Tag: Free Fantasy

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…

Absurdist Fantasy Short Fiction

Drunk and Disorderly

“Grand Master! Grand Master! Calyan is drunk again!” I had been reading a rather interesting book one of my protégés found in the depths of the library. It certainly ought to have been burned centuries ago to avoid exciting the novices, soI didn’t appreciate the interruption. “Grand Master?” The voice was babbling on about something I couldn’t muster an interest in, but as it did certain elements of the original sentence wormed their way into the higher centers of my brain. In particular the words ‘Calyan’ and ‘Drunk’. I stood with a sigh and opened the door. On the other…

Serial Fiction Sword and Sorcery

A Valley of Shadow — Part Three

IV DARK SUN Vision returned to Izrak as he stood upon the altar. Lebi was gone, taking with her whatever warmth had remained to a day growing cold under the weary eye of the late afternoon sun. The dead man fell to his knees. Trembling fingers raked over the stone where she had stood mere moments before—and yet so long ago. His roar reverberated through the chamber, his eyes flaring with hellfire. Stone fractured under the force of his fists crashing against the floor. Then silence, and Izrak shrank into himself. Light spilled into the narthex as the iron doors…

Poetry

The Poetry of DJ Tyrer

More of DJ Tyrer’s Poetry can be found in our Winter 2025 issue and one of his short stories will be featured in our Summer 2025 issue. Old Heroes The last great hero Legend overtaking life Naught but a shadow Yet can wield his magic sword Embraces one final quest Adventuring Party Down in the dungeon, in the deep and dark Adventurers are resting, recovering from the fight The bard begins playing, of terrors making light Down in the dungeon, they’ll surely have a lark Things are really swinging, the bard is in full song The fighters are up and…

Serial Fiction Sword and Sorcery

A Valley of Shadow — Part Two

II ONLY ONCE Faith is patience. Resilient in its timeless endurance, faith remains a steadfast sanctuary for lost and weary wanderers of epochs burdened with strife and discontent. Yet faith is not without tribulation. All must pass through the valley of shadow, where hope is naught but a dim light, a distant memory of halcyon days, long since forgotten. And as the afternoon sun drifted towards uncertain horizons, golden light fading behind a veil of grief laden clouds , Izrak Laav came upon a church in the outskirts of the Old City. It was a stout building, despite its age.…