Making something real
that doesn't exist
When I write, what I look for above all is emotion.
That scene in a film that leaves you staring in wonder, the fear that makes you hesitate before turning the page. Anxiety, horror, hope for something you know perfectly well isn't real.
That's what fascinates me about stories.
To evoke an emotion is to make real, inside the person reading, something that until that moment existed only in my imagination; it means reaching the most intimate chords within someone without knowing them.
And I find something sublime in that.
How much can we change while still remaining ourselves?
In a future so distant that it has swallowed even the memory of the past, what remains of humanity lives among the traces of something it can no longer understand.
Technologies turned into mysteries, creatures born from ancient choices, and worlds built upon the ruins of a lost memory.
The Heirs of Yggdrasill crosses different eras, following people who are trying to understand who they are while gradually discovering that their world is not what they have always believed it to be.
It is a story of transformation and survival, but above all a question of what must remain for us to still call ourselves human.
Wonder. Unease. Horror. Loss. Hope.
“It seemed like a tomb, and yet it didn’t feel like a dead place, only a forgotten one.”
Building the world of The Heirs of Yggdrasill meant, first of all, deciding what to forget.
Its inhabitants live surrounded by the consequences of a past they no longer know. What once had a purpose has become a mystery; what could once be explained has become myth.
I wanted the reader to begin from the same place: observing something without yet having the tools to understand it, building an explanation, and then being forced to question it.
Because a discovery changes what lies before us, just as it changes everything we had already seen.
“All of a sudden, everything they had been through took on a rancid taste, like an unspoken lie poisoning something so vast it could affect an entire life.”
Completed novel, seeking a publisher.
Some things exist before we are even capable of seeing them
A reflection of something, something that shouldn't be there, sets in motion a search destined to span an entire lifetime.
Hóros begins in the space between what we can see and what we cannot yet understand, between the desire to know and the possibility that there may be places beyond a threshold whose other side remains unknown to us.
It is a story about discovery, time and loss, and about how much we are willing to let go, hoping to find something we have lost.
But every discovery brings new questions, and some are no longer only about what we have found, but who we choose to be after finding it.
Novel in progress.