Experience reading like never before
Sign in to continue reading.
"It was a wonderful experience interacting with you and appreciate the way you have planned and executed the whole publication process within the agreed timelines.”
Subrat SaurabhAuthor of Kuch Woh PalA Chronicle of Chaos These books were born in silence — the kind of silence that comes when you are too far from home, too far from love, and too close to yourself. I began writing A Ballad of Chaos more than fifteen years ago, in the years when life itself felt like an experiment in breaking me. I wrote A Ballad of Chaos while carrying the weight of family collapse, betrayals, breakups, deaths, and losses that reshaped my world again and again; more than once I lived alone enough to wonder if it was worth living at all. Every time I built a place for myself, it was taken. Every time I foundRead More...
A Chronicle of Chaos
These books were born in silence — the kind of silence that comes when you are too far from home, too far from love, and too close to yourself.
I began writing A Ballad of Chaos more than fifteen years ago, in the years when life itself felt like an experiment in breaking me. I wrote A Ballad of Chaos while carrying the weight of family collapse, betrayals, breakups, deaths, and losses that reshaped my world again and again; more than once I lived alone enough to wonder if it was worth living at all. Every time I built a place for myself, it was taken. Every time I found light, it slipped away. So I turned to pages. What began as journals of pain became characters. Those characters became stories. And the stories became a world vast enough to contain all that hurt — and something more.
This saga is not derived from my pain; it is built to contain it.
Charon, Lucifer, Lilith, Uriel — they are not allegories of people I knew, but vessels for the storms I lived. That is why they burn, why they doubt, why they rage, and why they endure. That is why it is called A Ballad of Chaos. Because my chaos needed a song. If I am a demon in my work today, it is because I learned to shape chaos into meaning; it is because the world taught me nothing lasts — except what you build yourself.
A Ballad of Chaos is not just fantasy. It is my archive of survival, the living record of how I made meaning out of disorder. Thank you for reading it — because now it is not only mine anymore.
Read Less...
If words maketh reality, then silence unmaketh.
The first seals are broken. The Horsemen ride. And the fate of all realms trembles on the edge of silence.
Charon, once the Ferryman of Souls, now bears the weapons of the Ancients—tools of judgment, war, and death that answer him but never obey. His march toward the Tree of Life will bring him face to face with Calamity, Apophis, and the remaining seals.
Lilith, torn b
If words maketh reality, then silence unmaketh.
The first seals are broken. The Horsemen ride. And the fate of all realms trembles on the edge of silence.
Charon, once the Ferryman of Souls, now bears the weapons of the Ancients—tools of judgment, war, and death that answer him but never obey. His march toward the Tree of Life will bring him face to face with Calamity, Apophis, and the remaining seals.
Lilith, torn between grief and defiance, carries within her the impossible—the life of the Morningstar, waiting to be born. Uriel, reborn and broken, takes up the sword once lost to Lucifer, stepping into a destiny written and unwritten in the same breath.
From Eden to Perdition, from the ashes of man’s wars to the unmaking of worlds, The Farmer of Perdition weaves a tale of shattered timelines and unyielding wills. Here, the cycle turns once more—toward silence, or toward a new creation.
The slave of Night and Chaos, A spoke in the wheel of time.
Scourge of Heaven, a prince cast down, Crowned in ash, condemned by design.
In the shadow of Heaven’s ruin, something stirs.
He was not merely born. He was hunted. A soul carved by exile and sorrow, carried across wilderness and war. Uriel walks the earth — not as an angel, but as flesh. As witness to betrayals buried in prophecy. As voice ag
The slave of Night and Chaos, A spoke in the wheel of time.
Scourge of Heaven, a prince cast down, Crowned in ash, condemned by design.
In the shadow of Heaven’s ruin, something stirs.
He was not merely born. He was hunted. A soul carved by exile and sorrow, carried across wilderness and war. Uriel walks the earth — not as an angel, but as flesh. As witness to betrayals buried in prophecy. As voice against the myths that bind men in chains.
But truth is not given. It is taken. Carved from pain, carried through death, carried further still. And Uriel will carve his path — through blood, through loss, through choices no prophecy could foresee.
The war never ended. It only changed names.
The Ballad continues.
The slave of Night and Chaos, A spoke in the wheel of time.
Scourge of Heaven, a prince cast down, Crowned in ash, condemned by design.
In the shadow of Heaven’s ruin, something stirs.
He was not merely born. He was hunted. A soul carved by exile and sorrow, carried across wilderness and war. Uriel walks the earth — not as an angel, but as flesh. As witness to betrayals buried in prophecy. As voice ag
The slave of Night and Chaos, A spoke in the wheel of time.
Scourge of Heaven, a prince cast down, Crowned in ash, condemned by design.
In the shadow of Heaven’s ruin, something stirs.
He was not merely born. He was hunted. A soul carved by exile and sorrow, carried across wilderness and war. Uriel walks the earth — not as an angel, but as flesh. As witness to betrayals buried in prophecy. As voice against the myths that bind men in chains.
But truth is not given. It is taken. Carved from pain, carried through death, carried further still. And Uriel will carve his path — through blood, through loss, through choices no prophecy could foresee.
The war never ended. It only changed names.
The Ballad continues.
If words maketh reality, then silence unmaketh.
The first seals are broken. The Horsemen ride. And the fate of all realms trembles on the edge of silence.
Charon, once the Ferryman of Souls, now bears the weapons of the Ancients—tools of judgment, war, and death that answer him but never obey. His march toward the Tree of Life will bring him face to face with Calamity, Apophis, and the remaining seals.
Lilith, torn b
If words maketh reality, then silence unmaketh.
The first seals are broken. The Horsemen ride. And the fate of all realms trembles on the edge of silence.
Charon, once the Ferryman of Souls, now bears the weapons of the Ancients—tools of judgment, war, and death that answer him but never obey. His march toward the Tree of Life will bring him face to face with Calamity, Apophis, and the remaining seals.
Lilith, torn between grief and defiance, carries within her the impossible—the life of the Morningstar, waiting to be born. Uriel, reborn and broken, takes up the sword once lost to Lucifer, stepping into a destiny written and unwritten in the same breath.
From Eden to Perdition, from the ashes of man’s wars to the unmaking of worlds, The Farmer of Perdition weaves a tale of shattered timelines and unyielding wills. Here, the cycle turns once more—toward silence, or toward a new creation.
Undead, I walked — a storm unmade. A lust for pain became my creed.
In this orgasm of vengeance, From death... I shall be freed.
In the beginning, there were the Seven. Now, only fragments remain.
The ancient cycle that governs all realms—Heaven, Hell, and the Mortal Plane—is collapsing. Archangels fall. Realities unravel. And Lucifer, once the brightest of the divine, stands at the heart of it all—strategist, rebel,
Undead, I walked — a storm unmade. A lust for pain became my creed.
In this orgasm of vengeance, From death... I shall be freed.
In the beginning, there were the Seven. Now, only fragments remain.
The ancient cycle that governs all realms—Heaven, Hell, and the Mortal Plane—is collapsing. Archangels fall. Realities unravel. And Lucifer, once the brightest of the divine, stands at the heart of it all—strategist, rebel, and now, the last imprisoned hope. In a desperate attempt to outmaneuver Fate, Lucifer bends time, shatters destinies, and unearths truths long buried beneath the thrones of gods. But with each move, the universe tips closer to annihilation. Now, the last Ancients stir, old betrayals are laid bare, and humanity unknowingly inherits a fractured creation—ruled by monsters they worship as gods.
The universe lies trapped in a loop of chaos and shadow. To break the cycle, a savior must rise from the ashes of divine failure.
Undead, I walked — a storm unmade. A lust for pain became my creed.
In this orgasm of vengeance, From death... I shall be freed.
In the beginning, there were the Seven. Now, only fragments remain.
The ancient cycle that governs all realms—Heaven, Hell, and the Mortal Plane—is collapsing. Archangels fall. Realities unravel. And Lucifer, once the brightest of the divine, stands at the heart of it all—strategist, rebel,
Undead, I walked — a storm unmade. A lust for pain became my creed.
In this orgasm of vengeance, From death... I shall be freed.
In the beginning, there were the Seven. Now, only fragments remain.
The ancient cycle that governs all realms—Heaven, Hell, and the Mortal Plane—is collapsing. Archangels fall. Realities unravel. And Lucifer, once the brightest of the divine, stands at the heart of it all—strategist, rebel, and now, the last imprisoned hope. In a desperate attempt to outmaneuver Fate, Lucifer bends time, shatters destinies, and unearths truths long buried beneath the thrones of gods. But with each move, the universe tips closer to annihilation. Now, the last Ancients stir, old betrayals are laid bare, and humanity unknowingly inherits a fractured creation—ruled by monsters they worship as gods.
The universe lies trapped in a loop of chaos and shadow. To break the cycle, a savior must rise from the ashes of divine failure.
Are you sure you want to close this?
You might lose all unsaved changes.
The items in your Cart will be deleted, click ok to proceed.