There’s a certain kind of story that doesn’t whisper to you — it summons you. Not gently, not politely, but with the unmistakable gravity of destiny. Dark fantasy has always been that for me.
I write about gods because I believe in the mythology of becoming.
I write about Hell because power is most interesting when it’s reclaimed, not given.
I write about Lucifer because his archetype is one of the oldest, most misunderstood, and most deeply human stories of all time.
Crown of the Morningstar wasn’t born from a desire to shock or provoke. It came from a place of asking:
What would happen if the villain told his own story?
What if he wasn’t villain or hero — just truth, flame, grief, and evolution?
Writing dark fantasy lets me explore the things we’re told to fear: ambition, rebellion, love that transcends lifetimes, and the fire that reshapes us.
And every time I write about a world forged in darkness, I’m reminded of something essential:
Darkness isn’t an ending.
It’s raw material.
It’s a forge.
It’s a beginning.
If my readers leave my books feeling powerful, seen, or a little more in touch with their inner fire, then I’ve done exactly what I came here to do.
1 comment
Good day! Is the store owner or manager available?