Why I’m Writing The Sylfaen Chronicles

The story begins, again and again, with the page.

The seeds of this story started forming more than fifteen years ago. Back then, it was Aerune’s story—the heir of a magical kingdom, a prince burdened by legacy and duty. But as I sat with that idea, another thread took hold: what if his story had been interrupted? What if it had been hijacked—replaced—by someone who didn’t ask for any of it?

That’s when Bastien arrived. A quiet academic. A man who’s spent most of his life letting others chart his path, following expectations more than intention. He wasn’t extraordinary. He didn’t have a destiny. He just… didn’t belong. Not even in his own life.

And that, I realized, was the story.

What started as a tale about a lost prince became something deeper: a story about agency. About choice. About identity, and the slow, unglamorous journey toward selfhood. Bastien’s struggle to reclaim control over his life—to define himself against the weight of another soul’s legacy—hit something raw and real in me. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was writing toward questions I’d been asking for years.

Myth, Memory, and Displacement

Some of those questions became clearer as I kept writing. The first book in my planned trilogy, The Fractured Soul became a way for me to explore the relationship between power and agency—the subtle tension between what we inherit and what we choose. I’ve always been drawn to stories where legacy carries weight, where myth isn’t just backdrop but a living force that shapes the present. My background in Classics and archaeology definitely fed into that—especially the way cultures preserve legacies, obscure truths, and mythologize power and those who exercise extraordinary agency.

Portal fantasy, in particular, has always fascinated me. It’s such a versatile framework for exploring displacement, identity, and reinvention. What happens when you’re pulled into a world you don’t understand? When no one knows who you are, and all the old markers of your identity vanish? Those are powerful questions—ones I think we all face at some point in the real world, in one way or another.

Why a Trilogy?

Well, first, I’ve always loved trilogies. As a reader, there’s nothing quite like sinking into a long arc—watching characters evolve, themes deepen, and threads that seemed distant at first suddenly intertwine. When I finally started turning all these scattered ideas into a real project, a trilogy structure naturally emerged. Bastien’s story couldn’t be told in a single book. Neither could Aerune’s. Their paths needed time, space, and silence to collide and converge.

But this isn’t just a fantasy adventure. At its heart, this is a story about transformation—about the internal, often invisible shifts that happen when someone finally claims their voice.

Why It Matters to Me

I’ve wrestled with questions of agency and identity in my own life. I’ve followed paths that other people set for me, only to realize that they led me down dead-end alleys because they weren’t my own paths to walk. I’ve had moments where I doubted whether I could trust myself enough to chart a different course.

As a result, I had a lot of false starts trying to write this book. Years of overthinking. Of stopping before I’d really started. Of wondering whether I had what it took to actually finish something.

This story—the one that became The Fractured Soul—is the one that finally stuck. It taught me how to write a novel. How to revise one. How to throw it out and rewrite it—twice. And I’m proud of what it’s become. But more than that, I’m proud I didn’t give up on it.

And I’m deeply grateful to the people in my life, especially my wife, who supported me and shared me with this project over the past few years. That kind of belief is precious, and I don’t take it for granted. But I had to trust myself enough to ask for that support.

Let’s Talk

If you’ve ever had a story that wouldn’t let go of you, or a character who showed up and refused to leave, you’ll understand why I’m still writing this one.

What book—or idea—first made you fall in love with fantasy? Drop a comment below.