These bad gods demand sacrifices. And when they don’t get what they want? They ruin worlds.   Enter: the Zodiacs. Twelve children. Born of a goddess who once fell in love with a mortal. They were never meant to exist. But now they’re sworn to protect the realms, especially Earth.   Earth Is the Mission. Love Is the Test.  Once a year, each Zodiac child is allowed to visit Earth. It’s not a vacation. It’s a rite of passage.

Every dark fantasy world I write begins with a low, rhythmic, ancient heartbeat. It’s not something I create. It’s something I listen for. Before I write, I dig through myths, rituals, whispered superstitions, the ghosts of forgotten gods.

When I write, lore doesn’t arrive fully formed. It creeps. It waits. It whispers before it roars. The worlds in Tokoloshe and Pisces Family weren’t drawn on a map.

When I write, the goal isn’t just to tell a story; it’s to build a feeling. A world that breathes. A myth that mirrors something real. My dark fantasy novels, Tokoloshe and Pisces Family, didn’t begin with outlines or maps. They began with emotion. With questions. With wonder. Everything else, the structure, the arcs, the twists, came later.

People often ask me, “Why do you write dark fantasy?” And the honest answer is: Because the real world isn’t always kind. But stories? Stories fight back. I write because growing up, the monsters didn’t wait for nightfall. They looked like silence when you needed comfort. Like shame handed down in polite conversation. Like systems that made some of us feel invisible unless we became something louder, brighter, or broken enough to be noticed. So, I created my own monsters . Bu