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The Flames of Soulflare
La Kayshal
(Hell’s Fire Dragon Series, #2)
Publication date: May 27th 2026
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Fourth Wing meets From Blood and Ash in this Dark Paranormal Romantasy where dragons fear prophecy—and love may be the final weapon.

Everin Haydon was stolen, tortured, and reshaped into the dreaded Hell’s Fire Dragon, bound as a weapon for a Dragon Council that calls itself righteous.

Across the realms, Lord Tynan, the Demon of Darkness and Chaos, has ascended. His arrival heralds the Three Days of Darkness, and he will burn heaven and earth to reclaim what fate bound to him—his power, his vengeance.
But one question if the demon has risen, where is the god meant to stop him?

As the dragon world waits for divine intervention, Everin must decide whether she will remain a weapon—or become the fate of the realms.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Apple Books / Kobo

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EXCERPT:

Dark themes including captivity and experimentation

Emotional conflict and intense character struggles
Violence and battle scenes
High-stakes situations involving power and survival

This book is best suited for readers who enjoy emotionally intense, character-driven romantasy.
Read Before You Decide

Before committing, please read the prologue.

This will give you a clear sense of the tone, pacing, and writing style.

Prologue:
Present Day

The moon hung quietly above Helldreth Fort, its pale glow spilling through the tall windows and brushing the chamber with soft silver. A cool breeze drifted in and stirred the white curtains, their edges sweeping lightly across Everin’s skin. She pulled her silk gown closer, grateful for the warmth of the room. It felt comforting, far more so than the terrible, dark place she had left behind.

Her steps carried her to the mirror in the corner. The reflection staring back looked thinner, as if her body had been carved down to something she hardly recognized.

The neckline of her nightie dipped too low to her liking, drawing her eye to the faint scars across her chest. The lamp light traced their uneven lines, pale and unsettling.

She touched them gently. Everin barely remembered how or when she got the scars.

She pulled the outer robe around her until it covered more of her chest. At least the scars were low enough to stay hidden unless she wore something too revealing.

A sound of footsteps behind her made her turn.

Tariel Fenwick, her first love, stood at the doorway.

Everin froze for a moment. He looked different—stronger, more defined, more man than the boy she remembered. His dark hair rested just above his shoulders with two thin braids at the sides of his head, framing a face sharpened by a faint stubble. His amber eyes, once so warm, now carried a deeper, shadowed intensity.

His shirt hung open across his chest, revealing sculpted muscle that rose with each slow breath, and a leather gauntlet, more like an open finger glove, hugged his left hand like a seamless extension of his skin.

Her gaze lingered longer than she meant it to. He saw that. A slow, knowing smirk touched his lips.

She straightened quickly. “We need to talk, Tariel.”

“Yes,” he replied, approaching her, “but not now.”

“There is a lot I want to understand,” she said quietly. “So much I don’t remember.”

“Later.” He reached her, lowering his voice. “I’ve long waited for this moment with you.”

He stepped closer.

She stepped back.

“You waited for me?” she whispered, searching his face.

“I did,” he said. “More than you know.”

He brushed a fingertip along her arm. She stiffened but felt a flicker of the old pull toward him, a warm memory trying to surface. Her eyes drifted briefly to his lips, those that she had kissed in the past, before she forced herself to look away.

His smirk deepened. “Are we shy now, Everin?” he murmured, amusement warm in his voice.

“It has been a while,” she managed. “Things are not the same.”

“We are,” he said, touching her jaw. “You still feel this.”

She backed away again, but he followed, closing in until she had no space left. Her leg hit the edge of the bed. She lost her balance and stumbled, falling backward onto the soft covers. Instantly, she pressed her elbow into the mattress as she tried to push herself upright and pull her short nightie into place, but she barely had a second.

By the time she braced herself, Tariel was already on the bed. One knee pressed into the mattress, and in a swift movement, he trapped her between his legs. His body loomed over hers, leaving her nowhere to go. His hand slid behind her back and pulled her closer. The other moved to her neck, his fingers settling at her pulse, firm enough to hold her from looking away.

His control was precise and deliberate.

“Tariel—” She sucked in a breath, fear slipping into her voice. “What are you doing?”

His lips hovered above hers, so close she could taste the hint of warmth in each breath he released.

“You belong to me,” he whispered, his voice shifting, deepening, curling around her like smoke. His eyes burned brighter, molten gold spilling across the darkness of his gaze. “You always have.”

Everin’s heart thrashed in her chest. Something ancient stared back at her through his eyes—something demanding, something claiming.

She tried to pull away. “You’re frightening me.”

He leaned closer, lips brushing the edge of her jaw. “You love me,” he whispered.

“You always have. And you will give yourself to me again.”

His mouth dragged slowly toward hers, teasing, commanding, his breath warm against her parted lips.

“I want you,” he said, low and certain. “I want all of you.”

“No.” Everin gasped, turning her head away as panic surged. “Stop. You’re not—”

His fingers tightened at her neck.

He didn’t stop. The Tariel she loved would have.

“I am yours,” he murmured.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Then her voice broke in a whisper—

“You’re not him. You’re not Tariel.”

The room fell silent. And everything inside her knew she was right.

Author Bio:

La Kayshal is an Australian writer of romance, YA, and children’s fantasy novels. She lives with her husband, daughter, and a playful Malshi puppy in the coastal plains of the Sunny State.

Her debut novel, The Lost Crown, is an adventure romance set in the exotic landscapes of India. She also created the much-loved Sylph Series, a whimsical children’s collection that introduces readers to the amazing world of Sylphs, with each book carrying a gentle moral lesson.

A lifelong fan of wizards, magic, dragons, swords, and elementals, she poured all these passions into her YA fantasy Ariston Baker in the Weird Picture Book, a fast-paced journey filled with realms, riddles, action, and adventure.

Her latest project is the Hell’s Fire Dragon series. Book 1, The Flames of Darkness, is a YA Romantasy full of dragons, and Book 2 is set to be released soon.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram

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Sins of the Fire: Purgatorio
Phoenix Ward
(Sins of the Fire, #2)
Publication date: December 18th 2025
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Young Adult

The Church of New Haven extends its reach to those in need, however there are some lost souls that require more direct guidance, as their sins must be met with strong redirection. Thus, Jonah was created. Originally a man named M█████ ████, he contains over two-hundred thousand sinners. Until they reconcile with their offense to God, they are to fast and pray for their salvation for as long as it takes them to realize their folly, and call upon us.

The boy will be saved from the Dragon, even if he must waste away to understand their danger.

Kickstarter / Amazon

Sequel to:

Check out the Kickstarter here!!

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EXCERPT:

This morning was a reminder that not only was sleep important, but so was waking up before 10am.

Between the heads of bed hair, scruffy clothes and flip-flops, there were black suits, floral dresses and sweet smelling perfume clouding the entrance of the store. Conversations were held in front of the doorway, carts were being pushed around like they were going out of style, and somehow that wasn’t the thing that made us second guess our trip to getting our travel items here. No, that all paled in comparison to the white van-bus with the words “Destiny Baptist Church”, written in Times New Roman on the side.

It wasn’t the church we had a problem with— it was the fact that it was Destiny, a local mega church that made their way through the doors. The same Destiny that would play on my grandmother’s radio, from preaching almost twelve hours of gospel to choirs capable of going seven octaves without any pause for breath. For whatever reason, they were here. Maybe it was some food-based event, or some donation cause, or maybe someone felt the ‘Holy Spirit’ invade them to help out a few families with groceries— either way, it was crowded. Worse yet, the congregants brought their kids too. One wrong turn with a cart and we’d be anointed with oil and made to play the burning bush. Imani and I both shared wary gazed with one another as the chatting church folk mingled with folks that just wanted to get their groceries.

I was the first one to take the initiative, but Imani was quick to hold me back from going too far.

“Hang on, no plan?” She asked, “We’re just going to go in?”

I shrugged, scooting aside as a family of three slipped past us. “Yeah. We just gotta make it through the doors. We’ll probably just grab baskets and split. When we’re done, we’ll meet right by the self-checkout, next to the gift cards.”

Her eyebrows looked like they’d fly away. She released her gentle hold of my arm. “I guess I shoulda known you’d know how to handle yourself, considering the stuff you dealt with.”

“Is it weird to admit that the cult shenanigans actually wilder compared to this?”

Imani sped ahead of me, playfully pushing me out of the way. “Just pray you don’t get lost in here!”

“Ah, pray! Good one.”

The doors opened, our opportunity for a clear entry inside revealed itself. With clergy folk standing by the door, we said our ‘Good mornings’ and kept it moving. Basket procured, we both split up and went our separate ways. I immediately made a beeline to the deli. Three pre-packaged sandwiches were perfect carry-on for the long trip. From there, I shot for the snacks aisle. Chips, protein bars, and those salty peanut butter cracker packages were all loaded up in the basket with haste. I said my ‘hello’s, and my ‘excuse me’s to any passerby, some people greet me, others regard me with a nod.

I wanted to be away from the churchgoers. They didn’t take up the store, but they were too permeated— too mixed in.

Too indistinguishable.

I wanted to pretend that everything was back to normal. That after all of the conflict, the fears, the crying, the fighting, things were safe again. Two months of nothing should have been enough to convince me, but I knew better. Every aisle I walked down, there was a body dressed in black or white—formal clothing or just plain clothes. Without touching Mysherra, I couldn’t tell which was a Havenite and which wasn’t. Even outside of the store, regular people, clerks, judges, beggars, anyone could be a Remnant out to get me, or one to watch me.

I put my hand in my pocket and stood in front of the line of power-drinks. My fingers grazed over the surface of the pen.

The hairs on my neck stood up. Goosebumps bristled along my arms. Piercing spheres of heat sandwiched both sides of my sides.

I didn’t dare turn my head—Peripherals attuned to the presence of two white-robed Remnants on opposite sides of the aisle.

“Kane.”

“I know.”

Slowly, I inched my arm out of my pocket, pen wedged between my fingers. They wouldn’t be able to fight me, not with eyes watching them from the ceiling. They didn’t want their secret to be discovered just as I didn’t.

“Do not acknowledge their presence,” Mysherra spoke to me, “Walk with me down the aisle.”

My legs walked me sideways. I didn’t want my back turned to either one of these things. The power drinks transitioned to the flavored powders. Flavored powders to sparkling sodas. Neither one of the beings made a move.

“Once you get close, fire me.”

Senses were screaming at me to run or fight the closer I got to the remnant. My heart was thudding against my ribs.

“Just a little closer.”

Light conjured at the tip of the pen. The burning spread along my entire right side.

“Okay, the fires should be quiet enough to—”

“Excuse me.”

Someone bumped against my back, cutting off my focus. “Ah, sorry about th—”

All I did was turn my head. I had seconds, milliseconds, microseconds to process the burgeoning man unlatching his jaw in front of me. Ropes of saliva separated a hollow light at the back of his throat. Flesh, wet, and acrid already surrounded me, sounds of the outside muffled by the remnant’s mouth closing behind me. I must have fired four times— twice to the ribcage roof of the mouth and twice towards the light. Footing vanished, the dark closed in, and the door to the outside slammed shut behind stone teeth.

And I fell.

Author Bio:

Phoenix Ward is an indie black writer, and educator from Philadelphia. He has worked in the field of education for over five years, teaching all grades Mathematics and English. When he’s not writing, he is composing music using Logic Pro X, or tutoring children on subjects they struggle in. Currently, he lives in Philadelphia with his dog and cat.

An avid world-builder, Phoenix has created many stories from youth to adulthood, but none have captivated him as much as his latest work Sins of the Fire, which combines his passion for storytelling with his deep understanding of human nature. He draws inspiration from the vibrant city life of Philadelphia and his own experiences as an educator, infusing his narratives with authenticity and depth.

In addition to his work as a writer and educator, Phoenix is committed to supporting young creatives in their journeys. He actively encourages students and adults alike to seek a way to create their own stories. Everyone has a message to share, and doing so in story is the best way to do so.

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