Fantasy Ink Novels & Stories

“None you’ve laid eyes on. Don’t believe me? Pull down my dress and take a look for yourself. The magic is bound in ink. Took me a long time to complete.” Unclenching my fist, I loosened my hold on her. She fell to the ground, barely catching herself on the wall. As she stood, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and dabbed at her lipstick. The air in my lungs turned stagnant as she slid the strap of her dress off and exposed the left side of her ribcage. A series of interconnecting symbols were inked onto her flesh, but there was something strange about them. The image moved on its own, the ink rippling as if it were a living thing.

The ink clings to the quill, its viscosity carefully crafted to prevent dispersal in the water. Turning his attention to the kelp paper in front of him, Bryan observes the faint shimmer on its surface. The kelp fibers have been infused with a unique hardening agent, a secret formula known only to the skilled artisans of Tritania. The agent causes the ink to react, triggering a chemical transformation that solidifies the liquid, ensuring that the words he pens will remain intact and readable.

A crack split the golden band, Ink gushed from it, flooding the soil, dark and brilliant and wild, The void shrieked recoiled not in pain, but in confusion, Because the Hollow Crown was never meant to be broken. It was made to contain, And now? It had released, Liora rose, marked, Ashen's story etched along her spine, burning with every breath And from the ink at her feet, A figure rose. Tall, Shifting, Wearing parts of every story she had ever failed to finish, Eyes like Ashen’s, But older, Too old. And it spoke. “I am the ink between your lines.” “And now… I will write you.”

Kian blocked the first, then the second, sparks bursting where silver met rune. Ayla backed against the wall, the glow of her tattoos spreading up her neck, across her collarbone. The world blurred—every sound, every movement warped and distant. The whispers returned. “Remember the ink. Remember the moon.” Her vision flared white. Suddenly, she saw things not with her eyes but through the mark itself—threads of energy weaving through the room, pulsing from Kian, from Lucen, from the runes embedded in the walls. The ink was alive. And it was hers.

“Fantasy?” Came the uncertain inquiry through the bullhorn that sounded out loudly amongst the hustle and bustle of the crowded pier. Raising my hand I picked up my duffel bag and began making my way forward. As I walked the men about me stared. They always stared. It was kind of nice and yet annoying at the same time. It didn’t help that my Russian born mother so enamored with her relocation to a new and in her eyes, ‘fantasy land’ of America had named me as such.

Opening the cover I read... You've been lacking strength and control in your past life. Now you are presented with a choice, be daring enough to enter a world where your, entire existence will be questioned or choose to remain in your world and carry on living in a constant cycle of regret. The choice is yours so choose wisely. If you choose to enter our world you will be given a better version of yourself and will be given various opportunities throughout the book to learn from past mistakes and learn how to become stronger, braver, and bolder than you've ever been. Have no fear, for you will not enter this world without gifts, but bear in mind magic comes at a price and if you are found la

"I haven't read of him in your history." Marcus owned the only known text of beastkind and vampire lore in North America. He brought the heavy volumes with him when he left Europe. Amy was fascinated by the history that humans would find dark but fanciful, similar to Grimm's Fairy Tales. Much of the text was handwritten, which Amy spent hours deciphering. Her journalistic background needed an outlet and the books provided her with the tools to try to understand who and what she really was.

"No way! This is not happening!" I said to myself while looking at the mirror. Why is the reflection on the mirror different? Her eyes, were glistening purple, sculpted upon her creamy face like dazzling amethyst. Strands of molten gold tumbled out of her scalp, cascading down her back like a waterfall. Lips as red as roses, crystal white teeth, hourglass-shaped body. This girl is the perfect cover for FHM magazine or she could be the next Victoria Secret Angel! Hold on, her appearance is similar to the character design of Valeria Falsen that I drew for Callista's novel.

Takuri spilled into him, warmth flooding as the knot held them bound together. Izumi leaned down, capturing Rin’s lips, kissing him as his body convulsed weakly beneath them both. Her tongue swept into his mouth, silencing his sobs. When she pulled back, her voice was a whisper against his lips. “You finally belong to us.” Rin sobbed helplessly, body going limp, head lolling to the side. His eyes landed on the ink on his ribs, two intertwined lines, mocking him, binding him. His vision dimmed as exhaustion overtook him.

"Draw what you see in the book. Right now." I flipped the book open to the first page. The symbols were there, swirling in their gold-flecked ink. I started to sketch the first one. It was a complex series of intersecting lines. As soon as I lifted the pen from the notepad, the ink on my paper vanished. The page was white and empty again. I stared at the paper, my mouth hanging open. "What the hell?" Alanza, Sombra’s voice was urgent. Write them again. One by one. Fast.