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The Protagonist Speaks

Interviews with the characters of your favourite books

Month

October 2022

Phil (of The Rose, by PD Alleva)

Dear readers, tonight we print an overheard conversation between a human protagonist and a millennium-old cephalopod, discussing vampires, aliens, and alien vampires.


Phil, standing on a floor made of water, watched as the atmosphere cracked in front of him. Watched as the crack raced to the right and left. Behind the barrier water tumbled into the space from far away and high above, racing towards the barrier, and rising high overhead, ten feet above him. It was when the water settled to a calm flow that he saw the famed giant cephalopod, Artemis. His tentacles pushing through the water to the barrier between him and Phil. His eyes, large and round and bright white with a black dot for pupils, watched Phil with a stare Phil assumed was both suspicious and intrigued. Phil understood he had to come, but the why behind the reason he was never told. His hands, clenched into fists, shook by his side. He had more dire circumstances to tend to, and this meeting boiled his blood. Having to take part in an interview with Artemis was a waste of time and time was not on his side.

Artemis floated in the water, assessing, scrutinizing, and scanning Phil. When he spoke, his voice was carried across the water and echoed through the chamber where Phil stood, garbled and liquidly was his voice.

Artemis: Did Robyn tell you why I’ve requested your presence?

Phil: Robyn speaks in riddles, so no. (He paused, watching Artemis and how his lips curled into his mouth. Phil cleared his throat). But I assume it’s because of the glimmer and the change in the Akashic record. Robyn is quite disturbed by this change. Do you know who caused it?

Artemis: I have my suspicions. (He pushed forward, closer to the barrier as if the closer proximity would allow him to stare into Phil’s thoughts). Perhaps you already know.

Phil (with a slow shake of his head, his mouth agape): I… I have no idea who changed the record.

Artemis (pushing back, his tentacles flapping in the water): Let us see your mind then. Allow your thoughts to go free. I see you’ve blocked your thoughts from telepathy. Release the barrier. If you are innocent as you as claim than allow me entrance. (His tentacles pointed to Phil’s right). Project your thoughts to the wall. I want to see the past through your eyes. Show us your youth. Where you were born. How you were raised.

Phil (Staring at the ground, gritting his teeth. He turned to the wall, watching as the liquid barrier changed, projecting his thoughts on the watery screen. Saw his birth and the vampires surrounding him and his mother): I was born on an island. Born into slavery.  My mother the same and hundreds of others. Forced to endure, to work in the mines searching for minerals and gold. Forced into bondage, slaves provided for torture. Both Drac and human alike indulged in the desecration of children. Forced to reproduce to maintain their slave numbers. My mother was a beacon of hope during my time there. Unfortunately, she was murdered by the Drac vampires before I was rescued by Robyn.

Artemis: How did he know to rescue you? And after, what did Robyn teach you? What was living like?

Phil: I don’t know how Robyn was able to rescue me. You’d have to ask him. All I know is, I kept my eyes focused on the light, just like my mom had told me. And then he appeared. Took me to the underground where I was raised by him and away from normal society. It wasn’t until I was eight years old that I discovered the human population living above ground. Saw something called a television and on that television were two humans I had seen on numerous occasions on the island. But there on the island they would pat each other on the back, as if they were best friends. But on that television, those same two men were pretending to be enemies. Robyn had said they did so to create confusion and division among the people. A needed commodity for the elite to keep their stranglehold over the population.

(He stepped closer to the wall, watching himself as a child, being trained by Robyn). From what I was told, my education was very different than most other humans. With knowledge and training within science of mind concepts, telepathy, telekinesis, quantum mechanics and alchemy. Including a comprehensive history of our species and our planet, Earth, untold to the humans above ground. I was taught the power of energy, frequency, and vibration. How the universe is a recycling pattern of energy and how the dominant frequency within that vibration slithers into the consciousness of all who live within its vibrational hold. That the balance between the vibrations rages on, and how we, Robyn’s people, were the keepers of that balance. Should the scales tip to far in one favor, the universe can be destroyed faster than the speed of thought. We fight to keep the balance, with the understanding that in order for the universe to evolve peacefully the correct mix of these two polar opposite vibrations are required, with the light capturing the dark in its embrace and not the opposite. Because dark energy has no restraint, it only wishes to consume and that consumption can lead to total annihilation. But perhaps that is what the darkness desires, to destroy the light and remake the universe into darkness.

We lived peacefully and in quiet solitude, except when Robyn called on us for special missions. It was then that he taught me the sacred martial arts of Kobudo Tonfa, fighting with the blades, and the power behind the rose manipulation offering the ability to change chemistry with a thought, move objects with my mind, and suspend gravity. The rose is an all-powerful resource if used and wielded properly.

Continue reading “Phil (of The Rose, by PD Alleva)”

Ameela (of The Manderian Halden: Tales From The Sehnsucht part 1, by Keyla Damaer)

Dear readers, tonight with us is an artist, working with refugees and standing up to the galactic dictator.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I was born on Lyra III, a Gaia planet in Federal Coalition space. The Lyran system is binary, and people originating from it sport coloured freckles near earlobes, down necks, and around other erogenous zones. My father was an art teacher, and my mother was an art dealer. I grew up breathing art. At three, they gave me an art digibook as a gift. That was the beginning of my artistic journey. Of course, my parents supported me all along. Unfortunately, they didn’t survive long enough to cherish my successes with me.

What do you do now?

I’m an artist. I just finished an important commission for a rich customer. Before signing new contracts, I decided to take a sabbatical year and travel the galaxy to visit locations famous for their ancient ruins. That’s why I came here to Ketar. I wanted to study the Valley of Kings and create some art inspired by the ancient history of the Shedirian people.

But you haven’t been spending much time studying old ruins lately.

It took me a week to set up a team to get to the place, but my guide had an accident at the last moment, and we had to postpone. So, I stayed in the village, and ten days ago, I met this guy in a bar. We’ve been spending a lot of time together since then. He’s a terrific subject for a series of portraits I was working on back home.

Is he? I can’t think of anything further from art than a Manderian.

I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a Lyran. That’s quite xenophobic, don’t you think? Anyway, his features are exotic. One doesn’t meet a Manderian every day and doesn’t get killed. I couldn’t lose the chance and asked him immediately to be my model. I didn’t think he would accept, and from the face he made, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t expecting that kind of request. He accepted, so here I am, drawing Manderian scales every day.

Continue reading “Ameela (of The Manderian Halden: Tales From The Sehnsucht part 1, by Keyla Damaer)”

Valentin de Broceliande (of The Signet Ring, by Ellis L. Knox)

Dear readers, tonight with us is the leader of a wandering troupe of acrobats, dancers, singers, and performers of small wonders. In a misty forest and a bizarre twist of fate (or the gods), he ran into our own Felix. We faithfully reprint their conversation.


A cold night. Mist settles over the pine forest, obscuring the thin moon. Two men pass through each other.

“Whup,” one said. “I didn’t see you.”

“Nor I you,” the other said. “Not even as you walked through me.”

“Noticed that, did you?”

“Hard to miss.”

The first man held out his hand. The other reached out as well. Their hands met but did not touch.

“Even harder not to miss, seemingly.”

“This is strange upon strange,” the first man said. “, but we can be strange without being strangers. My name is Valentin de Broceliande.”

The second man raised an eyebrow. “You’re well-spoken for a barbarian.”

“I’m no barbarian, sir. As you see, I am not jabbering bar-bar-bar.”

“Heh. Fair enough. Valens Tine De Bro….”

“Call me Val.”

“I can manage that. My own name is Spurius Vulpius Felix, from here in Egretia.”

“The Lucky Fox?”

“Er, call me Felix, if you please. I like to think I depend more on skill than luck.” He cocked his head. “Your blond hair and blue eyes say you are from the north. What brings you so far south?”

“Magic, seemingly, for I am not so far south. Only in Suevia.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “But the Suevi dwell north of great mountains.”

Val nodded. “Indeed.”

“This has to be some sort of sorcery,” Felix declared, “though I’m not sure to what purpose.”

“Or it’s the work of the gods, and therefore has no sensible purpose at all.”

Felix chuckled again. “We seem to have a similar temperament, friend. Come, let us sit and see what we can puzzle out from this puzzle.”

“It’s a cold night, but this is worth a talk,” Val agreed. “I’ll sit here on this stump.”

“And I on my bench here. You will not be surprised to hear that to me you too are sitting on a bench.”

“No, on a stump,” Val said. “Just as you are.”

They shared another chuckle.

“Tell me, Val,” Felix said, “what brings you to this place … wherever it is?”

“We travel further north, looking for work.”

“We?”

“The Compagnie des Trouvères, a performing group.”

“Ah. You are an actor?”

“Director. I’m the padron of our little troupe. We do plays, but we are also acrobats, dancers, singers, and performers of small wonders.” He paused. “And yourself?”

“I am,” Felix hesitated a little, “an independent investigator.”

“That’s a curious title.”

“It’s an occupation more than a title. I look into … well … wonders both large and small. For a fee.”

“Oh, I see. I’ve done a little of that myself, though not always intentionally.”

“How so?”

“The Trouvères were indeed south not so long ago. On Capreae we recovered a valuable ring for the Duke of Calabria, for which we were paid.”

Continue reading “Valentin de Broceliande (of The Signet Ring, by Ellis L. Knox)”

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