Beyond the Frostveil

Every culture has its legends.

Some speak of dragons that once ruled the skies. Others tell stories of immortal kings, cursed forests, forgotten gods, or warriors who refused to die. Whether we believe these stories is beside the point. The reason they've survived for centuries is because they make us wonder.

What if there was some truth hidden beneath the exaggeration?

That question has always fascinated me.

When I sit down to write, I rarely begin with a hero or a battle scene. Instead, I start with a legend—usually one that's been distorted over hundreds of years. I imagine generations of people passing down the same story, each adding something, forgetting something, or deliberately changing it to suit their own version of history.

Eventually, the original truth disappears.

Or so everyone believes.

That's where my stories begin.

In Winter Son, the world remembers a knight who supposedly died saving the North. Songs have been written about his courage. Kingdoms have built monuments in his honor. But what if the songs only told half the story? What if his return wasn't a miracle, but the consequence of an ancient mistake no one remembered making?

The same idea inspired It's Very Cold in the North. Every child has heard the warning that the Night King never truly dies. Adults laugh it off as folklore.

Until winter begins arriving earlier every year.

Fantasy has always been about asking impossible questions. Not because we expect impossible answers, but because those questions reveal something deeply human. They force us to think about fear, hope, sacrifice, ambition, and the stories we choose to believe.

After all, history is written by survivors.

Legends are written by storytellers.

And storytellers have never been afraid to leave out the inconvenient parts.

Perhaps that's why I love ancient myths so much. They're wonderfully unreliable. Every version contradicts another. Every hero has flaws. Every villain believes they're right. The truth is buried beneath centuries of retelling, waiting for someone curious enough to uncover it.

As a writer, that's the journey I enjoy most.

Not discovering a new world.

Rediscovering an old one.

Maybe that's why you'll often find forgotten kingdoms, buried temples, frozen landscapes, and ancient prophecies throughout my books. They're reminders that every civilization leaves behind echoes, and every echo has a story waiting to be heard.

The next time you hear an old legend, don't ask whether it's true.

Ask what part of it everyone forgot.

Because sometimes, the forgotten part changes everything.