Hello, readers! Today, I’m thrilled to share with you a special feature that’s close to my heart: the “Meet the Cast” series continues with the stars of my latest fantasy adventure – The Rebel. In the world of storytelling, the characters we journey with become more than just figments of imagination; they become friends, foes, and sometimes, reflections of our own realities.
In The Rebel, each character carries with them unique struggles, dreams, and histories. From the shadowed streets of Ceffí to the imposing face of the Karthaíla dam itself, these characters face their pasts, forge their paths, and fight for their futures. But don’t just take my word for it . . . hear it from them!
Neval Brennan
Born: 224 M.E.
Home: Ceffí, Loren
What is it like growing up as Erik Brennan’s son?
Growing up as Erik Brennan’s son is no picnic, let me tell you. The whole village looks down on us, spits at me in the streets. I’m the good-for-nothing son, destined to be nothing more than another drunk passed out in the gutter. It doesn’t matter what I do, how smart I am, how hard I work – to them, I’ll never be more than trash. But you know what? It makes me strong. It puts a fire in my belly. I swear I’ll prove them wrong, show them all I’m meant for more.
How do you feel about your father?
My Da? He’s a drunk and a coward. Ever since Ma died, he’s been lost in the bottom of a bottle. I can barely remember a time when he wasn’t stumbling home reeking of mogda. I’ve had to fend for myself, scrape by on my own grit. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother staying in this Pneumos-forsaken village. Maybe one day I’ll leave and never look back.
Tell me about your friendship with Rowan and Tegan.
Rowan and Tegan . . . they’re the only bright spots in this miserable place. Rowan’s like a brother to me. He’s always got my back, even when the rest of the village is ready to write me off. And Tegan, she’s . . . special. She sees me, the real me. Not just the town drunk’s son. When I’m with them, I feel like I can breathe, like I’m not just surviving, but living. I don’t know what I’d do without them.
Tegan Rourke
Born: 224 M.E.
Home: Ceffí, Loren
What is it like being a merchant’s daughter in a small upland village?
Being a merchant’s daughter in Ceffí can be terribly dull. Minding the store, mending dresses, dodging my mother’s hints about making myself more “appealing” to suitors. Sometimes I feel like I’m slowly suffocating under the weight of everyone’s expectations. But when I’m with Neval and Rowan, exploring the forests and dreaming up adventures, I feel free. They see me for who I really am, not just a pretty face to be married off.
How do you feel about the expectations placed on you by your family and the village?
The expectations, feel like chains sometimes. My parents have my whole life planned out – marry well, run the store, raise a gaggle of children. And I guess that wouldn’t be so bad, at least I think so. But a part of me yearns for something . . . more. Something beyond the confines of this village. Is it selfish to want a life of my own choosing? To dream of a world where I’m not just someone’s wife or daughter?
How would you describe your relationship with Neval and Rowan?
Neval and Rowan are my dearest friends. We’ve been thick as thieves since we were knee-high to a grasshopper. Rowan is steady and dependable, always there with a kind word and a helping hand. He makes me feel safe, cherished. And Neval . . . he’s like a wild wind, always dreaming, always questioning. He challenges me, makes me see the world in new ways. Together, we’re unstoppable. Or at least, that’s how it feels when we’re roaming the hills and splashing in the creek. I can’t imagine my life without them.
Rowan Dunne
Born: 222 M.E.
Home: Ceffí, Loren
What was your relationship like with your father before he passed?
My Da was my hero. Strong as an ox, with a laugh that shook the rafters. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. He always had time for me, even after a long day at the forge. He’d sit me on his knee and tell me stories of the old heroes, the ones who fought for what was right no matter the cost. I’d hang on every word, dreaming of the day I’d be brave like them, like my Da.
How have you been coping since your father’s death?
Losing Da . . . it’s like a hole in my chest that won’t heal. Suddenly I’m the man of the house, with Ma and the little ones counting on me. No matter how many years pass, some days it still feels like I’m drowning, like I can’t possibly fill his shoes. But then I remember his strength, his courage, and I know I have to try. For them. For him. I’ll make him proud, even if it kills me.
Tell me about your friendship with Neval and your relationship with Tegan.
Neval’s my best mate, has been since we were lads. He’s smart as a whip and twice as quick. Sure, he’s got a mouth on him and a knack for finding trouble, but he’s got a good heart. He’s the brother I never had. And Tegan . . . she’s the love of my life. Has been since I first laid eyes on her. She’s kind and clever and so beautiful it makes my heart ache. I’m going to marry that girl someday, give her the life she deserves. We’ll be happy, the three of us. No matter what comes.
Erik Brennan
Born: 197 M.E.
Home: Ceffí, Loren
How are you doing since the loss of your wife?
Losing Caera . . . it was like losing a piece of myself. She was my heart, my reason for waking up in the morning. When the plague took her, it took the best parts of me too. Suddenly it was just me and the boy, and I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to see her eyes staring back at me. So I crawled into the bottle, let the mogda numb the pain. I know it’s not right, know I’m failing him. But I’m broken without her. And I don’t know how to go on.
How do you feel about Neval?
The boy . . . he’s a good lad. Smart, like his Ma. He deserves better than me, better than this life. I see the way the village looks at him, the way they whisper. It’s my fault, my shame that stains him. He’s angry, and he’s got every right to be. I’ve been a piss-poor excuse for a father. I try to do right by him, put food on the table, but most days . . . most days I can’t even look him in the eye. I’m too weak, too lost in my own sorrow. Pneumos forgive me, I’ve failed him in every way a man can fail his son.
What do you think the future holds for you and Neval?
The future? Hells, I can barely see past the next bottle. I’m digging my own grave with the mogda and we both know it. Neval though . . . that boy’s going places. He’s got a fire in him, a hunger for something more. One day he’ll leave this wretched village behind and never look back. And who could blame him? I’ve given him naught but hardship and heartache. No, my boy’s meant for greater things. I just pray to Pneumos I live long enough to see him get free of this place. It’s the least I can do, after everything.
