The Forsaken Reader

The massacre unfolded faster than the book described.

In the novel, the soldiers fought for hours before being overwhelmed.

Here?

The warbeasts tore through the ranks within minutes.

The walls were breached. The commander was dragged from his post and executed. Fire spread through the wooden barracks.

Everything was crumbling too fast.

Ethan grabbed Lysia's wrist. "Come on! We have to go—"

She yanked free.

"No."

Ethan stared. "What?"

"I'm not running." Lysia's voice was steel. "I'm finishing this."

Ethan looked at the burning ruins around them.

"Are you insane? Look around you! There's nothing left to—"

A horn blared in the distance.

A signal. A command.

The warbeasts stopped.

The soldiers who were still standing hesitated.

The attack wasn't over.

But someone had called them back.

And as Ethan followed Lysia's gaze toward the remains of the northern watchtower, he saw him.

A man stood on the broken battlements, watching the battle unfold with calm detachment.

Not an enemy soldier.

Not a rebel.

A general in imperial armor.

Seran Durell.

Ethan's blood turned to ice.

Seran wasn't supposed to be here.

In the novel, the war hero wouldn't make his move until years later, when he betrayed the empire from within.

But here he was, watching the destruction of Fort Ironwood like a man studying an experiment.

Seran's eyes flickered downward, landing on Ethan.

And then—

He smirked.

Like he had just confirmed something.

Ethan's heartbeat thundered in his ears.

Seran knew.

He didn't know how or why, but the empire's future villain was aware that something had changed.

Ethan took a slow step back.

He had to get out of here. Now.

Lysia was still watching Seran, her expression unreadable.

Ethan had no idea what she was thinking.

But he knew one thing for sure—if they stayed here, they were dead.

So he did the only thing he could.

He grabbed Lysia by the arm and ran.

She resisted for only a moment before following.

Through the burning wreckage, past the bodies of fallen soldiers, toward the hidden tunnel beneath the commander's office.

Kael Veyne—the mercenary who should have died here—stumbled out of the shadows, wounded but alive.

He took one look at Ethan and Lysia, scowled, and fell in step beside them.

No words were exchanged.

Because right now, survival was all that mattered.

They disappeared into the tunnel as Fort Ironwood fell behind them.

Ethan's lungs burned as they ran, but his mind raced even faster.

Everything had changed.

Lysia Verrentis was alive.

Kael Veyne was alive.

The warbeasts weren't in the original battle.

And Seran Durell—the future villain—was already watching.

Ethan thought he had an advantage because he knew the novel's story.

But now, for the first time since arriving in this world, he realized the truth.

He didn't know anything anymore.

The book had betrayed him.

The tunnel smelled of mold and damp earth.

Ethan ran, his boots splashing through shallow puddles, his breathing ragged. Lysia was beside him, silent and tense. Kael Veyne limped behind them, favoring his injured side.

Fort Ironwood was gone.

And so was the last of Ethan's certainty.

He still couldn't believe it. The massacre came early. The warbeasts weren't supposed to be there. Seran Durell had been watching.

The book's script was already broken.

And the worst part?

Lysia Verrentis.

She was still alive. And she wasn't supposed to be.

After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel sloped upward. Ethan pushed forward, shoving aside loose wooden planks that led to the surface.

Cool air hit him like a slap.

They emerged into a dense forest, the branches above blocking the moonlight. The only sound was the distant crackle of flames—Fort Ironwood, still burning.

For a long moment, none of them spoke.

Then Kael dropped onto a fallen log with a groan, clutching his side.

"Well," he muttered, voice heavy with exhaustion. "That was absolute hell."

Ethan barely heard him. His mind was still spinning.

Lysia stood a few feet away, arms crossed. Her violet eyes flickered toward him.

"You knew," she said quietly.

Ethan stiffened. "What?"

"You knew Fort Ironwood was going to fall." Her tone wasn't accusatory. Just… studying.

Kael exhaled, shaking his head. "Yeah. I've been wondering about that, too." He glanced at Ethan. "You ran the moment the attack started, like you were expecting it."

Ethan felt his stomach twist.

They were too perceptive.

He needed to be careful.

Lysia tilted her head. "So tell me, Ethan Vale—how did you know?"

Ethan forced himself to meet her gaze.

And he did what he did best.

He lied.

Lying wasn't easy.

At least, not to someone like Lysia Verrentis.

Ethan knew she was watching him closely, waiting for his answer. Kael was listening too, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

He had to be careful. He couldn't tell them the truth—that they were characters in a book he had read over and over again.

So he did the next best thing.

He gave them a half-truth.

"I heard rumors," Ethan said, keeping his voice steady. "Before I was stationed at Ironwood. There were whispers about an attack coming from the borderlands. Nobody believed them."

Lysia's expression didn't change. "That's all?"

Ethan nodded. "That's all."

It wasn't convincing. Not entirely. But it was just believable enough.

Kael let out a tired breath and leaned back against the tree. "Great. So the empire knew about this and still let us die like dogs."

Ethan said nothing. The truth was worse. The empire hadn't cared. In the book, Fort Ironwood was never meant to survive.

Lysia, however, was still studying him.

Then, she spoke.

"You know," she said slowly, "there's an old prophecy in the empire."

Ethan frowned. "What?"

Lysia's gaze was sharp. "A prophecy that speaks of a forgotten heir who will uncover the empire's greatest secret. A secret that could change everything."

Ethan felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

That wasn't in the novel.

"Never heard of it," Ethan said carefully.

"I'm not surprised." Lysia's voice was calm, but her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword. "The prophecy was buried. Only a few still know of it."

Ethan's thoughts raced. A prophecy? A forgotten heir? This wasn't part of the original story.

Which meant—

Lysia was playing a game of her own.

She had survived when she was supposed to die. Now she was testing him.

He had no idea what she was really after.

But one thing was certain.

She didn't trust him.

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