Saga Of The Forgotten Warrior Book 5 Mga Nobela at Kwento

“The corrupted bastard has been bleeding my city for three winters. He belongs to my wolf.” I stood just outside the circle of warriors, my fingers tracing the leather binding of the ancient lore-book I had brought from the archives. My role in the physical layout was done; the strategy had been woven, the digital snares had been set, and the targets were moving precisely where my calculations had dictated. But as the warriors began to file out of the room, their weapons clanking against their armor, a sudden, heavy sense of foreboding settled over my spirit-link. Ifu stepped away from the table, ignoring the remaining commanders as he crossed the room toward me. He stopped an inch away, his

Chapter 4: The Forgotten Prophecy Emerging from the Shadow Realm, Elara and Aric found themselves standing on the edge of a vast expanse, where the forest gave way to rolling plains dotted with ancient ruins. "This is the Forgotten Plains," Aric explained, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Once, it was a land of great beauty and prosperity. But now, it lies in ruin, a testament to the folly of those who sought to wield powers beyond their understanding." As they explored the desolate landscape, they came upon crumbling statues and weathered tablets, each one bearing cryptic symbols and faded inscriptions. Elara felt a stirring of recognition deep within her soul, as if the stones themselves wer

Like someone had placed it there for me to find. My fingers curled around the book. I lifted it slowly, carefully opening the cover. There was no title. Just brittle pages covered in faded script and lunar markings. Symbols I didn’t recognise. In the middle of the book, tucked between a page of symbols and another of warnings, I saw it. A story of a wolf with a soul that refused to leave the world of the living. It told of a warrior who died in battle, his body cold, his mate devastated. But she didn’t let go.

He also suddenly cut short negotiations for the alliance with the neighboring pack, willingly letting them take over—the condition being him stepping down as Alpha, while being paid a huge sum of money. The news didn't affect me at all, though a maid suddenly arrived with a letter with only my name and no sender. I opened it to find a check with a ton of money—more than the savings I had spent. I paused for a moment, but soon threw it aside and resumed reading the management diary that Dad had handed me. That little bit of money shouldn't bother me if I was going to succeed as an Alpha Female, because I should be instead prioritizing a bright, hopeful future.

Scars littered his exposed flesh, remnants of this life and the one he had come from. Zuberi had been the son of a warrior, used to the reverence and awe given rather than giving it himself. However, after the defeat of his tribe, he had been the perfect offering to give for good fortune. Unlike Ishaq he had made his resentment known with several curses and injuries inflicted. The Goddess had not been entirely pleased by that attitude and even less at the bloody mess he looked. She had also mentioned the darkness that lay in the heart, that the tribe worshipped another somehow.

I knew from that moment on, I would be willing to lay down my life for that future, and if I had to die to give it to them, then that's exactly what I'd do. To be continued... The story continues in book five, Saved By A Sire King, which will be uploaded next month September 2020. Again, I hope you're enjoying the series so far xxx

She wished that he would live peacefully without her. Then she blew out the candle. She cleared out the final traces of her existence in the house. All that was left behind in the house she had spent more than a decade in were three items: a bank card with ten million dollars deposited inside that was meant to repay Cleo’s kindness over the years, a wedding gift meant to wish him a wonderful life with his lover and at last, a letter of farewell. “Uncle Cleo, I give up. I wish you nothing but happiness.”

Balthazar shook his head, his mind still working out what he saw. "What?" I asked. "There was something else. The book just kept repeating a verse over and over again." "What was it?" "Something the shadows whispered right before Nesrin had released Dela. 'One shall rise, one shall fall. In a fight of fire and ice, a phoenix will be reborn.' It said it over and over again," I furrowed my brow. "You never mentioned it before." Balthazar shook his head. "It wasn't me they spoke to. It was Balor, and I thought it came true when your mother died, so we never talked about it."

I unrolled the parchment and read: “The silver spiral burns even here. We remember what we never lived. We come not for war. We come… to witness.” 2. A Gathering of the Forgotten By nightfall, the first caravan from the Outerlands arrived. Tattered cloaks. Skin marked by flame scars. Eyes wary not from anger, but from too many winters without warmth. Xander met them at the ridge. No guards. No blades. Only a torch held low. “You’re late,” he said softly, smiling. An older woman stepped forward, tears in her eyes. “We never stopped following the spiral. We just stopped believing it wanted us.”

Tell me what you think of the story so far. Some of the contents are jumbled up here and there because of some details that I forgot about. I hope you still find the story interesting to keep reading. See you next volume! Volume 5: Scarlett War II Thank you! o7