Novelas y relatos de Guest 1337 Fanart Forsaken

He pounded on the heavy oak door with a fist that felt like iron. "Damien!" he roared, his voice competing with the thunder. "Open the door!" There was no answer. Lucian stepped back, wiping rain from his eyes. He looked at the keypad security system. It was an older model. He guessed the code based on Damien’s old habits–the date Damien’s own mother, Matilda. 1-0-2-4. The lock clicked. The light turned green. Lucian kicked the door open. The foyer was warm and dimly lit, smelling of lavender and old wood.

“No… different. Taller. I couldn’t see clearly but… it wasn’t a wolf.” Lena and Kade stared at each other. Then Garrick ran up to them, panting. “You need to see this.” They followed him, weaving through the trees until they reached a clearing. There, carved into a massive boulder, was a symbol. Freshly engraved. The rocks still crumbled from the force of the carving. It was a crescent moon split down the center by a jagged line. Kade frowned. “That looks like…” Lena finished for him. “The mark of the Forsaken. Elias’s first pack.”

Light surged upward. Runes flared fully for the first time in centuries. Plot Thirteen awakened. “You will work here,” Inferno said to me. “With Seraphine. With Eldric. You will recreate the bloodcraft.” Fear tried to rise. And failed. “I will,” I said. Not because I was unafraid. Because I was chosen. Far off, a bird chirped sharp and alert. And somewhere beyond the Haven’s borders, something old felt the awakening and turned its gaze toward Lake Tahoe. The war had not begun. But the foundation had.

They slipped around strikes that should have landed, reached through defenses that should have held. Hybrids tried to use their unique abilities. Some summoned fire. Others called on gifts they barely understood. But nothing worked. The Forsaken shrugged off every attack, their glowing eyes fixed on their targets. "They are not alive," Caspian shouted over the chaos. His red eyes were wide with something Lena had never seen there before. Fear. "They cannot be killed. Not by normal means. Not by anything we have."

I mumbled. He turned around and looked at her legs, touching them. Xavier did his best to control himself. "She was bit by a forsaken," Lucas announces, pointing to a mark on her thigh. I look at it and it was indeed a forsaken bite. Their bites are extremely venomous and can kill even adult wolves in a matter of minutes, even alphas. You can tell the difference between the bites in human form because the skin started to decay. My heart drops. Forsaken wounds were impossible to cure, even if you were an alpha or alpha heir. Only the Moon Goddess herself could save you if you had been bitten or scratched deep enough. "She probably won't last any longer than a few hours. Who is she?"

Then, he pushed them down. My breath hitched. Fucking hell! Thick. Hard. Perfect. He was everything I wanted. Everything I left behind just for Finn, he was the man I’s always needed. His cock stood proud, thick and so damn hard, the pink tip glistening with precum, and I took a good look at him again. From his oak black hair which had a bit of grays, to his muscular arm and broad chest, beautiful tattoos sprawled over them. Damn, every inch of this man was a work of art.

I had returned to the heart of Silverwood in a desperate bid to uncover anything that could explain Morrigan’s connection to the prophecy and her vendetta against me. The scroll’s brittle edges threatened to crumble under the pressure of my grip, but I forced myself to focus, to breathe, as I unrolled the fragile document. The language was archaic, the symbols twisted and foreign, but I recognized enough of the ancient dialect to decipher its meaning. What I read chilled me to the bone. The Blood of the Forsaken shall sow discord, and the Heart of Silverwood shall tremble. The Betrayer’s line shall rise in vengeance, and only the Sacrifice of the True Luna can break the cycle of death.

“He must be thirsting for so much blood for being away from his clan for so long.” “So he came here to feed?” Violet asked. “Not just that, I’m not so sure, but I think he’s here for vengeance.” “For what? He’s a rogue. What is he avenging?” “Geez, Valerie, you’re so outdated. He’s not a rogue because he got banished from his clan, it’s because he’s a survivor from the attack on his clan.” He paused, making my heart skip a beat as I was slowly getting the idea of where this was leading to. Atlas stared at them one by one like he was about to reveal something big. “He was a member of The Night Exiles clan, the one that was supposedly wiped out three years ago.”

“I hope you’re not planning to touch it, my Lady. You wouldn’t want Lord Casimir to get angry again.” “I’m not,” my future self said smoothly, though my thoughts screamed the opposite. “I just want to know more. It wouldn’t hurt to learn.” Helena swallowed. “You weren’t born before this happened. Lord Malakar… he’s over five hundred years old.” My future self nodded. “He’s warned every generation. Anyone who touches that forbidden light will die—but not an easy death. I heard a rogue once tried it. No one saw what happened, but he vanished. Lord Malakar never explained it. He only said anyone who touches it will meet a cruel fate.”

And their faces—gods, their faces look like graves. “Who are you?” I rasp. My voice is torn raw, almost gone. The one in front steps forward. A woman with white hair braided down her spine, a scar slashed deep across her throat like someone tried to silence her and failed. She smiles like the end of the world. “We,” she says, voice rough as gravel and cold as riverstone, “are the Forsworn.”