“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?

 

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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.

Guest Post:

Can you, for those who don’t know you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author?

Shannon: My name is Shannon Vierra, and I go by the pen name S. Black. I’m an urban gardener and an avid seed collector. In the makeup community, I go by the moniker zoomzoommacaron and host an international, zombie-vibes makeup collab called the #zombabescollab. I enjoy anime, horror movies, craft beer & kombucha, cooking (and eating), sunbathing, photography, and singing badly. I got into writing when I was a kid, mostly creating small, fantastical stories and with accompanying art.

Edward: My name’s Edward, everyone calls me Eddy, and I write under the pen name E. Black. I’m an avid music lover who’ll listen to anything, but I consider myself a metalhead at heart, and I also play bass guitar. I dabble in photography as well with no real subject focus – I’ll just shoot if I see something special hiding in plain sight. Enjoying craft beer, anime, concerts, and making a nice bowl of ramen are some of my favorite things. I’ve always loved creative writing since I was a teenager, but I got serious about it when my wife and co-author invited me into her world and asked me to write the series with her.

What is something unique/quirky about you?

Shannon: Well, I have a couple of food-related quirks. I don’t like my butter to melt into my toast and make it soggy, so I wait for the toast to get cold first, then put the cold butter squares on top. Also, I hate cereal that makes the milk too sweet, so sometimes if there’s a sweet cereal I like, I have a glass of milk and eat the cereal dry on the side like chips.

Edward: I am very precise and orderly when it comes to certain things, and I’m the total opposite with others. For instance, when I’m cooking, I tend to be very neat and organized with every step from prep to presentation. At the same time, my desk is a mess a lot of the time, and I’m terrible with leaving dirty clothes around the bedroom. It’s like I’m two people in one at times.

Shannon: Mmmhmmm… le sigh.

Tell us something really interesting that’s happened to you!

Shannon: I’m an urban gardener who gets obsessed with growing what they want. Back in my Food Network binge days, I discovered blood oranges were a thing, and all I wanted was a blood orange tree. Sadly, at the time in California, they were illegal to grow, and you couldn’t have a tree shipped to you. I couldn’t find them in grocery stores to eat either, which was my next idea, because you know I’m going right for those seeds (and yes, even though they might not turn out the same as the parent plant, I was determined to try). I found a seller in Canada who was selling blood orange seedlings and must not have done their homework about the regulations, and I managed to get one. Alas, I killed it within about a month. About 3ish years later (when I still answered unknown calls, lol), I got a call from the USDA asking about the purchase and whether or not I still had the blood orange tree. I told them the truth that the seedling died, but also asked what would happen if it didn’t and I still had it. They told me they would confiscate it, meaning cut it down and rip it out if I happened to plant it in the ground. Later that afternoon after I got home from work, I found a door tag informing me that a USDA inspector had searched the property for said blood orange tree. I couldn’t believe the trouble over a little seedling. I still have the door tag! Then, not but 2-3 years later, I found blood orange trees for sale at local home improvement stores. Yes, I immediately bought one.

Edward: This is a bit embarrassing, but when I was in high school, I discovered I had a pair of stalkers – scary ones. I was hanging out with a friend after school one day when this random girl walks up to me, asks me if my name is “Edward,” to which I’m like “Yeah.” She then hands me a notebook, then scurries away pretty quickly. I’m thoroughly confused, but I go ahead and open the notebook. And what I found inside was a slew of written exchanges between two girls talking about me. Things like detailed observations of me walking through the halls, to some truly unspeakable things that they were, at one point, plotting, among other things. Needless to say, it freaked me out and made me feel pretty gross. I threw that thing in the fire.

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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