Kingdom Of The Forsaken – Gwenyth Elise Hicken

And somehow, we’ve walked straight into its heart. As we step onto the porch, Keiran finally lets his arm drop from my shoulders. The loss of warmth is instant. Sudden. Like a predator just removed its shadow, leaving me exposed in open ground with nowhere to hide. He pushes open the inn door, and I slip inside behind him. The air is thick with smoke and stale ale.

A small bar sits toward the back, where humans and creatures I’ve only ever heard about in whispers huddle around rickety tables. Some men have gray, crusted scales glinting across their skin. One has hair the color of sour sunlight and flesh so pale it looks carved from bone. Another sits alone in the far corner—he’d pass for human if his eyes weren’t pits of endless black.

I scan the room cautiously, forcing myself not to stare too long at any one stranger… until a realization freezes me in place: I am the only woman. My breath wavers. I latch onto Keiran’s arm—hard. My nails dig through his sleeve, into the muscle beneath. He inhales sharply, visibly annoyed, but he doesn’t shake me off. He just stands there, stiff as stone, letting me cling to him as the atmosphere shifts.

Because the men have noticed me. All of them. Slow, appraising glances slither across my skin. Hungry. Curious. Predatory. Keiran leads me to the front desk, speaking to the broad, bearded innkeeper and asking for two rooms. “No,” I whisper urgently, tugging his sleeve. “Absolutely not. I’m not sleeping here alone.” We argue—quietly at first, then not-so-quietly. I don’t care if I sound terrified. I am terrified. This place reeks of danger in ways I can’t articulate. Finally, with a put-upon sigh just to shut me up, Keiran agrees.

He takes the key, stalking down the hall. I follow close behind, practically stepping on his heels. Our room is small, cramped, and utterly devoid of comfort. One narrow bed sits in the middle, hay poking beneath stained sheets. A squat chest rests at its foot. A rickety desk and a single chair slump to one side of the room. No decorations.

No warmth. Just cold wood and colder air. “Do you want the left or the right?” I ask, staring at the bed like it might bite. It’s not comfortable, but it’s still infinitely better than— “You’re sleeping on the floor,” Keiran says flatly. I blink. Surely, I misheard. “I… what?” I look from him to the uneven cobblestone floor. The jagged edges. The cracks. The dirt. “You’re not serious.” “You insisted on sharing a room,” he mutters, dropping his leather pack onto the bed and shaking out its contents.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Kingdom of the Forsaken Copyright 2025 by Gwenyth Elise Hicken All rights reserved. Edited by Gwenyth Elise Hicken Published by Midnight Ink Publishing, LLC Lehi, Utah 84048 Gwenythelise.com First edition To my wonderful mother whose faith in me was the quiet light that guided me through every page.

OceanofPDF.com CHAPTER ONE Eryndor 382 days ago: ✦ ✦ ✦ I squint up at the impossibly tall yellow brick wall dividing Heria—the capital of Arthena—from the rest of the kingdom. Smooth, sun-warmed bricks stack toward the clouds in a blinding gold column, shining like some divine monument to arrogance.

Inside that wall sit the nobles of this fine kingdom, wrapped in silks and drowning in gold while the rest of us choke on dust and debt. Heria perches at the center of Arthena, built on the peak of the tallest mountain this cursed kingdom can offer. Everything else sprawls beneath it, bowing to the twisted system crafted by those who adore looking down on others—literally. It was meant to symbolize purity, honor, hope. Now it’s nothing more than a pedestal for blue-bloods who mistake altitude for moral superiority.

We peasants may dream of such luxury… though I’m sure they’d find a way to tax us for the palaces our imaginations dare to build. I try—truly—to keep a stoic expression, but resentment leaks through like blood from a fresh wound. My teeth scrape together at the sight of the Golden Wall.

It isn’t just a political disaster; it’s a barrier built specifically to shield royalty from guilt. They get their gold-plated paradise. We get to rot where they don’t have to look. Lost peasants wander the streets, clinging to what little sanity they have left. Families are tossed from their homes when taxes rise yet again. Children beg for coins to keep their sick parents breathing.

Mothers and fathers clutch their freezing children in alleyways, whispering prayers the wind never hears. And money and disease aren’t even our greatest curse anymore. Something unseen gnaws at the minds of the people. Logic slips. Fear grows teeth. But those precious blue-bloods inside their shimmering cage don’t care enough to acknowledge it. So long as the taxes flow, the world outside could crumble to dust and they’d still toast themselves at sunset.

Desperation twists the kingdom. People gather, frantic and misguided, staging rebellions that accomplish nothing but broken bones. And if they keep going, it’ll lead to mass suffering. For all their defects, the royal family is not stupid. The king especially—strategically brilliant in a way that borders on monstrous. He has contingencies ready for any uprising.

And under this creeping spell of chaos, no one outside these walls can think clearly enough to challenge him. “State your business.” One of the guards barks the moment I reach the top of the endless cobblestone steps.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 756d4dabd4a743c5
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,444,852 bytes (1.378 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 302
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 469.23 minutes
• Total Words: 93,845
• Total Characters: 535,266
• Average Words per Page: 310.75
• Average Characters per Page: 1772.4

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