A Chronicle of Chaos

These books were born in silence — the kind of silence that comes when you are too far from home, too far from love, and too close to yourself.

I began writing A Ballad of Chaos more than fifteen years ago, in the years when life itself felt like an experiment in breaking me. I wrote A Ballad of Chaos while carrying the weight of family collapse, betrayals, breakups, deaths, and losses that reshaped my world again and again; more than once I lived alone enough to wonder if it was worth living at all. Every time I built a place for myself, it was taken. Every time I found light, it slipped away. So I turned to pages. What began as journals of pain became characters. Those characters became stories. And the stories became a world vast enough to contain all that hurt — and something more.

This saga is not derived from my pain; it is built to contain it.

Charon, Lucifer, Lilith, Uriel — they are not allegories of people I knew, but vessels for the storms I lived. That is why they burn, why they doubt, why they rage, and why they endure. That is why it is called A Ballad of Chaos. Because my chaos needed a song. If I am a demon in my work today, it is because I learned to shape chaos into meaning; it is because the world taught me nothing lasts — except what you build yourself.

A Ballad of Chaos is not just fantasy. It is my archive of survival, the living record of how I made meaning out of disorder. Thank you for reading it — because now it is not only mine anymore.