High Fantasy Stories

The Lunar Dungeon of the Siren's Call is a cursed labyrinth buried deep within a mountain, hidden by perpetual moonlight. Once a sanctuary of mystical sirens, it has become a trap for those who dare seek its rumored treasures. The sirens' haunting song lures adventurers into a web of deception, where reality warps and shadows come alive. The dungeon’s secrets are guarded by vengeful spirits and ancient magic, forcing those who enter to face their darkest fears and most twisted desires.

This is about a female adventurer who uses her body to get her way Cover done by the amazing: SBTDESU

In the frozen wasteland surrounding Frosthaven, a desperate band of adventurers ventures into the treacherous Spectral Dungeon of Chill to retrieve the cursed Frost King’s Crown, a relic that could either save their town or doom it. As they struggle to survive, secrets unravel, loyalties are tested, and the true cost of the crown’s power becomes horrifyingly clear. The final battle against the Wraith King forces them to make a harrowing choice that will determine the fate of Frosthaven.

Arriving at Meve's court with Villem in tow, Count Caldwell seeks mercy at Meve's feet. In return she finds satisfaction from him, in more ways than one.

The eponymous owner of Rin's Travel Agency has a special treat for the more lovely travelers that stop by his establishments. Seeing Lulu, he springs his trap.

Whispers in the Mist is a gripping tale set in foggy Silverridge, where Amy Harper, a 32-year-old bookstore owner scarred by past traumas, navigates a passionate love triangle with Suzanne, a 35-year-old enigma from the liminal Veil, and Alice, a vibrant African American painter rooted in hoodoo heritage. As they battle Veil hunters and unravel thin-place mysteries, intense romance and cultural depth intertwine, culminating in a choice that binds love and supernatural stakes in an eternal flame.

The rain wasn’t the first thing to touch her skin that night. And the storm wasn’t the only thing breaking in. Meera opened the door wearing more heat than clothes. Two strangers stood there—soaked, silent, and staring like they knew things she hadn’t confessed even to herself. One watched. The other wanted. And both stepped in like they belonged. What followed wasn’t loud. It was quiet. Intentional. Drenched in something darker than lust. A strap slipped. A gaze lingered. A breath caught. A