Eligibility post 2021

Hello everyone! It’s that time of the year when I get to collect all the work published or release this year. So join me on this ride through the memory lane.


This is a kickass cover if I can say it so.

“Tempest Blades: The Cursed Titans” the second book of the Tempest Blades saga (and a book I’m very proud of), which came out July 2021 from the Shadow Dragon imprint of Artemesia Publishing. Cover is by Salvador Velazquez.

A tournament to decide the fate of the Free Alliance, new friends, new foes & a hero struggling with his inner demons. It’s the worst time for the Cursed Titans to rise again! In a world where magic and science intermingle, anything is possible.

Short Stories

“Steel Serpents”. Roman engineering, Greek ingenuity, and a dash of the fantastic come to the aid of the troubled Emperor of the Greco-Roman Empire founded by Alexander the Great centuries ago, in this comedic alternate history story, published by Inklings Press anthology “Tales from Alternate Earths 3”

Episode 1103: “The Sound of Madness” at the Wicked Library Podcast. Exploring the cosmos is a risky proposition. Cold, silent, uncaring, vast. No matter how well prepared, how careful you are, nothing can protect you from the unexpected. Especially when it comes to finding signs that we were not alone in the universe, when those signs come from forms of life beyond our expectations or comprehension. It can go even worse when those forms of life are ancient, insidious, and can mess with your head for their own ineffable reasons.


“No elf is an island. Understanding worldbuilding through system thinking”, chapter published in Worlds Apart: Worldbuilding in Fantasy and Science Fiction, an academic book edited by Francesca T Barbini and released by Luna Press Publishing imprint Academia Lunare. Written in collaboration with my friend and beta reader Martha González-Alcaraz.

Book Review: Six Dreams about the Train and Other Stories

This cover is a good representation of the dream-like kind of stories inside.

Have you heard the term “Actor’s actor”? It refers to a thespian who is so good at their craft, that other actors can’t but admire them, because they teach them things that are not possible for the rest, without being a showoff or overbearing, because their work has an attention to detail, a finesse that is not seen frequently. Well, there should be a similar term from authors, an “author’s author”, someone whose skill with the written word only needs a few pages to shine.

The point of that intro was to say that Maria Haskins is an “author’s author”, and her latest book, a short story collection entitled “Six Dreams about a Train and other stories” is solid proof of that. Writing short stories takes a lot of skill because one as a writer has to do the same heavy lifting in terms of character development and worldbuilding in way fewer words than a novel, but without it being cumbersome for the enjoyment of the reading. Haskins does that with such ease that one can’t but marvel. The twenty-three stories on the book show a wide range of genres, philosophies, unabashed love for rock & roll, of liminal and dreamlike realities all woven into stories with a lot of heart. Some of them could easily be expanded into a novel, or even be transformed into a movie franchise, like “Tunguska, 1987” with its surprising twists and turns. Others, like “Dragon Song” or “Six Dreams about the train” could easily be made into animated shorts that should be included in the Netflix anthology series “Love, Death & Robots”. They are that good and need more recognition.

My personal favorite though, was “Seven Kinds of Baked Goods”, a fantastical mix of fantasy, bakery, following your own path, revenge, and humor. Some bits of it touched some personal fibers (not the revenge part, but the one of breaking the mold of your family to go following your dreams), others made me laugh. But to me is a masterclass in worldbuilding, the clever use of ‘Chekov’s gun’ trope, and a well-planned ending. Yes, I’m unabashedly a fan of Maria’s writing. This story is a reason why

My only complaint, as is a very small complaint in the larger scheme of things, is that there is a story that Maria wrote that I would have loved to see in the collection: “Stars Above, Shadows Beneath”, another personal favorite of her stories. Other than that, this book is a must for any lover of short stories.

It would be the perfect reading, the best present for this Christmas season. I suggest you get your copy now, you won’t regret it.

5 out of 5 Ninja Stars. Yes. 5. Because now there are 5 Ninja Turtles as well. And this book gets them all.

You can find the link to order the book at the Zon, here.

Next book in the dock? A Few Good Elves, by Diane Morrison.

Carved Dreams of Love & Sorrow. A Dark Dice Podcast Fanfic

Note: this fanfic is inspired by the Dark Dice Podcast (a live play D&D horror podcast), that I’ve been listening to in recent months as I work towards the release of my second novel next week. They have a fanfic contest and here is my entry. I haven’t write a fanfic in more than 10 years, so this was quite an interesting activity.

Withour further ado here is the story.

Carved Dreams of Love & Sorrow.

By Ricardo Victoria

Under regular circumstances, sleep would be the best respite for the weary, but not for Soren Arkwright. His weary bones claimed for rest after the latest hunt, but his mind wasn’t that kind to go there. To the dreams. Then again a hunter deprived of sleep is of no help to anyone during the job. It’s a risk. And Soren preferred to minimize risk if possible. In his line of work, the hunter that manages to live to old age is the one that gets into the practice of managing risk. And he was not planning to die soon, even if he felt like he had been living for thousand years.

 The barn that has been hosting him since his arrival to Ilmater’s Hope, while not exactly the best accommodation in the town, had something that the local inn didn’t have: privacy. For Soren’s dreams were not the kind to be shared by mumbling in his sleep. While he didn’t want to sleep, he would have to or he would collapse from exhaustion.

Soren took his equipment off, leaving it neatly accommodated in a corner near the improvised hay bed. Then there was the lamp. That accursed object that he has had for who knows how long. Really useful, utterly creepy, completely unsettling and cursed. And yet he couldn’t remember a day since he had become Soren, that he hadn’t have it by his side. The things it did to the souls of the dying or long dead was nothing but torture. But useful torture nonetheless for his line of work. He put it as far away as he could from his makeshift bed.

“No need to add fuel to the fire of the nightmares,” Soren muttered to himself, and the goats keeping him company. His best hope was for a dark void of dreamless sleep until the next morning. “Then again, I never get what I want.”

Soren looked at the makeshift hay bed. The owner of the barn had been kind enough to lend him a couple of threadbare blankets to use over the haystacks.

“I’ve seen worse,” he muttered. “I’ve had worse”.

It wasn’t the best bed in the world, but certainly beat sleeping in the cold floor, or worse, in the limits of the town, where the Dead Pines began. At this point in life, he would take this as an improvement. If only it meant that he could rest.

Soren lay upon the bed and staring at the ceiling of the barn, closed his eyes in an attempt to conjure a blank sleep.

This was one of those time he wished sleep had evaded him.

It always started the same way. Darkness, voices whispering the name of the “Carver of Dreams”, a temple lit by torches, a foul smell, his hand bloodied as he lifted a dagger from the open wound of a being he had sacrificed to It. To the god that had promised to return to him what he had lost. It was a weird experience to see himself from afar doing those acts, carving sentient beings with the help of his hooded followers. It was as if his body, his mind and his soul were separate entities now.

“Hahahahahaha!” Soren heard himself laughing. And his heart ached. The pain was so great that he dropped to his knees while grabbing his chest. As he struggled for air, gasping, the room twisted around him, rotating at incredible speed, as if he were at the eye of a small tornado.

Soren blinked a few times as his eyes accustomed themselves to the bright light of day. He was in a younger body, fitter, stronger, full of vitality.

“Soren!” a female voice called after him.

He knew Soren wasn’t his real name. Not in the dreams in any case. But he couldn’t remember his real, original name, if he ever had one. Thus in his dreams, he was Soren, as always.

Sitting under a tree, during a warm summer day after a hard day at helping repair the walls from the damage caused by the last monster attack, Soren was taking a needed break. Wearing only his leather pants and a white shirt, the young man was spreading avocado over a couple of toasted slices of bread.

“Soren! Soren! Where are you? Oh! There you are!”

Sored looked up to see who was calling for him and saw her. The woman that occupied his dreams and every free thought he had while awake. She smelled of raspberries. Her dark brown hair flowed freely as she ran towards him, carrying a small bunny in her delicate hands. Her most striking features were her eyes., Bright, full of hope and determination. Her voice was clear, melodic, sweet and but with a hint of hidden force. Soren couldn’t remember her name, as hard as he tried. But he knew his heart belonged to her since the first day he saw her at the castle.

Soren looked up to her.

“That is a nice bunny you have there.”

“Phillipus? Yes, he is. The only good thing from that meeting with another suitor. I hate those things. They are so vain, so boorish. They think that their riches make them better than anyone.

“Would you like to share an avocado toast m’lady?” Soren offered one of the toasts to her. “Maybe it will help erasing the bad taste said meeting left in your mouth.”

“That sounds delicious my gallant knight,” She sat next to him, set free Phillipus and took the toast.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. As Soren prepared a third toast, he looked at her and smiled.

“I don’t think your father would approve of you consorting with the likes of me, m’lady.”

“If I listened to my father,” she replied with a laugh. “I would be prancing around in silly dresses, blushing at the poor attempts of seduction from the entitled brats of the ruling families of this place. Luckily for us, I prefer to listen to my heart.”

“And what does your heart say, m’lady?” Soren looked at her eyes, making her blush.

“That I want to have a life outside this walls. To live a free life, next to a gallant knight,” she replied, staring wistfully to the few clouds in the otherwise fine day.

“Lofty dreams m’lady. But I don’t see how you plan to achieve that.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I have a good idea where to start, with the gallant knight,” She smiled this time. Her smile turning into a wide grin showcasing her pearl-like teeth. They made her eyes shine with greater intensity, like stars.

“Then allow me to offer you a helping hand,” Soren took her hand as he leaned to kiss her softly in the lips.

As he kissed her, the tornado engulfed them. Soren was transported once more to another time, another place.


He was tending to his horse as the sun set in the horizon. It had been a long week of combat and he barely made it alive. If he didn’t know better, he could swear that his liege was trying to get rid of him by sending him into increasingly dangerous missions. But that would mean that he found out about Soren and his daughter sleeping together several times.

Right in cue, as it is bound to happen in the dreamscape, she appeared, running towards him. Her face betrayed her increasing fear. She grabbed Soren’s hand and led him to his horse.

“He found about us. I’m not sure how. You have to escape. My father won’t let us stay together.”

Soren looked at her. He knew this was a possibility and had been running possible scenarios in his head. Maybe if he talked with the lord. Maybe he had earned the right to be a suitor of her by virtue of his skills at the battlefield. Surely he would prefer to have a son-in-law capable of defending his domains from attackers, instead of those spoiled brats. But deep down he knew that wouldn’t ever happen. No. she was right. Running away was the only option. But not without her.

“I can’t leave you. I will face him if I must. I will earn his approval one way or another,” Soren said, looking at her and kissing her hands, to reassure her that everything would be fine.

“The only thing you will earn is your death!” her father yelled across the stables, followed by his two most trusted bodyguards, the same men that had trained Soren for years and had made him the most lethal knight in the land.

“I don’t want to do this sir. You are my liege. I bound to serve you,” Soren said, trying to defuse the situation. To gain some time.

“And yet you disgraced said bond by besmirching the honor of my daughter!”

“He has more honor than any of your sycophants, father!” She replied, interposing her body between Soren and her father. But Soren gently set her aside with one hand, as he drew his sword with the other.

“Silence child! After I’m done with him, I will deal with you!”

“You won’t do anything of the sort,” Soren replied through gritted teeth. He knew how the lord dealt with his wife when she disobeyed. Soren wouldn’t allow him to put a hand on her. “To protect her, I will do what I must.”

“Attack! You filthy brigand!” the lord launched an attack that Soren parried with effort. The old man might had been a great fighter in decades past, but not anymore. Soren was more concerned about the two bodyguards. They would prove a tougher challenge.

“Stand aside,” the lord said to his bodyguards with seething voice. “Honor demands that he is mine.”

A great fighter, Soren thought, but not a smart one. The duel was quick, barely a couple of parries and attacks before Soren’s sword skewered the man through the heart, result of the age gap. A quick and painless death was better than the man had deserved, and Soren was regretful of doing it in front of her, but the dice were cast.

The bodyguards launched into an attack to avenge their lord, while Soren prepared for the battle of his life. As he raised his sword to block an attack, the tornado swallowed all of them, and everything went dark.


Soren’s body was aching, every bone in his body hurt, every cut throbbed. Bu the worst pain was that of his soul. If felt as if someone was carving his dreams for some nefarious purpose that eluded him. Soren opened his eyes once more. His body was older, as currently, bleeding from the left arm, as her, his wife was tending to his wounds. She smiled at him and Soren returned the smile. He looked around, they were sitting outside in the porch of their humble home, in the outskirts of the forest. They were wearing peasant clothes. Her hands were delicate no more. They had grown stronger and with calluses, the mark of hard labor. Her eyes were the same though, shining like stars.

“I’m sorry for having you dragged you into this life,” Soren said, breaking the silence.

“I have no need for material things. I don’t care if we have to sleep with the pigs during winter, and break our backs during harvest. As long as I have you at my side, I’m happy my dear Soren,” She replied with her sweet, melodic voice, barely changed by the years of hardship. “But I do wish you had left those soldiers alone. You are all bruised and you attracted more attention than needed.”

“I had to do what I was raised to do, protect others.”

“Always my gallant knight,” she said, as she kissed him in the forehead.

Noise of horses galloping in their direction broke the kiss. Both looked towards the road and saw a band of knights riding towards them. Soren stood up, looking for his sword, the only thing he hadn’t sold after escaping. The only thing left from his time as a knight. She took the pitchfork that was near the door and stood in front of him.

The riders stopped, and the leader of men, a man taller than Soren, decked in armor plater, with long, flowing hair kept away from his face by a silver circlet on his head, dismounted his warhorse and approached the couple, his hands raised in sign of peace.

“Soren Arkwright?” the man asked, with a deep voice and a thick accent.

“Who wants to know?” she asked.

“I’m not here to hurt you m’lady,” the man made a small curtesy towards her. “Or Soren. I’m here because I have an offer for you. From the king.”

“From the king you say?” She asked again.

“Yes. May I come in? I will leave my weapons outside, with my companions,” the man looked at the other riders, still on their saddles.

Soren and his wife looked at each other. Years of loving marriage under the stars had allowed them to develop the silent language that only soulmates can.

“Alright,” Soren said, looking at the man to the face, dropping his voice an octave. “But if you attempt anything or hurt her, you will see firsthand why I’m a wanted man.”

“That’s part of the reason why I’m here. I’m Commander Asphodel,” the man said, extending his hand to shake Soren’s. “Of the High Guard. The Darklands have become a very dangerous land.”

“Well,” Soren replied as he shook his hand and led him to the inside of the house “You can’t expect different from a land with such name.”

Soren, his wife and Asphodel took a seat at the wooden table that made the main piece of furniture in the room.

“Our King and the King of the Elves have been creating a pact with other forces that I’m not in liberty to disclose yet. With the aim to stop whatever is creating such perils.”

“And what does that have to do with me? With us?” Soren asked, confused.

“I’m under orders to put together a band of the best fighters, warriors, hunters on the region, to serve as strike force to destroy anyone or anything helping this source of evil in planned, secret and precise attacks while the Kings march to war. A covert team if you will. Of course I would like to have the fabled former knight Soren Arkwright in my team. Your skills at arms and as a tracker are the stuff of legends, even after this time.”

“It seems that what I’m not good is to keep hidden,” Sored replied, ruefully.

“No offense, but we knew where you and m´lady were staying since day one. Her father was after all, someone close to the crown. But the King is a romantic at heart so he ordered us to leave you alone as long as you keep your head down. Which you did until that bar fight. Was all that necessary?”

“Those guards were hurting the waitress. It was necessary,” Soren said with a tone of voice that left no room for further argument.

“Anyways,” Asphodel said, retaking the original topic of conversation, “The King wants you, like me, to join us in this effort.”

“And if I say no?” Soren asked, looking at his wife. “It’s a dangerous request. And I won’t leave my wife alone.”

“You will then be taken prisoner. Which really I don’t want. It will be a waste of resources.” Asphodel rubbed the back of his neck. “But if you say yes, and being aware of both the dangers and the need to keep safe your wife, the King has allowed me to offer you the following: just payment for every job you come with us, protection for your wife while you are away and within certain time, a royal pardon, freeing you from persecution from any past or recent crime. And after that probation time is done and the pardon granted, you are free to go. You could even take a few extra jobs of your choosing to get better payment. I think is a good offer.”

“What do you think my dear?” Soren asked to his wife.

“I don’t like the idea of being separated from you, or that you are risking your life.” She replied

“But it could free us.”

“Sigh,” She said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Ok, take the offer, but only if you promise that once you get the pardon, you will stop.”

“I promise.”

“Good,” Asphodel said, standing up. “We leave the day after tomorrow. I suggest you put your business in order.”

“The only business to order is spending the day with the love of my life.”

As Soren kissed  his wife, the tornado grew again, transporting him to another time. Taking him away from his beloved wife.


“One last job my dear,” Soren said as he packed up his things.

“You always say that,” His wife replied, ruefully. “The King pardoned years ago and yet you keep taking jobs. You always promise that one last job and you break that promise. You have done it so many times by now that I don’t expect anything from you. It’s like you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“Please, don’t say that.” “This is my last job, I swear. The payment I will get from helping to bring down that warlock and his cult will set us for the rest of our lives. I can finally give you what you deserve.”

“How many times I have to tell you that I don’t care for those things?”

“You say that. But I see you staring at the ladies in the town, and the dressed they buy, at their houses. I just want to give you the life you deserve”

“What about what I want?” She raised her voice.

“I swear. One last job and then I’m done for good. I will become a gardener here in town if you want.”

“If you exit that door, I can’t promise you I will be here when you return.”

“Yes you will. Because you love me as much as I do. And I always return to you and you know it.”

“Not anymore.”

“I will see you soon my love.”

As soon as Soren crossed the door, darkness swallowed him.


“If you let me go, I will give you anything your heart desire. Riches beyond your imagination. Your own fiefdom.” The warlock said, begging for his life as he crawled away from Soren. They were alone, in the deepest part of the warlock’s hideout, a cave barely lit by torches. The fight had been long, as the warlock led a band of cultists dedicated to a god with no known name. Both sides had lost men, until Soren had managed to break the cult´s defenses and carved his way through them, chasing the warlock. A depraved man that had murdered countless as sacrifice for his eldritch deity.

“I don’t need anything of that. What I’m being paid to kill you is enough for me. And I already possess the most valuable thing I could want in this plane. And I’m going back to her as soon as I finish with you. Any last words?” Soren said, sarcasm dripping from every word he uttered.

“Ah, so you are one of those. A hopeless lover that regrets leaving who he loves behind every time someone hires you,” the warlock said, mocking Soren.

“Interesting last words you are saying,” Soren replied, pointing the tip of his sword to the chest of the man.

“Even love can be destroyed, fade away. People die. But if you let me go, I will give you that,” the warlock pointed to a lamp resting of a wooden table. “That lamp has the ability to bring back the souls of the deceased to their body.”

“They would remain dead anyways.”

“Not if you use the lit the lamp next to them right after their death. They will linger between life and death long enough for you to find someone to heal them.”

“You are lying.”

“I swear it is true. My god gave it to me. It never lies.”

“Well,” Soren smiled.  “There is only one way to verify that, don’t you think?”

He pushed his sword through the heart of the warlock, and the air echoed with a preternatural scream.


Soren found himself walking under a fading snowfall, down the familiar road to his house. He smiled. His last job, and he meant it this time, had secured him a small fortune. Enough to take his wife away from exile at the edge of a forest and to a nicer house, with all the amenities she desired. As he walked, his smile faded away, for a column of smoke rose on the horizon, from the exact location where his house was. He dropped everything but his sword and the lamp and ran, as faster as he had ever run. Until his lungs hurt and his drumming heart was knocking the walls of his chest with force.


Soren arrived at what was left of his home. Everything was burned to ashes,

“No. No. No! Not again! Not this.”

He grabbed the lamp and placed it near her lifeless body. If what the depraved warlock had told him was true, it could bring her back to the land of the living, just long enough to find her a healer. To make a miracle work. He was Soren Arkwright after all, the hero that had made the impossible, possible. He had done that to serve others. Why he wouldn’t do that to serve himself?


Seconds, more akin to eons for him passed. As if hit by a bolt, her body trembled and she sit, screaming at the horror of her bloody wounds, at the churning pain caused by her broken body.

“What you have done my love? Why you are making me suffer like this?”

“I… I… I need you.” Soren replied as he hugged her, sobbing. “I don’t want to lose you. I can make this better. I can find someone to heal you. To bring you back.”

“It can’t be my love. I’m dead. I have to go.”

“No! Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.

“There is nothing you can do my sweet Soren. You can’t change the past. Your abandonment.”


“I know I could have done things better. I could have been a better husband. To pay you more attention… I know I can be better. I promise!”

“It is too late now. See, I’m dead now. A spirit about to cross to the beyond. You lost me, you lost us. You squandered our love. You are still alive. You have to return to the living, move on from here. It’s not healthy to remain trapped in this space..”

“No! Please let me stay a little bit longer. I promise I will never leave your side again. I will be a better husband!”

“It can’t be my love. I don’t belong to this plane of existence anymore.”

“Please I beg you! I will do anything!”


“Anything you say?” Her smile turned into a wide, wicked grin showcasing rows of sharp teeth, her eyes shapeshifted into two red orbs, with a third one appearing in her forehead. It wasn’t his wife anymore, but a creature made of… the very same matter that nightmares are made of. A mockery of a human being he once loved with all his heart.

“Yes!” Sore replied without doubt, tears running down his face


“I can give you want. More time with her. If you seek me once more,” the creature whispered with a voice that didn’t sound human.


“I don’t care; I just want to see you again. I will seek anyone that can help me to achieve that.”


“Do you seek him?” the creature whispered before disappearing as if it were a mirage.


The knocks on the door became louder as Soren stirred from his sleep. Pulled from the deep well of memory, regret and sorrow, his mind broke free as he opened his eyes. Groggy, he stood up and lit on the lamp near the barn’s door. His breathing was heavy, his chest hurt and there was this void in the mouth of his stomach. The dream eroded from his mind as he took a few steps towards the door. It was nothing but a distant, confusing memory now.

Soren opened the door just enough to see who was. In the darkness of the night he couldn’t see anyone in his line of sight. He blinked a few times to wake up properly.

“Down here,” a female voice called, startling him. There was something… familiar in that voice. Something that reminded him of the past, of the lady in his dreams, a fading memory.

But it can’t be, he thought, as his heart gave a jump.

He looked down and stared at his interlocutor. In front of him there was a woman, a dwarven paladin. Her soft features betrayed the strength of her heart and the worries currently running through her head. But her most striking features were her eyes. Her eyes had a spark Soren hadn’t seen in… who know how long. Those eyes full of hope and determination that rekindled Soren’s soul. A reminder of another soul, another time that he yearned for but now it was long gone, to never return.

“Are you Soren Arkwright, the Monster Hunter?” the dwarven paladin asked. Her voice was clear, melodic yet firm and forceful. His heart ached, as the woman continued. “I’m Sister Tsavorite Cavernsfall, I here because I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”

Soren smiled. Monster Hunter was a better moniker than the other whispered in his nightmares. He smiled at Sister Cavernfall. Maybe she would like to share an avocado toast while they talked.

The End?

Geeky updates and Free Cursed Titans chapters for you

As you can notice, I have fallen behind once more in updating the blog. I mean, I can see the cowebs al over the place. In part is because I’ve been so busy with my day job that I can barely have respite. Let me tell you, teaching online is not as easy as it sounds. I actually find it more stressing (although I welcome the rest of my work activities that allow me to do them from home, which is good for someone who suffers from anxiety and doesn’t get along with his colleagues). Another reason is that Geoff -my editor- and I have been putting the final touches on “The Cursed Titans” to get it ready for launch later in July. And the final reason, is that I have been missing motivation to write about something not being a short story or the Tempest Blades Universe. But I will try to correct that with some quick comments about the geeky stuff I’ve been doing:

-I wanted the Snyder cut. Much virtual ink has been written about it, so I will keep my thoughts succint: it’s is way, way better, the characters are more fleshed, more akin to their comic counterparts, specially Batman and Flash. The final scene with Flash rings true to what the character is actually capable of doing and not the comic relief that Whedon made him be. The use of Darkseid as the big scope villain was awesome (he is one if not my favorite villian due how nightmarish he is). And lastly but more important: Cyborg. He is the central character of this film, the heart of the story and the way Whedon mutilated Ray Fisher’s work is a travesty. Ray and by extension Cyborg, deserved better. But I’va learned that since the ending of the DCAU, WB and DC can’t avoid getting in their own ways when it comes to using their characters in media representation. I have no hopes for a larger DCEU and I guess I will have to settle for good individual movies.

-Marvel on the other hand is knocking it out of the field with their tv shows. Wandavision was innovative, creative and possibly, one of the best depictions of depression and mourning ever made in media. Very cathartic given the times we live. The ending could have been slightly better, but I’m eager to see what Wanda does in Doctor Strange 2. While Wandavision is the superior show, I’m enjoying more Falcon & The Winder Soldier. Despite it’s flaws, the way the stakes are increasing, the cast and above all the discussions on systemic racism and legacies are what make this show work. Wyatt Russell is doing a super job as John Walker and his slow descent into madness, Daniel Bruhl should have his own show/movie leading the Thunderbolts as Zemo, Sebastian Stan is portratying Bucky with the world weariness aura of a soldier tired of fighting but not knowing what else to do to redeem for his past mistakes (sound similar to Fionn). But in my opinion the best has been Anthony Mackie. His portrayal of Sam as a good person who is a hero because it comes naturally to who he is, is making of Falcon one of my favorite Avengers ever. Heck at this point I’m wondering if Mackie’s Sam will eventually be able to lift Mjolnir. Because he is worthy and you can see from the very first minute why Steve chose him as his successor.

-Also, I liked the ending of Attack on Titan, even if I find it depressing. No idea why people keep saying is a run of the mill shonen ending. It’s barely bittersweet!

-I might have plotted the whole Tempest Blades story for the next (and final) 2-3 books. More details later.

-Finally, and as courtesy of my publisher, Artemesia Publishing, you can read for free the first 2 chapters of Tempest Blades: The Cursed Titans, by using the QR code in the below promotional image. And remember that if you like that preview, you can pre order the book here (I will be sharing non-Amazon links once I have them).

P.D. Would you be interested in purchasing either a collection of storiestaking place in the Tempest Blades Universe, or a book in the vein of ‘World of Ice & Fire’, written in character by Harland and talking about the myth and lore of the Tempest Blades Universe.

Forty Candles


So yeah, in October of this year of the Lord, 2020, year of many, many, many events, I’m reaching my 40th birthday. That’s a big number isn’t? If these were the Middle Ages I would be considered an elder of the village. In prehistoric times, I would be downright ancient. So I’m taking this with some perspective.

If I’m honest, I never expect to reach this age. When I was 16, I had the odd feeling I wouldn’t go past my 30s’ at best. Why? I’m not sure. I guess a general sense of dread of the future plus depression at the time. That’s why I perhaps was in a hurry to achieve things, to leave a legacy.

Reaching 40 has put things in perspective. I’m in the middle of the way. Reaching this age in 2020 has a peculiar meaning to boot. This year, with all the things that are going on have made me meditate in the future -anxiety included- and in doing things I never imagined to do, like a will (yes, because you never know and you don’t want to leave problems behind).

But I consider mysefl lucky, perhaps priviliged, because I’ve been able to achieve some of the dreams-transformed-into-goals I had at 16. I was able to study a postgrad, to live in a different country for an extended period of time, to visit several countries, to get married, to write a book (more on it later). There were some goals I never considered, like owning a house (well, I’m still paying for it, but you know the meaning), doing road trips with not even where to sleep being planned, reaching the finales of a competition (Heroclix in this case), working on a comic book shop, and so on. Others were planned for after I reached 40 and yet I managed to do them last year (like taking my wife to her dream holiday to Tokyo, after a gruelling year of work and savings, starting something, which was Inklings Press). I’m not bragging. I consider myself lucky because not many can do or live what I have been able to. I know all of the above have been a privilige. That’s why this month, full of reflection is teaching me to not take it for granted. Because I know there are goals that won’t come to fruition and I have to learn to let those go and as a friend told me a few weeks ago, set up new goals to keep me motivated.

On the book thing (remember I said there was more on this), I recall I has this sense of dread that if I didn’t write a novel and publish it before my 30s’, I would never do it. I had this idea that to leave a legacy I had to be this famous writer. When the book didn’t materialize out of thin air, I moved the goalpost to my 35 birthday. Well, I started to write a book, but didn’t finish it till a couple of years later and certaintly took a couple more to get it published (because the reality is that the publishing industry is an endurance race). And fame hasn’t arrived. But I think that’s fine for a few reasons: I wouldn’t have been able to write the books, the stories I’m writing now, if I hadn’t had more life experiences, more maturity. I needed this growth in order to write a book that I hope, connects with the reader in an emotional level, beyond a simple thrill. And in the case of fame, well, fame is overrated. I mean, having extra money to pay my mortgage (or move to a better zone), to take my wife to more trips so she can increase her photograph catalogue, or adopt more dogs would be awesome (Netflix, call me). But paraphrasing and editing Master Yoda’s quote, “Fame. Fortune. A good person craves not these things.” I think it is more important to be a good person who learns to enjoy the little, the medium, the large, the simple and the complicated things life gives us. To enjoy the little triumphs we achieve (including getting up from bed in a bad day) and learn from the fails we endure. To help and lift others in whatever capacity we can. We are what we leave behind.

I still think that the Ancient Greek had it right. True immortality is the legacy, the memories, you leave behind. I just hope for the next 40-50 years allow me to leave a good legacy behind and people remind me kindly.

And I still want that TV Tropes page dedicated to my writings.

Science vs Magic in Tempest Blades. Part 1


A few weeks ago, I posted a twitter an open request for questions from readers about the setting of Tempest Blades. The most intriguing questions that evolved into a long post were by Leo McBride:

You have magic and technology side-by-side in your world – are there notable examples of tension between adherents of the two sides, and was there outright conflict as technology was first introduced?

Yes, and in a big way. When the 3 species arrived to Theia, humans had lost all their tech. Samoharo took theirs to their continent and kept it hidden for millennia. Magick was exclusive of the Freefolk for their biology made them the only ones able to channel magick energies. While dragons (still alive back then) and samoharo served as mediators, the Freefolk soon became the major power of the world. Especially after the Titan Hunt. Humans being humans, developed technology from scratch to level the field.

Sometimes with help of the Freefolk (see titanarmors, which are basically magick infused armors), sometimes to fight them (rifles, explosives and so on). It all came to a head when the Asurian Empire declared war on the Freefolk (the whole species). An intercontinental war erupted between the two powers, with increased escalation (IBMs, bioweapons -see Buried Sins-), that ended by killing all the dragons, erasing the Empire from the face of the planet, and ending the power of the Freefolk.

The trigger point, technologically, that prompted that?

The Asurian Empire was an expansionist power that believed that they should police the world. They feared the Freefolk because their magick, unlike the human version, doesn’t require long, complicated rituals. 1 in 10 Freefolk can cast magick naturally. And magick back then beat most regular weapons. The Asurian had already conquered the Straits, were encroaching the Kuni Empire and wanted all the lands above the World’s Scar, for they are rich in ore. But those lands were Freefolk. When they clashed, the Freefolk handed them a massive defeat. So for the next century, the Asurians worked on developing countermeasures for magick, including enhancing tech that could allow soldiers to kill Freefolk with ease and ballistic weapons. That tracked and exploded in contact with the magick energies. That’s why dragons had to intervene to stop both sides from killing each other, and in turn ended dying.

What are the legacies of that in social terms in the modern setting? Prejudices, laws, etc?

The Freefolk are seen with distrust (although that stems from when they were shapeshifters, before the magick) because of their innate power for magick, so they lost most of their lands south of the Scar and there are political parties that use them as scapegoats. When things go wrong (like in the Great War, despite the fact that the Freefolk were victims of massacre during the war and only 3 of the actually participated on it, Fionn and Izia for the Free Alliance and Peremir for the Blood Horde). So they are subject of racism. Magick is usually only allowed within Freefolk territory, for magic shows, school, research, emergencies or with a special permit. Bioweapons and nukes are banned (although most of that tech got lost after the Fall of the Empire).

Fionn’s actions during the War and after, the peopletarian work of the Foundation, the arcanotech research, better education, and the threat by the Samoharo to step it (which scares the hell of everyone) has helped to erode the racism towards Freefolk, except from certain political parties across the Alliance that see them as rivals for power and refuse to return them their lands. The Kuni have good relationships with the Freefolk (as they were also enemies of the Empire). And the Freefolk mostly stay on their lands to avoid more problems. And the Empire is seen as the example of the worst of humankind, the cautionary tale of what not to do and most people would prefer to see it erased from history. Only its capital, Meteora, remains as a city state in the Wastelands, a hive of scum a villainy.

So there it is, a bit of info on the backstory of Tempest Blades that informs what’s happening currently in the books (yes, plural, more on that later).

The world of Theia. Part 2: Auris.

After long, long days of radio silence, because you know, I was busy writing a new book (which by the way it already has a tentative release date, but more on that later), I’m back. And what better thing to show in my triumphat return to my own blog, here is the map for the second novel of the Tempest Blades series: Cursed Titans,  drawn with the help of my friend Marco García.

Auris is the western continent of the planet Theia. Not as populous a Ionis, it does however contain its own set of legendary locations, exciting places and rich history and cultures. The eastern coast of  Auris is not that far from the western coast of Ionis (as you can see in the tiny map on the right lower corner), and given the Lyrian Ocean is ‘relatively’ calm, can be transversed by ship or warptrains that gro through the multitude of smaller islands.

Auris’ western side can be divided in three main regions, which also belong to the three main regional powers: the Kuni Empire, the Straits, and the Wastelands. As per the previous map, anything above the World’s Scar belongs to the Freefolk and the other continent, across the Straits and Azure Turtle Sea/Slender Sea, is Ouslis and belongs in its enterity to the Samoharo Hegemony, which means that can be described as ‘Here be dragons’.

The map, for the sake and brevity, only depicts places that are mentioned in the actual story or are really important (such as the three main cities). There are more places there, but it would have been madness to fit all in that space. So this is a primer on the places marked there.

The Kuni Empire: one of the oldest human nations still standing, purveyor of technology, animated cartoons, and its own set of religious and combat beliefs. The home of the demonhunters capable to take down monster through the use of their rigorous training that put them on par of titanfighters -without having to use armors- and even of a Gifted. It’s capital is Kyôkato, where most of events on the new novel takes place. The Empire possess a network of Temples, such as the Quiet Water Temple, secretly interconnected between them, where powerful yôkais -spirits- reside or are trapped. Those temples are consecrated to a particular element or natural phenomenon. It’s weather is similar to that of Japan. The Kuni speak Kunigo, but most of them are also fluent in Core and Nawua.

Kasumi, a new character in the Cursed Titans novel is from there.

God’s Eye: a big volcanic island, right across Kyôkato, in the Sea Horse Bay. The volcano has been active since at least the Dawn Age, making it the oldest active volcano in the Core region. The Kuni -and interestingly enough, the Samoharo as well- consider it sacred ground for it was there that the Storm God, a mortal that ascended to godhood, and using the Tempest Blade Yaha, took down the last of the Titans.* It is said that those that visit the inland, beyond the tiny villages in the coast, can experience visions, no doubt it part due the fumes expelled by vents located all over the place.

The Angel River serves a frontier with The Straits.

The Straits: a conglomerate of city states unified by shared culture and history (including their difficult time under the Asurian Empire). It’s nominal capital is Xelahú. Composed mostly of rain and cloud forest to the south (weather similar to Southern Mexico/Costa Rica), the Straits are renowned by their food, their music, their mines, their complex ecosystems, which include the Predacors -underground creatures that come to the surface every time there is an earthquake, which is frequently- and their peculiar veneration of the dead. It also has some problems with corruption. The Straits as polity usually delegate the international diplomacy part to their more powerful neighborghs, mainly the Samoharo -whose commercial and cultural ties have shaped the culture of the Straits- or in occassion to the Kuni, who have been their allies since the time of the Titans. As well, the Straits have reclaimed any territory below the Lion’s Pass, from what was left of the Assurian Empire, as ‘war reparations’.  Their main language is Nawua, but most of it inhabitants learn to speak Adapted Samoharo tongue, Kunigo, or Core. Some become fluent in all three.

Alex is from the Straits. Which explains a lot.

Albarran Point: the most soutwest point of the Straits, it used to be a holiday spot and place for sports tournaments due it’s accesible locations… that is until the first Incursion from the Pits took place a decade and half ago, where residents and vacationist, except a handful of students and a samoharo, were killed. The details of the event have been kept as a secret and the place has remained deserted since then, sans a port guarded by the few soldiers the Straits have. Albarran Point holds an strategic place -alog the Coyoli Archipielago– as they serve as entry point to the Azure Turtle Sea. Across it, lies Sotz’na, the only Samoharo port that allows humans and freefolk inside it’s walls.

The Wastelands: formerly the Asurian Empire, a vast desert nominally ruled by the corrupt hive of scum and villany that is Meteora. In the distant past, the Wastelands didn’t even have that name, for it was a vast amalgamation of climates and fertile soil that made it the Breadbasket of the Continent. But their experimentations with bio weapons & energy weapons, their constant warring and attempts to conquer the Kuni and the Straits, and their intercontinental, genocidal war against the Freefolk, rendered the whole region an unforgiving desert, as the Bestial sucked every ounce of life out of it. After that, the region collapsed into chaos, alternatively being ruled by a zealot theocracy or a tyrannic oligarchy, with only generations after generations of Sand Pirates (supported in secret by the Kuni and the Straits) offering some resistance to help the oppressed and to make water accesible for all. The Straits keeps most of its soldiers on the southern frontier of the Wastelands, across the Lion’s Pass, to keep raiders away.

Basically the place is cursed.

Carpadocci: the Buried City of the Damned and the Secrets. Most of the city is underground as in the past served both as a commercial hub and biological weapon developments facility. No one has lived there for centuries, mostly because of the experiments that escaped and killed most of its inhabitants. The city -which now possesses some sort of evil sentience- killed the rest, anyone who was foolish enough to try to unbury it’s secrets, or to escape from it. In a way, Carpadocci is the ultimate weapon.

Joshua, the protagonist of my short story ‘Buried Sins’ and a new character in the Cursed Titans novel, is from there. It also explains a lot about him.

So this is it. This is the other half (or sort of) of Theia. I hope you like it. And I hope to update dthe blog more frequently, now that the book is in editing stages.

*Titans: powerful beinhg, formerly mortals, that were granted amazing powers to keep the rest safe from incursions and the avatars from the God of the Pits. They became corrupted and enslaved most of humanity, almost killed most of the samoharo and were about to kill the freefolk if it weren’t for the Storm God -formerly a demonhunter- and the first titanfighters, who hunted the Titans down, one by one, to rip their core seeds from their chest and keep them secured at secret locations.

Reviews, reviews, reviews!

For obvious reasons, I have been able to catch up somewhat with my TBR pile, and with that, I have a few book recommendations for you. Bear in mind I’m not good with scales, so I will share just my opinion on the book and links as to where to get it.

Raven Steals the Light

By Bill Reid (Author, Illustrator), Robert Bringhurst (Author), Claude Levi-Strauss (Foreword)


I’ve always thought that a fantasy writer should read as much as possible of history and mythology books from different cultures, if any, to help their world-building and learn from other cultures. I fell in love with this book (and the Haida culture) when I visited Vancouver a few years ago, but for many reasons, I couldn’t get it until last year that a friend that lives in Canada got it for me as part of our group of friends’ Secret Santa, but I digress…

Bill Reid’s life history on its own is pretty interesting and inspiring and this book is a reflection of his life work, as he rescued the Haida oral myths and put some of them in a book he illustrated as well. Most of the myths talk about the Raven, the trickster deity of the Haida, and its escapades both before and after the creation of the world and humankind, a time when dreaming and reality were one and the same. Beautifully written, it’s evocative of a world beyond our imagination, of possibilities. The Raven is a charming rogue that sometimes gets its comeuppance and sometimes helps to create the world as we know it while looking to satiate its appetites. Most tales in the (admittedly very short) book pertain to the Raven, but there are a couple about shape-shifting bears.

This book is a must, mostly for the heart of it and for the opportunity to know more about the First Nations’ beliefs.

Link to Amazon

Tales of Aerothos: Knights of the Wolf 

By Robert Nugent (Author), Christopher Wagner (Editor)


Knights of the Wolf is one of the finest indie books for grounded fantasy. It was my introductory book to the world of Aerothos and in that regard, it’s the perfect place to start. I want to keep reading more stories in this world.

Rob Nugent is an accomplished writer, and this book proves three things he does really well: characterization, plot twists, and battle description. It’s really easy to picture this book as a movie or a mini-series. It’s an entertaining read for those that are looking for well-done fantasy and/or filling a GoT shaped hole in their hearts, like me.

Link to Amazon

Wrath of the Fury Blade

by Geoff Habiger (Author) and Coy Kissee (Author)


This is the mystery thriller the fantasy genre needed to expand its horizons. This is the book Sam Vimes would read. It’s the mystery story I was looking for.

Mixing genres is becoming a staple of today’s SFF. Doing it right is not so common yet. This is where Wrath of the Fury Blade by Geoff Habiger and Coy Kissee excels. It takes the popular genre of a detective story, with all its basics: an odd couple of detectives, a mystery with twists and turns, and social critic to the current world. And places it in a fantasy world where every detail is accounted for, to make believable how in a setting with magic and divination, it is still possible to attempt the perfect murder. Actually, how it would be easier to do it. Reva and Ansee, our pair of intrepid detectives are well characterized and written. I identified more with Reva, because let’s be honest, you can be good at what you do and still hate to have to do it, which to me feels like actual life. And seeing their friendship growing is a welcomed reward. But what I think is the most valuable aspect of the book is how it takes standard fantasy tropes and turns them on their head to make a social commentary. Addiction, segregation, political backstabbing… all of them prove that the usually perfect elves of standard fantasy, are more similar to humans than they would like to acknowledge. Their foibles prove more cumbersome to solve the mystery than the clever murderer’s plot.

While the descriptions can be at times a tad longer than expected, that’s logical as is the first book of a series and is setting the table for the adventures to come. With that in mind, I can only recommend the book to everyone who is looking for a new, different kind of fantasy reading, and eagerly wait till the sequel is out.

Link to Amazon

A Twist in time 

By Brent A. Harris (Author)


Full disclaimer: I cheated a bit because I had the opportunity to read the ARC of the book before it’s upcoming release.

A great work by an upcoming star in the realm of alternate history narratives. In his second novel, Brent A. Harris has brought Dickens to the 21st century. A Twist in Time is fast-paced, action-packed, and still a heartfelt tale of a young man returning to his roots to provide others like his former self a new future amidst the intrigue and corruption that populates this steampunk version of the Dickensian London.

The book has a cinematic sense to it, in the vein of Guy Ritchie’s hectic camera work and forays into adapting classic tales to modern sensibilities. Actually, this book could easily be adapted by Ritchie. However is the characterization of the main three characters: Oliver Twist, Nell Trent, and their antagonist, the Artful Dodger (here in a female version of the character). The three of them feel like real persons with a complicated backstory between them, that resembles at times a tragic romantic triangle. But this ain’t a love story. Rather is the tale of a young man that decides to become the hero he didn’t have to look up when he was a child, using wondrous contraptions to move around a city peril. Main among said objects is a mysterious pocket watch that allows Oliver to bend and twist the flow of time to his will, giving him the chance to correct things that went wrong and… I won’t say more because it would a spoiler.

Let’s just say that this book showcases Harris’ skills as an author: layered plots, well-defined themes, and great characterization. If you are into steampunk, YA, or new takes on old classics, this book is for you. It’s the adventure of a lifetime.

Link to Amazon


The power of Hope


To say that this year’s first months have been difficult, it would be an understatement. Massive fires, the menace of war and the threat of a pandemic on a global scale, would make you think that these guys are riding again.


Yes, I choose a Simpsons’ image on purpose. For levity’s sake.

In the personal front, I’ve been going through a really rough patch, from depression to financial stress, to see how my country is sinking at the hands of a moron, to the fact that I’m unable to work as the school where I work was taken by students and we are unable to enter (look, it’s a long story about a just cause and good intentions paving the way to hell through poor decision management by both sides of the conflict, so it’s not part of the topic here). So, I’ve been able to keep me busy with two things: doing house chores and writing.

And it’s on the writing front that this entry will deal with. In the past decades, probably since 2001, there has been a marked trend in media and literature to portray bleak worlds where cynism is the rule. There are debates about whether 9/11 dispelled any sense of hope for the new Millenium,  or whether South Park has created a generation of cynics and people lacking empathy. This trend about the crappiness of the world is compounded by the lack of prospects for younger generations, lousy political systems that have failed those they should serve, and the existential threat of climate change.

This has resulted in a slew of stories in which the best the main character can hope for is surviving, for pyrrhic victories. Worlds where everyone is an asshole. And while that can lead to compelling, heart-wrenching plot lines -such as in Castlevania or Breaking Bad- it’s my opinion that most stories of the so-called grimdark inclination have become a retelling of how awful human beings are. That the Hobbes-Rousseau debate about the nature of man is being tested for final proof that we are all bastards. And if media is telling you that all around you are assholes and the world is going to hell in a handbasket, your natural predisposition is to think on those lines. And that is a dangerous proposition as it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy with consequences both at a personal and societal level. I know this personally because my personal opinion of humans, in general, is not very good.

And I want to change that.

Look, I don’t have anything against those that enjoy writing and reading grimdark stories. I grew up with the gritty 90s comic book storylines. And when well written, as I said, make for a compelling narrative. But it’s my belief that we, as writers, have also to buck the trend. To offer readers something that makes them still believe that things can get better, not through miracles, but through hard work. Things will never be easy, there always be serious challenges and dangers around the corner. But we have to believe that changing the world is possible if we change our mindset.

I still believe that we can change things around, that we can achieve a better world. But we need to spread the message. In my opinion, there is a growing need for it. And we, as writers, as story crafters, have a moral imperative to do so. It’s the fight from our trench.

You know why I think Avengers Endgame was such a blockbuster? It’ wasn’t only due to the fancy FX or the geek’s dream about seeing so many characters together in scree. Underneath that corporative behemoth, there was a message -put there on purpose or not- about hope and how even in the bleakest circumstances, there was still a way to fix things. The scene of Cap hearing Falcon to his left during the darkest hour is that: Hope.

Even Game of Thrones, with all its bleakness, had a lingering sense of hope. That Jon would save the day (it was Arya, in fact), that a good ruler would take charge of Westeros (Tyrion will be the de facto ruler, because c’mon, Bran is busy being the fantasy equivalent of Google and Tyrion has proven to be a decent Hand of the King). Even with all its failings and horrible characters like Ramsay Bolton, the story was one about hope defeating darkness.

Hope, like in the myth about Pandora, is the last thing that remains when everything is falling apart. Hope is what keeps us moving, keeps us fighting. Hope is the fuel of our dreams and the shield that guards our hearts and souls while we find a way to get out of a problem. Hope dies last because it’s light is inextinguishable. Hope is powerful if we let it grow. Hope is what makes us humans.

Maria Haskins, who is one of the best writers I’ve had the pleasure to known and talk with, put it in better words than I could even aspire too, so I’m taking the liberty to quote her tweet (which incidentally inspired this entry).

maria's quote

Like anything Maria writes, this is awe-inspiring and beautiful.

Last year, one of my ARC novel’s reviewers told me that my story could count as HopePunk. Because apparently due the characters banding together and pushing aside their differences, manage to rise from a bleak scenario to save the day through sheer willpower and cooperation. I’m not sure if I’m qualified to declare my novel HopePunk.  But it left me thinking about it and more importantly,  I’m incorporating more of it in the sequel, both in Alex’s arc -who is this time the MC- and the world’s arc.

In one front, Alex will be fighting against his inner demons, his depression, realizing that he is not alone. And on the other, Harland is trying to show to the world that is through cooperation, through accepting the other for their differences, rather than shunning them, that the planet can be saved when is faced with dire dangers. I’m not sure if the first book is HopePunk, and I’m not sure the second will be. But I’m sure as hell that I’m trying to add more hope to my stories. There was a time where I tried to write Tempest Blades as a more grimdark story. But I failed miserably. Because a voice in my head kept telling me that it was not the way. And I’m happy to have listened to that voice. The way was, to add hope. Yes, life goes on, difficulties are always present. But is through hope that we can overcome said difficulties.

So it’s high time we write more hopeful stories. For the sake of our mental health and for the sake of the wider community. Writers can conjure through their imagination a more hopeful outlook of life, one that will help us to face reality and strive to change it for something better.

And this would be the most Punk thing we can do these days. Why? Punk is defined by being anti-establishment. And in a world where the establishment tells you that everything sucks and you should conform, in a world where everything seems bleak, having hope for a better future is the most punk thing you can do. Even if it’s a sliver of hope. Revolutions have started with less.

It’s time for a revolution of hope so we can muster the strength to fix this world before it’s too late.

My 2019 awards eligible stories

eligible stories banner

Hello there, world. This is the first time I write one of these posts (as I have only been nominated once for an award and I wasn’t the one promoting it). But given that this was a seminal year for me as a writer, it was due time to create one. So here there are my award-eligible stories for 2019. Here are in order of length.



518349ZKw8L“Tempest Blades: The Withered King.” Shadow Dragon Press. August 2019. Approx. 97,500 words.

Buy it from Amazon: https://mybook.to/TempestBladesWK
Buy it from Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2kDhBlA

Genre(s): Fantasy, Science Fiction

What’s about? Fionn thought that his days as a warrior were over. Gaby & Alex never expected to become heroes. Now they must join forces to stop an ancient evil. In a world where magic and science intermingle, anything is possible. Including second chances.

What others have said about it:

“An action-packed blend of magic and mayhem, sword and sorcery, science fiction and fantasy. The book is full of entertaining characters, has a sense of humor and adventure, and there’s a crackling video-game vibe added for good measure.” —Maria Haskins, author, and B&N Blogger

“A glorious sci-fi adventure for any reader of the fandom of the classic video game ‘Soul Blade'” —Booklist

“Like Final Fantasy meets Dungeons & Dragons! An action-packed sci-fantasy adventure that fans of the genre will love! Victoria delivers a lively story that feels like a video game, with plenty of heart and humor along the way. The characters are interesting, the action keeps you turning the pages, the concepts are fascinating! This is good stuff! The one-liners are killer, too!”Diane Morrison, Author of the “Wyrd West Chronicles” & Manager of the official SFWA YouTube channel

“It was a fun, fast book, full of action beats. It was also surprisingly introspective and deep. As entertaining as it was, this is ultimately a book about second chances. I found it highly enjoyable.”Jodie Crump. Witty and Sarcastic Bookclub

“It’s a science fantasy epic that bursts with originality. It is new, it is fresh, and it makes the imagination soar. In short, this is not something you’ve read before.”Leo McBride at Altered Instinct

“There’s a some portals and a spaceship, a lizard pilot dude and a good deal of magick, a 133 yr old father-mentor guy and lottsa swords. A total mashup spanning the spacepunk, fantasy, scifi, and LitRPG genres, The Withered King looks to surprise you on every page…

…The Withered King is an impressive debut that any reader of speculative fiction should enjoy.”Paul at Paul’s Picks



Tales of Magic and Destiny cover“Asherah’s Pilgrimage.” in the anthology Tales of Magic & Destiny (Inklings Press). Edited by Leo McBride & Rob Edwards. July  2019. Approx. 9,100 words.

Buy it from Amazon: http://mybook.to/MagicDestiny

Genre(s): Fantasy

What’s about? A girl, the first with the gift of magic, has to step up and lead her people into a new world in finding a place to settle. But the perilous journey will mean for the freefolk to leave behind what remains of their old ways. And for Asherah to succeed, it will mean sacrificing everything she is and find her new place in the world.

What others have said about it:

“A story that has high-stakes and drama, personal courage and friendship, action and introspection, humour and pathos. For me, it captures the essence of what it is to be an individual overcoming their own limitations to achieve something that really matters.”  E.M. Swift-Hook at Working Title.

“…I loved the image of the freefolk and they seemed so intriguing and I loved the little glimpses of the world they left behind. I loved how the story grew to its close and I absolutely wasn’t ready for this one to end. The battle in the maze had some really great imagery. I haven’t read this one a second time yet (because I just read it this afternoon on my lunch break!) but I will definitely give it a second read.”Reviewer at Amazon.

Short Stories


51yj0nKMCsL._SY346_“No-Sell.” in the anthology Gunsmoke and Dragonfire. Edited by Diane Morrison. March  2019. Approx. 4,800 words.

Buy it from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1999575717

Genre(s): Fantasy Western

What’s about? In a world where magic delayed the invention of firearms, an ex-spellslinger has taken up a career as a traveling sales being of a newfangled weapon called a “rifle”… and he has a few tricks under his coat.

What others have said about it:

“I also enjoyed No-Sell, from Ricardo Victoria, taking the theme and running with it, for in a Wild West world where magic is commonplace, what use is a gun? And what would the equivalent of a snake-oil salesman do with one if he had one?”Leo McBride at Altered Instinct.

““No-Sell” by Ricardo Victoria was a fun story that reminded me very much of Dragonheart, but in a Western setting and blending in a bit of Aztec mythology. I really enjoyed the slow reveal on this story and the twist at the end.”Geoff Habiger.


41sHL1Kc1rL“Good Boys.” in the anthology Gods of Clay: A Sci Fi Roundtable Anthology. Edited by Eric Michael Craig & Ducky Smith. February 2019. Approx. 4,800 words.

Buy it from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Gods-Clay-Sci-Roundtable-Anthology/dp/1733728317/

Genre(s): Science Fiction

What’s about? In the distant future, uplifted dogs and octopuses sent a mission back to a legendary place, a ‘lost’ planet, to find about a strange signal sent by their long-gone creators. The secrets they find there, the ancient enemies they will encounter, will shake their beliefs and their future.