The Forgotten Runes
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- Parts 29
MatureComplete Tue, May 27, 20251h 57m
Lost symbols. Hidden meanings. Ancient whispers waiting to be uncovered.
The Forgotten Runes isn't just a book, it's a journey into the past, where every chapter brings a new fragment of history, a glimpse into forgotten lives, and a lesson in the runes that shaped them. Through scattered tales of kings and warriors, of secrets buried in time, you'll learn the mysteries behind these symbols, their meanings, and the power they once held.
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This isn't a professional book or a deep historical study lmao, just something I wrote for fun. No intense plot, just simple, unplanned stories.
If you're curious, stick around. Maybe you'll enjoy the journey, or maybe you won't.
Either way, welcome to The Forgotten Runes.
All Rights Reserved
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High in a castle, where the walls never remember warmth, there is a room not spoken of. It sits behind velvet drapes and locked doors, tucked between the west tower and the chapel that hasn't known prayer in decades. No one goes there now. Not the maids. Not the priests. Not even the king. But once, there was a secret kept there. She was born with quiet in her bones, a child spun from porcelain and bloodline. Promised before her first breath, bartered before she could speak. They raised her in silence, trained her in fear. She learned early that disobedience was louder than screams. That beauty meant stillness. That girls who wanted anything burned. She was a perfect pupil. The governess fed her manners with a silver spoon. The priest taught her to fold her hands, never her spine. The tutor, he taught her to fear her own voice. They called her Little Dove. Not because she was sweet, but because she was caged. Wings clipped before she ever flew. She was taught to listen, never ask. To smile, never speak. To suffer, and never let it show. But secrets rot in silence. And even a dove, locked long enough in the dark, learns to bite. They never noticed when she stopped blinking. Never felt the moment the stillness turned inward sharp, feral, waiting. By the time they betrothed her to a man three times her age, it was already too late. She had begun to remember her name. And one day soon, the castle would remember her too, not as the girl they silenced, but as the woman who made the walls bleed for ever daring to forget her.
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