Stories and Book Talk

Tag: writing

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 9

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 9

    Kiel Iram sat in the main mess hall at Swala Force’s compound. He chose a table in the middle of the room that could seat two. His black uniform with five gold chevrons on his shoulders had the young cadets giving him a wide berth. The mess hall was relatively quiet. It gave Kiel the convenience he needed to log in to the main network and report his findings on the previous night’s attack to command.

    When he finished his report, Kiel pulled up the map of the Empire of Afrotheria. He filtered the map to show the Theria Guild zone boundaries and their assigned Guardian forces.

    Since the attack on Gathu Village in Teru Province, Commander Demus had been studying the movement of the Theria Guild teams in the surrounding zones. Teru Province had a weakness.

    The Swala Force stationed in this oasis was largely made up of cadets and officers fresh out of training. The seasoned Sokwe Recon trainers were not enough to run a serious team. However, they managed to utilize the cadets to a satisfactory result. In any case, Swala Force should have been able to respond to a distressed village like Gathu in time to avoid casualties.

    Kiel tapped his finger on the number of casualties in Gathu Village and let out a sigh. It was over fifty, which was quite a number for a village not near the barrier. Perhaps there was a breakdown in communication. Swala Force’s general was hard to handle, but he would have taken a call to arms from Simba Force in Zone 7 without protest. The Sokwe Recon team in the oasis should have also been able to respond in time.

    Kiel picked up a slice of ugali from the bowl next to him and chewed on it in deep thought. A message beeped, and the notification appeared in the corner of his screen. It was from Commander Demus.

    “Instructor Kitonyi wants to recommend a trio of cadets to our side. Check them out. He’s a good friend with a good eye. He won’t ask for a favor without cause.”

    Kiel replied with an affirmative answer, promising to talk to the three cadets. Demus Kiima rarely asked for favors. When he did, they were very important.

    “Thank you. They’ll find you in the mess hall.”

    Kiel closed his glass tablet, folding it back into the size of a small cell phone. He slid it into his pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses instead. Pulling his tray of food closer, he concentrated on eating while he waited for his three guests.

    Zev breathed out his anxiety as they reached the mess hall. It was a little past seven o’clock. Most of his fellow cadets had already eaten and rushed off to complete duties.

    The place was relatively quiet and empty. It was easy to spot the general sitting at a table for two in the middle of the dining hall. He sat with his back straight. His hair was cut very short and neat. He wore a black blazer with the gold chevrons of his rank, five on each shoulder. Zev wondered when he would ever get there.

    A gentle touch on his right shoulder had Zev turning to find Instructor Kitonyi watching him.

    “General Iram will conduct an interview. Answer his questions without hesitation. The rest is up to how fast you get your twentieth battle,” Instructor Kitonyi said.

    “Thank you, sir,” Zev said, saluting the taller man. He glanced at Saul and Noah, then nodded as he led the way to the general’s table.

    Kiel was watching a surveillance video of the Gathu Village attack when three cadets reached his table. They saluted him in a neat movement and greeted him.

    “Good morning, General.”

    “Mm. Good morning,” Kiel said, reaching up to touch the side of his glasses. The video paused and started a recording of the three cadets. Kiel cleared his throat and folded his arms across his chest, giving all his attention to the trio.

    They looked young, barely twenty. Fresh-faced, eager, Kiel mused. They made him keenly aware of his own age. He was turning thirty-three soon. He had already stopped adding chevrons to his arms to mark his successful battles. They were too many now, and the gold chevrons on his shoulders were enough to mark his current rank. Still, he kept his qualifying twenty on his arms because they were a reminder of his days in training.

    “At ease,” he said now to the three cadets. “Name, rank, left to right.”

    “Staff Sergeant Zev Mablevi, squad leader.”

    “Sergeant Saul Nkoba, team member.”

    “Sergeant Noah Bala, team member.”

    “How old are you?” Kiel asked.

    “Twenty-two this year,” Mablevi said.

    “Twenty-three,” Saul answered.

    “Twenty-four,” Noah said.

    “Interesting,” Kiel thought, his gaze resting on Mablevi. The two young men didn’t mind following orders from a younger squad leader. Kiel studied them, too, for a second longer.

    Mablevi stood in a standard military stance. His hands clasped behind his back, his back straight, his shoulders straight. He stood stock-still, assured in his qualifications, unlike the other two who shifted slightly with nerves. Their gazes shifted to Mablevi occasionally.

    It looked like Mablevi had built a small pack. They probably worked quite well in a team setting.

    “How many battles have you completed?” Kiel asked. “Staff Sergeant Mablevi, answer for your team.”

    “Nineteen battles, sir.”

    “One more and you can qualify out of Swala Force. You can join Simba Force in Thuka Province, or Tiger in Yole. If you qualify high enough, you can even join Sokwe in Kirit Capital. Why do you need to meet me?”

    Mablevi glanced at his teammates before he answered.

    “We’re hoping to join the Strike Force Team.”

    Kiel hid a smile at the clear ambition in Mablevi’s tone.

    “What if you can’t?” Kiel asked.

    “Then we’ll join Sokwe Recon, sir.”

    “Do you want to relocate to the capital, Kirit?” Kiel asked.

    “We hope that once we join Sokwe Recon, we can find a way to enter the Strike Force, sir,” Mablevi answered.

    Kiel nodded.

    The Strike Force was a grand dream for any Guardian in the Theria Guild. To join it would mean working directly under Commander Demus Kiima and himself. Recruitment did not include joining Sokwe Recon. Instead, it was based heavily on unique ability.

    Kiel did not divulge the truth of entry into the Strike Force to Zev Mablevi. Instead, he decided he wanted to see this little team in action.

    “What would you like to hear from me?” Kiel asked, wanting to catch a glimpse of Mablevi’s thoughts.

    “Sir, we are one battle away from twenty chevrons. Once we return, whole and hale, please consider recommending us to Sokwe Recon,” Mablevi said.

    “What if the transfer separates you?” Kiel asked, narrowing his gaze. Mablevi looked qualified for Strike Force, but the other two did not seem ready.

    Zev swallowed hard this time, then answered, “As long as we are able to work up the ranks, it will be to our benefit.”

    Kiel scoffed because he could see Mablevi’s unwillingness to separate from his team. Still, he admired Mablevi’s determination to move out of Swala Force.

    “All right, I’ll consider your transfers when you achieve your qualifying battle. I’m not promising anything. Your ability determines where you end up,” Kiel said.

    Zev’s smile was fast, a quick curve of his lips that quickly disappeared. He brought his right hand up in a formal salute, prompting the others to follow suit.

    “Thank you for meeting us, sir!”

    “Thank you, sir!” Noah and Saul echoed.

    “All right, leave me to my work. You’re dismissed, cadets,” Kiel said.

    “Yes, sir.” Zev and his team gave him a final salute and hurried away, making their way to the buffet line.

    Kiel chuckled at their obvious excitement, once again wondering if he was ever that young. He pulled out his phone and called Demus.

    “How do you feel about recruiting a gifted team leader?” Kiel asked.

    “How old?” Demus asked.

    “Twenty-two,” Kiel said. “He’s a natural adhesive, holding together a team of two for now.”

    Kiel studied Mablevi receiving a tray filled with food from Saul and grinned. “They seem to eat, sleep, and fight together. He’s older than his teammates, which means they are following him after careful thought. It would be interesting to play with their dynamic and see how it fares in the Wildlands.”

    “He must be interesting to have you talk about him,” Demus said. “Forward their stats to the Strike Force recruitment council1. Use their qualifying fight as a test.”

    “I’ll find Instructor Kitonyi to set it up,” Kiel said.

    “What about the Gathu Village roundup?” Demus asked, shifting to the reason Kiel had needed to visit Swala Force.

    “I have five men following the ghost wraith routes,” Kiel said. “These wraith routes seem planned, though I cannot explain how that is possible. Ghost wraiths should not be able to make a decision.”

    “Unless there is interference,” Demus said, his tone thoughtful. “I’ll reach out to Nico Riithi at Strato. He will know what KISTech is working on and if it has to do with wraith control. Keep at it. I want a clearer picture.”

    “Yes, sir!” Kiel said.

    He waited for Demus to end the call before he focused on his food. After his meal, he went in search of Instructor Kitonyi to learn more about Mablevi.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    Footnotes:

    1. Strike Force recruitment council chooses team members for the elite strike force team based on a guardian’s merit. ↩︎

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 8

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 8

    It was a dark Thursday evening, and Zev had just turned twenty-two. He rode in the back of a military-grade utility truck used by the Theria Guild for transport, keeping his attention fixed on his squadmates and the mission at hand. Their four-man team was en route to the open lands bordering Thuka Province, near the steel barrier that divided their territory from the Wild Lands.

    Guardian intelligence had identified a likely ghost wraith attack on a weak point in the barrier. The nearby villages, already under close watch, needed the Guild’s protection.

    Simba Recon was stationed in the area but had requested backup from Swala Oasis, hoping to prevent civilian casualties. Swala’s forces often supported Simba Recon during major ghost wraith outbreaks.

    “Squad Leader Mablevi, Sergeant Nkoba, and Sergeant Bala,” the team leader called out.

    “Sir,” Zev answered, with Saul and Noah echoing him.

    Zev glanced at the man in charge of their four-person squad, known only as Hunter. It was customary for recruits to adopt new names upon joining the Theria Guild. It was a way to leave the past behind. Zev had refused to change his name, holding fast to a connection he would not abandon, so that if Amare was out there somewhere, she might still find him.

    “They call it a ‘suspected attack,’ but we know better,” Hunter said. “Ghost wraiths don’t come to play. Keep your eyes open, your heads down, and don’t let yourselves get eaten.”

    “Sir, yes, sir!”

    “Check weapons,” Hunter ordered.

    Zev’s hand fell to the long blade1 sheathed at his right hip. Close combat was his strength, and he trusted the blade more than anything else. Still, he carried two modified Santi Corp hyper-comp pistols2, each holstered on a thigh. He double-checked his ammo clips, each loaded with liquid-steel bullets designed to burn through a ghost wraith’s green blood like acid. Speed and accurate aim were key. One well-placed shot to the head could end the threat permanently. If that failed, a swift beheading with the blade was standard procedure.

    Satisfied with his gear, Zev gripped the hilt of his sword and gave Hunter a quick nod. There was little need for words before a mission; Guardians understood they lived and died by each other’s trust.

    Their transport lurched to a stop. A crackling voice blared through the truck’s intercom.

    “Strike Force Commander reports a confirmed sighting,” came the driver’s clipped voice. “Three packs of approximately ten ghost wraiths each are stalking the village at midpoint. Simba Recon has deployed to the east. Swala’s units will cover the west. I’ve brought you as close to the border as I can.”

    “Roger,” Hunter said, hitting the button to release the doors.

    He leaped out first, helmet locked in place, pistol ready. Zev followed, his own helmet sealing with a soft hiss, and behind him came Saul and Noah. Five other Swala units spilled out around them.

    They found themselves in front of a dense forest. A narrow road led toward the village, but ghost wraiths rarely took roads, preferring shadowy undergrowth for cover while hunting. With a curt nod to the team leaders on either side, Hunter signaled for everyone to move into the thick greenery.

    Zev inhaled the moist, earthy air, keenly aware that his helmet had already begun recording every second.

    “Proximity: four hundred meters,” announced the AI’s measured voice, echoing in Zev’s earpiece.

    He left his blade sheathed for the moment, opting for his pistols. Their first shots would give away their position, so every trigger pull had to count.

    “Two hundred meters,” the AI announced a heartbeat later.

    Zev slowed, muscles tense. He could hear the rustling of something large moving through the brush. Adrenaline thrummed in his veins. He chanced a glance at Hunter’s black cloak, which marked him as a higher grade. If Zev could survive enough missions, log enough successful battles, he could eventually earn that black cloak, and perhaps catch the eye of the elite Strike Force Squad. Their presence tonight, even if brief, might be an opportunity for him and his team.

    Their presence tonight, even if brief, might be an opportunity for him and his team.

    Hunter crouched low, weapon raised, and Zev did the same. Beyond them, he spotted the roving pack of ghost wraiths. Some prowled the ground; others leaped from branch to branch with sinuous ease, their dark skin glistening under stray moonbeams. Each creature had a spiked, porcupine-like tail and a jaw lined with rows of sharp, lethal teeth, fully capable of tearing a man apart in seconds.

    A memory flashed of two such beasts devouring Gen, and Zev shuddered.

    “Focus,” Hunter’s voice cut into his earpiece.

    Zev steadied his breath, pushing aside the haunting image.

    “Fire in five,” Hunter said quietly, counting down. “Four. Three. Two. One. Mark.”

    Zev aligned his sights on the closest ghost wraith, squeezed the trigger, and watched his bullet find its mark near the creature’s head. It dropped to the ground. Around him, the rest of the squad fired in near-unison, felling several wraiths. With their numbers reduced, the remaining wraiths charged the Guardians in a frenzy.

    Zev holstered both pistols, drew his long blade, and braced for the clash. Lightning carved the sky, thunder close behind, and an unearthly chorus of roars and screams filled the forest.

    The blade’s handle was etched with symbols: a flame to represent the Theria Guild, and short lines beneath it for every battle Zev had survived. He had fought eighteen so far; two more would qualify him for a chance to ascend the ranks, and bring him closer to discovering Amare’s fate.

    “Proximity: two meters,” the AI announced just before the first wraith lunged.

    Zev swung the blade in a brutal arc, connecting with the creature’s neck. Its head hit the ground in a splatter of iridescent green blood. He sprang out of reach of another wraith’s jaws, driving his blade into its forehead when it staggered. Faster than he’d imagined, he was locked in a deadly dance, slashing, shooting, and sidestepping gnashing fangs and lashing tails.

    Overhead, thunder rumbled in a punishing staccato, matched by the sickening crunch of steel slicing into flesh. Zev fought on, determined to outlast the storm.

    ****

    By morning, Zev stood in the shower stall of his quarters at Swala Oasis, hot water pounding against his sore muscles. Days like this felt surreal. As a child, he never imagined becoming a guardian. That dream had belonged to his younger brother, Grey. But after Grey and Silas died, and Amare went missing, the Guild had offered Zev the only outlet for his raging grief.

    He rubbed at a knot of tension under his shoulder, remembering how Amare would wait for him outside his class with a ready smile and a small bag of sugarcane. The memory stabbed him like a dull blade. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool tiled wall, forcing himself to breathe until the pain dulled. Wherever she was, he prayed she was alive, that she would find a way back to him, or he to her.

    Taking deep breaths, Zev slapped the shower button off and grabbed a towel from the shower-stall rail. He dried fast and stepped out, grabbing the second towel on the rack to dry his short locs.

    Barefoot, he walked to the sink and peered into the mirror above it. He pulled the towel off his head and leaned in to look at the fine line on his neck.

    Tonight’s mistake, he thought, running his index finger over the fine cut.

    A ghost wraith managed to dislodge his helmet at the thickest moment of the fight. One of its claws scraped his skin as he fought to get free from beneath it.

    Zev opened the medicine cabinet hidden behind the mirror and retrieved a large tube. He smeared on a dab of the Guild-issued medicinal cream and felt the sting recede.

    His hair was cut short on the sides, with his locs growing long on the top of his head. He let them grow because of his sister, Amare. Ignoring the fact that his locs were still damp, Zev picked up a leather tie from the counter and secured them in a tight ponytail.

    He dressed quickly in a T-shirt and shorts, depositing his damp towels in the laundry bin.

    When he stepped into the main room, his two best friends, Noah and Saul, were already there. Noah lounged on Zev’s bed, the glass screen on the far wall playing cartoons at low volume, while Saul perched at the reading desk, feet propped up, tapping at a video game on his phone.

    “Squad Leader sure likes to take his time in the shower,” Noah teased, tossing the remote onto the bed and rotating to face Zev. “Did the green goop3 clog your locs?”

    “Shut up.” Zev managed a small grin. “Why are you guys here this early?”

    “We wanted to check on you,” Saul said, rising from the desk and crossing the room. He gently lifted Zev’s chin, examining the cut on his neck.

    “You almost got eaten out there,” Noah added, scooting upright.

    “Your head looks best right where it is,” Saul said, dropping his hand. “Try not to lose it.”

    Zev let out a breath. He appreciated their concern. The night’s battle had cost three Guardians their lives. Hunter would oversee their final rites. The Theria Guild would manage the funerals, and Guardian Command would notify the families.

    Zev hated to imagine how his own parents would react if ever faced with that dreaded knock on the door. Not that he had heard from them in the last four years. His father had stopped sending him messages on his birthday.

    Zev rubbed his forehead. Still, he didn’t want to put his parents through more pain, so he needed to train harder.

    Saul cleared his throat. “Because we lost three, we’ll be getting two new recruits from the qualifiers in the fourth squad.”

    Zev stifled a groan. He knew what that meant: more responsibilities for him, Noah, and Saul. Their four-man team was ranked first among the cadets in Swala, which always earned them the task of training newcomers.

    “Give them a copy of the new training schedule,” Zev said, dragging himself to a shabby couch and sinking onto the cushions. He rested his head back, closing his eyes for a moment.

    “We also came by because there’s news from the main office,” Saul said, folding his arms.

    “What kind of news?” Zev asked, sounding more indifferent than he felt.

    “There is a Strike Force commander in-house,” Noah said. “He stopped here on his way to the capital city, Kirit. He wanted information about last night’s mission.”

    Zev sat up fast. He had waited so long for a chance at the Strike Force.

    “We can try to meet him in the mess hall,” Saul said. “We can ask him how to join the Strike Force. Either that or how to move to Sokwe Recon in the capital. We each have one more battle left before we strike twenty. We’ll be qualified to move up the ranks.”

    A spark of excitement flared in Zev’s chest. He had been working toward the Strike Force for years. If this commander had taken note of their squad’s performance, it might be the break Zev, Noah, and Saul needed.

    Black tattoos decorated his arms from his wrists to his elbows. Black chevrons4 to count the number of battles he had survived. Just like his sword, the chevrons reminded him of the number of times he returned alive from battle. He was two chevrons away from reaching twenty battles.

    After last night’s battle, he needed to add one more chevron on his right arm today, making them nineteen. This meant he only needed one more battle, and he would be at twenty.

    Twenty was a qualifying number to shift squads. Sokwe Recon would take him, Noah, and Saul. Then they could find a way to get into the Strike Force.

    Zev sat up straight. “It’s nearly seven,” he said, nodding at the clock on the screen. “Breakfast. Let’s head to the mess hall. If the Strike Force commander’s still around, maybe we’ll get lucky.”

    Wearing his socks and boots, he led the way.

    Behind him, Noah and Saul fell in step, their camaraderie as steadfast as the bonds of any true family, and for Zev, it might be the only family he could really trust until he found Amare again.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    Footnotes:

    1. Long blade – This is a specialized close-combat weapon used by Guardians of the Theria Guild in their fight against the ghost wraiths. ↩︎
    2. A hyper-comp pistol is a specialized firearm developed and modified by Santi Corp for use by Guardians in the Theria Guild in their fight against the ghost wraiths. They are referred to as modified Santi Corp hyper-comp pistols. The pistols have a compact black slide and silver barrels. They utilize specialized ammunition known as liquid-steel bullets. The technology for these bullets is calibrated by Santi Corp. ↩︎
    3. Green goop refers to the ghost wraith’s green blood. ↩︎
    4. Black Chevron tattoos -The chevrons are used to count the number of battles cadets have survived. They are pictured below. ↩︎
    Zev Chevrons

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 6

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 6

    Zev never reached Gen.

    Strong hands seized him by the shoulders of his jacket, hauled him back, and slammed him flat onto the grass. His face pressed into dirt, his mouth filling with the taste of grass and dirt. He tried to twist free, but someone held him down with unyielding strength.

    “Stay put!” commanded a harsh voice above him. “Alpha Team, we have five targets around the compound, unknown civilian casualties in the cottage. One survivor here, in custody. Send a suppression team.”

    Zev struggled, barely able to move under the warrior’s grip. “My brothers,” he gasped, spitting out pieces of grass. “They’re behind the house, seven and five, there’s a six-year-old friend with them!”

    The unseen speaker relayed that information calmly.

    “Young survivors reported at the rear of the house.”

    “Let me go!” Zev snapped, desperation swallowing his fear. “I can help, let me find them!”

    “We let you go, you’ll get yourself torn to shreds,” came the brusque reply. “That little axe of yours won’t do a damned thing.”

    “How would you know?” Zev spat. Fury coursed through him, but the man clamped down harder.

    Then, just as quickly, the pressure lifted. He found himself hauled upright, forced into a kneeling position. From that vantage, Zev glimpsed five figures in green armor charging the ghost wraiths skulking near the shattered walls of Gen’s house. He recognized the armor immediately, Theria Guild Guardians.

    One Guardian leaped onto a towering wraith’s back with terrifying agility. A silver sword crackled with lightning in his hands, and he drove it deep into the wraith’s neck. The creature collapsed in a splatter of green blood, its roar abruptly silenced.

    “Think your axe could pull that off?” the same gruff voice asked, a hint of grimness in his tone.

    Zev’s stomach twisted, and he sank back, trembling at the sight of the other wraiths shrieking in rage. Thunder boomed overhead, and lightning streaked across an angry sky.

    In a deadly dance of violence, the Guardians clashed with the pack, blades sparking, monstrous roars rising to the heavens. Blood, thick and green from the wraiths, bright red from wounded Guardians, splashed the debris-littered yard.

    The fight was ferocious and short: five minutes of savage chaos. Then, eerie silence fell.

    Zev’s captor released him, but Zev no longer had the strength to stand. He remained on his knees, breath quivering, eyes fixed on the front door of Gen’s home. He could not bear to imagine what awaited inside, could not let himself think of Gen. Nor could he stop thinking about his little brothers somewhere in the back.

    “Kijana1,” the Guardian called from the threshold, switching abruptly to a terse directive in a language Zev recognized all too well. “We need identification. Kuja hapa2.” Come here.

    He rose shakily, dread fueling his stumbling sprint to the door. The man who beckoned him had removed his helmet, revealing dark war paint around his eyes. His red cloak, clipped onto the shoulders of his dented armor, was ragged at the ends.

    Zev swallowed, fighting nausea. The Guardian clamped a firm hand on his shoulder, steering him deeper into the ruined house before he could protest. A familiar sunny yellow paint covered the living room walls, but rubble, splintered furniture, and smeared blood painted a far darker picture.

    “W-where is Gen?” Zev managed, voice unsteady.

    The Guardian’s tone softened. “I’m sorry.”

    Zev blinked at him, not understanding at first. “Why—?”

    “Ghost wraiths leave nothing to claim for a funeral. Today is an exception,” a second guardian said, pointing to the small hallway leading to the kitchen.

    The second guardian wore his helmet, so all Zev saw was the black body armor stained with green ghost wraith blood. Zev followed the pointing finger, and a shout wrenched out of him. He saw small sneakers, bright green, Silas’s favorite color. He forgot every other presence in the house, lunging across the broken remains of chairs, shards of glass crunching underfoot. When he reached the kitchen doorway, he fell to his knees.

    There, just inside the rear door, Grey lay motionless across Silas, both of them still. Blood seeped through torn clothing, and Zev’s mind whirled with dizzying denial. He lifted the small sneaker in trembling hands, a keening sound tearing from his throat. It drowned out everything: the Guardians, the thunder in the sky, even his own heartbeat.

    His family did not survive the reckoning that the ghost wraiths visited upon Gathu Village. The election-day bustle and the newly tallied votes became meaningless in the face of such loss. Gen’s son and Zev’s two younger brothers, Silas and Grey, were simply gone. Any fragment of normalcy shattered the moment Zev realized the ghost wraiths had claimed them.

    Standing in the wreckage of Gen’s home, Zev felt numb as the Theria Guild’s Guardians coordinated with the local policing department and medical officers. He couldn’t bring himself to say a word when his parents arrived, the Theria Guild officer in charge stepping in to explain. Elina Mablevi spent hours holding her sons’ still forms, sobbing inconsolably. Luca, wrestling with his own grief, finally asked one of the officers to escort Zev home, worried about Amare.

    Zev moved in a daze, climbing into the Guild’s utility vehicle without protest. His mind barely registered the route or the fact that the driver already knew where he lived. All clarity returned, however, when he saw the front door of their house standing ajar, its wood splintered.

    “Amare!” he shouted, fear tightening in his chest. He bolted out of the vehicle, dashing through the ruined doorway. “Ama!”

    A Guardian stood at the threshold. “What’s wrong?”

    “My sister,” Zev said, tearing through the main room and into Amare’s bedroom. Switching on the light, he found only a neat, empty bed. Panic thundered in his ears. “She’s not here. Amare is not here!”

    The Guardian alerted his team, but they found no clue as to where she had gone or who might have taken her. The house itself showed no sign of a wraith attack, no claw marks, no structural damage other than the hacked-apart door. It was clearly the work of a human hand.

    And so began the search for Amare Mablevi, who vanished on the same day the ghost wraiths ravaged the village. Her belongings lay where Zev had last seen them, untouched.

    The Theria Guild deemed her disappearance a criminal matter, one for the Gathu Village Police Station rather than their own scope.

    Despair settled heavily over the Mablevi home. Grief consumed Elina, Luca, and Zev, each wrestling with the deaths of Silas and Grey. The family buried the two boys three days after Amare vanished, alongside numerous other victims of the wraith invasion. Any flicker of hope was smothered by the absence of their missing daughter and sister.

    Unable to remain in that sorrowful house, Zev practically lived at the local police station, hoping for any development that might bring Amare home. Two weeks dragged by. Two weeks marked by silence.

    One afternoon, Zev found himself seated in the station’s small lobby, staring blankly at a large glass screen on the far wall.

    News outlets broadcast the swearing-in ceremony of the new Elderon, Izra Taj, and his Chancellor, Kakura Jafar. Elderon Taj had paid tribute to Gathu Village, promising more Guardians for the Swala Oasis, but Zev couldn’t fathom how that helped him or his shattered family. Zev scoffed at the screen, uncomfortably aware that it was too late for his parents or for him. His family was down to him and his parents. The thought made him feel sick to the stomach.

    On the screen, Izra Taj placed his right hand on an ancient charter book, reciting his oath before the Head of Justice. “I, Izra Taj, do swear with honor that I shall guard the founding charter of the Empire of Afrotheria…”

    Behind him stood a woman and a girl about Zev’s age. She wore black, her long braids pulled back tightly, a sorrowful expression on her face. Zev wondered vaguely what might trouble the Elderon’s daughter. But his thoughts snapped back to the moment when the doors to the inner office swished open.

    Officer Kwaro, charged with investigating Amare’s disappearance, approached.

    Zev leaped to his feet. “Any news, Officer?”

    Kwaro shook his head, eyes flicking with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Zev. It’s been two weeks, and we still haven’t found any leads. I must be honest, the trail’s getting cold. We don’t have the manpower or resources the Theria Guild does.”

    Zev’s stomach twisted. “Then what am I supposed to do?” he asked, voice low and tight with frustration. “Why isn’t the village head doing more? Malachi hasn’t said a word about all this.”

    Kwaro glanced around the lobby, noticing other families waiting for their own updates. Lowering his voice, he clasped Zev’s arm and guided him out through the station’s main door and into the stark sunlight of the parking lot.

    “Look, Zev,” Kwaro said softly, genuine regret in his tone. “I see how much you care. You’re here every day, sleeping on that bench some nights. That alone tells me you’d do anything to find your sister. But I need to be straight with you. Four other girls have gone missing this year under the same circumstances: home alone, door hacked open, not a single clue left behind. We haven’t recovered a single one.”

    The words struck Zev like a physical blow. He swayed. “So…Amare is the fifth?” he whispered. “How is this not public knowledge? How can Malachi stay silent?”

    Kwaro’s gaze shifted, troubled. “I can’t speak for him, or what’s going on behind closed doors. I only know there’s an open case, five missing girls now, including your sister. And we’re nowhere closer to finding them.”

    Zev’s breath shook. “If you can’t do anything…who can I turn to?”

    “The Theria Guild,” Kwaro said simply. “They have resources and networks we don’t. We’re a small village force. We manage routine crimes, petty disputes. For something on this scale, we need help from a higher authority. But we have no direct line to the Guild, there’s been little cooperation.”

    “I’m not trying to scare you, Zev,” Officer Kwaro said after a moment. “I promise I won’t stop looking for Amare, but—”

    A cold weight settled in Zev’s chest. “You’re telling me I should join the Guardians?” he asked, a sense of horror creeping in. He thought of his little brother, Grey, once fascinated by the idea of becoming a protector. Grey would never get the chance now. Grey’s dream had died with him.

    Kwaro placed a firm hand on Zev’s shoulder. “I know it sounds extreme, but it might be your best shot. The Guardians live in a closed world, but if one of our own joined them, we could finally access their resources. They might be able to find those missing girls, your sister included.”

    “I’ve tried to reach out to the Guardians but had no luck. Our village has had no volunteers for the Theria Guild, so we have no allies among them. You also know how wary everyone in the village is of the Guardians. The Guardians are not comfortable working with us, or us with them. If you join, we’ll get an advantage because you know us. It will be different with you, Zev. I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry this is the best our station can do. You think on it.”

    Zev shut his eyes, grief and fury tangling into a knot that threatened to crush him. He was days away from an apprenticeship at Santi Corp, set on a path in the Tech Class. And yet here he stood, faced with a choice that contradicted everything he’d planned.

    Officer Kwaro gave him a moment, then spoke again, voice quiet. “I won’t stop investigating, Zev. But to be frank, we’re out of our depth. It’s no coincidence that all these abductions took place during times of chaos, like the wraith attack on Gathu Village. Whoever is doing this knows exactly when to strike. We need more resources, or we may never find them.”

    Tears burned at the edges of Zev’s vision, but he forced them down. His parents were mired in their own grief, too shattered to offer direction or solace. His little sister was out there, somewhere, taken by a stranger or strangers in the middle of a cataclysmic ghost wraith attack. He felt emptier with every passing hour, every unanswered question.

    He looked at Kwaro, voice hoarse. “Thank you, Officer. I—just let me know if anything changes.”

    Kwaro nodded. “Of course. And remember what I said: the Theria Guild might be the one place equipped to uncover the truth.”

    Zev could only muster a numb nod. When he finally walked away, he saw the reflection of his haggard face in the station’s glass doors. He looked like someone who’d lived a lifetime in two weeks, someone whose world had been torn to pieces.

    Home was lost, and the ones who might have helped him were drowning in their own sorrow. If he wanted answers, if he wanted any hope of bringing Amare back, he would have to find them on his own, even if it meant walking into a world he had never planned to enter.

    In that moment, Zev understood that his life had been irrevocably altered.

    For the first time, he truly confronted the possibility that his only chance of finding Amare lay in joining the very guardians his village held in deep awe and wariness. A bitter, hollow ache wrapped around his heart. Everything in him recoiled at the idea, yet the thought of those four other missing girls gnawed at him. If he did nothing, Amare’s trail might vanish forever.

    The prospect of giving up his future at Santi Corp and embracing a life in the Theria Guild terrified him. But as he stepped into the dusty street outside the station, Zev realized he might not have a choice. If he wanted to save Amare, he needed to become the very thing his family had always feared.

    Zev walked home beneath a sky dimming toward twilight, Officer Kwaro’s advice echoing in his mind. Along the way, villagers stopped him, offering condolences for his brothers’ deaths and well-meant hopes that Amare would soon return.

    Yet in their eyes, Zev saw shadows of doubt. Most believed she, too, had been lost to the recent ghost wraith attack. But he refused to accept that. Amare was alive, taken, perhaps, but alive.

    He stepped through the gate of his family’s home, finding the front door ajar. Inside, his grandmother quietly moved through the house, preparing the evening meal and tidying up. She caught his eye as he entered but said nothing, her expression heavy with sadness.

    The muffled sound of his mother’s sobs drifted down the hallway from Grey and Silas’s room. His father, he knew, was in Amare’s bedroom, sitting on her bed without speaking or moving for hours at a time.

    The entire house felt stifling with grief. Every breath Zev took felt weighed down by sorrow. He managed a few sips of warm milk in the kitchen before retreating to his own room, shutting the door against the unbearable ache saturating the air.

    He sank into his chair, logging into Luna VR and entering the Pink Piggy workspace he’d built over three years. The virtual space flickered to life, revealing rows of digital cards and prototypes scattered across long code tables. Waweru—Weru—waited for him there, concern etched into his avatar’s expression.

    “I’m so sorry about your brothers,” Weru said, pulling Zev into a rough, virtual hug. “And Amare…I still can’t believe she’s missing. How are you holding up?”

    Zev rubbed a hand over his face as though he could banish the exhaustion. “We’re not doing great,” he admitted. “My parents are…shattered. And I don’t have any leads on Amare.”

    Weru’s sympathy showed in the slump of his shoulders. “I wish I could do more. Everybody at school’s been worried, waiting to see you. Miss Leya wants you to confirm your apprenticeship paperwork for Santi Corp.”

    A chill darted through Zev. He thought of the conversation with Officer Kwaro, about how only the Theria Guild might help him find Amare. “I’m…not sure I’ll do that,” he said quietly. “Things have changed.”

    Weru’s eyes widened. “You love tech. Santi Corp is your dream.”

    “I can’t talk about it,” Zev muttered, shaking his head. The mere thought of giving up the Pink Piggy, a creation that Amare had enthusiastically championed, stung. “What about you? When do you leave for KISTech?”

    “Next week,” Weru answered, managing a subdued smile.

    “Congrats,” Zev said, though the word tasted hollow on his tongue.

    Weru hesitated. “I could come by, you know. Visit your house instead of meeting like this in VR.”

    Zev pictured his mother’s tear-stained face, his father’s vacant stare. “It’s…not a good idea,” he managed. “I can’t really explain how things are right now.”

    Weru nodded, understanding flickering in his gaze. “All right. I’m here if you need anything.”

    “Thanks,” Zev murmured. “I need to log off. I’ll call you soon.”

    Zev waved at his friend and logged his avatar out of their shared space. Removing his Luna VR glasses, he found Dahlian’s UserID and sent her a message.

    Pink_Piggy to Dahlian: Are you free to talk?
    Dahlian to Pink_Piggy: Now you decide to show up? I’ve sent you countless messages and got nothing. WTH?
    Pink_Piggy to Dahlian: I’m sorry. It’s…personal stuff. Do you have time?
    Dahlian to Pink_Piggy: Sure. Meet at the Pink Piggy?
    Pink_Piggy to Dahlian: No. Invite me to a private room. I have something to give you.
    Dahlian to Pink_Piggy: Done. Check your DM for an invite link.

    The private room turned out to be a charming virtual café, complete with cozy tables and a window overlooking a digital re-creation of Kirit’s bustling streets. Dahlian, looking unexpectedly relaxed, sat at one of the tables. A steaming mug of coffee rested in front of her. Even in this avatar form, Zev noticed how her warm brown skin contrasted with a sleek black outfit, and how her braids framed her face.

    He kept his Pink Piggy mask—white cartoon pig ears and all—though she had chosen not to hide herself. The difference only highlighted the dissonance between their worlds.

    “Fancy place,” Zev remarked, sliding into the chair opposite her.

    She flashed a playful smile. “I wondered if you’d keep that mask. I’m glad you did, it’s nice to see you again, Piggy.”

    “You’re…unmasked,” Zev said, noting details of her appearance. She was striking in a soft, subtle way that made him feel a pang of wistfulness.

    “This is my private domain,” Dahlian explained. “No one else can see me here, so I’m not worried. Besides, you’ve never tried to dox me or anything.”

    Zev gave a halfhearted chuckle, his gaze drifting to the café’s virtual window. The simulated traffic crawled past in endless lines. “Is Kirit really that crowded?”

    “It is.” Dahlian shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what to do in a quiet place. Probably go crazy without the horns and MobiGari noise.”

    Zev swallowed. “I’m from the countryside,” he admitted, though he wouldn’t specify where. “It’s…different.”

    She studied him with open curiosity. “So, what’s this about? You asked me here. Something about your code?”
    Zev thought about the code Dahlian wanted to use. He had completed it the night before the elections.

    He had wanted to do more before sharing it with her, but the decision he needed to make now meant he would not get the chance to develop it further.

    He thought she was the only person who would have use for it.

    Zev sighed, retrieving a small digital card from a pocket in his VR interface. He placed it on the table between them.

    “I updated the code you want, though it is still a work in progress. I’m giving you permission to use it in your research. This card holds the full version. It’s yours now.”
    Dahlian’s eyes lit up, and she picked up the card gingerly. “Thank you! But…this feels like a goodbye, Pink Piggy. Why?”

    “I’m going away,” Zev said, letting go of a lifelong dream. He let out a soft sigh and faced Dahlian. “I’m closing the Pink Piggy. At least for now. I won’t be able to maintain it.”

    Alarm flickered across her features. “Close it? You built this brand from scratch, helped so many with your plug-ins. Why give it up?”

    Zev shrugged, his gaze going back to the busy street. He would have liked to visit Weru at KISTech in Kirit. Maybe visit the Santi Corp Headquarters in the capital when he was older. That would have been a sight to see.

    “It’s just something I have to do,” Zev said, voice tight with emotion. “I can’t…explain it all. But I need to step away. If—if things work out someday, maybe I’ll return to it and make it a real store. My sister always wanted that.” He paused, throat constricting. “But for now…this is the end.”
    Dahlian glanced between the code card and Zev’s mask, concern clouding her expression. “If you really need to stop, I understand. Still, if you’d rather someone keep it running in your absence, I can help—”

    He shook his head, the memory of Amare’s animated chatter about a future Pink Piggy storefront hitting him like a wave. “No,” he said quietly. “It just hurts too much right now. I—I’d rather it stays dormant.”

    For a moment, she said nothing. Then she gently tucked the card away.

    “All right,” Dahlian said. “If that’s what you want.”
    “It is,” Zev said. “I wanted you to have the code I’ve been working on in case it helps you find a breakthrough on fighting the ghost wraiths. Promise to work on it.”

    “I promise I’ll work on your code. It’s too brilliant to go to waste. You have my word.”

    Zev nodded, pushing back from the table. “Thank you. I won’t forget this.”

    She stood as well, stepping close enough to rest a hand on his arm. “Something bad happened, didn’t it?” she asked softly, searching his masked face. “I can tell you’re hurting.”

    Zev swallowed hard, unable to keep the tears from falling in the real world. He had no way to explain the absolute tragedy ravaging his family. “It’s complicated.”

    Her voice dropped to a comforting hush. “If you ever want to talk, or just sit here and stare at digital Kirit, this space is open to you. I won’t change the link code. You’re welcome anytime. Deal?”

    Zev smiled and looked at the glass windows and the virtual view of Kirit Capital beyond.

    “I suppose staring at the MobiGaris packing the street is soothing in a way,” Zev said.

    “I’ll update the street view to match the actual street often,” Dahlian said with a grin.

    He exhaled slowly. “Deal,” he managed, summoning a faint smile. “See you, Dahlian. Good luck with your research.”

    She answered with a gentle nod, her eyes full of concern. “Good luck to you, too.”

    Zev logged out, removing his VR glasses with a trembling hand. He had never felt so uncertain about the future.

    That night, he methodically shut down the Pink Piggy’s virtual shop, archiving years of work with a few taps. Each click was a small heartbreak.

    Morning found him at the academy, standing outside Miss Leya’s office. The halls were emptier than usual, students either graduating or off to new classes.

    At her desk, Miss Leya reviewed the final forms for apprenticeship placements. She looked up in surprise when Zev presented a different document.

    “You’re submitting a change-of-class form?” Miss Leya asked, stunned. “I thought you were set for Santi Corp.”

    Zev held himself stiffly. “I can’t do it anymore. I need to switch from Tech Class to the Protector Class.” He swallowed, recalling how helpless he’d felt watching the Guardians fight the ghost wraiths. “I have my reasons.”

    Miss Leya’s face tightened with sympathy.

    “Zev,” she whispered, “I know about your losses. But please, reconsider. Transitioning to the Protector Class is difficult. You’ll be behind students who’ve trained for years.”

    “I have no choice,” Zev cut in, blinking back tears. “If I’d been stronger, my brothers might still be alive. My sister might still be here.” The weight of that realization pressed down on him until he could barely stand.

    Miss Leya pressed trembling fingers to her mouth. “You can’t know that,” she said softly.

    He shook his head. “I know how I felt that day, helpless. I can’t go on that way.”

    She glanced at the form, then back at him. “And the apprenticeship? You’re a rare talent, Zev. I hate to see you throw it away like this.”

    “I’m not throwing my tech skills away,” he said, voice low but determined. “I’ll use them in the Theria Guild if I can. Whatever it takes to protect the people I have left, and maybe find my sister.”

    For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Miss Leya sighed, picked up a stamp, and pressed her seal onto the form. She returned it to Zev, her eyes brimming with concern.

    “Zev Mablevi,” she said, standing from her chair to offer him her hand. “I suspect this is the last time we’ll meet like this, as teacher and student. The next time you’ll be in the guild, and I’ll have to address you by your rank.”

    His throat felt tight, but he managed to clasp her hand. “Thank you, Miss Leya. For everything.”

    She nodded, offering a shaky smile. “May the almighty creator guard your steps, Zev.”

    He slipped the authorized form into his bag. “And yours,” he answered.

    Then he turned and walked out of the office, out of the academy, leaving behind the only life he had ever planned for himself. His fate now pointed in a direction he could scarcely imagine, one that might ultimately lead him to Amare, or at least to the truth.

    And even through the haze of his grief, a spark of determination took root: he would not give up, no matter how impossible the road ahead.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    Footnotes

    1. Kijana – ‘Young man’ in swahili. ↩︎
    2. Kuja hapa – ‘Come here’ in swahili. ↩︎
  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 5

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 5

    Zev’s work at the Village Center on voting day felt straightforward. He answered questions from voters, explaining how to use the voting machine, and shuttled bottles of water to other volunteers. In between, he coordinated with security to keep order in the lines.

    During a trip to the supply room, he noticed the metal shelf holding water bottles wobble precariously. With a sigh, he grabbed a power drill, an electric screwdriver, and extra bolts from the adjacent tool rack. Crawling beneath the shelf, he tightened the bolts until it felt secure.

    Just as he finished with the last screw, something jostled his left leg. “Who’s there?” he called out, voice echoing under the shelf.

    No answer came, so he muttered a soft curse, made sure the bolts were firm, and inched out, only to bang his head on the corner above. Rubbing his temple, he scowled when he emerged to find Jiru, the son of Malachi, the Village Head, leaning against the worktable.

    Jiru was a puzzle: never entirely friend, never quite foe. He sat perched on the table that held a basket of bread buns destined for the voting hall staff, his polished black boots propped on the only chair. His hair, styled in a precise box cut, only added to the self-assured aura that Zev found vaguely irritating.

    “What?” Zev asked, still rubbing the sting on his forehead.

    Jiru grinned. “Word is you’re set to join Santi Corp’s apprenticeship at the Swala Oasis,” he said. His tone hovered between genuine curiosity and veiled mockery.

    Zev stood, returned the screwdriver to its case, and stretched, ignoring Jiru’s stare. “You sound interested,” he said, only half-joking. “Thinking of applying yourself?”

    “No,” Jiru replied flatly. “Will you see the Theria Guild cadets while you’re there?”

    Zev dropped his arms at his sides and leaned on the tool shelf.

    “No, actually,” Zev said. “All I saw when I visited for registration was their transport vehicles.”

    “That’s a shame. I’d go find them if I were you,” Jiru said, his tone smug.

    Zev sighed. The conversation was typical Jiru, vaguely smug, perpetually needling. Without another word, Zev picked up the basket of bread buns he needed to deliver. He headed for the door, not bothering to hide his annoyance when Jiru followed.

    Outside, the sun shone brightly on the lines of voters milling about. Many families waited with children, and the tension of the day mixed with a polite hum of conversation. Zev felt a flicker of gratitude knowing his mother and father had cast their votes. His younger brothers would be safe at home soon, and Amare, who couldn’t vote yet, was helping watch the children in a nearby center. His parents were somewhere on the ‘M’ line.

    Amare could not vote yet, so she had to be watching his brothers in the children’s center. The playground at the children’s center allowed kids to play football. He, too, loved the field behind the children’s center. He and Weru sometimes played when they had time. They hadn’t been able to play of late, too busy planning the future.

    “I bumped into your sister earlier,” Jiru said conversationally. “She’s volunteering at the children’s center. I hear she wants to enter the Education Class. My father’s got connections, you know. I could talk to him, help her secure a spot.”

    Zev’s grip on the bread basket tightened. “Amare can qualify on her own.”

    “Sure,” Jiru said, giving Zev a sideways glance. “But I’m always happy to help a pretty girl. Maybe she’ll appreciate it more than you do.”

    That was too much. Zev stopped abruptly, swinging around to face him. Jiru was two years older—nineteen to Zev’s seventeen—and his interest in fifteen-year-old Amare set Zev’s nerves on edge.

    “Leave my sister alone,” Zev said, trying hard to keep his voice low. “She’s not someone you can toy with.”

    Jiru’s grin widened, unperturbed. “Make me.”

    Rage coiled in Zev’s chest, and he nearly spat out a retort when Malachi’s voice boomed from across the hall. Zev forced himself to step back. He found Malachi waving him over to the staff refreshments area. Casting one last glare at Jiru, Zev followed Malachi.

    “Finished with the store?” Malachi asked, stopping by a long table covered with bottles of water and paper cups.

    “Yes. I even secured the shaky shelf,” Zev said, setting the basket of bread buns among the drinks.

    Malachi checked his watch. “Your parents left a while ago. They took your brothers home and asked Amare to stay and help. It’s nearly four. Hand me your token card so I can log your hours. Then you can pick up Amare and head home.”

    Zev fished a small rectangular card from his pocket. Malachi swiped it against a device linked to his phone, nodded at the beep, and handed it back. A quick thumb scan confirmed his new total of four thousand tokens, enough for the next tablet upgrade.

    “Thanks,” Zev said, flashing a grateful smile.

    Malachi returned the smile. “You’ve done good work here, Zev. I know Jiru can be difficult, but try to be patient. He wants to be your friend.”

    Zev said nothing. He didn’t trust Jiru’s motives, but Malachi was oblivious to his son’s bullying. Changing the subject, Zev gestured toward the exit. “I’ll go meet Amare now.”

    “Go ahead,” Malachi said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll call you if we need more help.”

    Zev snagged two bread buns from the basket and headed out, crossing the street to the children’s center. A short while later, he found Amare guiding a group of boisterous kids in a painting session. He lingered at the door, finishing one bun in swift bites as he watched her gently correct a child on using a brush. When she saw him, her eyes lit up with excitement.

    “Want to help?” she teased. “When’s the last time you played with paint?”

    He grinned, washed his hands in the corner sink, and joined a table of enthusiastic six-year-olds. They giggled riotously whenever Amare threatened to dab green paint on Zev’s hair. By the end of it, he had a streak of teal running across his left eyebrow.

    When the day wound down, brother and sister left the children’s center and started home at a comfortable pace. Zev carried Amare’s paint supply bag in addition to his own worn book bag. She chattered happily about the joys of teaching small children.

    “So, are you still going to run the Pink Piggy if you join Santi Corp?” Amare asked. “Mom mentioned that you might open a real shop one day.”

    Zev hesitated, memories of his mother’s advice mingling with a creeping anxiety about Santi Corp’s strict policies. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “If I work for Santi, all tech I develop might belong to them.”

    “I think a real Pink Piggy store would be so cool,” Amare said earnestly. “You help so many people with your code, imagine turning our entire village into a place full of your gadgets.”

    He snorted. “You’re too biased,” he said.

    She laughed. “I’m your sister. I have to be biased.”

    A burst of engine noise interrupted them. A motorcycle sped by, stirring a swirling cloud of dust. Zev instinctively maneuvered Amare to his far side to shield her. They were five minutes from home when a siren screamed across the village, loud and ominous.

    Zev looked toward the Village Center. Dark clouds gathered above the rooftops, and jagged lightning ripped across the sky. Thunder rumbled in quick succession.

    Amare went rigid. Zev seized her hand. “We have to run,” he urged, his voice tense. He broke into a sprint, half dragging her down the road. She stumbled several times, but each time he steadied her, and they kept going.

    As they neared home, a convoy of black Theria Guild vehicles roared past on the main road, heading toward the swirling storm clouds. Panic flared in Zev’s chest. No time to wonder what exactly was happening, only that it was terrible.

    They dashed through the open gate of their compound.

    Zev pushed his sister into the house. Amare collapsed just inside, breathless and terrified. Zev dropped their bags by her side and hurried deeper into the house, calling for his brothers.

    “Grey! Silas! Mama, Baba?” He checked the time on the kitchen’s digital clock. Five o’clock. His parents should have been home by now. His heart hammered even harder when he found every room empty.

    Getting his cell phone from his pocket, he paused in the corridor when he found a message from his mother. His parents had dropped the boys at their neighbor’s house. His mother needed to return to the conservancy center, and his father was meeting a supplier in the next town. Zev and Amare were to pick up the boys from Gen’s house. Zev shut his eyes, fighting back a wave of dread.

    He wished he had checked his phone earlier. Running back to the living room, he found Amare had gotten up, though she was clearly shaky.

    “They’re not here?” Amare asked, her voice trembling.

    “No. Grey and Silas are at Gen’s.” He opened a closet in the living room, removing a heavy jacket lined with a fine mesh of silver netting. Sliding it on, he winced at the weight, but it was their only real defense against a ghost wraith’s bite. Next, he grabbed a small axe stored in the same closet.

    Amare shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. “You can’t go out there. It’s too dangerous!”

    “I have to,” Zev said grimly. “Our brothers are out there. Mama and Baba aren’t back, so it’s up to me. You stay here in case Grey and Silas come home on their own and I miss them.”

    She hurried to retrieve a jacket, too. She struggled to wear the heavy jacket, so Zev helped her zip the coat, hoping it would protect her if something breached the house. Then he pulled her into a quick hug.

    “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “Keep the door locked and watch for the boys if they show up first.”

    Amare wiped her cheeks, nodding despite the terror in her eyes. Zev grabbed the axe and stepped outside, activating the silver security net. An electric crackle rippled over the roof, forming a protective barrier around the house.

    Screams echoed from the direction of the Village Center. Dark acrid smoke billowed beyond the treetops. Zev swallowed hard, hoping his parents had found shelter somewhere. Right now, all that mattered was Grey and Silas.

    He ran, lungs burning, turning onto the main road. He turned left toward the Village Center.

    Gen was a family friend, and she had a son the same age as Grey. The boys liked playing together, so their mom often left Grey and Silas at Gen’s house.

    Gen’s house was only five minutes away, but each second felt like an eternity. Zev ran like a madman, ignoring the growing screams in the neighborhood.

    As he approached her gate, the sound of something massive striking stone made his blood run cold. A bloodcurdling scream came from Gen’s compound.

    Heart pounding, Zev rushed through the open gate and froze in horror. The cottage roof had a gaping hole, the walls collapsed in a jagged crack. Standing amid the rubble was the largest ghost wraith Zev had ever seen, nearly as tall as the cottage itself. Its slick black skin rippled like oily tar, and a long spiky tail flicked behind it in agitation.

    Before Zev could act, the beast turned to him, revealing a mouth streaked with blood. Its jagged teeth glistened under the storm-dark sky, and a thunderous roar tore through the air. Fear clutched at Zev’s throat.

    Then he saw Gen, desperately swinging a broken lampshade at a second wraith. Blood stained her blouse, and she screamed in pain as it lunged at her. She frantically hurled a chair at its head, then caught sight of Zev.

    “Zev!” she choked out, voice trembling. “The kids… they’re in…”

    Her words died as the second wraith clamped down on her shoulder, silencing her scream. In one horrifying moment, both wraiths descended on her.

    An anguished cry tore from Zev’s lips, but all he could do was watch, helpless, as the creatures ripped into the woman who had been like an aunt to him. Fury swallowed his fear, and he gripped the axe so tightly that his knuckles ached. Adrenaline pulsed through him like lightning.

    He sprinted toward the house, unthinking, determined to reach Gen, or what was left of her, and to find his brothers. If the wraiths killed him in the attempt, so be it. He would not stand by and watch.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

  • The Veiled Investment by Felicita Churie

    The Veiled Investment by Felicita Churie

    The Veiled Investment book cover

    The Veiled Investment is a book that highlights the many cultural changes from 1945 to the present, encompassing the different generations. The information about these effects may not appear in history, but is told as stories. During our time, it was obligations and responsibilities; now, it is about rights and entitlements.

    Why She Calls Herself the Veiled Investment:

    In Felicita Churie’s community, a girl’s price was tallied in cows, not dreams. Eight decades later, that “veiled investment” has yielded returns no dowry could measure.

    She outruns an arranged marriage, wins a British Scholarship, teaches a generation of girls and boys, and—when her son’s life hangs in the balance—gives him her kidney. The child earmarked for dowry becomes a teacher, scholar, commissioner, kidney donor, and grief-tempered advocate. Each milestone proves her grandmother’s quiet prophecy true: a woman’s worth is compounded in resilience and service, not cattle or coin.

    Her life proves that the “investment” everyone else once claimed is, in truth, her own: education, faith, and an iron-clad will to keep going when tragedy strikes.

    The Veiled Investment is both a ledger and a love letter to women whose quiet labour bankrolls families and nations. It is Felicita’s luminous memoir of classrooms and hospital corridors, showing how one determined woman turns every setback into capital for those she loves.

    Available on Amazon: U.S. | U.K. | Germany Nuria Online Bookshop

    “I’m a member of the Silent Generation,” Felicita writes, “and my story is about my determination, resilience, wisdom, hard work, and independence—all rooted in my cultural background and the times in which I have lived.”

    new book alert banner

    And what times! The Veiled Investment paints a colorful tapestry of a woman who has walked step by step through eight decades of change. As I read her story, admiring her determination to attend school in a world where girls were not expected to, I realized that we, the children of the current times, often take such privileges for granted. In contrast, the Silent Generation fought for these opportunities, sought them out, and turned them into the norm.

    Felicita tells the story of a girl once viewed merely as a source of dowry, who transformed that expectation into an extraordinary life for herself and her family.

    In The Veiled Investment, Felicita demonstrates the value of the priceless, silent labor a woman gives to her family and those she loves.

    Our grandmothers and mothers of the Silent Generation hold remarkable stories that show us where we have come from. Felicita recalls asking her husband to sign her passport application so the government would know he had given his permission for her to travel. I marveled that I can now walk into a passport office as freely as I please and sign my own application. I promised her I would never take that privilege for granted again.

    I thank women like Felicita, who lived the struggle so that we might dare to take these privileges for granted. It falls to us, to every reader, to guard those hard-won rights and extend them to those who come after us.

  • What are the Book Publishing Costs and Return on Investment in Kenya?

    What are the Book Publishing Costs and Return on Investment in Kenya?

    Question: Hi Elly, any information on book publishing costs and ROI? Drafting my first book. Wondering what's the cost of editing, book cover for a single title, for the Kenyan authors that publish. And do they really make their money back? 

    This message landed in my inbox in November 2024, and I’ve been staring at it for months. I didn’t answer it then because I was in the middle of printing and figuring out where to sell books. We are now in April 2025. I finally feel like I can answer this question. I have not offered numbers on the marketing side. It is an ongoing process at the moment.

    So, it’s easy to put out the blanket ‘yes‘ to ‘Do they really make their money back?’ and call it at that, but there are variations. Yes is not an easy answer.

    Fact 1: I might have talked about self-publishing books for a decade, but I’m also a newly published apprentice this year. I’ve focused on publishing ebooks on Kindle and Smashwords/Draft2Digital. The cost here includes: editing, book formatting, book cover origination, and marketing.

    This year is the first time I have a printed book in a Kenyan bookshop. I am now learning on the job ^_^. The costs here include: editing, book formatting, book cover, ISBN, Printing, delivery, platform charges, and marketing. (Right now, I feel that Physical Books need so much more marketing than an eBook.)

    I’m always willing to share experiences. So, let’s jump into answering this question in 2025.

    What is the ‘cost of editing, book cover for a single title?’

    Editing Costs in Kenya – A new author can seek an independent editor or a publishing company/business with an editing service. Editing is charged per word. Depending on an editor’s price list, the cost ranges from 0.35 cents to Kshs. 1.45 up to Kshs. 2.40 per word. 

    To Note: Your manuscript word count determines the cost of the edit as each word is charged. The cost will vary on whether my words are 10,000 words, or 100,000. That is, a 10,000-word manuscript being charged 1.45 will cost, Kshs. 14,500. While the 100,000-word manuscript will cost, Kshs. 145,000.

    It is also important to note that the quality of the edit matters. What kind of edit are you looking for? A Comprehensive edit? A copy edit? A line edit? Someone to help you write your book from start to finish?

    In short 2 things affect the cost of the editing process, First is, how done or ready your manuscript is will decide how much it will cost you when it comes to editing. Check out Mystery Publishers’ breakdown of the quality of editing you want and how much it might cost you. Second, the number of words in your manuscript also contributes to this cost. A 10,000-word manuscript costs less than a 100,000-word manuscript.

    I will be honest. The editing process is the most time-consuming part of the self-publishing journey. It also does not end. You can print a book and find a very obvious problem on the second page that did not register the ten times you and everyone you know read through. The mortification is always super nuts. I'm still learning how to let that feeling go, and hope to do better in the next run. I find that it helps to find an editor who can help you through this process easily, and without breaking the bank account, and is amazing at proofreading.

    Book Cover for a Single Title – Your book cover is essential. The cost of a good book cover in Kenya ranges from Kshs 2,500 to Kshs. 4,500 to Kshs. 15,000. It depends on your preferred artist and your book requirements. We can’t talk about a book cover without discussing book formatting. That is, you need to decide if you’re making an eBook, or a printed book and what size the printed book is, (A4, A5) each book size has varying paperback sizes. The size of the book will decide your book cover image and book cover size requirements. It is good to learn the different types of book sizes available in the industry.

    I hope I have covered the editing and book cover costs in Kenya.

    Now, to the ‘Do they really make their money back?’ part of the question.

    Yes, authors in Kenya do make their money back. But, how fast the author gets their return on investment depends on the next factors.

    1. Industry | Genre – Your book topic is essential to your sales. Books targeting particular industries like bakers in the baking industry, clothes designers, bead making, faith-based narratives, academics or investing in real estate, accounting, among others are specific to the industry. So, the authors of these books make sure their target audience is interested in these topics and that is who they market to. Industry books tend to reach their target audience faster. If your book genre is fiction, specify which fiction genre your book is in, that is, mystery, romance, thriller, horror, fantasy, literature. We don’t all read the same type of fiction. Authors in the fiction genre target specific genre readers for sales. Figure out where your fiction stands in the genre section.
    2. An Author’s Social Currency – A biography written by a well-known individual, for example, a politician or celebrity will sell faster than one written by a modest member of society. The politician or celebrity leans on their social currency to get buys, while the modest member of society has to work harder and market more aggressively to gain the same attention.
    3. Marketing – Industry | Genre and Social Currency contribute to your marketing strategy. Once you know who your readers are, and your ability to reach them, work at seeking them out in their spaces, their industries, and interests. For a new writer, it is essential to use marketing to grow your social currency. Reach for and find readers on social media like Tiktok /Instagram/Pinterest/Facebook/the Fediverse / among many others. Visit and connect with groups and communities that will or may have interest in your books. Marketing is a continuous process. Don’t give up in the middle, and if you feel you are having a hard time doing the marketing yourself, seek help from someone you trust who does know how to market.

    Book printing is a business. When you get into it, understand the concept of costs, expenses and profit margins. Your costs include:

    1. Editing your manuscript – (Editor’s Costs)
    2. Book Cover origination
    3. Book Formatting
    4. Legal costs :ISBN and Copyright
    5. Printing and Delivery costs

    Expenses:

    1. Marketing – FB Ads/ Amazon Ads/ Tiktok Ads/ Any other marketing costs you choose.
    2. Delivering your product to your customers.
    3. Platform expenses. For example, if you sell your book through Jumia, Jumia takes a percentage from the sale, they are called selling fees. You also need to get the book to their vending stations, which is also a cost to you.

    There maybe other hidden costs that are relevant to you as an author. You should track all these amounts so that you can price your book correctly to make back your investment. At the same time, be sensitive to the current market’s trends(inflation and current economy stress) and make the retail price of your printed book affordable for your targeted audience.

    If you hit the sweet spot with all these costs and expenses, you will make your money.

    Finding a balance

    As an author getting started in this industry, the first thing to manage is your doubt. Let me kill that doubt for you right now. Yes, it is possible to print your book. There is no doubt. The work you need to do is finish the manuscript. Get through it to the last page.

    • Then, edit it. Get your bestie to read it. Get more than your bestie to read it. Once you have feedback, fix what needs help, then find an editor. Edit the content.
    • Then, format your book into the size you prefer. Discover more about book sizes. Once this is finished make a pdf document.
    • Create a book cover that fits your manuscript’s content.
    • Once you have a book cover and a completed pdf document, you can get your copyright at the Kenya Copyright Board website. Buy an ISBN which goes on the back of your cover.
    • Find a printer. At this stage, make sure the printer can keep your printing costs relatively similar as you print on demand, this way, you can keep your retail price intact. If you are able or can afford it, approach an offset printer for a large consignment of your book. The offset printer guarantees availability.
    • Once your book is printed, market it. Don’t get tired.
    • Get started on writing your next book.

    As a self-publishing author I often need to find a balance between marketing one book while writing the next one, figuring out the printer’s costs and where to sell books, and the logistics of deliveries. In between all this, I may get a review that throws me out of focus. So, the only way to get through it is to focus on my goals. Ask yourself, what do you want out of this very personal exercise?

    I spend my time selling eBooks. But this year I’m learning how to sell printed books. The doubts are in full swing, and I have to hit them with a bat daily. I’ll share more on the process at the end of the year. Hopefully ^_^.

    The long and short of it is, Finish your book, get it out there. Experience the publishing process, it is the only way to know if you’ll make back your investment. The more you do it, the better you get with the process. Go for it! The world needs your story. Always!

    ***

    Save My Heart
    Leila Karani fell in love, thinking it was forever. When she got pregnant, she went to see her boyfriend, Nathan Njeru, thinking he would support her and their baby, but she was wrong.

    Visit Nuria Bookstore and get a copy of Save My Heart.

  • March 2025 Reading List

    March 2025 Reading List

    March is on its last week, but every time this month rolls by, I can’t help thinking about the Ides of March. ^_^ I just cannot help sharing why this phrase is stuck in my head. hehehe. Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Julius Caesar is forever in the mind:

    Soothsayer: “Beware the Ides of March.”
    Caesar: “Who’s that man?”
    Brutus: “He’s a soothsayer warning you about the Ides of March.”
    Caesar: “Bring him here; I want to see his face.”
    Cassius: “Hey, come out of the crowd and look at Caesar.”
    Caesar: “What are you telling me now? Speak again.”
    Soothsayer: “Beware the Ides of March.”
    Caesar: “He’s just a dreamer. Let’s ignore him. Move on.”

    Excerpt from William Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Julius Caesar

    Would things have turned out different had he listened to the soothsayer? We’ll never know. But, the Ides of March remains stuck on the mind, which is March 15th on our calendar.

    Moving on, March Reading Vibes are very dramatic and thrilling, like Caesar’s situation.

    Here’s the March 2025 Reading list.

    A Madness of Sunshine by Nalini Singh

    A Madness of Sunshine Book Cover

    On the rugged West Coast of New Zealand, Golden Cove is more than just a town where people live. The adults are more than neighbors; the children, more than schoolmates.

    That is until one fateful summer—and several vanished bodies—shatters the trust holding Golden Cove together. All that’s left are whispers behind closed doors, broken friendships, and a silent agreement not to look back. But they can’t run from the past forever.

    Eight years later, a beautiful young woman disappears without a trace, and the residents of Golden Cove wonder if their home shelters something far more dangerous than an unforgiving landscape.

    It’s not long before the dark past collides with the haunting present and deadly secrets come to light.

    Out of Nowhere by Sandra Brown

    Out of Nowhere by Sandra Brown book cover

    At a Texas county fair, amidst carousels and a bustling midway, children’s book author Elle Portman is enjoying a rare night out with her favorite her two-year-old son, Charlie. But just as they’re about to head home, the unthinkable a shooter opens fire into the crowd, causing widespread panic to erupt all around them.

    Also caught in the melee was corporate consultant Calder Hudson. Arrogant, self-centered, and high off his latest career win, he’s frustrated and confused when he wakes up in the hospital after undergoing emergency surgery on his arm.  The doctor tells him that he was lucky—that as far as gunshot wounds go, he pulled through remarkably well.  Others weren’t so lucky, which instills in Calder a furious determination to get justice . . . a goal shared by Elle.

    Their chance encounter at the police station leads to a surprising and inexplicable gravitation to one another, but even as the attraction grows, Elle and Calder can’t help but wonder if the unimaginable tragedy that brought them together is too painful and too complicated to sustain—especially while the shooter remains at large.

    Look Closer by David Ellis

    Look Closer by David Ellis Book Cover

    Simon and Vicky couldn’t seem more a wealthy Chicago couple with a stable, if unexciting, marriage. But with these two… absolutely nothing is what it seems. When a beautiful socialite is found hanging in a mansion in a nearby suburb, Simon and Vicky’s complex web of secrets begins to unravel.

    A whirlwind affair. A twenty-million-dollar trust fund about to come due. A decades-long grudge and an obsession with revenge. Both Vicky and Simon are liars–but just who exactly is conning who? Prepare to question everything you think you know in this wickedly clever novel of greed, revenge, obsession–and quite possibly the perfect murder.

    This here is a book recommendation from a friend. I’ve been sitting on the edge of my seat getting through this one. Very great recommend. I love when it just clicks.

    I hope your March 2025 is filled with wonderful, amazing things.

  • Fugitive Heart by Mathitu Wairimu – Pre-Order Alert

    Fugitive Heart by Mathitu Wairimu – Pre-Order Alert

    Fugitive Heart

    by Mathitu Wairimu

    Makena has been living in the shadows, evading her abusive past with her young son in tow, running every time it threatens to catch up. Then she crosses paths with David, a kind-hearted stranger who thaws the icy grip of fear around her heart. She faces a dilemma she never expected—to keep running or to confront her past head-on.

    As their connection deepens, Makena finds herself torn between the safety of anonymity and the hope of a future filled with love and stability. But her ex’s relentless pursuit threatens to shatter the fragile peace she’s found, forcing her to confront the ultimate question. Is running away truly the answer, or is it time to stand her ground and fight for the happiness she deserves?

    This is the story of one woman’s journey to break free from her past and embrace a brighter future. It is a powerful story of love, courage, and second chances.

    About Mathitu Wairimu:

    new book alert banner

    Mathitu Wairimu is a Kenyan writer born and raised in a small village near Nairobi. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in Education (English and Literature). She spends her time writing and working as a freelance web designer. She fell in love with reading and writing at a young age. Her introduction to romance novels was Mills and Boon when she was in high school. She longed for love stories featuring characters and places she related to, which inspired her to write such stories. This is her debut novel.

    Social media

    Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mathitu.wairimu/
    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mathituwrites?Twitter: https://x.com/mathitu_wairimu?

    Add Fugitive Heart to your Goodreads TBR list: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/214982370-fugitive-heart

    I’m so excited to share this upcoming book written by Mathitu Wairimu. Fugitive Heart is a romance novel published under Love Africa Press. It is now under Pre-Order here. This book is set to be released on August 27, 2024. If you love romance stories of women breaking free from a difficult past and finding happiness, you’ll love Fugitive Heart.

    Let’s show it some love at the end of August 2024!

  • Book Cover Design with Denma Digital Consulting

    Book Cover Design with Denma Digital Consulting

    When authors complete their manuscript edit and are in the process of book formatting for print or eBook sales, they often start thinking about ‘The Book Cover’. Denma Digital Consulting is a creative agency that offers various services, including book cover design.

    Our creative process commences with detailed discussions with the author to grasp their vision, genre, and target readership.

    Denma Digital Consulting

    If you’re looking for a book cover designer, or wondering how to get started on your book cover, read on for insight on how to get your book cover designed.

    What is Denma Digital Consulting?

    Denma Digital Consulting is a full-service Video Editing, Web, and Graphic design agency based in Nairobi, Kenya. We provide a wide range of services including Video editing, Animation, website development, branding, corporate identity, and Creative logo design.

    Our experienced Video editors, designers, and developers work closely with our clients to create unique and effective solutions that help them stand out in their industry. We pride ourselves on understanding our client’s needs and delivering results that exceed their expectations. If you’re looking for a partner to help you create a stunning online presence and build your brand, look no further than Denma Digital Consulting. Contact us today for a free consultation!

    When authors complete their manuscript edit and are in the process of book formatting for print or for eBook sales, they often start thinking about ‘The Book Cover’. What would you tell an author who is looking for a book cover?

    Denma Digital: If you’re considering your book cover, that’s fantastic! Your book cover serves as the face of your book, the initial impression readers encounter. Therefore,

    • My suggestion is to carefully consider the atmosphere you wish to convey.
    • Is your book mysterious, romantic, or thrilling? Select a cover design that resonates with this ambiance and captivates the audience’s attention.
    • Additionally, collaborating with a skilled designer who comprehends your vision is crucial.

    Take your time with this step – a remarkable cover significantly boosts your book’s visibility!

    What do you need from an author to create a book cover?

    Denma Digital: To craft the ideal cover for your book, I’ll need the following details:

    • Provide a brief overview of your book! What’s the story about? This allows me to grasp its essence and tone.
    • Identify your target audience. Are you targeting teenagers, romance enthusiasts, or mystery aficionados? Understanding your readership aids in tailoring a cover that resonates with them.
    • If you have any concepts or visuals in mind for the cover, please share them! It’s beneficial to draw inspiration from your ideas.
    • Lastly, don’t overlook specifying the book title and your name as you wish them to appear on the cover.

    Armed with this information, I can create a visually stunning cover that encapsulates the essence of your book. Let’s collaborate to craft something extraordinary!

    Authors also need to have websites, or social media content and banners for their author brand. How can an author looking for a book cover creator, or a website designer reach you?

    Authors looking for a book cover creator or website designer can connect with us at Denma Digital Consulting through various avenues. They can visit our website, denmadigital.com, to explore our portfolio, learn about our services, and contact us directly via the provided contact form. Alternatively, authors can reach out to us via email at denmadigital.com or give us a call at +254 706085502. We eagerly anticipate inquiries and are excited to help authors bring their creative visions to fruition.

    What is Denma Digital’s Book Cover creative process?

    • Each of these book covers was carefully designed to capture the essence of the stories while also attracting the intended audience.
    • Our creative process commences with detailed discussions with the author to grasp their vision, genre, and target readership.
    • Subsequently, our skilled designers transform these understandings into visually captivating cover designs that aptly communicate the book’s tone and theme.
    • We endeavor to guarantee that each cover not only captures attention but also resonates with readers, ultimately aiding in the success of the author’s work.
  • Six Things to know when Self-publishing in Kenya

    Six Things to know when Self-publishing in Kenya

    Self-Publishing is a learning journey. 

    Think of it as a learning journey when you enter the publishing industry. At first, you don’t really know much, but as time goes you get to learn and know what is working and what is not.  You will need patience and the will to put in work.  Your dedication is a must.  Most important, know what you want out of it.  Here are six questions you should ask yourself at the beginning.

    1. Are you publishing fiction or non-fiction?

    Are you a creative with an abundant vault of stories, poems, musings that you feel would entertain, or bring joy and inspiration to people. Fiction is art, it is very creative and comes in a myriad of forms. Best of all, there is no restriction to it. Fiction books give you more freedom to be creative.

    Are you writing non-fiction? Non-fiction books are fact-based. They are also industry-based, or educative. People read them to learn. You need to be very conversant on the topic you choose for your non-fiction book. What non-fiction topic are you passionate about? Decide – Fiction or Non-fiction.

     2. In what Fiction Genre? In what Non-Fiction Industry? 

    Now that you’ve decided what type of book you want to write, let’s break it down further. In this post, I’ll assume you’re after writing commercial/popular Fiction books as opposed to literary works or literary merit work (which is also a choice by the way). Fiction is categorized into Genres that are recognized easily by readers. For example, mystery, thrillers, romance, children’s books, e.t.c. Educate yourself on the different types of fiction people read. Then, choose a genre for your fiction work.

    For Non-fiction, decide what industry you want to write for. Are you a baker with expertise? Are you a chef with awesome cooking skills you want to share or teach? Are you a teacher who has discovered a new way to teach kids without having them memorize boring texts? What kind of content do you want to provide in your non-fiction book? At what level are you in the industry, that is, beginner/intermediate/expert? Decide –> Genre or Industry

    3. Who is your target audience? Who is your core audience?

    Now that you’ve chosen the type of book and in what genre or industry, choosing a target audience or a core audience comes next. I will tell you right now, you cannot write for everyone. Everyone is different. We all have different tastes when it comes to our fiction reads. I might enjoy Game of Thrones, someone else might find it unbearable. GOT is categorized as fantasy, on account of the dragons….lolz. Their target audience is Adults who love Fantasy. Be very niche based with your fiction, it will help you grow an audience. Are you writing for kids, young adults, adults, women, young women, young men, high school kids, the older generation, younger generation? Who are you writing for?

    In Non-Fiction, who is your core audience? Beginners, experts, novices, hobby people, intermediate, startups, people seeking inspiration? If you’re writing an autobiography, biography, life story, a literary work, what point are you trying to put across and to whom? Know it. Decide –> Who is your audience?

    4. Who is already in the game?

    Whatever your idea, fiction or non-fiction, you’d best believe that someone has already written it. You need to know it, read that content, and find inspiration from it. Your main goal is to find out what other authors, in the fiction genre or in the non-fiction industry you chose, are doing. Learn from their work, their experiences, and transform your work into something close, good, or even greater. Decide –>Who do you want to be like when your writing career grows up?

      5. What are the authors in the game before me doing to get an audience?

    Popular authors have a following, or die-hard fans that will read their work no matter what they publish. e.g. I will read anything Nora Roberts produces. Why, because I read to be entertained and know her books won’t let me down. She’s made a brand of her work. Now, your turn to make your brand. P/S – Your work at the starting point is triple, you need to convince an audience to read your work. Then, you must assure your growing audience that you’ll consistently deliver great work to entertain. Learn from the greats in your chosen Genre, or Industry. Decide–>What kind of audience do you want? e.g. Nora’s rabid fan(Elly) who will buy my work no matter what. how do i get her loyalty?

    6. Will it work for me? How can I work out my own plan?

    Now, it is very common for authors/writers to copy or emulate authors they idolize or admire. There is nothing wrong with that, unless you’re downright plagiarizing published work, which is absolutely wrong. (don’t plagiarize) However, you need a starting point, your chosen idol is a great start.

    Use it to grow your work, your voice, your style. Once you’re clear on what type of content you want to create, what it looks like at its absolute best, then find a way to make it your own. Audiences gravitate to authenticity. Decision –> Be real, don’t cheat, and map out your goals for your work. Most of all, be passionate, and that should get you passionate fans too.

    Once you understand the answers to these six questions, then you’ll have a plan to run with as you start your self-publishing journey.