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Perfect Christmas Gifts for Fantasy Lovers 📚🎄

Written by: Laura

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Time to read 18 min

Christmas is just around the corner, and if you're scratching your head wondering what to get for the fantasy bookworms in your life, fret not! The world of fantasy literature is brimming with epic tales, magical realms and unforgettable characters. To save you from the endless search, we’ve curated a list of 10 fantasy novels that are more than just gifts - they’re gateways to other worlds. From new releases to tales that have captivated hearts for years, here's a sneak peek into the adventures that await.

1. Babel by R.F. Kuang 🗨

Step into the cobblestone streets of 1836 Oxford, where knowledge is power, and power is knowledge. In Babel, the Royal Institute of Translation isn't just the core of linguistic prowess—it's the pulsing centre of an empire's dominion. R.F. Kuang introduces us to Robin Swift, an orphan whisked from Canton and taken to the ivory towers of learning, where paradise morphs into a cage. Kuang weaves a narrative where words are weapons, and rebellion is inked in the margins of a society clinging to the threads of colonial control. It's a tale where the cadence of language dances with the drumbeat of insurgent hearts.


An extract:

"By the time Professor Richard Lovell found his way through Canton’s narrow alleys to the faded address in his diary, the boy was the only one in the house left alive.


The air was rank, the floors slippery. A jug of water sat full, untouched by the bed. At first the boy had been too scared of retching to drink; now he was too weak to lift the jug. He was still conscious, though he’d sunk into a drowsy, half-dreaming haze. Soon, he knew, he’d fall into a deep sleep and fail to wake up. That was what had happened to his grandparents a week ago, then his aunts a day after, and then Miss Betty, the Englishwoman, a day after that.

 

His mother had perished that morning. He lay beside her body, watching as the blues and purples deepened across her skin. The last thing she’d said to him was his name, two syllables mouthed without breath. Her face had then gone slack and uneven. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth. The boy tried to close her filmy eyes, but her lids kept sliding back open.

 

No one answered when Professor Lovell knocked. No one exclaimed in surprise when he kicked through the front door – locked, because plague thieves were stripping the houses in the neighbourhood bare, and though there was little of value in their home, the boy and his mother had wanted a few hours of peace before the sickness took them too. The boy heard all the commotion from upstairs, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

By then he only wanted to die."

2. The Hurricane Wars by Thea Guanzon 🌀

In the tempest-torn lands of The Hurricane Wars, the storm isn’t only in the sky—it's in the midst of a struggle between two fierce warriors. Talasyn, a beacon of light, fights valiantly for her people during the tumultuous Hurricane Wars. Across the battlefield stands Alaric, a shadow-born son of the Night Empire, a bringer of darkness. But when their paths cross, sparks fly, and their lives are changed forever. Guanzon masterfully crafts a world where love must navigate through the eye of war’s relentless storms, challenging the boundaries between yearning and betrayal.


An extract:

Wartime weddings were all the rage in a land where every single day threatened, quite emphatically, to be one’s last, but the skies could rain stones for seven nights without ever hitting an available officiant. Most clerics were at the front lines, singing to Sardovian troops of Mahagir the Saber-heart’s courage and guiding the souls of dying soldiers to the eternal twilight of Adapa the Harvester’s willow groves. By some rare stroke of good fortune, however, there was one cleric remaining in the mountain city of Frostplum, where Talasyn’s regiment was stationed and where her fellow helmsmen Khaede and Sol had decided to pledge their troth.

 

Not that it’s any great mystery as to why they left this grandfather behind, Talasyn mused, watching from a dim corner of the thatched longhouse as the stooped, elderly cleric in pale yellow robes struggled to lift a large pewter goblet over the crackling fire that was reflecting off his marble-ball scalp. In reed-thin and quavering tones, he meandered haphazardly through the closing words of the marriage rite while the bride glared at him.

 

Khaede had a glare that could cut through metalglass. It was a miracle that the frail little man wasn’t sliced into ribbons on the spot. He eventually managed to hold the smoke-warmed goblet to the groom’s lips and then to Khaede’s, so that the couple could drink of the golden lychee wine consecrated to Thonba, goddess of home and hearth."

3. Empire of the Vampire by Jay Kristoff 🦇

As eternal night cloaks the land, Gabriel de León, the last of the silversaints, stands in solitude against the unyielding darkness in Empire of the Vampire. In a world where the sun's warming rays are but a memory, vampires rise to command, casting humanity into a twilight of despair. Jay Kristoff's tale follows Gabriel, half man, half monster, in his haunting quest for the Holy Grail—the last glimmer of hope to restore humanity and bring salvation. Through blood-soaked battles and heart-wrenching sacrifices, this odyssey is a piercing look into the courage of a warrior forced to defend the world from its untimely end.


An extract:

It was the twenty-seventh year of daysdeath in the realm of the Forever King, and his murderer was waiting to die.

 

The killer stood watch at a thin window, impatient for his end to arrive. Tattooed hands were clasped at his back, stained with dried blood and ashes pale as starlight. His room stood high in the reaches of a lonely tower, kissed by sleepless mountain winds. The door was iron-clad, heavy, locked like a secret. From his vantage, the killer watched the sun sink towards an unearned rest and wondered how hell might taste.

 

The cobbles in the courtyard below promised him a short flight into a dreamless dark. But the window was too narrow to squeeze through, and his jailers had left nothing else to see him off to sleep. Just straw to lie on and a bucket to shit in and a view of the frail sunset to serve as torture ’til the real torture arrived. He wore a heavy coat, old boots, leather britches stained by long roads and soot. His pale skin was damp with sweat, but his breath hung chill in the air, and no fire burned in the hearth behind him. The coldbloods wouldn’t risk a flame, even in their prison cells.

 

They’d be coming for him soon.

 

The château below him was waking now. Monsters rising from beds of cold earth and slipping on the façade that they were something close to human. The air outside was thick with the hymn of bats’ wings. Thrall soldiers clad in dark steel patrolled the battlements below, twin wolves and twin moons emblazoned on black cloaks. The killer’s lip curled as he watched them; men standing guard where no dog would abase itself.

 

The sky above was dark as sin.

 

The horizon, red as his lady’s lips the last time he kissed her.

 

He ran one thumb across his fingers, the letters inked below his knuckles.

 

‘Patience,’ he whispered.

 

‘May I come in?’

 

The killer didn’t let himself flinch – he knew the coldblood would’ve relished that. Instead, he kept staring out the window at the broken knuckles of the mountains beyond, capped by ash-grey snow. He could feel the thing standing behind him now, its gaze roaming the back of his neck. He knew what it wanted, why it was here. Hoping it’d be quick and knowing, deep down, that they’d savour every scream."

4. Divine Rivals by Rebecca Ross ✨

In a world rent by godly conflict, Rebecca Ross introduces us to Iris, whose ambitions as a writer are set against a backdrop of deities clashing in Divine Rivals. Anchored to her role at the Oath Gazette amidst a celestial war, Iris's own home life frays into fragments of hope and anguish. Her nights are spent penning heartfelt letters to a brother missing on the war's frontlines—letters she believes will go unread, until fate delivers them into the hands of Roman Kitt, her enigmatic adversary at the paper. Ross tells a tale of two rivals unexpectedly bound by destiny, and a magic that could either quell the divine storm or fuel its fury, in this epic enemies-to-lovers fantasy.


An extract:

Iris dashed through the rain with a broken high heel and a tattered trench coat. Hope was beating wildly in her chest, granting her speed and luck as she crossed the tram tracks downtown. She had been anticipating this day for weeks, and she knew she was ready. Even soaked, limping, and hungry.

 

Her first pang of unease came when she stepped into the lobby. This was an old building, constructed before the gods were vanquished. A few of those dead divines were painted on the ceiling, and despite the cracks and the faint light of the low-hanging chandeliers, Iris always glanced up at them. Gods and goddesses dancing among the clouds, dressed in long gilded robes with stars gleaming in their hair, their gazes sweeping the ground. It sometimes felt like those painted eyes were watching her, and Iris stifled a shiver. She removed her mangled right shoe and hurried to the lift with a stilted gait, thoughts of the gods swiftly fading when she thought about him. Perhaps the rain had slowed down Roman too, and she still had a chance.

 

She waited a full minute. The confounded lift must be stuck, of all days, and she decided to take the stairs, hustling up to the fifth floor. She was shaking and sweating when she finally pushed through the heavy doors to the Oath Gazette, greeted by a wash of yellow lamplight, the scent of strong tea, and the morning hustle of preparing the newspaper.

 

She was four minutes late.

 

Iris stood amidst the hum, her gaze flickering to Roman’s desk.

 

It was empty, and she was pleased until she glanced at the assignment board and saw him standing there, waiting for her to appear. As soon as their eyes met, he gave her a lazy smile and reached up to the board, yanking a piece of paper from a pin. The last assignment.

 

Iris didn’t move, not even when Roman Kitt wound around the cubicles to greet her. He was tall and lithe with cheekbones that could cut stone, and he waved the piece of paper in the air, just out of her reach. The piece of paper she so badly wanted."

5. The Last Dragon King by Leia Stone 👑

In Leia Stone’s The Last Dragon King, we are transported to a world where dragons reign supreme, and the king’s search for a bride sends ripples of excitement and dread through the land. Our protagonist, with only a trace of dragon magic in her veins, is an unlikely candidate amidst the frenzy. Yet, fate has other plans, and she finds herself before the king. But beneath the surface lies a secret, one entwined with her modest lineage—a secret that, if unveiled, could spell her doom. This tale is a delicate dance of hidden truths in a world where magic and monarchy collide.


An extract:

I hauled my kill over my shoulder and grunted under the weight of it. The cougarin had been a full-grown adult male and was my largest kill to date. He would bring enough meat to feed my mother and little sister for at least two moons, as well as give us something to trade at the market. Winter wasn’t for a while but I wanted to get new furs for both my mother and Adaline.

 

Stalking the beast over the last week had proved fruitful and I couldn’t help the lopsided grin that drew the corners of my mouth up as I walked into my hometown of Cinder Village.

 

Being at the base of Cinder Mountain, and the coal mines inside of it, meant that the fine dust from the mountain coated everything in the village, and today was no exception. The rocks that dotted the village road held a thick layer of ash, as did the tips of my hunting boots. I barely noticed anymore; you just got used to it when you lived here. It was in our ears, nose, teeth, and other places not spoken of.

 

In Jade City, the capital of Embergate, you could spot a Cinder Village resident from a mile away. We puffed dust with each step and we were damn well proud of it. The people of Cinder were a hardworking people. We didn’t sit on our butts all day.

 

“Nice kill, Arwen,” Nathanial called from his post at the top of the guard gate entrance to Cinder Village. Nathanial was one of the most handsome guys in Cinder Village. Sandy-blond hair, hazel eyes, and a sharp jaw… just looking up at him now made my stomach warm.

 

I gave him a goofy grin. “Come for dinner later? Bring your parents.”

 

He nodded, pursing his lips. “Would love that.”

 

We were twenty winters out from the Great Famine but my parents remembered such a time and trained us younger ones on how to hunt and grow food, and to skin and prepare a kill. Usually it was the men doing the hunting and the women doing the growing, but with my father dead, I didn’t have that luxury. They also taught us to show kindness and give a meal when you had plenty. Times were a boon now, and this cougarin was much more than we needed."

6. Daughter of the Moon Goddess by Sue Lynn Tan 🌙

In Sue Lynn Tan's enchanting novel Daughter of the Moon Goddess, we soar to the moon to meet Xingyin, whose tranquil life is shattered when she discovers her celestial heritage. Thrust into a world of immortals and ancient magic, she embarks on a quest filled with perils and wonder. With each arrow she nocks Xingyin fights not just for her mother's freedom, but navigates a difficult path of romance and conflicting battles for her heart, putting her in a difficult position between the complex bonds of family and true love. Her journey is a delicate dance on the sword's edge between personal sacrifice and the fate of an empire, set against a landscape of legendary creatures and vicious enemies.


An extract:

"There are many legends about my mother. Some say she betrayed her husband, a great mortal warrior, stealing his Elixir of Immortality to become a goddess. Others depict her as an innocent victim who swallowed the elixir while trying to save it from thieves. Whichever story you believe, my mother, Chang’e, became immortal. As did I.

 

I remember the stillness of my home. It was just myself, a loyal attendant named Ping’er, and my mother residing on the moon. We lived in a palace built from shining white stone, with columns of mother-of-pearl and a sweeping roof of pure silver. Its vast rooms were filled with cinnamon-wood furniture, their spicy fragrance wafting through the air. A forest of white osmanthus trees surrounded us with a single laurel in its midst, bearing luminous seeds with an ethereal shimmer. No wind nor bird, not even my hands could pluck them, they cleaved to the branches as steadfastly as the stars to the sky.

 

My mother was gentle and loving, but a little distant, as though she bore some great pain which had numbed her heart. Each night, after lighting the lanterns to illuminate the moon, she stood on our balcony to stare at the mortal world below. Sometimes I woke just before the dawn and found her still standing there, her eyes shrouded in memory. Unable to bear the sadness in her face, I wrapped my arms around her, my head just coming up to her waist. She flinched at my touch as though roused from a dream, before stroking my hair and bringing me back to my room. Her silence pricked me; I worried that I had upset her, even though she rarely lost her temper. It was Ping’er who finally explained that my mother did not like to be disturbed during those times.

 

“Why?” I asked.

 

“Your mother suffered a great loss.” She raised a hand to stall my next question. “It’s not my place to say more.”

 

The thought of her sorrow pierced me. “It’s been years. Will Mother ever recover?”

 

Ping’er was silent for a moment. “Some scars are carved into our bones—a part of who we are, shaping what we become.” Seeing my crestfallen expression, she cradled me in her soft arms. “But she is stronger than you think, Little Star. Just as you are.”"

7. Her Majesty's Royal Coven by Juno Dawson 💫

Juno Dawson reveals a covert world where a clandestine circle of witches, known as Her Majesty’s Royal Coven, operates beneath the veneer of everyday life. Tasked with shielding their communities from otherworldly threats, these witches juggle their arcane duties with the intricacies of modern living. However, whispers of a foretold prophecy loom, threatening to splinter the coven from within. Amidst the turmoil, four friends find themselves at the epicenter of an impending storm that could herald their undoing or their triumph, blurring the lines between ally and adversary, loyalty and betrayal.


An extract:

In her dreams, Conrad was still alive.

 

They were banal, domestic little scenes: she could still smell whatever dinner he’d cooked, and she’d be washing the dishes when he’d slide his arms around her waist. She’d feel the brush of his lips against the nape of her neck, The Archers low in the background. The oddest fragments returned to her: Sunday morning toast crumbs in bed coming back to haunt them on Sunday night; leaning over him to look out of the plane window as they were coming in to land at Dublin; walking the dog through Hardcastle Crags on a lazy Saturday afternoon – that smell of damp mulch and wild garlic.

 

Other times she’d simply dream she was listening to him breathe. He always fell asleep the second his head touched the pillow, like he had narcolepsy or something, and so Niamh, a fitful sleeper at best, would often fixate on his peaceful tide to quiet her chatty brain.

 

Awaking now, she reached for him, only to feel the cold side of the bed.

 

It was like pressing a thumb on a bruise every single time.

 

Why am I awake?

 

Her phone. Her phone was ringing. She remembered she was on call. Shite.

 

She kicked off the duvet and pushed a nest of auburn hair out of her face. Her phone vibrated on the nightstand, the display reading BARKER FARM. It was 00.53. Still the Witching Hour, she thought ruefully. A common misconception; any hour’s grand for witching."

8. The Final Strife by Saara El-Arifi ⚔

In the vividly drawn world of The Final Strife by Saara El-Arifi, society is stratified by the colour of one’s blood: the red-blooded Embers, blue-blooded Dusters and clear-blooded Ghostings. As the Aktibar trials commence to select the next rulers, Sylah, an Ember born to be a Warden of Strength, finds her world destroyed by the brutal loss of her family. Once a shining emblem of hope, Sylah now harnesses her suffering as fuel for resistance. With the trials as her crucible, she must choose her destiny—will she ascend as a leader or ignite a rebellion to forge a new path for the empire?


An extract:

Bang-dera-bang-dera-bang.

 

The drumbeat still thrummed through Sylah’s veins as she weaved her way back home.

 

The raw pink of dawn promised a blistering heat, and Sylah tilted her head to bask in the sun’s rays. The trinkets in her braids chimed.

 

She ran her tongue over the joba seed tucked in the gap between her front teeth. The warmth induced by the seed was dissipating, leaving her cold. Hugging her arms to her chest, she noticed for the first time that she held an empty bottle of firerum. She threw it at the wall of a derelict villa, which was filmed with blue sand. It had been a strong wind last night. At times its pounding had even eclipsed the drums.

 

But not the drumbeat in her memory.

 

Bang-dera-bang-dera-bang.

 

The sound came again and with it an unmistakable tremor of fear that woke people from their beds. Now Sylah listened and realised she knew the cadence of the rhythm, and it wasn’t from the song in her mind. It was the pounding of the Starting Drum, indicating the beginning of a trial.

 

It was the sound of death."

9. The Iron Raven by Julie Kagawa 🌳

Julie Kagawa’s The Iron Raven beckons us into the dynamic and ever-enthralling realm of the fey, where Puck—also known as Robin Goodfellow, the quintessential trickster—takes the narrative reins. This instalment promises a deeply personal journey as Puck confronts an unfamiliar adversary: his reflection. Joined by Iron Queen Meghan Chase and her prince consort Ash, camaraderie and old rivalries mesh within a tapestry of intrigue and mystical challenges, ensuring that readers old and new will find themselves wrapped in the nostalgic embrace of the Iron Fey world, yet thrilled by the novelty of Puck’s unique tale.


10. The Witch and the Tsar by Olesya Salnikova Gilmore 🧹

In The Witch and the Tsar, Olesya Salnikova Gilmore invites us to the enigmatic depths of Russian folklore through the eyes of Yaga, a character steeped in legend and mystique. This narrative portrays the poignant solitude of a wise woman against a nation teetering on the brink of chaos under the looming shadow of Ivan the Terrible. Gilmore weaves a tale of authority, healing and ancient forces, offering a new perspective on Baba Yaga—a figure traditionally cloaked in fear—to reveal the indomitable spirit of a woman whose influence extends far beyond her forest abode into the very heart of Russian history.


An extract:

“When my owl landed on my shoulder, I knew heartbreak was not far behind.

 

It was not that twilight tasted different, though on my tongue, the humid spring air had the bitterness of snowfall. It was that, even this deep in the Russian forest, dusk bled into the light with infuriating leisure. The clouds had smothered the last of the sun’s rays in scarlet. Yet day clung on, delaying what mortals intended to find their way to my izbushka.

 

The log hut stood on chicken legs, not swaying or spinning or even pacing, as unnaturally still as me. I usually fidgeted with impatience, eager for my first client to appear, for my work to begin. Now, unease wrapped around my throat, silent as a viper.

 

My owl could only be here to deliver bad tidings. Like her namesake, night, Noch came in the company of darkness and shadows. It was then the mortals arrived with their fevers, skin infections, and stomach poisons; with the burns from the fires that spread too quickly in their cramped wooden villages. They did not approach me in the light of day, even if it was waning. Not unless they brought disaster."

Whether you're seeking to escape into mystical kingdoms, ponder the complexities of power and identity, or experience the thrill of forbidden magic, each of these fantasy novels offers a unique journey. Perfect as Christmas gifts that promise adventure, these stories are doorways to other worlds, waiting to be opened. Take your pick and prepare to be spellbound by the richness of characters, legends and worlds that lie within.