Fantasy Traveler Novels & Stories

There was Fenrik, his golden eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine, but also a weariness that hadn't been present moments ago. He stood beside someone I didn't recognize, a tall, cloaked figure whose face was obscured by shadow. I saw myself too, in various forms—sometimes wielding a sword with unexpected grace, sometimes cloaked in dark, flowing robes, a crown of thorns resting on my head. In one vision, I stood on a precipice overlooking a vast, shimmering city, flames licking at the horizon. In another, I held a small, glowing orb in my hands, its light pulsing in rhythm with my own accelerated heartbeat.

“When Tara gets sucked into Faerieland, she’s cut off from the real world, but the bookseller, the man she first met in the bookshop, has the ability to send her help from his side of the gate. Some of that help will come from caches found in the real world by the gamers.” “Like Pokémon

He headed into the kitchen, shaking his head at me with a grin. I smiled at him and relaxed, grabbing a book off one of the end tables. I read the back cover, pretty sure it was once of Tristan’s and not one of mine as I didn’t recognize it. The description read like a run of the mill fantasy. Group of experienced adventurers traveling the lands in an attempt to stop some long trapped evil that was threatening to re-emerge. I opened it, reading it without paying too much attention so I didn’t get sucked in. I had lost myself countless tales over the years, using them as an escape in my younger years, avoiding the realities that were starting to take hold in my world.

"Where are we? This doesn't look like any part of the realms I've ever seen." Darius, still reeling from the dragon's abrupt departure, muttered, "Maybe we're not in our realm at all. Maybe that creature sent us somewhere... else." A soft humming sound caught their attention. Turning towards it, they saw a floating platform slowly descending towards them. Standing atop it was a figure, draped in shimmering robes, with a tall staff emitting a gentle glow. The platform touched down, and the figure stepped off, approaching them with measured steps. "Welcome, travelers," the figure intoned, its voice echoing strangely. "I am Elandriel, Keeper of the Nexus. You are in the City of Epochs, where ti

] "…Hah…. I'm gonna keep asking you a few more questions...I want a clear explanation….are you clear?." [Yes Sir, I will try my best to answer all of them.] Honestly, at this point I've already given up on being shocked or anxious, I've read multiple fantasy novels about reincarnation or transportation to a magical world, I even read one just a few minutes ago. After a full 1 hour of Q&A session with T.A.S, I already got the full gist of my situation. One, I'm now a Traveller between Earth and Fantasma, I can travel between the world without any problem all I have to do is say the words to T.A.S and it's done. Two, Traveling between worlds can only be used once a day, and it has a cool downt

"They are all well-toned and have a bra size of at least DD. A dozen ladies are available for fantasy play, as well as more than twenty males." Mrs. Hartley pushed away from the desk and walked behind it, opening a drawer in an armoire that stood there, and removing two thick, cashmere robes and matching pink and blue masks. The masks looked like sleep masks, but they had eye holes cut out and stitched in the center. "We have multiple safe guards in order to protect the identities of our members. This mask is required by all visitors and is to be worn in all public areas of the spa. You may remove it while alone in a fantasy room with one of our employees, but that decision is yours."

There was an aura about the man—a rhythmic, deliberate pace that suggested he wasn't running from the wasteland, but walking toward a destiny. When the Traveler finally stood in the courtyard, he didn’t ask for water. He didn’t ask for shelter. He simply reached into the thick folds of his travel-stained robes and pulled out a handful of the very dust he had walked through. He let it trickle through his fingers, forming a small, conical pile on the stone floor. "The foundations are being poured, Van Dyne," the Traveler said, his voice like grinding stones. "The East is no longer a graveyard. It is a womb."

“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.

he asked me with a bored look. "Actually, now that you mentioned it, where are we?" he slowly walked towards my direction and took the seat in front of me. "We're in the Kingdom of Flamis in Narte Fantasia. This is your mother's home." "What do you mean my mother's home?" I asked while looking at the floating books around us. "You, your mom, your dad, and I, we are called Fantasians. We live here, in Narte Fantasia." He explained patiently.

The traveler beneath the Last Tree slowly stepped forward. Their expression had become grim. The warmth and patience they normally carried had vanished. Replaced by something older. Something dangerous. Origin immediately noticed. "You know what that is." The traveler remained silent. For several moments. Then finally nodded. "Yes." The answer chilled everyone. Even the Void. The great eye narrowed. Watching. Listening. Learning. The traveler looked toward the crack. Toward the impossible shadow pressing against reality. Then whispered: "His name is Malakar." The universe shuddered.