Fantasy Classics Novels & Stories

That girl, called Shinzo really didn't know what was the most terrifying, at that time, as she walked through the ancient mountains, among the forests of beasts, in that place, whose nature of these monstrous creatures connected and took root with the fact that they were created to protect mystical artifacts. Since they existed there for millennia before creation, legends said that in these forests of monsters, countless monsters appeared, created by ancient wizards, who became involved in wars for power. All these artifacts were in those forests and mountains, among caves and countless tombs, protecting them, also hiding riches that were magical and cursed, books.

If there was even a sliver of a way back… My fingers dragged over one particularly ancient tome: bound in silver and wrapped in spell-locked chains. I whispered the unlocking spell, old enough that the air around me shimmered with pale blue glyphs. The book creaked open. “Chronos Binding,” I murmured. The title alone sent a chill down my spine. Inside were diagrams of realms overlapping each other like threads in a tapestry. Old Realm. Divine Plane. Mortal Realm. Abyssal Void.

How could she think about him when only moments before she was thinking about the hated Dave and how much she feared him? She flipped her laptop open again and decided she’d continue with her children’s books, the Sacred Sword series, urban fantasy stories about a brother and sister who found themselves in the Himmapan world where the heaven and earth were at war, gods and demons fought for power, and amongst them were creatures like the naga, garuda, and hanuman who aided the two children in their journey to save this world.

We may have won another battle, but the war is yet to come and I’m certain before it, there will be several more battles; that I am sure of. I’ve decided to keep the grimoires as the property of the Fuego de Ceniza pack; however, I am willing to loan them out to those who want to take a look and study them. For me, just one skim of the spell and I can will it into existence without the enchantments, herbs or crystals that witches need. Kataleya has officially moved fully. We had her things brought over and seeing her things here in our room beside mine is a beautiful reminder that she is indeed mine to keep forever.

"And before I forget, if a thing doesn't linger in your brain for about 5 seconds, the caster cannot hear it. Atleast that was the record of the fastest reader I've known." Right now, I am so much sure about one thing, indeed, I am the reason why Ruka reacted like that. The girl didn't like me and I insulted her even more. Did I just sign myself into a death wish? Will she come for me later? Maybe at midnight? My own thoughts were scarying me more that I'm already was. "And lastly, the decendants of Meniah. Red-eyed kierikos who can transform themselves into wild creatures." I looked at him closely, he had those kind of eyes. I patiently waited for him to fill me with details but he didn't s

Not in this life. In something older. The golden warmth inside her chest pulsed slowly. Not afraid. Anticipating. The door opened. Light poured through. Not blinding. Not holy. Brilliant — but edged in something sharp. A figure stepped through. Tall. Radiant. Terrible. Beautiful. Wings unfurled behind him — not feathered white, not demonic black — but something shifting between both, like light seen through fractured glass. His eyes were not cruel. They were ancient.

The invitation arrived in a plain black envelope, no return address, slipped under her apartment door like a secret. Inside: a single heavy card, embossed in silver. Velvet Rope Society Saturday, 11 p.m. One night. One rule: everything is consensual. Bring only your desire. Lila had heard whispers about the club—exclusive, hidden somewhere beneath the city, a place where the wealthy and the wicked gathered to buy and sell pleasure. She’d always told herself it was myth. Fantasy fodder for late-night scrolling.

The red beast’s roar split the battlefield like thunder, shaking the very sand beneath my boots. Its eyes—molten and unblinking—locked on me, and I felt the weight of that gaze like a hammer. Around it, the towering guardians stirred, their muscles rippling like cables beneath scaled armor. Even the air trembled when it moved, carrying a stench of ash and burning oil. The dunes themselves seemed to recoil from its presence, like the land remembered what it had done before.

I loved going up the staircase, so that was where my books were kept. I didn’t expect it to still be there—I was just curious what was—but I was shocked to find it fully stocked. The young adult novels still sat, but the collection had expanded to two shelves. Classics from Charlotte Brontë and Jane Austen, the entire Harry Potter series, and many others lined up together. One in particular caught my eye—La Belle et la Bête by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve. The origin of the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale.

Feeling at a loss as to what to do with myself, I decided to explore the library. Wandering through the currently empty house on my way to the library, I begin to find myself feeling rather lonely. Flicking Kenzie a quick text to see what she is up to, I walk through the door and into the library. Perusing the shelves I see that the majority are classics such as Charles Dickens and Jane Austin. But tucked away in the corner I spy one of my favourite fantasy series. A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin. Curling up in the lone red leather chair I open the first book and begin to read.