Hi! I read your fics Throne of Hell and A Match Made in Hell (absolutely amazing work by the way, I fell deeper in love with every chapter) and I saw you also write original novels? Can we know more about them?
Absolutely! I have many novels planned, but right now I’m concentrating on two projects, one of which I would love to publish this year.
Bound by Bramble
Set in 15th-century rural Ireland within a Gaelic (Celtic Irish) worldview, the story follows Qiryeth, a sacred stag transformed into a half-deer, half-man Aos Sí after being trapped and nearly killed by a hunter. Marked by both power and curse by the god Cernunnos, he becomes a feared forest predator, hunting humans as a distorted echo of his former sanctity.
His first true loss, however, comes with his capture. When Emrys, a clever and controlling wizard, is hired to kill the creature, he instead subdues him and immediately renames Qiryeth “Aedan” without consent, declaring the old name dangerous, inhuman, and unfit for civilized use. This act becomes the first and most intimate moment of cultural erasure, severing Qiryeth from his identity, language, and sacred history under the guise of protection and care.
Emrys brings Aedan to his cottage, determined to “tame” and heal him by assimilating him into human society. There, strict human customs collide violently with Aedan’s own sacred traditions. Emrys enforces human manners, clothing, and domestic labor, using spells and iron chains when Aedan resists. What Emrys frames as rehabilitation is, in practice, captivity and forced conformity.
Aedan fights to retain his dignity, autonomy, and connection to the forest and to the name that once bound him to divinity. Their relationship is defined by resentment, power struggles, cultural misunderstanding, and rare moments of reluctant empathy, as both grapple with their own wounds and justifications.
Ultimately, the story is about two damaged beings locked in a struggle for dominance and meaning, neither capable of truly healing the other. It critiques forced assimilation and cultural erasure, showing how even well-intentioned acts can become deeply oppressive when shaped by trauma, control, and a refusal to recognize the other’s right to remain wholly themselves.
An excerpt:
"These belong to you," he says, his voice low and even. "I return them freely, with acknowledgment of their importance to you and regret for separating you from them, however briefly."
Qiryeth's silver eyes narrow with suspicion. "A chara, you lay old leaves at my door and call it spring’s first bloom. Such generosity! How the mortal heart delights in giving what the earth has long since claimed." His voice carries both disdain and confusion. "Tell me, is this the custom of your kin, to wrap daylight in shadows and present it as a wonder?"
"Not a gift," Emrys corrects gently. "Restitution. Among your people, to take or displace another's possessions is a breach of respect. I seek to restore that balance." He holds the items at the edge of the circle, not yet passing them through. "And yes, I seek something in return."
A bitter laugh escapes Qiryeth, though the sound holds no mirth. "Ah, the dance resumes. The hand that offers is ever poised to take, is it not, a chara? Mortal bargains are seeds sown in stony ground yet still you hope for harvest. Whisper your longing, wise one, and let the wind judge its worth, for my answer may yet be as elusive as mist at dawn."
"An oath," Emrys says simply. "Bound by whatever powers you hold sacred, witnessed by the forest itself. I ask that you speak only truth for the duration of our conversation, in exchange for release from this binding circle."
The Dimming
In the aftermath of a devastating galactic war, a diverse crew of outcasts and survivors, each marked by loss, prejudice, or trauma, gathers aboard The Hearth, a deep-space vessel captained by the empathetic Drakuna Siva Morrok. Among them are Elira Joss, an insectoid Periplan corporate liaison facing relentless bigotry; Koreth Vell, a haunted Strigari rescue officer fiercely protecting his terminally ill son; and other uniquely skilled but marginalized beings seeking purpose, belonging, and survival. When the crew is sent to the storm-blasted, twilight world of Dymara to recover valuable corporate equipment, they’re forced to confront not only the planet’s dangerous wildlife and hostile environment, but also sabotage, secrets, and the legacy of a mysterious disease called The Dimming. As tensions rise and trust is tested, the mission derails, stranding them near an abandoned research station with a dark past.
Inside the station, the crew faces mounting paranoia, haunting evidence of lost teams, and a shapeshifting monster capable of mimicking any organic lifeform. Facing the threat from within and without, the crew must overcome their differences, uncover the truth about the monster, and decide who, if anyone, they can trust before darkness consumes them all.
An excerpt:
"I am Elira Joss, the corporate liaison assigned to your crew for this expedition." She extends a data pad but keeps her hand concealed within the folds of her cloak.
Siva's eyes narrow slightly, not with suspicion but with gentle insistence. "On my ship, we don't hide our faces from each other, Ms. Joss. I need to see who I'm allowing aboard."
A moment of hesitation trembles between them. Siva can almost feel the mental calculation happening beneath that hood, the weighing of risks, the anticipation of judgment. He's seen it countless times in crew members who have faced discrimination. His tail stills, a gesture of patience and attentiveness.
"Of course, Captain. I understand the need for transparency aboard your vessel," With deliberate hands, Elira reaches up and pulls back her hood.
The dock seems to hold its breath. The insectoid features of a Periplan woman emerge into the harsh light, large compound eyes glowing with a subtle cyan luminescence, segmented antennae rising from her head, mandibles framing her mouth. Her exoskeleton gleams with a purple-black sheen that absorbs and reflects the dock lights in equal measure.
The reaction around them is immediate and visceral. A mechanical clatter sounds as someone drops a tool. Whispers skitter across the bay like wind-blown debris. A dock worker loading supplies nearby steps back, his face contorting with undisguised revulsion. Another worker makes a subtle warding gesture, an ancient superstition betraying modern prejudice.
Siva's protective instinct flares hot beneath his scales. His posture shifts, almost imperceptibly, placing his broad frame between Elira and the staring workers. His tail sweeps a wider arc, claiming space, establishing boundary.
"Thank you, Elira," he says, voice pitched to carry. "We don't hide faces among this crew. You're safe here." The words are simple but weighted with promise. His eyes, sharp and intelligent, scan the dock workers. When his gaze lands on the closest ones, they flinch slightly, suddenly finding urgent interest in their tasks.
He turns his attention fully to the staring workers, drawing himself up to his full impressive height. "If there's a problem," he states, each word deliberate and calm yet carrying undeniable authority, "you can take it up with me. Otherwise, I suggest you return to your duties." The final words carry a subtle hint of fang beneath the civility.
