歌う龍

I'm Iris Retzlaff, indie author, writing queer fantasy - and this is my writing blog.

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Hi, I'm Iris (she/they), a neurodivergent indie author, writing queer fantasy.

So far I have published a novella trilogy called Happily Maybe After, which is a cosy fairy tales parody with heart.

And Moon's Lament (first book in a duology), which is a tale of love and betrayal, loss and revenge, found family, and the masks we wear, set in an Edo Japan inspired world (mixed with 19th century Europe).

More to come :)

[writingdotcoffee]

“A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.”

— Franz Kafka

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Venari (microfiction)

The forest had never felt so dark and daunting, the trees never so hostile. Little light reached through their crowns as the trees leaned ever closer. The rustling of the leaves sounded like whispers. Her harsh breath, the only other sound. No buzzing insects, no singing birds. Even the sound of her footfalls was muffled by the thick carpet of moss covering the soft earth.

And still the trees moved closer, the path through them growing narrower and narrower. Roots slithered into her way, trying to trip her and almost succeeding multiple times.

Sobbing and gasping for air, she pushed on, her heart pounding in her chest. She had no more strength left to run, nor would the trees allow it – but onwards still, quickly, there had to be a way out.

She had travelled these woods all her life and had never once gotten lost. She knew her way amongst the trees – or so she had thought. But this was not the forest she knew anymore.

They shouldn’t have done it.

They should have listened to the old tales their grandparents told. It was too late now, they were all dead. As would she soon be, unless she found a way out.

Panting, she stumbled to a halt. Her lungs were burning for air, her throat was parched. She felt light-headed and shaky. Unthinking, she reached out a trembling hand, grabbed a low-hanging branch for support, eyes closed, concentrating on her breathing.

All grew still. Even the rustling of the trees. For a moment she thought it was finally over. That perhaps the forest had gone back to as it used to be. Then she felt something grip her wrist.

Her eyes flew open. In the gloom it was hard to make out, but it wasn’t her imagination. A vine was snaking around her arm, binding her to the branch she had so carelessly grabbed.

In a panic she tried to break free, but with every yank the vine pulled tighter around her wrist. The trees resumed their unnerving rustling and creaking – it sounded like mocking laughter to her ears. Blood was dripping from where the vine had already cut deep into her skin.

Another yank – and the vine suddenly snapped. Freed, she stumbled back and fell against another tree. A terrified scream tore from her dry throat, before she pushed herself off the tree and ran. Blind with panic she ran, chased by the trees’ laughter.

Oh why hadn’t they listened when they were told not to disturb the ancient creature that slept beneath the forest. Not to cut down the sacred trees – his trees. But hadn’t they thought it all to be nothing but fairy tales and superstition? They should have listened. Now all was lost. Devoured by the forest.

How long had she been running, chased by the trees and the oppressive presence that lurked in the darkness of the shadows? Was it day or was it night? She couldn’t tell in the eternal gloom.

She was so exhausted, but fear drove her on relentlessly. Onwards and onwards she ran, hunted by trees she had once called friends. Onwards and onwards…

Until all of a sudden the trees parted and she stumbled and fell into a clearing, awash in moonlight. Soft moss broke her fall, but when she looked up, her breath caught in terror.

There, between the trees, from within the blackest of shadows, a pair of eyes, as bright as stars, looked back at her. Their colour an eerie phosphorescent yellow, their pupils the shape of a flower.

Slowly, a form detached itself from the darkness and stepped into the silver light. What she saw then filled her as much with awe as with fear.

He seemed to glide across the ground and yet each step echoed through the forest like a bell stroke. His long robe seemed filled with a life of its own, moving at will and contrary to his movements. Flowers and mushrooms bloomed in his wake. His long slender fingers the colour of bark ended in talons. Long hair, a darker shade of green than his robe, cascaded over his shoulders, adorned with acorns and mistletoe. Antlers crowned his head, tall and majestic, gossamer spiderwebs, glittering with dew drops, between the prongs.

The closer he got, the taller he seemed to grow. Quivering she stared up into his terrible, beautiful face, the glowing alien eyes. His lips parted in a smile, revealing rows of sharp teeth. His taloned hand slowly reached for her.

They should have listened – now it was too late.

His pupils blew wide, extinguishing the phosphorescent glow. The last thing she saw, was a constellation of stars in the darkness of his eyes.

~ The End ~

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Moon's Lament

Betrayal took everything from him. His love, his home, his name. Years later, Suzu has built himself a new life, found a new home, and people he calls family. But the pain from the past is not so easily overcome, and the memories he tried to forget come crushing down on Suzu when he runs into the one person he never ever wanted to see again.

Jin left behind the boy he loves to build a life for both of them, but five years have passed and he has hardly achieved anything. Worse, his love has vanished without a trace and the monks at the temple they grew up in pretend to have never heard of Kari.

At least Jin has his best friend Niall and a boss who is like a father to him.

When Jin and Niall sneak into a high society party to gather juicy gossip and useful rumours, they learn of a young couple in the employ of the Earl of Tsukikage that has gone missing, but not even their families seem concerned.

To get behind the mystery of their disappearance they need the help of the Earl's lover – Suzu. Grudgingly, and only to prove the Earl's innocence, Suzu agrees. But what they find instead is a conspiracy that puts the whole empire at risk. And in its wake follow old enemies.

Once again Suzu might end up losing everything and everyone he holds dear, until all that is left is revenge.

Moon's Lament (Moon's Lament #1)

What you can expect from Moon's Lament:

found family

queernormative world

m/m romance

gay MC and bi MC

queer side characters

betrayal, death, and revenge

heartache and loss

Edo Japan inspired world

You can get Moon's Lament on Amazon, Smashwords, Waterstones and many other stores.

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"How to Become a Hero... Maybe" (Happily Maybe After #1) Snippet

Here goes nothing then! Weapon at the ready, Bran threw open the door and stepped into... a spacious, neatly kept and cosy room. It was flooded in golden light falling through tall windows, and Bran was momentarily blinded after the gloom of the staircase.

“Finally!” an exasperated voice exclaimed. The tone wasn't very princess-like, but anyone would be cranky after having been locked into a tower. The voice also was a lot deeper than Bran had expected.

Bran slowly turned towards the voice, squinting against the light. He put on his most dazzling, heroic smile. And froze. Blinking owlishly, Bran just stared. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, his eyes not yet accustomed to the brightness.

“Honestly, I wasn't sure you'd even make it today, it took you so long.”

Bran shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Yes, the voice and the sunspots dancing in front of his eyes were meddling with his perception. That was it. So Bran took a step deeper into the room, angling slightly away from the light, and at last he got his first real look at his princess. Or was it a prince?

There they stood, fine boned and without a doubt an arresting beauty, wearing a gorgeously embroidered dress with a scandalous neckline that showed a lot of bare chest. The shadow of a beard graced their jawline, their auburn hair was bound in a messy knot at their neck.

“Um... y-you are?” Bran stammered.

“The lovely princess.”

“Ah.” Bran pondered everything he knew about lovely princesses, about the girls at home in the village, the other boys, and he just couldn't make sense of it. “But... um... I think that... you might... possibly... I mean, I could be wrong but... you are... are you not? I mean... a... a man?”

The self-acclaimed lovely princess's perfect brows drew together into a rather fierce scowl. They opened their mouth to speak, but before they had a chance to do so, another voice, high pitched, full of righteous fury, screamed “RUDE!” And then an enormous glittering bug shot out from behind a keg Bran only noticed now – and went straight for Bran's face. Out of reflex, he flinched and swung his stick at the creature, but it was stopped mid-air as if it had hit an invisible wall. Except that he could neither pull it back. Bran slightly tilted his head and saw the bug gripping his sword with one tiny hand. Hand? Now that he could really see it, it certainly didn't seem very bug-like. In fact, it was a very small humanoid form with huge luminous green eyes and iridescent wings like a hummingbird. It had a sharp chin and pointy ears.

“So rude!” the creature shrieked. “You apologise to my Finn at once!”

“A-apologise for what?” Bran stammered. How in the world was this tiny whatever it was so strong? He tried to pull his sword free but couldn't even budge it.

“Calling them a 'man',” the mighty bug spat, disgusted.

“But isn't that-–“

“There is more between male and female, Horatio, than is dreamt of in your birdbrain.”

“What?” Bran didn't know what confused him more, the princess's gender, or who this Horatio was and why he was dreaming of anything, so he simply said, “My name is Bran.”

“That's not an apology... I think!” the bug snapped*.

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* For all it knew, “My name is Bran” was some outlandish form of apology. After all, the bug did not speak oaf.

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Happily Maybe After trilogy

As long as Bran could remember, he had had but one dream: to be a hero. The stories made it sound pretty forward: you save a princess, you become a hero. Unfortunately, every princess has already been saved, and every evil been defeated.

When Bran, against all odds, finds himself a princess to save at last, nothing is quite as it was in the stories. The princess is not quite a princess, and the fairy godmother a rude drunkard with a terrible memory.

To make a hero out of Bran yet, he, Finn, and the pixie Pax embark on a journey that will turn Bran's world upside-down.

How to Become a Hero... Maybe

Of Pixies, Dragons, and Rotten Apples

Happily Maybe After

Here's what you can expect from Happily Maybe After:

humour

footnotes

nonbinary MC

found family

a little bit of romance - the slow-burn one

grumpy cinnemon-roll with no more fucks to give x sunshine - and a drunken and rude pixie

You can find the entire novella trilogy on Amazon or at the Dreamer's Bookshop