Archiveborn Chronicals - book 2: Shadows of the Stolen Past: Archiveborn Chronicals, #2

By J Wondrey

Some memories are better left buried. Some shadows never stay in the dark.

As the Archiveborn struggle to reclaim control of their fractured world, secrets from the past begin to resurface—secrets that were never meant to be found. In the aftermath of betrayal, new alliances are forged, old enemies return, and the lines between friend and foe blur with every revelation.

In this gripping second installment of the Archiveborn Chronicles, loyalties are tested and hidden truths come to light. As darkness rises and power shifts, the Archiveborn must confront what was stolen from them… and what it will cost to take it back.

Shadows of the Stolen Past is a story of resilience, memory, and the haunting weight of legacy. For fans of immersive fantasy, character-driven plots, and high-stakes magic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J Wondrey
• Release date: May 29, 2025
• ISBN: 9798230919964

J Wondrey

J. Wondrey is a writer who explores the darker corners of the heart and mind. An ICU nurse by profession, Wondrey brings a deep understanding of life's most fragile moments into stories that blend emotional intensity with gripping realism. Known for crafting slow-burning narratives filled with raw vulnerability, quiet resilience, and characters you can't forget, J. Wondrey writes fiction that lingers. Whether it's love, trauma, healing, or human connection, the stories go beyond entertainment—they're a reflection of what it means to survive and still feel deeply. When not writing or working night shifts in critical care, Wondrey spends time journaling, observing the world in quiet moments, and turning truth into story—one page at a time.

Book preview

Front Matter

To the tenacious readers, the dreamers of impossible dreams, the keepers of forgotten stories – this book is for you. For those who dare to delve into the shadows, to confront the ghosts of the past, and to fight for the truth, even when it feels like the world itself is trying to erase it. This is a dedication to every young heart that beats with the rhythm of adventure, to every mind that refuses to let memory fade, and to every soul that believes in the power of a single person to change the course of history. It is a tribute to the unyielding spirit of those who, like Lira, confront the impossible, grapple with the weight of difficult choices, and discover the strength within themselves to overcome overwhelming odds. Their courage inspires us all to stand firm against the tide of oblivion, to preserve the fragments of our past, and to ensure that the voices of the forgotten are heard once more. This book is also a tribute to those who have shown me the unwavering strength that a kind soul can possess even in the face of overwhelming darkness. To my family, my friends, and my mentors, whose unwavering belief in my ability to tell stories has fueled my creativity and bolstered my perseverance. Your encouragement has been a constant source of strength, guiding me through the challenges and celebrating the triumphs of this writing journey. To those who have faced their own personal Echoes, those who have battled the loss of memory, the fading of identity, or the daunting weight of difficult decisions, this book is a testament to your resilience, your strength, and your unwavering spirit. May the pages that follow offer solace, inspiration, and a reminder that even in the darkest of times, the power of memory, truth, and hope can prevail. And finally, to all those whose memories I may have inadvertently touched, reshaped, or rekindled, thank you. For the words I have written on these pages are merely a reflection of the countless narratives that shape our lives, weaving a complex and ultimately beautiful tapestry of human experience. I hope that this tapestry, like your own memories, will continue to unfold, to deepen, and to inspire for years to come.

Chapter 1: The Vanishing of Oakhaven

The tremor in the ancient oak desk felt more like a physical blow than a vibration. Lira, her fingers tracing the worn grooves of the mahogany, felt the familiar chill that accompanied news from the outer reaches of the Archive's influence. The message, delivered by a breathless courier, was terse, barely legible on the crumpled parchment: Oakhaven...vanished. No trace. Seek Echoes.

Oakhaven. The name sparked nothing in her at first, a flicker of nothing. It should have—Oakhaven was a bustling port town, known for its vibrant markets, its skilled shipwrights, and its annual harvest festival celebrated across the kingdom. Lira, during her years of training within the Archives, had pored over countless documents detailing Oakhaven’s history, meticulously cataloging its evolution from a humble fishing village to a significant trading hub. Yet, now, the name felt like a ghost, a word without substance.

––––––––

Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the initial numbness. This wasn't just a forgotten footnote in history. This was... erasure. A deliberate, surgical removal of an entire community from the collective memory of the world. The Shadowbinders. There was no other explanation.

The Shadowbinders, a clandestine organization rumored to wield the power to manipulate memory itself, were no longer just whispers in the halls of the Archives. They were a tangible threat, a force capable of rewriting reality itself. Lira had encountered fragmented evidence of their activities before – subtle shifts in historical records, inconsistencies in eyewitness accounts, the occasional fading of a prominent figure's influence. But Oakhaven? The complete obliteration of a town, its people rendered as if they had never existed? It was a chilling escalation.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she reviewed the courier’s message again. The parchment was brittle, the ink faded, but the final words burned themselves into her mind:

Seek Echoes. Echoes. The lost city. A place spoken of only in hushed tones, a legend whispered among the oldest Archivists. A city where memories, it was said, took physical form, where the past manifested as spectral guardians, shielding its secrets from the unworthy.

Lira knew the risks involved. The Archives, while a repository of immense knowledge, was not without its limitations. The knowledge of Echoes was fragmented, scattered across countless texts, shrouded in cryptic symbolism and veiled allusions. The very journey to the city was said to be fraught with peril. But she had no choice. Oakhaven's disappearance was a blatant act of aggression, a clear sign that the Shadowbinders intended to rewrite history to their own nefarious ends. And Lira, as the most skilled Archivist in the kingdom, was the only one who could unravel the mystery and potentially undo their malevolent work.

She summoned her most trusted assistant, Elara, a young woman with a keen mind and an uncanny knack for deciphering ancient codes. Elara, her face pale with worry, entered Lira's office, her usually bright eyes clouded with apprehension.

Oakhaven, Elara, Lira said, her voice grave. It's gone.

Elara's breath hitched. Vanished? Completely?

From memory, Lira confirmed, handing Elara the crumpled parchment. No physical evidence, no records, no recollections. It's as if it never existed.

The Shadowbinders, Elara whispered, her gaze falling upon the cryptic message, the mention of Echoes sending a shiver down her spine. They're bolder than ever before.

The next few hours were a blur of frantic activity. Lira and Elara worked tirelessly, scouring the Archives' extensive collection for any remaining trace of Oakhaven, any clue that could shed light on its sudden disappearance. They sifted through dusty scrolls, cracked parchments, and fragmented records, their hands stained with age-old ink, their eyes strained from the dim light. They discovered a pattern; other smaller towns had vanished over the last few decades, towns with seemingly no connection except for the fact they were all related to ancient prophecies or lost relics. The pattern was chilling and foreboding.

––––––––

They discovered a lone, almost invisible marking on one of the few remaining scraps of a Oakhaven map: a symbol resembling three intertwined spirals, encircled by a crescent moon. It was a symbol utterly alien to any known kingdom or civilization, yet it felt profoundly familiar, resonating with a deep, primordial sense of unease. Lira recognized the symbol from an obscure text on forbidden lore—a text whispered to be the only remaining trace of knowledge about Echoes.

Days melted into nights as Lira poured over ancient texts, painstakingly comparing the symbol to similar glyphs and runes. She followed every lead, no matter how tenuous, every whisper, every shadow of a memory. She consulted with elder Archivists, their faces etched with the weight of centuries of knowledge, their minds burdened by secrets they could never fully share.

Finally, after days of relentless research, a breakthrough. A forgotten passage in a crumbling tome, hidden within a secret compartment revealed that the symbol indicated not only the existence of Echoes but also its likely location: a hidden valley nestled deep within the Whispering Woods, a place said to be haunted by the ghosts of forgotten tragedies. The whispering woods...a place of shadows and secrets, a place known to swallow the unwary whole.

Just as she thought she had found all the clues she needed, a cryptic message arrived, delivered not by a courier, but by a raven, a single black feather clutched in its beak. The feather itself bore an inscription, almost microscopic, barely visible under the magnified glass:

The moon's embrace, the spiral's path, the forgotten well... The message hinted at a precise location within the Whispering Woods. It was a confirmation of her findings, a grim invitation to embark on a dangerous journey into the heart of the unknown.

The weight of her responsibility pressed down on Lira. Oakhaven’s disappearance was not an isolated incident. It was a sign of a much larger conspiracy, a carefully orchestrated campaign of historical revisionism orchestrated by the Shadowbinders. Their ultimate goal remained a mystery, but the urgency of the situation was undeniable. Lira knew, deep down, that she was the only one who could stop them, that the fate of the world, indeed the past and the future, rested on her shoulders. The fate of countless lost memories and the fragile fabric of reality depended upon her.

Her journey was far from over. The cryptic message spoke of a path fraught with danger, a path leading not only to Echoes but also potentially to a devastating confrontation with the Shadowbinders themselves. The thought was daunting, yet Lira felt a surge of determination that overrode fear. She knew the risks. She had always known them, from the moment she entered the Archives, but the weight of the missing town pressed on her with crushing intensity. She would confront her fears. She would chase the shadows of Oakhaven. She would find Echoes. The weight of the Archivist's burden had never felt so heavy.

The symbol, three intertwined spirals encircled by a crescent moon, pulsed faintly in Lira’s mind, a discordant echo in the otherwise silent Archives. It was a key, she knew, a key to unlocking the mystery of Oakhaven and the insidious machinations of the Shadowbinders. But what door did it open? And what secrets lay hidden behind it?

Days bled into weeks as Lira and Elara delved deeper into the Archives' labyrinthine depths. They unearthed fragmented accounts, whispered legends, and forgotten prophecies, all pointing towards a single, terrifying conclusion: the Shadowbinders weren't merely erasing towns; they were targeting specific historical events, events linked to powerful, dangerous magic, magic that threatened to unravel the very fabric of reality.

The pattern emerged slowly, a chilling tapestry woven from threads of vanished settlements. Oakhaven, a bustling port town, was only the latest victim. Before it, there was Alder’s Ford, a small village renowned for its healing springs, now a blank space in collective memory. Then came Silverstream, a city famed for its alchemists and their legendary Philosopher's Stone, erased as thoroughly as if it had never existed. Each town, Lira discovered, had been associated with a particular legend, a powerful artifact, or a potent magical tradition. The Shadowbinders weren't merely stealing memories; they were suppressing history itself, rewriting the past to suit their own nefarious purposes.

––––––––

The common thread, however, was elusive. The towns were geographically disparate, their histories seemingly unrelated. Yet, Lira sensed a deeper connection, a hidden link that bound them together. She felt it in the bone-deep chill that accompanied each new discovery, in the subtle dissonance that echoed in the Archives' normally tranquil atmosphere. The answer, she suspected, lay not in geographical proximity but in the temporal resonance of these events.

Then came the breakthrough. A tattered scroll, almost reduced to dust, yielded a clue. Hidden within its brittle pages, tucked away in a compartment invisible to the untrained eye, was a detailed account of a forgotten historical event: the Great Confluence, a cataclysmic event that occurred centuries ago, an event involving a clash between powerful mages and a terrible ancient entity, an entity said to have possessed the power to manipulate time and memory itself. The towns, Lira realized, were all located near the sites where remnants of this ancient energy were said to have persisted. The Shadowbinders were targeting these locations, erasing them to prevent any resurgence of this dangerous magic, preventing the world from remembering the terrible secret buried beneath its surface.

The intertwined spirals, Lira realized with a jolt, were a symbol associated with the Great Confluence. They represented the chaotic flow of magical energy that had been unleashed during that catastrophic event. The crescent moon, meanwhile, symbolized the cyclical nature of time and the Shadowbinders' attempts to alter its course.

Armed with this newfound knowledge, Lira intensified her research. She delved into texts deemed too dangerous for even the most experienced Archivists, venturing into forbidden areas of the Archive's vast library. She deciphered ancient runes, painstakingly translating cryptic prophecies, and sought answers in the hushed whispers of forgotten languages. Elara, her constant companion, worked tirelessly alongside her, their combined intellect forming a powerful force against the encroaching shadows.

The deeper they dug, the more disturbing the truth became. The Shadowbinders were not merely a shadowy organization; they were a cult, a sinister cabal dedicated to controlling the flow of time and manipulating history to their advantage. They believed that by erasing the memories of the Great Confluence, they could prevent its recurrence, preventing the chaos and destruction that followed. But their methods were brutal, their disregard for human life chilling. They were rewriting reality itself, a terrifying prospect that sent shivers down Lira's spine.

But there was more to it. The texts hinted at a hidden agenda, a deeper, more sinister motive beyond the mere suppression of dangerous magic. They spoke of a prophecy, a prophecy foretelling the rise of a powerful entity, an entity that could either save the world or plunge it into eternal darkness, an entity whose emergence was tied to the memories of the Great Confluence. The Shadowbinders, Lira realized with horror, were trying to prevent this entity’s emergence, not just for the sake of order but to maintain their own power and influence.

As Lira pieced together the fragmented narratives, a terrifying picture emerged. The Shadowbinders weren't just erasing towns; they were erasing anyone who possessed knowledge about the Great Confluence or the prophecy it contained. They were systematically eliminating any potential obstacle to their nefarious plan, silencing all who could resist their control. And Oakhaven, it seemed, was not just another victim; it held a vital piece of this puzzle, a piece that the Shadowbinders were desperate to keep hidden.

The pressure mounted. Lira felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, the burden of countless lost memories, the responsibility for preserving history itself. She knew she couldn't fail. She had to find Echoes, not just to uncover the truth about Oakhaven's disappearance, but to prevent the Shadowbinders from rewriting reality and unleashing a catastrophe far greater than the Great Confluence itself.

The raven's cryptic message—

The moon's embrace, the spiral's path, the forgotten well—haunted her dreams. It was a map, a riddle veiled in poetic language. The moon's embrace hinted at a location illuminated by moonlight, a place shrouded in shadow. The spiral's path suggested a winding trail, possibly a natural formation resembling the symbol itself. The forgotten well, finally, held a deeper, more ominous connotation. It alluded to a source of power, a conduit to the ancient magic the Shadowbinders sought to control.

With Elara at her side, Lira began preparations for her journey to the Whispering Woods. The very air seemed to hum with anticipation, an undercurrent of magic vibrating beneath the surface. The weight of her mission pressed heavily upon her, but fear was overshadowed by the burning need to uncover the truth, to confront the Shadowbinders and reclaim the lost memories of those who had vanished without a trace. The fate of history, the very fabric of reality, hung precariously in the balance, and Lira, the intrepid Archivist, was the only one who could save it.

The Whispering Woods pressed in, a suffocating embrace of ancient trees whose branches clawed at the sky. Sunlight struggled to penetrate the dense canopy, casting the forest floor in perpetual twilight. Lira, her cloak drawn tight against the damp chill, moved cautiously, Elara's hand a reassuring presence on her arm. They had been travelling for days, following the cryptic clues from the raven’s message, the whispers of the wind their only guide. The air itself seemed to hum with a low, resonant thrum, a subtle vibration that spoke of potent magic, both ancient and unsettling.

The path, overgrown and treacherous, twisted and turned, mirroring the convoluted nature of the mystery they sought to unravel. Every fallen log, every gnarled root, felt charged with an unseen energy, a palpable sense of the past clinging to the present. The silence, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig, was more oppressive than any noise could have been. It was a silence heavy with forgotten memories, with secrets buried deep beneath the soil.

Days melted into a blur of relentless travel, their progress hampered by the dense undergrowth and the ever-present sense of being watched. The woods seemed to breathe, to shift and change around them, as if the very trees were sentient, their ancient wisdom a silent judgement on their intrusion. Lira felt the strain of the journey, not just physically, but mentally. The weight of her responsibility, the burden of countless lost memories, pressed heavily on her shoulders. The fear of failure, of letting down those whose memories had been stolen, gnawed at her resolve.

Elara, ever practical, kept their spirits up, her unwavering optimism a beacon in the encroaching darkness. She charted their progress on a weathered map, painstakingly noting every landmark, every unusual formation. Her knowledge of herbal remedies proved invaluable, soothing aching muscles and calming frayed nerves. But even her cheerful disposition couldn't entirely dispel the oppressive atmosphere of the woods, the unsettling feeling that they were not alone.

Then, as twilight deepened, painting the forest in hues of violet and grey, they came upon it - a clearing bathed in an ethereal moonlight, the moon's embrace of the raven's message. At the heart of the clearing stood an ancient well, its stonework weathered and overgrown, the forgotten well, a silent testament to a forgotten past. Around the well, carved into the earth, was a winding path, a labyrinthine pattern that mirrored the intertwined spirals of the symbol that had haunted Lira's dreams – the spiral’s path.

But it wasn’t the well or the path that caught Lira’s attention. It was the figure huddled beside the well, shrouded in shadow, their face obscured. As they approached, the figure stirred, raising a hand in a hesitant gesture. It was a woman, her clothes tattered and stained, her hair a wild tangle of grey and brown. Her eyes, however, held an unnerving clarity, a startling lucidity that defied the oppressive atmosphere of the clearing.

Lira and Elara exchanged a worried glance. The woman, Lira sensed, was a survivor of Oakhaven. And she somehow retained her memory.

Who... who are you? Lira asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The woman looked at her, her gaze unwavering, her expression a mixture of weariness and defiance. My name... was Elara. Elara Thorne.

The name hit Lira like a physical blow. It was the same name as her companion. A shiver ran down her spine. This was no mere coincidence. This was something far more significant.

Oakhaven... it’s gone, Elara Thorne continued, her voice raspy, barely audible above the rustling leaves. They... they took it. Took everything.

––––––––

Lira felt a surge of hope, a flicker of light in the pervasive darkness. Here was a witness, a survivor who could provide answers. She approached cautiously, her hand outstretched.

Tell me, Lira urged gently. Tell me everything.

Elara Thorne hesitated, her eyes darting nervously around the clearing, as if expecting an unseen threat to emerge from the shadows. Then, in a voice strained by emotion and exhaustion, she began to speak. She spoke of the Shadowbinders, of their terrifying power to erase memories, to rewrite history itself. She spoke of their methods, their insidious techniques, their horrifying disregard for human life. She described the night Oakhaven vanished, the surreal, dreamlike quality of the event, the way the town simply... faded.

But her account was fragmented, disjointed, as if her memories were themselves fragmented, scarred by the Shadowbinders' manipulations. She spoke of a ritual, a horrifying ceremony involving the ancient well and a strange, pulsating energy that emanated from it. She spoke of a leader, a shadowy figure known only as the Weaver, whose power was absolute, whose will was law. And she spoke of a greater purpose, a terrifying goal that the Shadowbinders sought to achieve.

They... they want to unravel the past, Elara Thorne whispered, her voice barely audible. To rewrite reality. To... create a new world. A world free from... from the truth.

Lira felt a chill run down her spine. This was far more than the erasure of towns. This was an