Taph Fanart Forsaken Novels & Stories

The "First Breach" was a sensory unweaving of the North’s foundations. As the "Abandoned Drafts"—the wolves made of "Redacted" static—poured through the black-and-gold door, the vibrant atmosphere of the "Unmapped" realm began to stutter. These were not the "Genesis Legion" or the "Mosaic" refugees. They were the "Scentless Echoes"—versions of the Blackwood and Thorne warriors who had been deleted during the Architects' various resets. They carried the "Ink" of their own cancellation like a terminal plague.

And the Forsaken Knelt. The shadows stilled. The whispers faded. And when Lyla lifted her gaze The door was open. But she was the one standing on the other side. And for the first time in history The Forsaken had an Alpha. And her name was Lyla Blackwood.

Wolves raced around, some trying to protect, some trying to flee. And in the center of it all, two massive creatures tore through the heart of the pack. At first, I didn’t know what I was looking at. They were monstrous things, hairless and twisted, their hulking forms towering at least ten feet tall. Their black eyes glinted like polished obsidian, soulless and cold. Forsaken. Forsaken had gotten through our borders. How the fuck had this happened? The forsaken moved with an eerie, unnatural precision, as if they weren’t just beasts but twisted mockeries of the wolves they had once been. Their hairless, grotesque forms towered over the chaos; their black eyes gleaming with nothing but hollo

“We don’t have time for this family reunion bullshit. Those golden-eyed freaks are still coming. If the Forsaken are here, Michelle is using them as cleanup crew to finish off whoever survives.” The lead Forsaken took another step closer. I wonder how it had so many scars on its body. Who or what had it been fighting?. “Choose, Kade Thorn. Side with your blood. Or die with these broken wolves you call a pack. We offer power, real power. Not the collars and drugs of false gods.”

The attire covers almost my entire body. I took a deep breath, then unbuttoned the front of my shirt. One by one they were all open, then I took them all off until they fell to the floor. There, I was surprised by something I didn't expect. My breathing became heavier as I groped my right chest. “How come there's… nothing? There's nothing. I don't have the mark...?" **This is the end of Season 1 of The Forsaken Luna's Burning Love. Thank you for riding this story together. Hope you all enjoy it to the fullest. Look forward to the continuation of their story in the next season.**

he said coldly before walking away. I stared at his back as he walked away from me before sniffling into the handkerchief and it had his scent on it. It was calming but it couldn't take away the hurt in my heart. I trudged home, tears streaming down my face. As a Forsaken, I was no stranger to heartache. Our kind was abandoned by the Moon goddess, left to suffer in silence and be mistreated. We forsaken were the least in the pack and often referred to as low grade. Forsakens were a breed of omegas that didn't go through heat, but I was probably the only exception, except that I had kept it a secret.

Not panicked. Focused. Present. Finally, she whispers. I descend the stone steps from the watchtower, and the field opens before me like a painting soaked in blood. Figures emerge from the fog—wolves twisted by rage, warlords clad in scavenged armor, former allies who now wear Enzo’s crest like a brand. The rogue banners rise on the ridge. “Take the left flank!” I bark to the nearest squad. “Keep them off the eastern wall!” They don’t hesitate.

A single painted red rose—vivid, delicate, and defiant. “Holy sh*t! She’s the very definition of enchanting—exactly the kind of woman I’ve been dreaming about!” “Not gonna lie, I want to date her. No games, just love.” “Haha! I’m with you, man. Those earlier girls made me wanna drag them to bed. But this one? I just wanna treasure her. Love her. Spoil her!” “Quick, someone find out who she is!” “Are you stupid? That’s Miss Fallon’s bestie—Esther Davenier! The one the Davenier family disowned!”

No excuses for missing anything. Jacob finally emerged from one of the rooms, wiping his hands with a cloth. “Alpha,” he said. He hesitated for a beat. Then, “There’s something we found buried deep in the tissue scan. Almost missed it.” “What is it?” “A trace,” he said. “Faint. But there. Like something was injected into him. The tissue around the spinal column shows signs of forced mutation. Accelerated. Not natural.” He motioned for me to follow. We stepped into one of the inner labs, and he pulled up the scan.