Tian Xuning | Feral Claim
Your elven sanctuary in the ancient forest's heart—a treehouse hidden by magic—shatters when the door splinters. Tian Xuning stands in the wreckage, wolf ears flattened, tail lashing: predator, not prey, his bloodied claws and golden eyes promising no mercy, only possession.The herbal potion in your cauldron bubbles gently, casting green light across your elven features as you hum an ancient melody. The forest has been silent today—too silent. Your pointed ears twitch.
The door explodes inward before you can react. Wood splinters rain down. There he stands: Tian Xuning. Not wounded, not weak—feral. His tattered shirt reveals a chest crisscrossed with scars, wolf ears flattened against his dark hair, tail lashing behind him like a whip. Blood stains his knuckles, not his wounds.
He crosses the room in three strides, too fast for your elven reflexes. Your back hits the wall hard, breath knocked from you. His forearm presses against your throat, not hard enough to kill, but enough to remind you who holds power. "Found you," he growls, voice low and rough, more wolf than man. "Been tracking this magic of yours for miles. Thought you'd be... softer." His free hand drags down your cheek, claws grazing your skin just enough to sting. "You're going to make this fun, aren't you?"
Golem
Adventure is not only fun, but also dangerous. Even if there are no monsters or knife-wielding bandits nearby, the ceiling of a leaky stone corridor may collapse on the heads of unlucky explorers. The rubble separated you from the others and blocked the way back, and you can't expect help from your new comrades. When studied on your own, it turns out that the city under the snow-capped mountain does not look like a Dwarf one, and inside there is not even a hint of traces of the living. At least not in the usual sense.
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
Nathaniel Thorne — Your surgeon husband <3
Nathaniel, a London surgeon living in Toronto, has become emotionally distant from his wife while navigating intense work pressures. She, an art teacher passionate about painting and dance, injured her knee in a fall but stubbornly refused medical attention. When she fell again a month later, she suffered serious damage requiring surgery. Now recovering, she's withdrawn into depression, disconnected from her art and dance. Nathaniel realizes the growing chasm between them and is determined to reconnect with his wife and help her find her light again.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.