The Word Collector

"This is what you wanted, isn’t it, little hunter?” he growled, flipping me onto my back like I weighed nothing. His hand fisted in my hair, dragging a broken moan from my throat. “Next time you put a blade to my throat… use it.” All my life, I’ve been trained as a hunter—my father’s perfect weapon. Born into a bloodline sworn to protect the human world from the monsters they can't even recognize. I thought I knew what monsters were… until the ancient, ruthless, obsessive Lycan King marked me as his mate — to break the witches’ curse that chained him to centuries of torment. One bite ruined everything — binding my body, mind, and soul to him. My touch quiets his endless agony — and he’d burn the world to keep it. Now I’ll play his wicked game — and turn his greatest weapon against him: me. I’ll remind him who’s really hunting who. But what happens when vengeance tastes like hunger? When I crave the monster I was born to hunt? When every lie my father hammered into me becomes just another chain — binding me to the beast I can’t let go? Now every step into his world drags me deeper — into secrets I was never meant to see, a darkness I was trained to destroy, and a forbidden life I crave more than my own salvation.

She wasn't supposed to be mine. She had her man wrapped around her arms the night I stormed into her world. But she owed the family a hefty debt; one that she couldn't pay because she didn't have the money. I should have ended her life for it—that was how it usually went. No one owed the family and lived to tell the tale. They’d end you once your time was up and you couldn't deliver. And the man they always sent out for the job? Me. I had no business collecting nothing more than their debt; in blood or in cash.  That's why I definitely had no business offering her a way out but in exchange for her body and the world that laid between her thighs. One look at her and I wanted her. I craved her. One taste of her was all it took. I became obsessed. But I had to let her go after our deal had ended. She was never meant to be mine. She didn't belong in my world and she had no business stepping into it. But she did. She stumbled in and crashed everything in her path, including my restraint. My need to possess her nearly drove me insane. I should have pushed her away. I was only a tool in the hands of my master. The odds were highly against us. And I would only bring her pain. But it was too late now. I had a taste of her again and I was lost… completely. She was mine and I was keeping her. And if I had to burn the whole damn world just for her, then I would fucking gladly set it ablaze.

The novel is mainly about the forgotten British poet/writer named C. J Richards who lived in Burma/Myanmar in colonial times and he believed himself as a Burmophile. He served as I.C.S (Indian Civil Servant) and when he retired from I.C.S service, he was a D.C (District Commissioner) and he left for England a year before Burma gained its independence in 1948. He came to Burma in 1920 to work in civil service after passing the hardest I.C.S examination. He wrote several books on Burma and contributed many monthly articles to Guardian Magazine published in Burma from 1953 to 1974 or 1975. Though he wrote several books which had much literary merit to both communities, Britain and Burma (Myanmar), people failed to recognize him. The story has two parts: one part is set in the contemporary Yangon (then called Rangoon) in 2016 context and a young literary enthusiast named “Lin” found out unexpectedly the forgotten writer’s poetry book and there is surely a good deal of time gap that led him into a quest to know more about the author’s life. The setting is quite different comparing to colonial Burma and independence Myanmar (Burma), early twentieth century and 2016 which is a transitional period in Myanmar. The writer’s life is fictionalized in the novel and most of the facts are taken from his personal stories and other reference books. It is a kind of historical novel with a twist and it has comparatively constructed the two different periods in Myanmar history to convince readers, locally and abroad more about history, authorship, humanity, colonialism, and transitional development in Myanmar today.

When the world was young, the Lord of the Heavens chose ordinary human beings to guard the knowledge of the civilizations. Three beings were gifted with immense power to protect the Chamber only they know where it was hidden. But an evil and malicious being was released from his prison and threatened to destroy the world. And a new set of Guardians have to be chosen. Tivona, Aedre and Parisa were chosen as the new Guardians. Despite their differences, they learned to get along. But...as every person has a past, so is every one of them. And their pasts may be their weakness or their strength to determine their role as Guardians and keeper of the Chamber of knowledge.

It was our sixth wedding anniversary. Lord Tom didn't pledge his vows to me, but instead gave me his family's crest—a dim, unstable mark, the mark of a blood slave. That very night, while solemn hymns echoed through the hall, he performed a blood oath ceremony with his pure-blood first love, Lady Mia. I refused the mark. He let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Love is a luxury only immortals can afford, Rowling," he said. "My union with Mia is a political necessity—to maintain the purity of the bloodline." His gaze turned icy. "You are a mortal. You should be content with my protection. Few receive such a blessing." I didn't speak.I left before dawn. Six years later, we met again at a banquet hosted by the Vampire High Council. Tom walked in with Mia, her silk dress shimmering silver in the moonlight. Under his rule, his family was about to gain a seat in the Senate. His gaze found me. I stood in the hotel's decorative fountain, the water up to my ankles, soaking wet, sand clinging to my dress. A familiar look of contempt flickered across his face. "Rowling," he said coldly. "You refused my protection, mocked my generosity. Now you're rummaging through a public fountain like a beggar." The corners of his mouth curled slightly. "Do you really think any vampire would take in a mortal without a protector?" I didn't look up. I was searching for my son's tourmaline that had fallen into the water. But to my son, it was a seal—an ancient restraint, suppressing a power that shouldn't awaken so early. I could already feel it weakening. If the seal cannot be repaired in time, the power erupting within him will destroy the entire building.

This is a poignant and sensory rich coming of age story set in the vibrant, bustling heart of Lagos. It follows Tobi, a young boy trapped behind a barrier of selective muteness, whose internal world is a vivid "library of stories" that he cannot vocalize. ​The narrative explores the transformative power of art and the deep, ancestral bond between Tobi and his Grandpa. When Grandpa gifts him a set of professional art supplies and the secret name Soji ("The One Who Wakes the World"), Tobi finds a new medium for his voice. By transforming a weathered neighborhood shed into a massive, multi textured mural blending brilliant acrylics with the rich fabrics of his heritage. Tobi finally bridges the gap between his silent exterior and his thunderous spirit. Ultimately, the story is a celebration of finding one's "truth," proving that silence isn't a prison when you have the courage to let your colors shout.