Tag: Free Fantasy

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

Vigilant — The Weight of a Torch — Part Three

Deep in the archives, far below the streets of Yed’ol, Kaia poured over an antique journal. Its pages were yellowed with age, the ink beginning to fade. She sat at a desk, old leather-bound volumes piled high on both her flanks. The only illumination, a large five-wicked candle, burning steadily. She quickly flipped through pages, spending no more than a few seconds on each one, her silver eyes darting across the words written therein. “There.” Gregory’s raspy voice spoke inside Kaia’s mind. “That’s what we’re looking for.” Kaia stopped, and ran her fingers over a diagram, covered in arcane symbols…

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

Ashen Rider — Part Two

TWO In our darkest hour We trudged through the sands. Beneath clear, open sky We boiled in our armor. My horse collapsed at my feet And I was thankful. Her suffering was great Existence tortured. I did not give her a name If I had, I would not have remembered. Unknown author “March to Idraan,” found on a soldier’s body, Year 31. I — On a thoroughfare in Monrovia The Vale Betwixt, first layer of Pandemonium There had been no time to think; she could only run. Kateryna had no desire to think. Thinking meant reflection, and what she had…

Absurdist Fantasy Short Fiction

Red Town

I dreamed of a crimson river. In my mind, I willingly drowned in its sanguine flow. I meditated on deep vermilion, lingering on ripe apples and plump cherries. Oh, how I longed to pluck them, to hold them up to the sun, to study their skin, their flesh, to savor their scarlet, blush, and rose. I closed my eyes, conjuring visions of boiled lobsters on a bed of rhubarb. I turned my head to the sky and hoped for rain, miraculous and strange, blood-red droplets of Merlot. I dwelled on these things: searing hues in the belly of a smith’s…

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

Ashen Rider — Part One

ONE Tonight, we have lost our god! I asked my sister where the god went, And she did not know. “Poof!” she said, “Gone in a cloud of smoke!” And I asked, “What of dearest grandmother? What of her?” But sister only shrugged. “We are alone now,” she said, “No one helms the ferry.” The river has flooded with silver And no one helms the ferry. We are alone now. And so I left my home In desperate search for my god. But still, I did not find her. I found only gray carrion fields, Glowing red by brutal light…

Adventure Editor's Pick Short Fiction

The Lost King’s Curse

Centuries before the Great Western Expedition, the Kingdom of Vlitra spanned the northern half of what today is Arbus Arkad. At the height of its power, the kingdom’s territories stretched nearly from coast-to-coast. On occasion, settlers would stumble upon ruins left by that ancient people—generations ago, in the days of the early pioneers. They knew that evil spirits dwelt in those forgotten, dead places, and most decent folk avoided them for fear of being stricken with their curse. Most, but not all. The founders of the modern West were a sundry lot. Some were possessed of educations and had too…

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

The Scarlet Chair — Prelude to Ashen Rider

Year 398, during the first Wystran rebellion We made camp in the Kaldkrik, a moldering bog just beyond the borders of the Golden City. The march was merciless and brutal; we’d lost three hundred men crossing our own lands. We knew the risks. We knew the land. We were tired of the southerners laying claim to our home, weary of the Valentines telling us how to be—we’re Wystrans. We know how to be. So we assembled and followed the infallible Queen Collantz over the deadly chain across the Wyse. The motherland is ours, but her winds care not for whom…

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

Synchrony — The Weight of a Torch — Part Two

Nael jolted awake. His breath was rapid. Shallow. He gasped. Gulped for air. Heart pounding in his chest. Skipping beats. Speeding up, slowing down, threatening to rip free. “Nael? You okay?” a gentle voice said above him. A teenage girl peered down from her bunk, dangling upside down to face him, her thin face only visible by the moonlight spilling in through the window, reflected in her hazel eyes. She wore fine silken pajamas, simple in design but of a much higher quality than what Nael wore. Her long blonde hair draped all the way to the floor; her expression…

Serial Fiction Sword and Sorcery

A Valley of Shadow — Part Five

VIII A Blade Reborn Sight returned to the dead man. Lying upon a bed of lilies, his gaze was met by the somnolent eye of the moon drifting towards the west. Stars flickered as candles in the quilt of night, beacons guiding the weary moon to its diurnal repose. Envy had flared within Izrak’s mind, now replaced by cool sympathy. The moon’s journey was not yet over, and many long hours remained until its passing. An echo; a thought; a memory called to the dead man from the ether. Izrak clutched the worn pouch at his hip. Please… let me…

Dark Fantasy Short Fiction

Demons

When I was young, no older than eight or nine, I would covertly enter my stepfather’s basement workshop to marvel at the miniature kingdom he had built. The display was set up over the pool table my real father had used, now little more than a platform to support stream-fed caverns and mountain chambers, the subterranean strongholds within. Gothic towers linked by arched bridges rose up and stretched under the domes of hollowed rock, which may have been plaster or papier-mâché, but had been expertly painted to look like natural stone. My stepfather was a talented hobbyist, there is no…

Serial Fiction Sword and Sorcery

A Valley of Shadow — Part Four

VI IT OPENS FROM WITHIN Vision returned to Izrak as he knelt before his executioner. A broken blade lay upon the sand. My son. The mercenary looked up. Ryol kneeled before him, leaning on his grandfather’s sword, its edges dull and rusted, the sigils along the fuller now faded. No longer the dark warrior, Ryol was once again the image of a boy, no more than sixteen. As you were… so long ago. Staring at Izrak, the boy remained silent. Izrak reached out a trembling hand. Ryol’s flesh began to fall away in flakes of ashen decay, his body withering…