Twinn Swan

Illuminator, my 6th novel, is dedicated to Lord Shiva as Sri Nageshwara, the Lord of Snakes—an epithet that holds a deep, veiled significance. To invoke Nageshwara is to honour Shiva as the master of fear: the one who transforms serpents into his garlands. His presence is one that watches over the hidden thresholds between calm and chaos, life and regeneration.

The snake around Shiva’s neck is both guardian and benefactor: the poison that becomes medicine, the stillness of silence that finally learns to speak the truth. To dedicate this book to Nageshwara is to invite that energy, that guarded wisdom, into the very heart of the story.

Illuminator

The quiet of the forest cracks with the arrival of a human at an abandoned shrine—a place once untouched, once sacred in its stillness.

Alas! This is more than trespass; it is a fracture in the natural order, a clash felt by the very breath of the woods. The blind stag, the forest’s silent watcher and prophet, recognises this energetic disturbance in ways that words cannot contain. The seer knows the warning signs—something ancient stirs, something that presses darkly against the fragile balance between humanity and the rest of the earth’s inhabitants.

Illuminator begins here, in this tension, asking quietly what is lost—and what might yet be found—when the sacred spaces of the natural world are desecrated. For those who listen not to the noise of the world, but to the subtlest tremor beneath, this story calls. It speaks of the fragile yet enduring nature of the forest and its ancient truths.

The woodlands breathe in quiet rhythms we tend to overlook, but must respect. This book is a poignant plea to remind humanity of what ought not to be disturbed and a call to protect what still remains, honouring the deep and enduring bond between humanity and the earth.