Hidden Tale Novels & Stories

"I was still young then like you but your story has been told to every fairy in our realm because your parents, the Queen and King, tried to look for you, in the Fairy Realms. They never thought that Aldar and Melandra will not be able to tell them where they hid you. They were both left unconscious when they faced Alirion.” Caspian pauses after something crossed his mind. He stares at Princess Aria with a devastated expression. “It was meant to be kept as a secret so Alirion cannot reach you if our realm perishes, along with our Queen and King.” “You are a secret, the forgotten secret kept by Aldar and Melandra, all these years. This changes everything!" Caspian finishes his explanations wi

That was how they worked, in silent communication and sync, so much so that they never accepted other people to switch or join them. Selena squatted at the end of the hallway by the wall where there was a fluffy door mat and ran her hand through it. Smooth, no lump or irregularities meaning it was either still new or never used. She moved it and smiled at her finding. A tiny key hole. Typical rich people. She thought. They either had a secret something behind a painting or behind a book shelf or under their floor boards. The owner of the house fell under the last category, thus explaining the thick ceiling. She pulled at one of the boards but it didn't budge. Pushing it didn't work out eithe

She stepped inside, the scent of old books and mildew wrapping around her like bad memories. The place was as quiet as a wault, with rows of bookshelves stretching into the distance. A few scattered tables sat under flickering fluorescent lights, and the dust in the air felt thick enough to choke on. Leila found the history section and grabbed the book Tom had mentioned. Eduard Yellen’s "masterpiece" on German aristocracy and their ties to ancient power. It was thick, the kind of book that could double as a doorstop or a weapon, depending on circumstances. She flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the boring content, but she wasn’t really reading. Her mind was elsewhere, piecing toget

Claire didn’t want to stay another second in this town. “Yes! My baby—my cars, my yacht—I’m coming home!” Matteo cheered, bouncing away toward the hotel. —— Josef’s lessons with Violet had reached their final day. He asked her to wait a moment, then opened the safe beside him and retrieved a tightly sealed box. Violet followed his movements with curiosity. “What is it now? Another treasure for me to see?” Over the past few days, she had already seen enough rare pieces to confirm Edward’s claim: Josef’s private collection rivals a museum. She fully expected him to pull out another vintage artifact. Instead, he placed a brand-new presentation box in front of her.

This was my haven, a secret space where no one could find me—away from everything, from the pressures of my role, from the expectations that weighed on me. In my hands, I held the book I had stolen from the secret library. It was bound in dark leather, and its pages crackled with age. I had barely managed to slip it from its hidden resting place without anyone noticing, and now I was finally going to read it. The title was unassuming, but the stories it held, the knowledge it promised, stirred something deep within me.

I was trapped, destroyed, and standing over the literal, cold, humming secret of my own stolen

“Well, if it isn’t young Ari Hale. Looking for another sci-fi romance?” “Not today.” Ari forced a smile. “I was hoping you had local history books. Old ones. Maybe about legends?” Mrs. Wetherby frowned. “The Folklore Shelf. Back left corner. But don’t go believing any of that nonsense.” Ari found the shelf covered in dust. Most of the books hadn’t been opened. She pulled out a heavy tome titled The Hidden Histories of Varro’s Hollow. An hour later, her fingers stopped on a passage:

The last page is stained and unreadable Evelyn investigates the forest where the river bends—locals call it “The Hollow.” Inside the willow grove, she discovers ancient symbols carved into bark and bones buried beneath moss. An old woman named Maeve warns her: “The river doesn't forget. Neither should you.” Evelyn begins to dream of drowning.