There once was a castle in the woods, claimed by a terrible Beast… I was a simple girl, living a simple life of cloths and needles, never seeking adventure, glad to dress those who did. But the world is full of magic, and spells never let rest those caught in their thorns. A rose by any other name… The tattoo on my hand was dying, the petals falling faster and faster. All because of the curse within the trees, and those held in its thrall threatening to break free. What would you give up to save those you love most? What would you risk facing in the Darkness of the Woods? My name is Amarice. And this is my Tale. So Sweet Who but a Beauty can Judge a Beast?

Once upon a time, in a small shop sitting at the corner of the street, lived a cobbler, praying for a salvation she never knew she needed. It just so happened that at that moment, there was an elf, looking for the same... Some stories were born to be retold, and some stories are the start of fairy tales waiting to be rewritten...

There is an ancient story, of a sorceress who lived deep within the waters of an enchanted lake, and guarded with her presence a sword which Destiny had decreed would be used for the salvation of mankind, or for its downfall. But the sword did not always live in the Waters... And before it was struck in stone to await its fated bearer, the sorceress and her prince imbued the blade with its magic and its fortitude. In the kingdom of Gouldaria, those without magic are the lowest of casts one can fall in, unless you are a Soul Eater, and then you are worse by far. Valislava never used her magic to steal a soul. She has kept herself hidden, allowed herself to be shunned, lived in exile, all but for the love of the one man who she couldn’t have. Prince Talyessin always knew who and what his Isla was, and he loved her still. But love was a meaningless thing when war threatened to tear them apart. Some loves are star-crossed, and some are set in Stone...

Sometimes it takes a criminal to save a life. Eskild Fontaein should never have returned to his hometown. He could have stayed in the city where he was respected and admired, but no, he’d wanted to come home. And as the newly appointed town magistrate, the only way to be taken seriously was to be feared. Hanging a thief should fit the bill. He hadn’t wanted to do it. Wished he’d found another way. Sometimes, wishes do come true. Jaias Alvaldene, scourge of Undcrest, madwoman, villain, thief, is dead. Well, not quite. It helps to have friends in high places, namely on the steps of the gallows when one’s about to be hung from a rope. She would have stayed dead too, if not for the town Magistrate who seemed so forlorn at her demise. What’s a good thief to do when a magistrate comes crying? When a young girl is stolen by a hoard of cannibals, there’s only one person to ask for aid in rescuing her. Once a Thief, Always a thief… Can Eskild convince Jaias to help him find the child before it’s too late? Or will he lose everything to his Thief in the Night?

Run, run as fast as you can... When Princess Tasiya commissioned something spectacular for her birthday celebration, she never expected to get a castle made out of cookies as a gift. Not just cookies, but gingerbread ones! But what she didn’t realize was the price those cookies would come at, or what meeting the baker who made them would mean for her future. Can her Pastry Prince satisfy her sweetest desires? Or will the Huntsman catch her Gingerbread Man before he can escape? Try to catch me I’m… The Pastry Prince

Jack and Jill Went up a Hill... Or so the rhyme goes. But that's not the story here. This is the story of Jaq who went off to war, and Gill who could not follow after. Who, despite the years apart, the distance between them, the hills that rose and fell and needed to be crossed before they found each other again...never forgot the other, and could never let the other go. But stories aren't all about reunions. And sometimes those who return are not the same as when they left. When your world is turned on its head, how do you learn to accept yourself for who you've become? How can you accept the love of another, when you've forgotten how to love yourself? In this retelling of a childhood rhyme, it's not about who follows who up any hill...it's about who comes tumbling after, and rises together in the end...