Plot Twists Fantasy Short Stories & Scumbag Novels

At eight, I swallowed the Tear of the Abyss, hidden in the holy font by my grandmother. After that, my skin was like pearl. It would never age. She called it a curse. Left by the Sea God. Every year, on the Night of the Tides, someone had to prove they truly wanted me to stay—press a Golden Scale to my heart. Or the scales would tear through my skin. My legs would fuse into a tail. The tide would drag me back to the abyss before dawn—a mermaid, trapped beneath the waves forever. Before she died, Grandmother left three Golden Scales. She gave them to my fiancé Alaric, my brother Caspian, and my childhood friend, Crown Prince Lucian. Their promises were so easy. "Just a scale? We'd get you the stars if you asked." But on the Night of the Tides, I saw all three. Pinned to a brooch on Evelina, the orphan from the Sanctum. They said she'd suffered, never known love. The scales would soothe her "fragile soul." But me? A princess didn't need trinkets to know I was loved. She danced. "I'm the luckiest girl in the empire." I pushed through the crowd. I just needed one. Alaric grabbed my wrist. "Haven't I given you everything? Don't be selfish now." Caspian shot me a look. "Let the artist finish, then you can have them." I showed them my hand. Sharp scales were already breaking through the skin. Lucian touched them. Laughed. "Illusion magic? Seraphina, your pranks are getting old." They escorted her to the throne. In their eyes, my life-or-death curse was just a pathetic play for attention. The blood moon was setting. T he gills behind my ears tore through my flesh. Blinding agony. I finally understood. I was meant for the sea. The water is cold. But at least I won't have to beg to stay anymore.

I’m from the Celtic family. The women in our bloodline possess a rare fertility trait, which means we’ve been politically married off to the Dragon Royals for generations. On my twentieth birthday, the Dragon King laid out portraits of his two sons in front of me and told me to pick a husband. Whoever I chose would inherit the crown and the entire treasury. I didn't hesitate. I picked Cael—the eldest son, infamous for his brutal, primal madness. Everyone’s jaws dropped. After all, the whole kingdom thought I was hopelessly obsessed with the younger son, Aaron. But only I knew the truth. In my past life, I actually got my wish and married Aaron, handing him the throne on a silver platter. But right after the wedding, he went behind my back with our family maid, Rose. When the King found out, he flew into a rage and exiled Rose to the Dark Lands. Aaron blamed me for everything and hated my guts. He looked down on my human status, parading a non-stop line of Rose-lookalikes in front of my face just to rub it in. Worse, when I got pregnant, he systematically swapped my prenatal tonics for a slow-acting poison. It killed me and my unborn child. Having a second chance at life, I decided to let him and Rose have each other. But what I didn't expect was that Aaron had reincarnated too.

In my last life, I fought for power, kept the books, and built alliances for my fiancé from the Fire clan until I had secured his position as heir. On the night of the victory banquet, he killed me with his own hands. He said Sophia was the woman he truly loved. I had taken her place and forced their love into the shadows. They had been conspiring all along, and even the child I had raised so lovingly was their illegitimate son. I died consumed by hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the marriage contract was to be signed. This time I wrote Sophia's name on it.

I was once the Pythia, an oracle of Apollo. After marrying the late king, I became known as the Oracle Priestess. When my husband died in battle, I faked my death and returned to the temple. From then on, I devoted myself to protecting the capital with the gods' blessing. Then one day, they brought my daughter's body into the temple. She was covered in raw, unhealed wounds, and her eyes were still open. The attendants tossed her body, wrapped in nothing but a straw mat, onto the floor. Then they stood nearby whispering. "Poor princess. The king cared more about the Rose of Highcourt than his own sister. He let her suffer until her wounds became infected and she died in agony. "King Theron was the one who sent her to the beastmen for a marriage alliance. Duke Charles was supposed to marry Princess Callista, but he later fell for Naia instead." So that was what had happened. While I was hidden away in this temple protecting Ostan, my son had turned his back on his sister for another woman. He let Naia take Callista's place, then sent his sister to live among savages. Callista survived the beastmen and everything they did to her. When they were finally defeated, she must have thought she could come home and put it all behind her. But Naia still wouldn't leave her alone. She bullied Callista every chance she got. Then she framed Callista for plotting to hurt someone, and Theron had her thrown into the dungeon. As I held my daughter's body, I couldn't bear to imagine what she had gone through in that dark, waterlogged dungeon, where prisoners were interrogated on the upper level and executed below. A corrupt kingdom like this didn't deserve the gods' protection. I begged the gods to forgive me. If this was how they treated my daughter, then I no longer cared what happened to this country.