In the deserts of Ilhara, prophecy is not a gift. It is a weapon.

Hāikimi was once a soldier of the Thrennan Front. He has buried his past, his faith, and the boys he helped condemn. Exiled and fractured, he believes his punishment is already paid.

Then his daughter is born with sight that should not exist.

In Ilhara, the future is not left to mystics alone. Ancient methods of foresight treat destiny as a pattern—something to be measured, modelled, and exploited. Power belongs to those who can calculate what comes next.

Hunted for what his child might one day see, Hāikimi flees across a land divided between divine certainty and cold prediction. When he is captured by the Ishen—elite agents pursuing the architect of a historic atrocity—he is forced into an uneasy alliance that drags him back toward the machinery of war he thought he had escaped.

As prophecy tightens and belief fractures, Hāikimi must decide what he is willing to become to protect his family.

In a world where certainty is power, survival may be the greatest betrayal of all.

Source Format Pages Publisher Genre Publication Date
Amazon e-copy 436 self-pub Fantasy March 27th, 2026

What the hell was that?! And when can I get more?!

This thing literally came at me from the left field and knocked the breath out of me – I loved it! Every miserable, bloody, hopeless page of it. Wow!

This is the kind of story that doesn’t unfold at break-neck speed, you sort of fall into it like into quicksand. Slowly but steadily. And I could tell from the first pages that this was going to be one of those books that will kick me in the knees and keep me on the ground. To entice you with some keywords, then: war, moon, sand, politics. Plenty to deliver a layered world-building and enough to torture the soul.

Talking of soul-torture… The main character Hāikimi… The second-hand pain I felt – feel! – for that character is enough to make me want to scream and never stop. He’s rough around the edges, carrying some heavy mistakes, very worn down. Naturally, he attempts to see the world through the bottom of the bottle, and a character that like hits close to home for me… I just instantly pay more attention to a character trying to oppress the angst, I want to tell it: “I know, I see you!”… And, really, there’s something especially compelling about older male characters that are hardened, a little bitter, yet undeniably clear in their vision and wise. It just comes across realistic and bullshit free. Because when life has stripped away any sort of arrogant illusions, brutal honesty is left behind. Brutal honesty that doesn’t mince words and acts accordingly. And yet, Hāikimi’s troubles are not over the top or melodramatic. They are persistent and consistent, like any other ache and pain that comes with age. So, any and all emotional response from me, particularly towards the end of the book, was earned, fair and square.

It had not been death that unmoored him. Death was simple. Expected. Contained. It was what the living were capable of that had fractured him.

Twyman writes a convincing story. The stakes are high, the losses even so much more painful for it. And there is almost a graciousness that parallels the dark and “adjacent grimdark” feel of the story. And heck, some of those fight scenes were the best I had ever come across. I’ve read some pretty awesome fight scenes over the years and with the good ones I always think: right, that’s that. It simply can’t get better than this. And then some authors come along, and are like: hold my beer! and write such a scene that makes my jaw drop. Not just for its brutality, not for the amount of blood it spills… But for the effortless dance it seems to deliver, the highest impact with fewer words. Just… Amazing!

I’ll be honest… This one is going to stay with me for a while. You know the way when life is sometimes really shit and busy and you bottle it all up and at some stage you feel like you want to explode out of your skin, because your very soul wants to just rip your meat-sack open with like hairy and gnarly Wolverine fingers and roar in rage at bloody everything? Yeah, Ghosts of Hāikimi… the literal ghosts of Hāikimi have me feeling all torn up. I am emotional. I want more. This was fucking brilliant!

The Thrennan Front had taught him that quiet wasn’t peace. Quiet was the moment before something broke.