Living Armor Fantasy Novels & Stories

She felt like a child who had wondered into an R rated movie. "Our employees are all chosen for their exceptional physical traits. All the men are at least six feet tall, all are younger than thirty, and all are-" Here Mrs. Hartley hesitated, making Emma look up. There was a sparkle in her eyes as she held her hands a little over a foot apart. "-well endowed," she finished. "The ladies are also chosen carefully," she continued. "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."

The smell of cigarettes, cold ashes and musty clothes had already eaten into the mortar. But all that faded as soon as the eyes fell on the large cage behind the door, out of which small, insane eyes stared out as if they wanted to hypnotize me. They belonged to a lizard-like body. The head with the little button eyes was just as scaly as the legs. The rest of the body is covered with elongated fur in beige. The neck seemed too long for the body. Although it was barely larger than a rat, it had the appearance of a small fur-covered dragon. Lacerta proles. There's this guy who keeps a pillicula as a pet.

Apart from anything, there was blood all over the nice, clean, white shirt Michael was wearing; his own blood. "Oh, but you can," Julia replied. "Have you ever heard that legend about dreams where you're falling? Normally, you fall, but you never hit the ground, right? Supposedly, if you land, you die in your sleep." "I know that," Kelly supplied. "Right," Julia nodded. "For most people, there's no real chance of death in their dreams. If they are about to die, they wake up. We're different, especially when we enter another person's dreamscape. If we die here, our minds die, and our bodies are left as lifeless shells."

It was beautiful — more beautiful than any place she had ever seen, a world untouched by the Blight, untouched by sorrow. But it was not untouched by war. The armies came from the north and the south, not wolves but something else — shapes that flickered between forms, creatures of light and shadow who wore their power like armor. They clashed on the plain, and the golden grass burned. The sky cracked. The river boiled. The mountains shattered. Lira saw wolves among them — ancient wolves, larger than any she knew, their pelts shimmering with runes and their eyes blazing with power she could not comprehend. They fought alongside the light-creatures and the shadow-creatures, and they died alon

The righteous side got wind of it and since some were threatened by her amazing carving skills they decided to take her life. The carver was killed by a thousand cuts for colluding with the evil factions, when the guardian heard it she massacred the righteous factions, took the carver’s body which she buried in a crystal coffin in her palace. The legend says that the guardian didn’t have any will to live anymore which is why she buried herself next to the carver so that in their next lives they will be meet and be together again. In order to commemorate the two’s love, a disciple created the pocket dimension that she cleaned out and how this dimension came over to earth, she had no idea. Any

​The transition into the Dark Fantasy Rebirth wasn’t a clean cut; it was a jagged, visceral overhaul. The obsidian tower didn’t just stand—it inhaled the light of the shattered moon, pulsing like a black heart at the center of the world. Nora felt the weight of the "Public Domain" settling over her shoulders like a suit of leaden mail. Her scrubs had hardened into a flexible, midnight-weave leather, and the wooden flute in her hand had lengthened, its grain flowing with a liquid, crimson light.

I couldn't help but whimper at what I saw. While my face seemed okay, and I could see alright, my eyes had an eerie, clouded over appearance to them. I turned to get a look at my torso and whimpered at the sight of the bones of my ribcage sticking out from my skin, hollowed out, my organs able to be seen through my bones. Bile rose to my throat and I began to gag at how horrifying it was to see my innards revealed like that. My skin was broken in patches throughout my body like this, including on two of my legs. I whimpered. I got my wolf back, but she was exactly as Tyce said—a wolf that had risen from the dead, as if I were in a horror movie. I couldn't go out in public like this.

He was a whirlwind of teeth and claws, but for every shadow he tore apart, ten more materialized. Laila looked at the man chained to the pillar. She realized that she couldn't win a war of attrition. She couldn't out light the dark. She had to break the anchor. She told Kaden to cover her. She told Elias to give her everything they had left. She stepped off the deck of the ship. She didn't fall. She walked on the surface of the black water, her silver armor flaring into a blinding brilliance. Every step she took sent ripples of white light across the Sunless Sea, the Soul Eaters shying away from her as if she were a living star.

Some were kings. Some were warriors. Some were lovers. Some were enemies. Some were dead. Some were still fighting. Lyra stared in horror. “How many lives have we lived?” The Mother answered, “Too many to count.” Aiden suddenly began crying. Lyra held him close. “What is wrong?” “They're waking up.” “Who?” Aiden looked toward the cracks. “All of them.” One of the alternate versions stepped forward. She looked exactly like Lyra. But she wore a crown made from black stars.

From the jagged peaks of the Dragon’s Spine to the salt-crusted cliffs of the Iron Coast, the fires roared not with the orange glow of timber, but with the haunting violet-white flicker of Elara’s own essence. ​She stood on the edge of the pier, the wind whipping her silver hair into a frenzied halo. She wasn’t wearing the rags of a fugitive or the delicate silks of a puppet princess. She wore armor of hammered silver and boiled leather, and a heavy cloak of white wolf-fur that smelled of woodsmoke and ancient snow.