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You were taught to endure, to keep moving, working, and surviving. Even when it hurt or you had nothing left. But here’s the truth no one told you:

Rest is not weakness.

It is rebellion.

In a world that glorifies burnout, trauma silence, and pretending everything is fine, choosing to pause is powerful. Choosing to say, “I need a minute,” is a battle cry.

You are not lazy for resting. You are not broken or weak because you can’t carry it all today. You are not behind.

Even warriors lay down their...

Welcome back, friends!

This is the beginning of a series of posts I will be committing to: Fun Fact Friday.

Here’s something you might not know about Tethered In Blood—the map of Aurelith started with a bag of rice.

Yes, really.

When I first began writing, I had a general sense of where the major villages were, based on temperatures, travel routes, and specialties, but translating that mental layout into a visual map was another story entirely.

After several frustrating attempts to sketch it out,...

Look at you.

Gosh.

Look. At. You.

After all the nights you thought you wouldn’t make it. The nights you thought it was all just too much. After the silence, the shame, and the chaos that you had to survive alone.

You’re still here.

That makes you unstoppable. You know that?

The world may have told you that you were too wounded to fight—but they didn’t count on your fire. They didn’t know that your scars are not a weakness. They are proof that you were forged.

Every time you were knocked down and...

Hi readers,

Since releasing Tethered In Blood, I’ve been asked time and again: Where did the idea come from?

And the truth is... it didn’t come from a single moment, song, or movie (though Mr. Darcy, Sleep Token, and Daughter helped). It came from years of silence, pain, and survival. From the pieces of myself I didn’t know I had the strength to face until I gave them a voice within words in a document.

Tethered In Blood is more than the first book in The Oathsworn Saga. It’s the beginning of a...

What if nobody likes it?

What if it’s a terrible idea after all?

What if the plot only sounded good in theory, but completely falls apart on the page?

What if the edits weren’t enough?

What if people judge me because I couldn’t afford a professional editor yet?

What if I publish it… and it flops?

These thoughts, known as imposter syndrome, are loud and persistent. I know them well, as most—if not all—authors do. They echo in the quiet moments between chapters, in the sound of the mouse hitting “...