Von is cast into the pages of Ananael, the Order's tome of
secret knowledge. However, his venture into the past takes an unexpected turn
as he awakens within a cosmic void in the presence of the eternal being, who
grants him perspective through others woven through his existence. Yet before
he may commence his time-altering quest, a trial of discovery, revelation, and
horror surrounding his origin awaits him.
Benson's monstrous heart sews the seeds of a vile past
brimming with betrayal and hate. Through unimaginable deceptions and buried
secrets, familial bonds once forged from love, honor, and acceptance are
upended and broken forever. The souls of integral births, sprouting from
pillaged and neglected foundations, unfurl a path towards disarray.
Distorted memory fragments challenge Von's grip on reality,
and the reveal of a horrid truth ignites a vicious fury of vengeance. Though
his quest for answers falters along the way, he finds help from an unexpected
ally. Meanwhile, a mysterious power awakens within Navaryn, putting her at odds
with both her friends and herself. And as the motivations of Celestine's leader
become questionable, her suspicions involving her role within the Halryn
continue to grow.
As the disparate worlds of Celestine and Daeva teeter on the
brink of war, Von and Navaryn are drawn together by unseen forces. Two
destinies, once parallel, now collide. But where bloodshed beckons, a valiant
act of courage challenges the course of their fates.
At last, an uneasy silence fell upon the sopping wet
grounds, though the shambled arena creaked eerily. Von quickly Paralleled to
the ground and proceeded to walk toward Navaryn’s limp body lying in a muddy
crater several meters away. As he gradually brought his power down, his claws
began to retract, and his horns receded into his skull. Clutching his side as
he trotted along, he heard clamoring voices in the distance and a distinctive
pair of boots running through the mud towards him.
“Von!” shouted a sober Claymar. “Wow, you’re alright.” He
ran to his side and acted as a crutch to hold him upright. “That was, uh,
really something back there. Care to explain what all that was?”
“Later,” said Von exhaustedly. “Where’s your uncle?”
“On his way, most likely. He nabbed Illiya and had her scout
for other Celestines while you were off playing with the shimmery blue one. Why
do you ask?”
“I need to know how much time I have,” Von replied.
“Time? For what?” he asked, peering ahead at Navaryn. His
eyes widened as she slowly began to stir.
“Hold it, Clay,” ordered Von, pressing his hand against his
chest to break his stride.
“What are you worried about? You got her!”
“It’s not that.”
Claymar scrunched his face and asked suspiciously, “Then
what is it?”
“She’s strong,” said Von. “Immensely strong. She very well
could have killed me.”
“Uh, but you’re the one still standing, are you not? Can’t
be that strong,” he teased.
“Something happened, though. She lost control. Her power
spiked with mine, but didn’t stay with her.”
“Ha! You almost sound like you feel sorry for her.”
Von ignored Claymar’s remarks and walked towards Navaryn,
who was slowly rising to her knees with her back to him. Claymar followed
behind, but Von turned to him with a furious eye.
Claymar folded his arms and asked, “W-what are you doing?”
The rain calmed, and the moon peeked through the parting
clouds, casting a peaceful light onto the glistening, moist ground. Von drew
closer, catching silver scintillations atop the bloodied and scorched wounds on
her back.
Navaryn winced in pain as she struggled to rise to her feet,
chattering her teeth as the cold, wet mud chilled her bruised skin. As
squelching footsteps neared, she spun around. “W-who’s there?” she uttered,
shielding the moonlight from her eyes with her forearm.
Navaryn’s inquisition made Von stop in his tracks. As her
eyes adjusted to the razor-sharp rays of light over his silhouette, she quickly
recognized the warm glow of his crimson eyes.
“Stop! Don’t hurt him!” Navaryn cried out.
Her strange and sudden outburst jolted Von. He looked around
to find who she was pleading to, but saw no one.
“Wh-what happened to me?” Navaryn asked herself as she gazed
down at her hands.
The confusion in her voice affirmed Von’s earlier
assessment. “You’re fine now,” he assured. “You’re back.”
Navaryn’s eyes widened as she looked back up at Von. With
the simplest of words, uttered with a palpable coldness, he gave her comfort
and validation. In him, she found the first person able to convey an
understanding of what she was going through when all others couldn’t begin to.
An essence dwelt within her. One that seized control of her body once triggered
into play, and left her only with the ability to spectate. A similar plight
rang true for Von regarding his notorious beastly transformation. Yet, as his
second encounter with Navaryn unfolded, his energy had learned to work in
tandem with the essence that would otherwise overcome him. Von and Navaryn
became locked in a stare just as before, only this time without the presence of
aggression. They saw themselves in each other, in a reflection no longer
distorted.
“Hey, Von!” Claymar called out. “Um, not sure what you’re
doing over there, but you should know the cavalry is incoming.”
Sidwell approached with his entourage of soldiers and a
vexed group of eastern Daeva in tow. As the last of his squadron funneled out
of the arena, many of the ceremony attendees emerged from hiding within the
surrounding brush and trees. Mixed in among the crowd were the rest of Daeva’s
leaders, Killian, Morgan, Adair, and Godric, with Merisek alongside them.
Weaving through the approaching crowd was Joro, whose surreptitious footsteps
evaded the spotlight. Although the chattering among the crowd was indistinct,
even for Von’s hearing, he could feel the tension steadily rising.
Sidwell stroked his gray, scraggly goatee, suspicious of the
pair’s peculiar exchange. Marching with mighty strides, flaunting his prowess,
Illiya approached him from the side.
“Have you done what I asked?”
“Yes, sir,” Illiya replied. “I’ve scouted thoroughly, and
there’s no sign of any Celestine formations in the surrounding area. She seems
to be the only one.”
“A spy. Just as I suspected. And a dumb one at that. She
tipped a bartender with Celestine coin,” he replied with a chuckle as he
dismissed his lieutenant.
Sidwell and his entourage moved in to surround Navaryn.
“Well, it took you long enough. But you managed to take down
the Celestine without incident to life. That’s as much of a ‘thank you’ that
you’ll get out of me,” Sidwell uttered to Von before addressing the chattering
crowd. “People of Daeva! You’ve now witnessed our realm’s very threat with your
own eyes…”
The Chimera Snare:
Fragments
The Chimera Snare Book 1
-Winner: 2025
International Impact Book Awards - Fantasy
-2nd Place: 2025 BookFest Awards - Fiction- Dark Fantasy
-Winner: 2024 Indies Today Awards - Best Urban Fantasy
-Winner: 2024 Literary Titan Gold Book Awards: Fiction
-Finalist: 2024 Literary Global Fiction/Debut & Dark Fantasy Sci-fi
-Book Nerdection "Excellent Read"
For Rayshell and her best friend Trish, senior year of high
school is going to hell in a handbasket. The feud between Celestine and Daeva
is bleeding into their world. When a mysterious visitor infiltrates her dreams,
Rayshell is thrust into a realm of profound, otherworldly secrets. Together,
Rayshell and Trish uncover the unbelievable—they are the living vessels for two
banished Celestine guardians.
Amidst mystical recollections and a wondrous magic system that shatters the
veneer of their everyday lives, the two friends embark on a journey against
time to connect with the Celestine guardians' allies in hopes of freeing them
from their imprisonment. Simultaneously, the shadows cast by Daeva darken. The
notorious outlaw, Merisek, has positioned himself to claim dominion over the
Order of Existence—a trio of powerful artifacts capable of reshaping reality.
Armed with two of these relics, Merisek races against the emergence of the
Celestine guardians to claim the third. The stage is set for a showdown that will
determine the fate of existence itself.
Rayshell and Trish are all that stand between Merisek and his unhinged desire
to twist the fabric of reality into his making. As the threads of destiny
unravel, the question looms: who will be the author of existence, and what
profound truths will be unveiled in the final, decisive act?
Clay Urn
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Breathing anxiously, Navaryn clomped atop a patterned runner
carpet in her dirty boots. The gilded elements within the maroon corridor
flashed as she passed under the waving candlelight of each chandelier. Though
she tried her hardest to refrain, her eyes wandered back to the series of
haunting paintings hanging on the walls. From treasured times with Von,
Lowenna, and Claymar to bouts of training and battles in Opiri and Celestine,
each painting depicted a memory from Navaryn’s past, seen through her eyes.
Brimming with tears, she continued down the damned corridor with no end in
sight and no way to turn back. Behind her, a cloud of darkness kept a close
pace and consumed all that she passed.
Navaryn’s heart fell to her toes as the next painting came
into view. Captured inside the ornate golden frame was Von lying shirtless on
his back, in a moment of ecstasy. His lips, delicately parted, wore the glossy
sheen of her passionate kiss, and his tense red eyes were rolled toward the
headboard behind him. The very memory was etched within her mind so profoundly
that looking upon it in such an outright fashion set her heart ablaze.
Confused, distraught, and with no other choice but to press forward, Navaryn
sprinted ahead unheedingly.
The corridor eventually ended at a remarkably ornate, dark
wooden door. With the cloud of looming darkness twisting behind her, Navaryn
wiped away her tears and steadied her breathing as she pushed it open. Amidst
the scant candlelight, the gilded elements within the capacious room twinkled
like gems inside a cave. She carefully scanned the room until she happened upon
a curvy figure cloaked in elegant red and golden brocade standing by the far
wall.
“Hello?” she called, but no answer came.
Navaryn turned back to the door and found a wall in its
place. Apprehensively, she placed her fingertips where she remembered the
doorjamb to be only moments before. As she motioned to approach her obscured,
gilded companion, her gaze fell upon an immense painting hanging in the middle
of the joining wall. One after another, the candles around the room caught
fire.
With a racing heart, Navaryn muttered, “What is this?”
Standing arm in arm in garish, clinquant garb, Navaryn saw
herself beside Kumiko as they gestured proudly to a Celestine crowd below. The
false instance and her disturbing, unfamiliar expression, painted as if
captured through a spectator’s eyes, sent chills down her spine.
Navaryn turned away but found the very same toothy, prideful
smile mocking her from within the other paintings hanging on the walls. Her
face soured in disbelief as she skimmed over them. She was depicted
prominently, boasting her pristine Celestine wings beside Benson and Kumiko,
sitting tall above the Halryn council. Just as well, she found herself pictured
beside Kumiko in a catalog of moments when they had started a family. Yet, not
a single painting in the cursed room housed her beloved friends Lowenna and
Claymar, her dearest Von, Aalrija, Fallon, or the number of others who held a
special place in her heart.
Dizzy from a fit of rapid respiration, Navaryn struggled to
maintain her composure. When her eyes fell back upon the painting of her
pregnant belly, draped in fine silvery velvet and lace, she frantically ran
toward the embellished figure. Through teary eyes, her vision quaked with a
white blur, and she lost her balance under her clumsy feet.
“What is this place?!” shouted Navaryn as she gripped the
shimmery train of the woman’s dress.
The sound of Navaryn’s incessant crying filled the silent
room. Lost in her despair, she felt the fabric slip from her hands as the woman
turned around, gently hushing her. Her eyes jolted open once the delicate coos
caught her ear. Fearful for what she knew she would see, she slowly raised her
face to the woman.
“Everything that surrounds you here in this room will now be
set into motion,” said the woman, placing her decorated hands upon Navaryn’s
cheeks. “For our imperator commands it.”
The gentle voice and placid countenance, framed in a
headdress of gemstones and twinkling gold, was undeniably her own.
Navaryn recoiled in disbelief. “Our imperator?
Benson?”
She watched the sparkling ruby-painted lips of her
doppelganger curl into a smile. “Look around you. Your imperator is no longer
Benson.”
The ominous statement immediately coaxed heavy tears to her
eyes. “I want nothing to do with anything here!” she roared with flashing white
eyes. “This is not my life!”
Navaryn’s decorated doppelganger gestured toward a multitude
of paintings that suddenly materialized from the shadows. Following a light
chuckle, she replied, “You’ve never had a choice in the matter. It’s a shame
you didn’t realize it sooner.”
One by one, the paintings morphed perspective, appearing as
though they were moments Navaryn had experienced firsthand, like the ones that
hung in the corridor.
“What’s happening?!” Navaryn shouted, then jumped to her
feet.
One haunting image in the distance immediately grabbed her
attention. While she approached the painting in disbelief, her doppelganger
strolled to the far wall, placed her hand against a door concealed by darkness,
then saw herself out of the room without another word.
Husband & Wife author duo Shannon Vierra & Edward
Ayllon write under the pen name S &
E Black. Together, they craft the award-winning series, The Chimera Snare.
They share a deep appreciation for music and credit a great number of bands and
artists for inspiring their writing journey. Currently, they live in the
greater Chicago area amidst a rich and diverse culture with their clowder of
rescue cats.
Shannon is an
urban gardener and an avid seed collector. In the makeup community, she goes by
the moniker zoomzoommacaron and hosts an international, zombie-themed makeup
collab called the #zombabescollab. She also enjoys anime, horror movies, craft
beer & kombucha, cooking (and eating), sunbathing, photography, and singing
badly. Music fuels Shannon's many passions, especially writing and creating
art. She credits music with saving her life on multiple occasions in her
teenage and young adult years.
Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, Edward first discovered the joys of
creative writing through his early high school studies, and has spent many
years exploring and developing a deep appreciation for the arts. Since first
collaborating with his wife, Shannon, he has sprouted a passion and true affinity
for storytelling and crafting literature. In addition to refining his skill in
creating written works, his other interests include playing bass guitar,
listening to music, and dabbling in photography.
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