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The Protagonist Speaks

Interviews with the characters of your favourite books

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Jasper Ashford (of Little Hamlin Chronicles, by Sarah Ashworth)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a high-school student, juggling school, life, and magical training. He’s here to tell us about supernatural occurrences, a shipwrecked redhead, and a mysterious song.

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

Well, it all depends on how far back you want to go. If its my early childhood then I grew up in an orphanage in a not so glamorous part of town. The place itself wasn’t too bad, the staff taking care of us were pretty decent. It’s just there wasn’t always enough to go around so kids were basically fighting for scraps, couldn’t really afford to be weak there. Fun times.

In my later childhood until now I was adopted by a pretty sweet lady who took me to her home on a small island. It was nice, she’s not wealthy by any means but she lives a comfortable life and it was just nice to have my own bedroom. Though I scared her when I was hording food in my room when I first moved there. It took a bit of time but I became secure enough to not do that anymore.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

There was one time at the orphanage when me and Eric decided to steal the cookies in the kitchen. It was a rare treat for us and we wanted them. OK, I say we decided it was more I woke Eric up in the middle of the night and wouldn’t let him go back to sleep so he went along with me to get it over with. His words, not mine. We had a blast though and got to enjoy the chocolaty goodness of the cookies.

Another fond memory was when I found my magic spark. I tried to pickpocket a woman and she saw me do it. I remember backing away and holding my hands out in front of me and poof I fired a pink cloud in her face and ran. She eventually caught me but didn’t turn me in. Instead, she adopted me because in her words I reminded her of a younger version of her and she saw my potential with magic.

I had stuffed dragon which I keep in my closet and cuddle it every now and again. Hey! Dragons are cool OK!

What do you do now?

Right now, I’m just a high school student who’s juggling school, my magic training, finding interesting things to write about in the school paper. Also going on some strange adventures which sometimes involve getting into trouble but I think it breaks up the monotony a little bit. Wouldn’t you agree? Sure, I fall asleep in Mr. Hughes’ class a lot but the adventures are worth it.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Well, it all began with my friend Eric being kidnapped, can’t leave that guy for five minutes without something happening to him. I thought he’d abandoned me again and I was angry as we had only just managed to patch things up after all the craziness from before. It was only when I found evidence that he didn’t leave of his own free will that I started to look for him. I reluctantly teamed up with Mel who had hurt and betrayed me before and we ended up going to the mainland to search for him and bring him home.

Continue reading “Jasper Ashford (of Little Hamlin Chronicles, by Sarah Ashworth)” →
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Weylin & Asurei (of Stone & Word, by Anne Pengelly)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a young boy with a special magical gift and a travelling assassin. They are here top talk about their world, and what happens when ancient seals begin to crack.

Tell us a little about where you grew up.

Weylin: Fenward. A river village where nothing ever changed, or so it seemed. My earliest memories are of chasing fish through the reeds, listening to my mother’s voice carry over the water. It was safe, small, a place where people expected you to stay and grow old in the same patch of earth. I would have been content with that once. But now the seals are breaking, one by one, and Fenward has become a memory instead of a destiny. The world is demanding more of me than I ever thought possible.

Asurei: I didn’t grow up anywhere worth remembering. My childhood was an apprenticeship to hunger. Streets teach you quickly who you are, or who you’ll have to become to survive. I became sharp. I became fast. And eventually, I became a Ghostblade. The Order of the Ghostblade forged me into what I am: an assassin who steps out of shadow when a name is given. My past is smoke. My present is steel.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child?

Weylin: A carved top, rough and unsteady, made by my father before he died. It never spun straight, always wobbling across the floor, but I loved it. I used to think if I could just make it balance, I could fix everything that had gone wrong, bring him back, stop the grief from swallowing us. Looking back, I suppose that was the first time I believed broken things could be mended. That belief is what carries me now.

Asurei: Toys are for children who have time to play. I didn’t. But I did learn early that people can be bent and broken like wood or glass. Fear was my toy, manipulation my game. The first time I discovered I could make someone dance to my tune, it was intoxicating. But if you press me for a softer answer… once, long ago, I had a ribbon, pale as moonlight. It was torn from me, like everything else. I still remember how it felt between my fingers.

What do you do now?

Weylin: I walk the world, whether I wish to or not, because the seals are breaking and something old and vengeful is stirring beneath the earth. The words I carry, the stones that answer me, they’re part of it. I didn’t ask for this burden, but if I don’t stand in the breach, who will? Fenward no longer needs me; the world does. And so I go on.

Asurei: I kill when the First Flame commands. A name is spoken, and I make sure the voice that spoke it is never silenced, or that the name belongs to a corpse. I am a Ghostblade, feared because I never miss. But sometimes, in the quiet after a mission, I wonder what I might be if I wasn’t only a weapon. Redemption is a dangerous thought for someone like me, but it lingers, like a shadow that refuses to leave.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Weylin: I’ve walked roads I never imagined, met people who carry more secrets than smiles, and learned that magic listens, but not always kindly. The seals are breaking, and with each crack, something terrible strains against its bonds. I don’t know if I can stop it, but I know I have to try. That’s the shape of my adventure: stepping forward even when I’m not certain my feet will find solid ground.

Asurei: Adventure? Don’t insult me. What I’ve lived is blood, betrayal, and shadow. I’ve taken lives and unmade kingdoms in silence, and the world calls it ‘necessary.’ But I’m beginning to see that perhaps necessity is only another word for chains. Maybe that’s what this journey is teaching me, that I’ve been bound all along, and the knife at my belt can’t cut the ties that matter most.

Continue reading “Weylin & Asurei (of Stone & Word, by Anne Pengelly)” →
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Willy Jones (of A Night in Annwn, by Owen Jones)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a shepherd who lost his will to live after his wife’s passing. After collapsing and waking up in a hospital he soon realises he made it to the Welsh Afterlife — but things aren’t as he had thought they would be.

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

I was born and grew up on a mountainside, although it was only a small mountain, near Brecon in South Wales. My parents had a tiny cottage there. It was very quiet; we had no neighbours, so although we didn’t own the mountain, it felt like we did. The only road to the top passed by our house, but few people used it.

I was an only-child, my father was a shepherd of his own flock, which roamed freely on the mountain, since there were no animal predators. My mother took care of us, and made things, mostly foodstuffs, to sell in the village on a Saturday.

Perhaps it was my nature, or perhaps it was the environment, but I grew up a quiet, thoughtful, but not lonely, child. I loved my parents, and our lifestyle, although those feelings were never expressed openly. It wasn’t done in those days. I was equally happy helping my Mam in the garden or kitchen, or my father with his sheep, which, although they wandered freely, always came to meet him on ‘their spot’ at 08:00 AM.

I liked school, but not as much as being on our mountain. I left as soon as I could, at fifteen, I think, to help my parents. We were a Christian family, but really only enjoyed singing hymns in the village church on Sunday mornings. Our community’s real belief, which was not incompatible with Christianity, was in Annwn. We sometimes discussed it among ourselves, but never with strangers

Annwn is the ancient Welsh, perhaps even Celtic, word for the pre-Christian, Welsh Heaven.

When the early Roman missionaries arrived, they persecuted us, so they say, because Annwn is underground – some say under the mountains, which we can see a little way off from our cottage. The Romans thought that meant that we were Devil-worshippers, which was untrue. That’s probably why we all go to church, enjoy our singing, but don’t discuss religion with outsiders.

We remember what that can lead to even 2,000 years later.

Continue reading “Willy Jones (of A Night in Annwn, by Owen Jones)” →
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Geoffrey (of The Way of Lucherium, by Christopher Rziha)

Dear readers, tonight we bring you the official record of the Committee of Social Order: Geoffrey, former bard. Geoffrey was a bard for the Committee of Spectacles in the grand nation of Trastaluche. After being disgraced and stripped of his post for a series of indiscretions, Geoffrey disappeared, turning up several seasons later in the company of the Followers of Joaquin, a known group of insurgents who are strongly suspected to be planning open warfare with against the Committees. Geoffrey is currently wanted for high treason, the spread of propaganda, and the practice of black magic.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

A mandolin, I’d say. I’ve loved music since before I knew what love was. I remember holding hands with my mother and going to a festival hosted by the Committee of Spectacles when I was barely able to walk. I can still recall the tunes they played that day.

What do you do now?

Currently I’m recovering from my wounds and serving as an advisor to the army of Hazcaluche while they prepare for their campaign against Trastivo.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

I had the inside scoop on the type of story that makes any bard’s career… and then everything around me exploded. Literally. Next thing I know, I’m a nobody in Muckland and the only thing keeping me from picking a fight with the wrong person and suffering the consequences to end my pain is my own cowardice. Then, one night, everything changed. Some strangers who were involved in some definitely less-than-legal activities gave me good, shelter, and support. And the more time I spent with them, the more I realized that everything I thought I knew -about progress, society, and truth- was all mixed up backwards. I joined their band, and was even chosen to play a small part in their upcoming plans to undermine the Committees… and that’s when it all went south.

Continue reading “Geoffrey (of The Way of Lucherium, by Christopher Rziha)” →
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Belinda (of Dark Matter, by Deborah Ann Gordon)

Dear readers, tonight with us is an immortal training in an order dedicated to healing. When a beloved mortal falls deathly ill, she must travel back to her mortal origins in the sixth century to save him.

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

I don’t remember where I grew up. My past is a fog I can’t quite lift. I’ve tried to shape it, to grasp something solid, but the memories dissolve as I reach for them.

Michael found me wandering in Paris. He took me in, became my teacher and guardian. He said we were different. At first, I thought he meant we didn’t belong. Later, I learned he meant we were immortal.

He brought me to his chateau in France and trained me in the immortal arts. He told me we were part of a society called the Group of World Servers, devoted to healing human fear because it blocked their evolution and their capacity to accept us among them. We were not meant to take their pain away, but to minister to it so they could heal themselves.

But to return to your question: if I had a hometown, I don’t know its name. Whether there were trees or towers, winters or summers, all of it is lost to me. What I do know is that I didn’t just lose a home; I lost the story of where I began. That absence has shaped me more than any place could have.

And yet sometimes I dream of a woman with bright eyes and a voice that commands the wind. Her name rises like a forgotten incantation—Cerridwen. I don’t know if she is memory, myth, or the shadow of who I once was. But she walks with me, quiet and ancient, in the blood I carry.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

If I did, they’re gone. I sometimes believe I’m older than anyone knows—possibly centuries old. If there were toys, they might have been hand-carved, or stitched from scraps. Or maybe there were none at all.

Even if I once held something dear—a doll, a book, a worn blanket—I no longer remember the feel of it. And without memory, joy becomes something abstract. A shadow, shaped more by faith than experience.

The absence of memory is its own grief. A quiet, aching kind.

What do you do now?

I’m a healer. I once travelled with Michael to places torn by war and suffering. But I live in tension with the vows I took.

I have the power to fully heal—to stop death, erase pain, restore a body to wholeness—but I’m forbidden to use it. The rules say we can calm and comfort, but never intervene. Not even when a child lies dying in front of me.

I don’t believe I chose this life. Because if I had, I would have chosen differently. I argue with Michael. I push the limits. I carry guilt like it has been sewn into my skin.

Right now, I’m on a break while Michael travels in Europe. He left me with the Bensons in Coriander, New Hampshire. A mortal family. I’ve been attending high school and pretending to be eighteen forever.

They say our mission is to help humanity evolve on its own terms. But what use is power if you must keep it hidden? What kind of oath demands you let someone die when you could save them?

So what I do now is live in that space between obedience and defiance. I try to honour my role without losing my soul. And in quiet moments, I wonder who I might have been, if choice had been mine.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

I wouldn’t call it an adventure. It was a reckoning. A collapse. A return. And maybe a kind of resurrection.

I discovered I’m not just immortal. I’m something more—tied to an ancient prophecy that speaks of a child born to an immortal who might one day bridge the mortal and immortal worlds.

But none of it mattered when Damien fell ill.

Damien is mortal. Fierce and brilliant, stubborn and kind. He loved me for who I was, not for what I might become. When he grew sick, and the light began to leave his eyes, the world shrank to the pain of watching him fade.

Michael told me it was too late. That even my power couldn’t reach him. But I couldn’t accept that.

So he gave me an elixir and said I had to return to the moment I became immortal. Only there would I discover what Emila truly was. He would not explain further.

So I drank. I went back through time, through memory, and became my former self—Cerridwen, High Priestess of the Isle of the Mists.

I didn’t do it because I was chosen. I did it for Damien. Because loving him is the one thing I never doubted. And I would risk everything to save him.

Continue reading “Belinda (of Dark Matter, by Deborah Ann Gordon)” →
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Tom (of The Longest Journey, by En Hui Ye)

Dear readers, tonight wit us is a young man who was kidnapped at an early age for experimentation, and then rescued. He’s here to tell us about a world with angels and shape-shifting demons.

Tell us a little about yourself. Where did you grow up and what was it like there?

I was born in Kiringham and lived there until I was about seven or eight. That’s about when things started to go bad—my dad died in action, my mom passed away, and then there was the experiment… Yeah, no need to dwell on that. Mr. Archibald found me—all messed up—and saved my life. He decided I wouldn’t be safe in Kiringham anymore, so he took me all the way to North Scarlot (which sits across the ocean from Kiringham).

Since then, I’ve lived with my aunt’s family in a quiet neighborhood called Aredene. It was a swell place. Well, my aunt and uncle were kind of strict, and I was annoyed by them, but my cousins and I got along well. Chris is like my best friend, my brother, and we’re there for each other. And of course, Agnes is really sweet too. As for my aunt and uncle… I don’t know, man. After everything that happened, I kind of feel… Okay, I feel that I was in the wrong, and I was the one being mean and annoying. They loved me and they cared for me, but I just didn’t understand that. I do now.

There I said it. I hope you’re happy, Chris.

You mentioned your birth parents. Do you have any cherished memories that you would like to share?

My mom was the best. What I remember best about her are her stories. Stories of angels battling demons—or Fallen, as we call them. The angels were beautiful and fierce, and even when they lost battles, they never gave up. That’s what my mom said. She made me believe in hope. I miss her.

As for my dad… I don’t remember him much. He was always gone, fighting in Orelia or whatever other country it was. He was supposed to be there when Mom got sick. Instead, he had to go off and got himself killed. Mom died almost right after.

I heard that you’ve recently been named a commander for the Missionseekers. How does that feel?

I’m honored. Mr. Archibald says I earned it after Castellum Island—fighting the Cassowary, stealing the antidote, and all that. Honestly, I’m just glad we made it out of there alive.

Now, I lead small Missionseeker squads. We’ve had a lot of new recruits—mostly the kids we rescued from the South Venez mines. But, since the Cassowary disappeared after Castellum, things have calmed down a bit. We’re mostly just tracking down leftover Sicariuses and Fallen. I love being on the move every day, fighting bad guys and demons. That’s when I’m in my element.

Continue reading “Tom (of The Longest Journey, by En Hui Ye)” →
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Sabine Sacton (of The Serpent’s Chains, by Sylvia Conley)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a young woman sold as a slave to a war dragon and heir to the throne. But instead of cruelty, she found that behind the brutal exterior lies a man at odds with the future forced upon him and a dragon with plans of his own. She is here to tell us about the dangerous magic which stirs in the east and the building royal pressure, while she and the prince are drawn together in a bond neither expected.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was your life like growing up in servitude?

I couldn’t tell you the name of the village I grew up in or even point it out on a map of Estroria. My first nine years were spent in the loving care of my mother who taught me magic and about the beauty of the world. She didn’t have time to educate me on the world’s horrors, but I learned when the self-proclaimed “law enforcement” of the village beat down our door one night and took her life for refusing to cast spells for them. Their leader was in possession of an ancient magical artifact he bound around my neck, a collar that restricted my magic and made me his property. Only to use the powerful flow in my veins when he allowed me brief, and highly monitored, access to my magic.

Once I was taken as a slave, my childhood ended and I lived in a slave house with a violent foreman carrying a whip and broken down men, women, and children beholden to a careless master. What I experienced of the village was limited to glimpses as I was escorted from the slave house to my master’s workshop where he had me perform spells and act as his bodyguard against other overly-ambitious, power hungry thugs living outside the reach of the crown by their own laws.

Your ownership was recently transferred to the powerful War Dragon, what do you do in his service?

If by ‘transferred’ you mean Prince Cole’s dragon, Talon, claimed me as a prize in the middle of an auction during a festival in the capital, then yes, my ownership was ‘transferred.’

As for what I do in the prince’s service, the palace has more maids, servants, and staff than the royal family needs, and formally trained royal mages who are far more educated and talented than a slave. I learned magic based on my former master’s needs and those spells don’t carry over into palace life. There is little I have to offer a prince, let alone the fiercest warrior in Telasia. But he seems keen to keep me around, at the request of Talon, and finds menial tasks for me to assist him around the palace.

What was it like facing off with a dragon?

When my former master decided to sell me at auction, I was prepared to enter the service of another ruthless slave owner, perhaps a noble who wanted a personal spell caster. Instead, when I was presented to the court, Talon, the dragon bonded to Prince Cole, and the fiercest creature in the known world, chose to claim me. His mouth was large enough to swallow me in one gulp, and even though he’s burned entire armies with a single breath, and expanded Telasia’s borders through conquest, I wasn’t afraid of him. In fact, I welcomed death in his gullet rather than facing another brutal master and further meaningless existence.

But Talon had other plans for me, and I went from being an unwanted nobody to the prize of a powerful dragon and the property of the crowned prince. Though, I’m not sure if I can live up to the palace’s expectations.

Continue reading “Sabine Sacton (of The Serpent’s Chains, by Sylvia Conley)” →
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Tarra and Skar (of The Last Ritual, by Dragos Gaszpar)

Dear readers, tonight we listen in on an in-story episode, that still didn’t make it to the final publication. It is a form of interrogation, from a novel about sacrifice, ruin, and philosophy made manifest.

Woman: What. How. Ow… my head. Are those hooves I hear? Daisy? Bolt, girl! Gallop to Kroll, Mel, Voss! Get ‘em to—

Voice: Can you understand my words, human?

Woman: You don’t sound like Daisy… godcrap!

Voice: The blindfold remains. I will ask you things. You will answer. Who—

Woman: May as well start boiling water and gathering potatoes! My lips are sealed, Leath!

Voice: Potatoes? Another cursed weapon? My kind are no strangers to pain, receiving or inflicting. Your healing works against you; even the strong-willed have limits. There is no need for this. What is your name?

Woman: Tarra. Or maybe I’m lying; I’m not betraying my friends—so start smashing!

Voice: Your friends have stopped searching. Resumed their raids. Their third has left… little. As for lying, do not mistake questions for ignorance. I am Skar.

Tarra: There were rumours some could speak, but I didn’t… Where’s Kaatesh?

Skar: Kaatesh? Ah, a name. You were… the only one taken. Tell me of your tribe. How many of you remain? Your command structure makes no sense.

Tarra: Tribe? Oh, the others. Hordes! Zounds! We’re legion! If you’re so curious, untie me and I’ll go get them!

Skar: Indeed? Quite the number to fit into a few settlements and a single stronghold. I offer you a bargain, human: answers for freedom. Consider your position. Before my patience ends.

Tarra: My eyes may be brown and yet to see two centuries, but I’m not stupid! Ironwall won’t fall because of me!

Skar: This exchange displeases me as well, in spite of its necessity. We are the least of your worries. If you truly wish to protect your own, cooperation is your best path forward. Most of your secrets may remain yours.

Tarra: Least of my worries? How’s that?

Skar: All in due time. Ironwall. Is that the name of that abomination?

Tarra: You stinking goat! Take that back! If my hands were free, I’d slap you! Ironwall’s home. It’s where I was born and earned my name after a century’s basic, and I’ll not have your savage tongue tarnish a single rusted merlon!

Continue reading “Tarra and Skar (of The Last Ritual, by Dragos Gaszpar)” →
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Lucifer (of The Fall, by Izabela Raittila)

Dear readers, tonight we have a special guest with us. Introducing the Light-bringer, the former King of Hell, the morally grey Archangel Lucifer. He’s here to tell us about his past and how it feels to be in Heaven after several centuries of ruling Hell.

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

I’m one of Almighty Father’s (‘God’s’) first creations. I emerged as a fully grown adult angel so I never really had a childhood. I was one of the eight “First Born”, the original seraphs, the Archangels. Three females and four males. Almighty Father created me and my brother Michael at the same time. Our home was Heaven, a massive golden palace in the sky. We all had our own chambers in the first sphere, the closest to our maker’s throne-room. He called us “his children” and gave us thrones so we could sit by his side. I felt special to be there. We witnessed the creation of various classes of angels and the universe.

Did you have any cherished memories?

Yes. For example, some of my early duties as a watcher. I’ll never forget my first sunrise. It was marvellous. The day I learned to fly. Spreading my wings for the first time and flying into the night sky for a closer look at the moon and the stars. They were absolutely stunning. Then there’s the day I discovered my ability to shape-shift. I was keen to show off my new skills to Michael. I transformed myself into the animals that would annoy him the most just to see his reaction. I took the forms of noisy birds, buzzing insects, pesky little rodents, monkeys etc. Needless to say that Michael wasn’t impressed or amused. I still recall the look on his face… A mixture of shock, confusion and rage. So funny. (He smiles.) Sadly, Almighty Father didn’t find it amusing. He forced me to apologize.

You mentioned watcher duties. What does a watcher do exactly?

Well, as the name suggests, a watcher observes. Our duty is to keep an eye on the humans but we are forbidden from interfering with their lives. The mortals must make their own decisions. Almighty Father decides their fate when they die. The righteous souls are taken to Heaven by their cherubim guardians. The sinners are sentenced to Hell. The demons there open their portals for the new arrivals.

What can you tell us about how you ended up back in Heaven after centuries of ruling Hell?

What happened was that Almighty Father offered me forgiveness and invited me back to Heaven after the final battle of the Apocalypse. I had no choice but to accept. I ascended to the celestial realm. My descendants fought each other for the throne. There was a Purge and the realm was divided.

Almighty Father created a new Earth and populated it with humans. Now, two thousand years later, I’m still here. I can’t say it’s been easy but I’m relieved now that Hell is finally at peace.

Continue reading “Lucifer (of The Fall, by Izabela Raittila)” →
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