Your decisions shape the fate of England in this enchanted retelling of a legend. When a forgotten sword in a stone chooses a humble orphan, the kingdom trembles on the edge of destiny. Now, as Arthur, you must rise from squire to king—guided by magic, tested by doubt, and forged by courage.

Your decisions shape the forgotten moments between the strokes of midnight—what really happened when the magic faded, when the world turned its back, and when Cinderella was left not with a prince, but with the weight of a crown too soon claimed. Kindness forged in fire. Love built on silence. A throne that demands more than a fairy tale ever promised.

You are Luna, born under the Blood Moon—the rare celestial event that marks the return of ancient magic. Cursed with power that surges with each lunar cycle, you feel the wildness inside clawing to break free. The elders say you're destined to either save our people or drown the world in crimson fire.

Your decisions shape the fragile balance between hatred and desire. Cursed by ancient magic, you—a witch branded as a monster—must share your bed each night with the knight sent to execute you. Refuse, and both of you die before dawn.

Your decisions shape the fate of the kingdom as Snow White, the fairest of them all. The mirror speaks truth, the apple hides lies, and every choice pulls you deeper into a web of magic, jealousy, and forbidden desire.

I felt the first tremor beneath my boots and knew the earth was no longer ours. The graves in Blackthorn Hollow are breaking open, not from decay or scavengers—but from within. I saw Father’s coffin burst apart last night, his fingers clawing through splintered wood. He didn’t speak. Didn’t recognize me. Just stared with milky eyes and reached. Now the church bell tolls nonstop, a warning that the dead don’t rest anymore. And worse—I think I’m the reason why.

You wake beneath a shattered obelisk, your skin humming with forgotten magic. The world remembers you as dead—erased from history, betrayed by those you loved. But your heart beats again, fueled by a power that shouldn’t exist. Visions claw at your mind: a crown of thorns burning in the void, a lover’s voice whispering across time. This rebirth isn’t mercy. It’s a reckoning. And every choice now bends fate toward vengeance… or redemption.

Your decisions shape the journey through a land born of storm and wonder. Dorothy Gale, torn from Kansas by a cyclone, now walks the yellow brick road with Toto at her side. The Wizard may hold the key to home—but only if she can survive the Wicked Witch’s vengeance and uncover the truth behind the magic that brought her here.

Your decisions shape the fate of Prydain. As Taran, you began as an assistant pig-keeper dreaming of glory, but now you stand at the edge of legend. The Horned King seeks the Black Cauldron to unleash an army of the dead, and only you can stop him. With Hen Wen captured and your friends scattered, every choice carries the weight of life and death.

You feel it before you see it—the hum in your bones, the whisper in your blood. The map burned to ash hours ago, but your veins still remember the path. This city wasn’t just lost to time. It was erased. And yet, here you stand, the first living soul to breathe its air in ten thousand years. The air tastes like memory. The stones watch. Something waits beneath the central ziggurat, something that knows your name.

You are the shadow that kills without sound, the blade in the dark chosen by none but fate. The crown prince was supposed to be just another name on a list—until he looked into your eyes and whispered, 'I know who you are.' Now, he offers you not death, but power. Your decisions shape the fate of a kingdom built on lies.

Every day at exactly 3:17 PM, I see him die. Just for one minute—a flicker behind my eyes—but it’s always the same: blood on the stage lights, screams swallowed by silence, and his hand reaching toward me like he knows I’m watching. I’m just a data analyst. I don’t believe in fate. But when corporate spies start tailing me and fan cults whisper my name in chants, I realize these visions aren’t random. They’re warnings. And your decisions shape whether we survive long enough to stop the next one.

I never believed in magic. Bills, deadlines, rent—those were my reality. But then I heard her whispering spells under her breath, saw the way candles flared when she spoke. And now… I’m changing. My reflection moves on its own. My hips sway differently. A voice inside hums ancient chants I’ve never learned. She wished for a cool, sexy older sister… and somehow, the universe listened. But what happens when the spell doesn’t stop?

You awaken in the heart of a shifting maze where every door opens to another world—crumbling empires, scorched deserts, cursed castles, realms born of nightmares. The air hums with forgotten magic. Your decisions shape whether you become its master, its destroyer, or merely another soul lost to its endless turns.

I never believed in fate—until the night the stars fell and my sister’s shadow rose with wings of flame. Now I walk between two destinies: one bound by glass slippers and royal lies, the other written in firelight and forgotten lullabies. The palace thinks I’m just a servant playing at nobility. But they don’t know what Aurora whispered to me in the dream-world—the truth about the curse that never broke, and the throne that was never truly hers.

I never asked for magic. It found me in the silence after my sister’s last breath, humming in the cracks of the world like a forgotten lullaby. Now it coils beneath my skin, hungry and wild, and every spell I cast erases a memory—first the small ones, then the precious ones. The Council says I’m a weapon that must be controlled. The Rebels say I’m the key to tearing them down. But no one asks what I want. And if I don’t choose soon, there won’t be enough of me left to make a choice at all.

Your decisions shape whether love can bloom in darkness. Trapped in a cursed castle, you are Belle—a dreamer with a book in one hand and courage in your heart. The Beast is your captor, yet his pain mirrors your own loneliness. As petals fall from an enchanted rose, you must choose: fear or compassion, escape or connection. Can you see the man behind the monster before it's too late?

I shouldn’t have come back. The forest remembers every soul it’s taken—and mine was supposed to be next. Five years ago, I crawled out with nothing but scars and a name I can’t forget: Elira. They say she’s dead. But the dreams won’t stop. She’s calling me, not in words, but in blood. And now, standing at the tree line again, I feel the roots twitch beneath my boots. This place isn’t just alive. It’s waiting. For me. The path splits ahead—one side humming with forgotten prayers, the other reeking of iron and rot. If I turn back, I live. But if I go forward… I might finally learn what I did that night.