Taph Fanart Forsaken Novelas e Histórias

Those monsters were now finally coming to attack human civilization. My plan was to use the towers to kill them, capture their soul, and finally conjure a undead soldier. I wouldn't be resurrecting them in the traditional sense, but rather creating something new, something monstrous and powerful. An army of undead soldiers, fueled by the rage and hatred of a thousand fallen beasts. [Soul Forge (Epic Rank): This forbidden art grants the user dominion over the souls of the recently departed, twisting their essence into loyal, obedient undead warriors. Soul Reaping: The user has the power to gather the souls of the departed, adding them to their arsenal of spectral warriors. The number of souls

he spits. I squat down to his level. I raise my shirt and there, just above my waistband on my hip, is the Damned Forsaken crest of a raven with a skeletal wing and head sitting atop a skull with a halo leaning against it on one side and a gun on the other. His eyes widen in acknowledgment.

“He was taken by something else. The corruption didn’t kill him. It embraced him.” A heavy silence settled over the room. “Then he’s the one leading the corrupted?” Lyra asked. “The ones who escaped the Seal?” “He isn’t just leading them,” Elias said. “He’s rebuilding the Forsaken.” “The Forsaken?” Nyra whispered. “The army from the Forgotten War,” Elias answered. “Creatures once sealed beneath the earth—half-wolf, half-shadow. Many of them were Alphas who fell and turned. Lucien is raising them again. And with the seal fractured, it’s only a matter of time before he tears it open completely.”

He was about to strike and through our bond I could feel just how afraid he was, because the forsaken was lowering his hand to claw at Tristan’s neck. “Mommy!” his painful scream tore at my heart and froze me, everything moving in slow motion from there on. The once blue red-ish sky that was signifying the start of a new day suddenly turned dark. There was thunder and lightning all over the sky and the ground beneath us shook. I could feel and taste the power that was all around us. A streak of light appeared behind the forsaken just before his head was torn clean from his shoulders, revealing a woman with obsidian eyes who immediately turned her back to us as she surveyed the creatures.

“I told you not to fight him. Now you know why. You learned it the hard way.” Jax didn’t answer, but his body shook violently as something within him was changing. After that, a dark fire covered his whole body, making him scream in pain. My father tried to hold him, but the fire burned his hand and pushed him twenty feet away. Jax stood up from the wet grass, holding his head in agony. I watched him as he transformed into a more horrendous being. The muscle in his body grew bigger and the skin color turned black. The dark fire moved and stayed on his head. In his forehead, a bloodshot eye appeared.

Chapter 11: The Enemy's Plan Kael's POV The night was still, yet I knew a storm was brewing. Not the kind that came with wind and rain, no this one was different. This was a storm of power shifting, borders being tested, and blood would spill. I stood in my study, staring at the map of territories stretched across my desk. My gaze lingered on the Silverfang Pack's lands, their borders marked clearly in dark ink. Lucian Blackwood ruled there, and for too long, he had acted as if he were untouchable.

His gaze lowered. There, tucked between older bindings. Half-hidden. A scroll. Darker than the others. Worn. But not from neglect. From age. From use. From being opened… many times. Long ago. His fingers hovered over it. A pause. Then He pulled it free, dust fell softly as it shifted. He stared at it for a moment. Longer than necessary. Like something in him already knew. His thumb brushed over the edge. The seal. Faded. But still there.

Utilizing the North’s intelligence network, Damian quickly pinpointed her in a remote town abroad. She was brought back to the Shadow Pack and faced judgment for deceit and betrayal. Ultimately, she was banished to the western wastelands, never to set foot back in the territory again. At the mating banquet, Damian took me to the terrace, our backs facing the dazzling night sky and serene snow peaks. “Fay, I’m not your fated mate, but I swear on my life to love you, protect you, and make you the happiest Luna under the stars.” Damian held me from behind, his voice husky but tender.

There he was. Ronan. Alpha of the Ashfang pack. Towering. Wet. Dripping. A towel slung low on his hips like it belonged there, casually disrespecting every ounce of self-control I had left. His abs were carved from stone. His waist? Unfair. A tattoo curled around his arm and crept slightly over his chest, like it had a story it was dying to whisper. I didn’t even want to think about how good he looked soaked and glistening like a forbidden rain god. “I—I—I saw nothing!” I yelped, clamping my eyes shut like that could erase what had just burned itself into my memory.

“If they call us forsaken, then let them see what the forsaken can do when the moon answers our call.” Their howls ripple through the trees — fierce, uncontained. “Tonight, we do not stand for vengeance alone,” I shout above them. “We stand to restore balance. The moon chose us — not for peace, but for reckoning.” The air thickens, heavy with spirit. “So when your claws find their mark, remember you are not striking from hate. You are striking from truth. You are the howl that rose from silence. And when dawn comes, the world will remember what the night dared to hide.”