and his family ordered their fleet to advance at full speed.

The black horizon of the Pacific didn’t just rumble; it bled. Through the dense, wet curtains of the harbor fog, the silhouette of *The Leviathan* materialized like a prehistoric leviathan cut from matte-black steel. The naval destroyer sat three miles out, a ghost ship commissioned by the absolute peak of corporate desperation, its heavy forward cannons slowly rotating toward the coordinates of the free port of Blackridge. They weren't here to negotiate an asset recovery. They were here to execute a scorched-earth liquidation.