Mythic Fiction Novels & Stories

“Make it a good one.” “Oh, I shall!” it chittered, and with a flourish, it conjured a new narrative pocket in our world. This one wasn't tiny. It was a full-scale, shimmering mirage that overlay a corner of the garden. It depicted a classic, sweeping fantasy epic—knights, dragons, a quest for a glowing mcguffin. But something was off. The knight kept tripping over his own cloak. The dragon was afraid of heights. The glowing mcguffin was just a very persuasive lightbulb.

Kairos clenched her fists, being careful not to ignite her magic. "Oh yes. Nymphs indeed have a bond with the one they have their heart on. And you have made quite a close one if you're this infuriated of me." "I'm only upset that you wanted her erased, including from her father." "I assure you. It wasn't intentional. The citizens of Pastonville cannot know the existence of Mythics, as you should understand, you're the only Good Mythic other than me, still alive." "I'm a Halfling, which means whichever way my parents were human or Nymph. I don't know anything about them but where I used to live, was pretty dangerous. Murders are unsolved on every street all because of Alphas prancing whereve

“Especially when they’re built on truth.” A faint, condescending smile touched her lips. “Truth is such a malleable concept, don’t you find? Often confused with sentimentality and… well, fiction.” Her eyes locked with mine, a direct challenge. “I read your little blog post. A very moving story. A work of fiction, of course, but moving nonetheless.” I could feel Arthur tense beside me. The entire room was holding its breath. “It’s interesting you should mention fiction,” I said, not breaking eye contact. I gestured to the mosaic. “This phoenix, for example. It’s a powerful myth. Rising from the ashes. But it’s not the only powerful story about rising from ruin, is it?”

Once upon a time, a long time ago on the island of Kreg, a boy suddenly appeared inside an earl's castle without any guards noticing.The boy did not speak any known language and dressed in an extremely old-fashioned way, even for the time. With the thought that he was an envoy of the gods or a wizard, Count Walford of Kreg raised him as his own son and named him Nabee de Kreg.After a while Nabee was no different than any other boy, if not for the countless stories he had to tell, and that they became true! The most famous of them is also the only one that was not a prophecy, but only a tale about a distant past. It took place in fields of unimaginable beauty and mountains larger than any on

At least far more interesting than the story I heard yesterday at the antique auction, is this one, I thought. I became uneasy when he described how two werewolves broke their fated mate promise and unleashed a terrible calamity. The narrative was too visceral and realistic. Every time I hear the story, it seems to tighten my heart, so I don't want to listen to it anymore. It felt odd, as though I had also lived through the same narrative. She continued, "And it all began with the Grimoire." "Grimoire?" I asked, intrigued. This Grimoire seemed to be at the center of all the odd occurrences.

This is a work of dark fantasy fiction and should be read with an open mind and a clear understanding of its mature and controversial themes. Happy Reading ! You can follow my F******k page, Mia X Novels, for more stories ! * * * * *

He raised his hand and the weapon flew back into his grasp and he ran after them. Not having any other choice, the kids got in the stranger's car and he drove away fast enough to avoid being caught by the assassin. "Are you guys okay?" The stranger asked. "Yeah, thanks for helping us," Joe said, out of breath. "Who are you and who was that person that was chasing us?" Lydia asked from behind. "My name's Micah Jameson and that person that was chasing you was a Ginx," Michael said. "A what?" Kurt asked. "A Ginx. A magical warrior from Troleyadia, sent here to find the twin seeds of Eyah and by the looks of it, kill them," Micah said.

I am afraid but I must fuel my curiosity. My fingers trail over books as I use my eyes to search. “History of the Great Wars. Wolf-Clan Genealogies.” Useless!! In a corner, I find a smaller shelf with older, cracked bindings. One title stands out: Creatures of Myth and Scarcity. I pull it free, coughing at the plume of dust, and sink to the floor in a pool of blue velvet. I open it. Swan Mythology. It is exactly what I am looking for.

I watched her fade because I could not find the blood of the Ancient known as ‘The Myth. I felt a pang of sorrow for Alexander. The book went on to describe the tragedy of "The Myth." He had been the King of all Alphas, a being of such power that his blood was rumored to have magical properties, it could heal any wound and even bring a wolf back from the brink of death.

He gave her a questioning gaze. “No.” She replied. She knew what he was driving at and she had to admit that after what she noticed back in Tisha’s house and then now. It was time to stop pretending about the obvious. “The things that happened in myths and stories are now a reality. First, vampires. Now , werewolves. For the past two days I tried to pretend that all was right but I cant pretend any longer.” He stood up and went to the living room and she followed him. He sat down on the cushion, staring intently at the table absentmindedly. She sighed and sat beside him.