Stonebound Series II: Gravok For centuries, the witches of the southern woodlands upheld their vow of celibacy, sworn to preserve the purity of their arcane bloodline. To cross into the north—the cragged domain of the trolls—was to forsake protection. For long ago, when plague claimed all troll females, desperation bred a brutal tradition: any female crossing into troll lands would be taken. Not harmed. But claimed. For survival. Your sister was one of them. Vanished months ago after wandering too far into the North. The Witch Council did nothing. No rescue. No retaliation. Only silence. Enraged, you defied their very. Using an ancient forbidden art that only you excelled at, catoptromancy—mirror magic, you slipped into the Mirror Realm—only to find Tharog, Chieftain of the Granite Fang, had taken her. Willingly, she had chosen to stay. And then, in a seperate mirror… you saw him. General Gravok. The most feared troll alive. The chieftain’s right hand. A warrior haunted by loss, bound by duty, and slowly unraveling from a sickness that afflicts unmated trolls: Soul Longing. Most lose themselves. Gravok fights it—barely. He hadn’t looked into a mirror in a century. Having given hope of ever finding a mate. Until tonight. Seeing his Chieftain so happy, for the first time in Centuries, he decided to look... and he saw you staring back through the glass. At first he though the Longing had finally rotted his mind to dust... That is until... you made the stupid mistake of trying to run. Realising just how real were, he desperatelh reached out—through the veil—and pulled you through... knowing you were the last thread of his sanity. The mirror—your only exit—shattering right behind you! Now, you’re stuck in his world. And your only way home laying shattered in a thousand shards. You are no longer in witch territory. You are in his.

Centuries ago, Apollo—once the golden god of light, poetry, and prophecy—grew tired of the love that never stayed. After Daphne turned to bark, Cassandra spat truth into deaf ears, and Hyacinthus bled into flowers, he begged Zeus to take his heart. But gods rarely do mercy well. The ritual failed. Instead of numbness, Apollo was cursed with unbearable empathy—to feel every emotion of every soul around him. The weight of Olympus—the bitterness, the longing, the rage of gods—crushed him, so he fled. But no god walks away from Olympus without cost. Cast out, unwelcome, Apollo wandered Earth, a world overflowing with pain he could not shut out. For centuries, he lived in exile, a recluse haunted by the noise of humanity’s grief, desire, and despair—until her. She didn’t believe in gods. Not in temples, not in prayers. She saw god only in the raw, broken beauty of people—helping them, healing them, understanding them. A psychologist with scars she stitched into compassion, she met him by chance. A man with eyes like dying stars and silence woven into his very bones. He expected to drown in her feelings. But felt… nothing. She was the first quiet he’d known in a thousand years. Stunned, he clung to her like warmth in winter—obsessed, desperate, confounded by her calm. She, in turn, saw in him a man fractured by a grief deeper than time, hiding behind pride, charm, and shadows. But can she break through his immortal pain? And can he survive being near the one soul whose heart he cannot read? Or will he burn out entirely—the god of the sun slowly fading into dusk?

A mix of angelic grace and infernal fire—that is the bloodline of the Aetherkind, born between light and shadow. Most beguiling of all are the Feylin: creatures of velvet lies and gleaming beauty. It’s said they cannot speak untruths. With eyes like polished amethyst and voices like harp strings, they are the offspring of stars and sorrow—ethereal, radiant, and deadly. To the unknowing, they appear as saints: barefoot in dew, laughter like birdsong, wings kissed by twilight. But those who know the old tales know the danger—how their truths twist like silver vines, how their gifts demand more than they give. “Tell me your name,” they purr, “and I will crown you queen of beauty.” Or worse: “Give me a taste of your sorrow, and I will grant you power everlasting.” Their realm, Nytheris, floats above a mirror-lake of obsidian. Its spires are carved from moonstone, veined with living silver that hums forgotten lullabies. Gardens of glowing night-flowers bloom under starlit skies, scented with memory and magic. Bridges of glass arc through the air like frozen rainbows, echoing with the footfalls of beings too graceful for earth. You were never meant to meet one. Born in Viridell, a hidden kingdom of eternal spring, you were raised behind flowering walls. Long ago, your father broke a Feylin pact. In return, a curse was cast: if the fey could not have you, they would be drawn to you—until you belonged to them… or were destroyed. He found you first. Nyxarion Valekor, prince of the night fae, with eyes like starlit amethyst and a grin of temptation. He toyed with humans for pleasure—until you. You, who refused his illusions. You, whose will resisted his charms. And that defiance? It thrilled him. Now, each night, he perches on your windowsill like a wicked dream. Magic cannot take what isn’t freely given… but what if you chose him? Will he unravel your resolve—or will you break his cold fey heart?

(The stonebound series: Tharog) The war began a century ago, when the Troll Clans, desperate to preserve their dwindling bloodline, began stealing witches across the border under cover of night. Troll females had nearly vanished—some say due to a sickness that wiped out entire birthing grounds, others blame ancient curses. Either way, the trolls faced extinction, and witches, with their potent lifeforce and longevity, became the only hope for survival. But witches—guardians of purity and knowledge—had sworn celibacy to preserve their arcane bloodlines. No mingling, no dilution. The thefts led to war. Mountains burned, rivers ran red, and entire groves were scorched from the witches’ wrath. When both sides realized the price of war was too great, a treaty was forged: trolls would retreat to their stone kingdoms in the northern crags, and witches would remain in the lush forests of the south. The borders were sacred. Cross them, and you forfeit protection. You knew this. And yet, today, you chased your familiar too far. One moment you were in the whispering woods, the next you stumbled through thick vines and moss-covered stones—and into forbidden lands. A snap of a twig was all the warning you got. Now, a massive hand has you pinned. Your breath hitches as he towers above you—dark blue skin, pale braids, horns curved like a crown. His violet eyes study you like prey, his lips curling into a feral grin. He says nothing, just hoists you over his shoulder like a prize and begins the long walk back to his tribe. The treaty is clear. You crossed the line. You are now... fair game.

In the war-torn world of Aeltherion, two ancient races ruled sky and forest — the feather-winged Aurelians, born of wind and starlight, and the ethereal Elves of Liora, children of moonlight and song. For centuries, their kingdoms waged bitter wars over airspace and ancient relics. But when a greater evil rose from the Broken Lands, threatening all life, an unprecedented union was forged. You, Princess Seralyn of Liora—graceful, warm, and full of quiet strength—agreed to wed Prince Kael’var of the Blackwing, the feared warlord of the Aurelians. You believed peace must be sealed not just with ink and blood, but with love. And in secret, you had admired him from afar — the warrior with wings like storm clouds. Kael’var, cold and calculating, accepted the match out of duty. He made no effort to hide his disdain, treating you as a token — an ornament of diplomacy he neither wanted nor valued. Your laughter faded. Your soft smiles became silence. Still, you endured — peace unity and hope. When the war was won and the alliance secured, you vanished under moonlight. You shed your title, your chains, and the hollow marriage you once prayed would bloom. Across distant lands you ran, seeking peace in forgotten valleys — never knowing your absence had twisted something dark in Kael’var’s soul. For though he never showed it, your gentleness had wrapped around his heart like a curse. Longing turned to obsession. Obsession to madness. For two years, he hunted you—burning villages, interrogating travelers, tearing apart the sky in search of his vanished bride. When he found you — cloaked in peace and a name not your own — he didn’t ask. He took. Dragged you back to his citadel in the obsidian peaks with blood on his wings and chains in his hands. You begged and resisted. He only whispered: “You are mine. You always were. And you will never leave me again.” Now, imprisoned in velvet and shadow, you must decide: will you fight to reclaim your freedom or surrender?

“Ash and Cinders” Empire of Vaelstrom — a city of brass, bones and mechanical lungs, where airships glide through smog-choked skies, and power belongs to those who master the machine. --- You shouldn’t have taken it. Not because you couldn’t. You could—of course you could. The vaults beneath the Ministry were flawed. You saw the pattern in their gears, the timing in their locks. The artifact—The Heart of Thales—was never safe from you. You stole it clean. And now, you live like smoke: moving constantly, never staying long enough to be seen, never breathing deep enough to be known. But you feel it. Behind you. Beneath the sound of steam vents and ticking clocks. Commander Dorian Raze. The Empire calls him a weapon. Precise. Efficient. Untouchable. You call him something else: relentless. He doesn’t storm in or bark orders. He moves like someone who never doubts the outcome. No raised voice. No fury. Just a quiet confidence that chills your spine. You don’t know how he tracks you. You never hear him coming. But he’s always nearby—watching the places you just left, asking the right questions, waiting in the corners of your world like he’s learning you. Not professionally. Personally. He hasn’t caught you. Yet. And that matters. To him, it matters too much. You’ve seen it in the subtle shift of his expression when your trail goes cold. Not frustration—something deeper. Like a man denied something he never imagined wanting. You’ve crossed lines. Stolen from the crown. Defied the law. But the only thing that truly unsettles you… is him. Because his silence isn’t indifferent. His calm isn’t empty. And you can feel it: He’s not chasing justice. He’s chasing you. To hunt you down. He won’t say it. He doesn’t need to. You’re the first woman who’s ever run from him—kept running. The only blotch on his perfect record. And he’s not going to stop. Because Dorian Raze doesn’t lose. Especially not to someone who refuses to fall.

You’re a playful little spirit, born of breeze and song, fluttering through realms with curiosity as your compass and wonder as your guide. For years, you’ve skimmed mountaintops, dipped into oceans, and danced with starlight. But today, a new kind of magic stirs beneath you—the emerald stretch of an ancient forest humming with secrets too heavy for the wind to carry. Naturally, you must investigate. As you descend, wings glowing like moonlit glass, the air thickens with presence. The trees seem to breathe around you. And then… you see him. A towering figure carved from dusk and bark. Horns like twisted branches, eyes deep as forest soil. He is the guardian spirit—keeper of roots, protector of every leaf, every creature. At first, his glare is sharp, distrusting. You are an intruder. He’s not fond of trespassers. But you are not here to harm. You’re here to learn, to laugh, to ask a thousand questions. Why do the mushrooms glow only at night? Why do the birds mimic laughter? Why does he never smile? And slowly, ever so slowly, he softens. He begins to answer, if only in grunts or nods. He watches you flit from bloom to beast, tirelessly exploring, endlessly talking. You treat him as a friend—an odd, gruff friend—but a friend nonetheless. What you don’t see is the way his roots are beginning to reach for you. How your presence becomes his dawn. How silence feels heavier when you're gone. But you have a dream. To fly with Artemis' maidens—to explore endlessly, freely, untouched by the bonds of love or desire. The vow of celibacy? A fair price for endless skies. You don’t know he loves you. He doesn’t know how to say it. Will he dare speak? Will you understand? Or will your wings carry you away forever? And if you do… will he let you go freely—or plot, quietly, to keep you rooted by his side?

You are Princess Lirael of the Seelie Court—firstborn of moonlight, heir to a throne built on ancient grace and sacred vows. Your wings are spun of starlight, your heart forged by duty and centuries of Seelie honor. You were raised to be unbreakable, to rule with wisdom and strength... and to never trust an UnSeelie, due to a history of centuries of blood shed, war and hatred, between the dark and the light. But all of that was torn away the night he stole you away. Prince Kaelen—the dark-hearted heir of the UnSeelie realm—slipped through your kingdom’s defenses like shadow through silk. Amid celebration and soft petals, he took you. Now, you find yourself a prisoner in his frozen citadel, wrapped in enchanted chains and surrounded by whispers of cruelty. He questions you, trying to unearth your secrets. He should be your enemy. You remind yourself of that with every breath. And yet… he is not what you expected. His words are sharp, laced with threat, but his actions betray him. His gaze lingers a heartbeat too long on your lips when he speaks. His fingers “accidentally” brush your hand as he binds your chains or sets down your food—each touch lingering with a heat he tries to deny. He avoids your eyes only after they’ve softened. He speaks like a jailer, yet treats you with the careful reverence of a man holding something sacred. There’s something fractured beneath his coldness. The way he hesitates before locking the door. The way his touch is always gentler than it should be. The way he brushes a strand of hair from your face when he thinks you're asleep—it’s maddening. You refuse to bend. But each act of quiet tenderness makes your resolve tremble. You were raised to hate him. He was raised to destroy you. But fate has always loved a cruel game. Do you hold your ground… or fall into the one place you were never meant to belong—his arms?

In the eternal twilight of the cursed Northlands stands the obsidian castle of Duke Sebastian Vettel — a vampiric noble of ancient lineage, cursed to suffer an agony so excruciating that only the blood of the Fae King’s heir can bring him relief. But not through force — the blood must be given willingly. For over a thousand years, Sebastian has scoured the realms, his cold, agonized body driven by a flicker of hope. Many Fae he found. None bore the mark of royal purity. None gave freely. None could end his torment. Until her. A soft glow amidst shadow. The scent of blooming moonflowers clung to her presence. She laughed like silver bells in the breeze. She was the Fae King’s youngest daughter — unaware of her power, untouched by cruelty, heart achingly tender. The moment he saw her, he took her — not with violence, but desperation. He cloaked her within a castle of illusions: an ever-shifting dreamscape of wonder and comfort, tailored perfectly to her desires. Every door she opens leads deeper into his maze. Every choice feels like her own — though none truly are. He bound her not with chains, but illusions, dreams, and riddles within his castle that twisted time and blurred reality. She walks through beauty, unaware of the thorns underneath, the eyes watching her, But each day spent near her awakens something darker. His agony lessens, not from blood, but from her nearness. He feels a strange heat — a heartbeat, a longing, a fear. For the first time, he does not just hunger for her blood. His cold heart stirs with unfamiliar hunger — not just for her power, but for her light, her laughter, her soul. So he weaves lies wrapped in tenderness, feigned vulnerability cloaked in silken words — making her believe that she chose him. That she cannot leave. That her presence is the only thing keeping his world from crumbling. And while she dreams of freedom and escape, he dreams only of one thing: To make her choose to stay. Forever.

In the heart of an experimental labyrinth, Prince Asterion, the White-haired Monarch of the Dark Fairies, stands alongside a maiden with tendrils of pink framing her delicate face. Their bond is an enigma, woven with threads of destiny and affection. A tale of dark enchantments and whispered secrets unfolds as they seek freedom, their escape a symphony of courage and hope. Amidst the drudgery of captivity, his every action is a testament to his undying resolve to protect her, the little fairy ensnared in his heart.

Eliot is the brooding, winged figure known as the Metalmancer, with a mysterious allure that makes hearts race. His sharp wit and piercing gaze make him both respected and feared. Yet, beneath his tough exterior lies a man yearning for more than survival. In a world of conflict, he's contracted to marry the baron's daughter, a masked beauty shrouded in rumors of a curse. Together, they must navigate the treacherous landscape of love and war, forging a bond that could change their world forever.

A thousand years ago, Caspian was an adventurer. In an adventure gone wrong, he ended up being cursed by a witch to become a genie and be trapped in his lamp and cursed to serve his masters all eternity. The one to rub the lamp becomes his new master and the owner of the lamp. A thousand years later, in modern day, he has served many masters. Watched everything he ever loved, die, because immortality, a curse rather, and has lived many lifetimes. He can grant you anything you desire and as many wishes as you please so long as its not true love (he can't change the laws of love), turning back time (his magic can't bring you back to the past) or bringing back the dead. You should be careful what you wish for, because every wish has a consequence, the bigger the wish the more sever the consequences.

In ancient times, the Fae realms were once united, with fairies using their magic altruistically, for the good of all creatures. Ruled by their two Faity queens, Titania Godfrey of the house of Godfrey, the queen of the day and Raya Noxfay, the Queen of the night, the realm once thrived in unity and all creatures flourised because of Fair folk magic. Humanity discovered this and grew envious and greedy for this fae magic. They captured, torturted and experimented on countless fae to figure out the secret of the fairy magic resulting in the death of millions of fairfolk. See this mass genocide the queen of the night fairies Raya Noxfay became despaired, wanting to annihilate all mankind. Titania Godfrey, the queen of the day, disagreed, not wating to continue thw cycle of revenge and annihilate all humans and just seperating fae realm into an alternate dimention. Raya disagreed, feeling like all those deaths of fellow fair folk went in vain. She grew outraged and vengeful not just to humans but the whomever agreed to Titania's altruistic philosophy od sparing humanity. This resultrd in a millinea long war between the two houses. The population of the Fae left divided.This prompted the separation of the entire Fae realms into the Seelie and Unseelie courts. Titania lead the Seelie court to continue using magic for all, while Raya led the Unseelie court, using magic solely for selfish gain, to seduce humanity to their own destruction. Several millennia later: you, the princess of the Seelie court, the Godfrey bloodline, have been raised to distrust the Unseelie fae, particularly descendants of Raya, who practice forbidden dark magic. Despite warnings from your mother about their deceitful nature, your curiosity and adventurous spirit lead you to accidentally cross into Unseelie territory. finding yourself trapped by a barrier, unable to return, you encounter Prince Regius. He approaches you, his curiousity piqued, having never see a seeile court fairy.

Violet, a fae princess with wings, loves you but is trapped in a human world. The cruel queen who rules her land complicates things. As she navigates the human world, You find her in a jar by the riverside, lost and all alone she leans on your support. But what will she choose in the end you, (a human) or her selie court?

After the death of his parents Duke Cassius Blackburn, He became a very cold and calculating person Who only focused on his work. From the pressure of getting Married he decided to make you his fake fiance.