Twisted Wonderland Lilia Novels & Stories

She groaned but didn’t rise. “No—no—no,” Lily said, voice trembling. Before I could reach Wanda. A massive wall of ice rose between us. Elaria stepped forward. “Insects,” she said. “You delay the inevitable.” Lila tried to cast a barrier, but the frost crept up her arm, freezing her spell in midair. “N-no—!” she cried as ice climbed her torso. “Lila!” Lily tried to reach her. But Elaria snapped her fingers. Lila froze completely.

At one point, she'd been my best friend. Lila was a witch. When we first met, she was practicing revival magic on dying flowers in the garden. Even though she looked way younger, I was only a year older, but it never mattered. I wasn't a witch and couldn't do magic, which made everything she did all the more fascinating. I used to sit and watch her bring dead petals back to life. Eventually, she noticed me, smiled, and waved me over.

Fire needs stone, pup—she’s yours, revel! Lila stood by the pool, chestnut ponytail swaying, hazel eyes bright, clutching a parchment scroll, charcoal stick tucked behind her ear, courage radiant—the Veil’s end, her maps eternal, her spark blazing. Her tunic was clean, voice lilting, sketching the pool, the twilight catching her joy. Spark, her wolf, yipped vibrantly, tail wagging. You’re their star, Lila—draw, shine, live!

Inside the barrier was enchanted, and their body would be heavier than usual. Lizo managed to stand back and walk unaffected while Linda was still on the ground. “Stand up, Linda.” She forcefully pulled herself up and we walked farther. I walked faster to leave them and when I escaped from their sight, I gave them an illusion. I invaded their heart and mind to find their nightmare and showed it. I saw Linda instantly cry while standing, she was looking straight and tried to touch who was in front of her. Unfortunately, I did not know what they were seeing. Lizo was on verge of shifting. Furious and ready to fight.

My parents had been killed by Goblins and some of our fellow fairies were killed by werewolfs. We called our home as Enlaja where all kinds of fairies are there. The fairies have 3 kinds. The mosega are the ones who looks like a monsters but they are still considered as fairies and one of us. They have the ability to transform thereselves in trees, birds, or anything in the forest. The pixies are the ones who look like tinkerbel. They are tiny and cute that literally a fairies and they have the ability to make poison. They are the fairies who maintain the beauty of nature and cater the fairies who are sick. And Lore are the fairies who looks like a human and I am one of them. We have the abi

Joseph called out gently. After some minutes, Joseph heard a rustle from behind. He saw a woman approaching him as he turned back. "Are you Ms. Lilac Styles?" Joseph looked at the woman. The woman seemed a little hesitant at first, but then she replied, "Yes, I am Lilac Styles. What do you want from me?" "No, ma'am. I don't want anything from you. Today I'm assigned as your angel, and I have to escort you to the stairs of heaven," Joseph's eyes were sweet.

She thought as she stepped out of her room quietly. She was walking around the garden, trying her best not to look toward the West Wing, but the moment she lifted her eyes, they landed on the West Wing across the courtyard. Carolina sighed as she held her head. “Curiosity kills the cat,” she whispered to herself as she stared at the Wing. “Good thing I'm not a cat.” She said as she crept down the hallway, she stopped in front of the doors to the West Wing. Her heart hammered painfully, one thought telling her to go back, the other one urging her to go ahead. Slowly she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Candles flicker with black flames. Lilith’s body seems even more overwhelming here. Deep red skin glowing, heavy breasts with dark, stiff nipples, wide hips, thick powerful thighs, and that long tail swaying behind her like it has a mind of its own. Her black horns curve back elegantly, and those massive wings stretch wide before folding slightly. She looks like every dirty fantasy I’ve ever tried to kill with prayer. She steps closer and runs those long black nails across my jaw. “You’re going to worship me properly now,” she says softly.

The severed tendril screamed—a wet, human sound—and regrew thicker, barbed with subway tokens that spun like buzz-saws. “MOVE!” Lila bellowed, flare gun blazing. She fired point-blank into a vein cluster; the phosphorus round detonated, white fire blooming, incinerating three tendrils in a heartbeat. But the ashes coalesced, reforming into a hand—Victor’s hand, fingers elongated, nails red—reaching for her face. She ducked, rolled, came up with a rebar spear and rammed it through the palm. The hand clenched, crushing the rebar, then yanked Lila off her feet, dragging her toward the nearest grate.

Imani whispered, voice low and breathless, fingers tightening around theirs, “I never imagined it could feel like this… all of this.” Zariah leaned closer, cheek brushing along hers, lips tracing the curve of her jaw with slow, teasing warmth. “Neither did I,” she murmured, voice soft, playful, deliberate. “But I wouldn’t change a second of it.” Every word, every brush of her fingers, carried a spark, a thrill, a daring sense of discovery that made Imani’s chest tighten in delicious tension.