Leslie Anne Lee

I have always believed the most dangerous stories are the ones that tell the truth about us. When the Stars Fell is out now. Available on Amazon- just click on the link. a.co/d/0cuZh42J This one is personal. I wrote pieces of myself into these pages—the beautiful ones and the ones I usually keep hidden. The grief. The anger. The wanting. The terrible ache of loving something you cannot save. The intoxicating temptation to become a little dangerous after the world has hurt you. These gods are not good. They desire. They betray. They bleed. They destroy things they once swore they would protect. And they love. Morwen. Vaelric. Aedan. Scáil. I let them be messy. Sensual. Jealous. Cruel. Devoted. Unforgivable. Because sometimes the darkest part of a love story isn’t falling for the monster. It’s realizing you understand why the monster became one. WHEN THE STARS FELL Book Two of Age of Gods OUT NOW. Come fall with me Photo Credit: The glorious Gigi Kraus Photography See less

Good morning. 7 AM meeting with Amazon. Book has been on boarded. Now it just needs to be processed. When it comes out, let’s go get lost in the Vale together. #books #ScienceFiction #fantasy #author

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So excited to be a part of this collaboration with @mspnewsglobal @markpooler1 and @LynneMcTaggart mspnewsglobal.com/the-power-…

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But if he WAS real?

From Novelist to Screenwriter to Film Critic: Why Leslie Anne Lee Refuses to Stay in One Lane: smallbusinesstrendsetters.co…

Now available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle versions! I wanted to take a moment and say thank you. Not to the people who simply buy my books, but the ones who have invested in believing in me, and in this journey. From the time I wrote my first full-length book at 17 until now. Thank you to those who listened to my ideas and showed up to celebrate. Who believed in the smallest chances to do big things. I might not be famous, I might not be rich, but your belief in me has been priceless. And to those who have lost the ability to believe in the small people, the underdogs. To those who see only the amount of money in a bank account, I am sorry. Sorry that you can't see the magic, wonder, and power of imagination or storytelling. You may think I have less than a 1% chance of ever being somebody, but it's still 1%. And I consider myself wealthy beyond measure because I have the power to live rent-free in my own mind, love with my own heart, and share both with the world. So here is to dreaming your own dreams, believing your own thoughts, and loving in the way you choose. Please use the link to purchase When the Gods Wept: a.co/d/03UqzvKz Thank you for believing!

The kindle version is out now! Paperback coming in a day or two! amazon.com/dp/B0H7CTPSHK

Proofreading the e-book version of my upcoming book while in route to LA. This is the life.

Brennen is, in many ways, the aching heart of The Ashwalker and Firebrand. He is not the loudest character in the room, nor the most outwardly dangerous, yet his strength lies in something far more fragile and difficult: loyalty. Fierce, consuming, and at times devastating loyalty. In a world fractured by war, betrayal, and the ambitions of those hungry for power, Brennen remains painfully human. That humanity is what makes him matter. Throughout The Ashwalker, Brennen carries the burden of being the protector—the one who stands between the people he loves and the darkness threatening to consume them. His relationship with Aine defines much of his emotional journey. He loves her with a kind of desperate intensity that is both beautiful and tragic. To Brennen, Aine is not merely a princess or a symbol of prophecy; she is the last tether holding together the parts of himself that war has not yet destroyed. But love, in Brennen’s case, is tangled with fear. Fear of losing her. Fear of failing her. Fear that he is not enough to stand beside what she is becoming. That fear becomes especially raw in his conflict with Raviel. Where Raviel is sharp, seductive, and unafraid to challenge Aine’s autonomy, Brennen’s love often manifests through protection and closeness. Their rivalry is not merely about affection—it is about ideology. Brennen believes love means guarding someone from harm. Raviel believes love means allowing someone to choose their own path, even into danger. This clash exposes Brennen’s deepest flaw: his inability to separate devotion from possession. Yet that flaw also makes him heartbreakingly real. What makes Brennen compelling is that he never stops feeling. Even in rage, grief, jealousy, or despair, he remains deeply emotional in a world where many characters harden themselves into monsters to survive. He bleeds openly. He loves openly. And because of that, every wound cuts deeper. He represents the tragedy of the ordinary man standing beside legends. While others wield ancient magic, command dragons, or reshape kingdoms, Brennen fights with sheer will and heart. He is the character who reminds readers what is truly at stake beneath the grandeur of prophecy and war: human connection, love, and the desperate hope that the people we love will survive long enough for us to find peace again. There is something profoundly tragic about Brennen because he is constantly trying to hold together a world already slipping through his fingers. And yet, despite all of his mistakes, his anger, and his fears, he never stops trying. That persistence—that refusal to abandon the people he loves even when it destroys him—is what makes Brennen unforgettable. Author's note: Brennan and Raviel were only ever supposed to be side characters. But fans have clearly adopted them as the focal point of the second half of LotV. That is what I love about writing. You can write what is in your head, and then gift it to the world to create their own ideas and stories. I am not opposed to the obsession over these two:)

When I wrote this exchange, I never saw Raviel and Brennen as simple rivals fighting over a woman. To me, the scene was always about two men who know each other too well. That is what gives the dialogue its teeth. Neither is guessing where to strike. They already know the wounds. Raviel is dangerous because he sees through people. He understands desire, weakness, and loneliness. He has been trained to know where to strike his opponent. But the tragedy of Raviel is that he also mistakes intensity for honesty. In his mind, allowing Aine freedom is proof that his love is purer. He believes Brennen’s protectiveness comes from fear and possessiveness. So when he says, “I let her choose for herself,” there is genuine conviction there. Raviel truly believes he is the less selfish of the two. Brennen sees Raviel as someone who seduces not only with beauty but also with emotional manipulation. Raviel doesn’t force chains onto people—he makes them want the chains. That is what frightens Brennen. Raviel is not dangerous because he is cruel. He is dangerous because he is magnetic. Because he knows exactly how to turn vulnerability into longing. And Brennen hates him for it. As the author, what fascinated me most while writing this scene was that both men are right and wrong simultaneously. Raviel accuses Brennen of smothering Aine. Brennen accuses Raviel of hunting her emotionally. Both accusations are true. Both men love her. Both men also want something from her that validates their own identity. And beneath all of it is their shared history. That history matters enormously to me. They are not strangers colliding over affection. These are men who grew up in the shadow of the same power structures, the same emotional starvation, the same wounds inflicted by Beathach and Bearla. Raviel was favored. Brennen was overlooked. Raviel learned how to weaponize charm and emotional control. Brennen learned endurance, silence, and loyalty. They became opposites born from the same fire. So when they fight, they are not merely fighting over Aine. They are fighting over who deserved to be loved. Who was seen. Who mattered. Aine simply becomes the place where all those unresolved fractures erupt. That is why I love writing scenes like this. Not because of the romance alone, but because emotionally charged dialogue reveals people at their most honest. Anger strips away performance. These men say things in this exchange that they would never confess calmly. They expose each other with surgical cruelty because they already know exactly where the fractures lie. To me, that is where compelling character work lives—not in perfect heroes, but in wounded people trying to love while dragging old scars behind them like chains. How often do we do the same thing? How often do we wound because we are wounded, let our fear of love keep us from being loved? So very often we create our own cages and offer our captors the key.

In the final battle of Firebrand, the fate of the Vale hangs by a single thread as dragons darken the skies, ancient powers awaken, and the Ashwalker herself stands at the edge of ruin and transcendence. Aine—heir to fire, memory, and the broken legacy of the Vale—must face not only the armies of Bearla and the monstrous corruption unleashed through Pfiff, but the terrible temptation of the Heart of the Vale itself: a power capable of saving the world… or consuming it. As dragons roar over shattered kingdoms and fairies rise beside warriors in a last desperate stand, loyalties fracture, old griefs ignite, and love is tested in the fire of war. In a battle where memory, magic, and sacrifice collide, the final question becomes clear: will Aine master the flame within her—or become the very inferno destined to destroy the world she was born to protect? This portion of the story took WEEKS to write. Partly because of personal struggles, but partly because I did not want to say goodbye to the world I had created. This is, and will be for years to come, my heart and soul. Trying to capture it over the last few days was near impossible - still can't get my dragons right, or the colors of the Vale. But AI can only go so far. It lives rent-free in my head, and that is what I treasure. That, and the people I love enough to write into the pages of these books.

One of the most fascinating things about writing The Ashwalker and Firebrand has been watching characters evolve beyond what I ever expected them to become. Aine, especially, is deeply personal to me. I see so much of myself reflected in her—the weight she carries, the constant pull between duty and desire, strength and vulnerability, hope and exhaustion. She is fierce, but she is also painfully human. And perhaps that is why writing her has felt less like creating a character and more like uncovering pieces of myself I didn’t realize were there. And then there is Raviel. When readers first meet the Ollphestian, there is very little about him that feels redeemable. He is dangerous, manipulative, ruthless—someone shaped by violence and survival. But somewhere along the way, Raviel stopped being simply a villain. He became morally gray in the truest sense of the phrase: a man capable of terrible things, but also sacrifice, loyalty, longing, and love. Those are always the characters who intrigue me most—the ones standing in the space between darkness and redemption, trying to decide who they will become. The dynamic between Aine and Raviel is one of my favorite relationships I have ever written because neither of them “fixes” the other. Instead, they force one another to confront the parts of themselves they would rather leave buried. Their story is messy, emotional, passionate, and at times devastating. But beneath all of it is the question that sits at the heart of so much of Legends of the Vale: Can broken people still choose goodness… and can love survive the fire required to transform us? #book #morallygray #spicy

So the running joke amongst my friends is that I write “smut.” Don’t worry, Mom… and my boss (who is, in fact, a youth pastor)… I do not. 😂 If you actually look up the definition of smut, Legends of the Vale will not be found there. It is, however, a fantasy romance series. Which means yes — there is (gasp) kissing. Quite a lot of kissing, actually. Along with yearning, pining, tension, dangerous glances across torchlit halls… You get the idea. Of course, when your cast is made up of morally gray vampires, elves, warriors, and Ollphestians, there are bound to be at least a few stolen kisses along the way. One of the things that has surprised me most as the series — and now the prequel era — has evolved, is just how much I’ve loved writing these men. They are all part scoundrel, part hero. Haunted. Loyal in strange ways. Carrying wounds and histories and demons of their own. Some are brutal. Some are tender. Most are both. And yes… I absolutely have a favorite. No, I’m not telling you who it is. Read the series and make an educated guess. 😉

Before I share my reflections on this scene - a word. When I posted the other day about completing When the Gods Wept along with the video, a few lovely people commented that it was "AI slop" and that I should stop because I have no talent. So... here's the thing (and this is what I told them). I don't NEED to create anything with AI. I have written 10 books (including a series), had poems and essays published, and have written an award-winning screenplay - thank you very much. I have repeatedly shared my stance on AI - don't use it to create, use it to enhance. The only reason any of these videos even exist is that they were in my head and on paper first. Is it Spielberg quality? Absolutely not. Have I taught myself, generated characters from scratch, learned how to piece various images together - heck yes. Example - these few seconds involved creating still images from characters I had saved, then animating them, then editing them all together with music. It took two days. It is so affirming to watch what is in your head play out in front of your eyes. Do I wish someone would buy the screenplay and create all these images with real humans? More than anything. Until then, please hold your opinions and keep scrolling if you still think it is slop. All that being said, shall we return to our regularly scheduled post? One of the things I loved most about writing this scene in Child of Dawn was that the bond between Anda and Droime was never about conquest. Life so often suggests to us that power is earned through domination — that wild things must be broken in order to serve. But that was never who Anda was. She survives because she chooses courage in the middle of terror. And when she finally has the power to control Droime, she refuses to wield it through fear. Instead, she offers him freedom. Because the deepest connections in life are not forged through ownership. They are forged through recognition. Through seeing the wildness, pain, loneliness, and strength in another soul and choosing them anyway. Droime was never meant to become a servant. And Anda was never meant to become a master. They were simply two untamed creatures who found one another in the dark.

I will try not to tear up as I write this. Today, I finished the first book in the prequel series to Legends of the Vale. This book, entitled When the Gods Wept, begins the origin story of the Vale and its inhabitants. As a writer, I never know what I have in me to put on paper. In truth, I am always surprised. I did not think I would ever write fantasy, much less a series. After Hunter died, I did not think I could finish the series. Now, here I am - writing a prequel - trying to honor his memory with each word. I honestly do not remember when I began When the Gods Wept. It had to have been in the Fall, but I have no memory of it. There has been so much loss over the last year that I think my mind has learned how to forget things, though sometimes I think they are the wrong things. Being a writer is a wonderful gift, but it is also a horrible curse. You have to feel everything... see and understand more than you want to. Often, people do not understand the way your mind works or how fragile your heart is. Much of that is reflected in this book. It is probably one of the most emotionally brutal books I have written. Love does not win, goodness does not overcome, and darkness is at its apex at the end. But that is life. We would be fools to think of perfection as complete reality. That is something that I have really come to understand over the year - we are fallible, and in that, we are human. And those of us who can let go of judgment and prejudice and let love be loved, will be the heroes in our own tales. I hurt with these characters, especially Aedan and Morwen - misunderstood outcasts who loved too soon, too fiercely, and were condemned for it. As you will read (when the book comes out), it is not their love that sets the Vale on fire, but rather the fact that it is not understood, the fact that it is forbidden. And, as you will see as the series continues, it is that denial that eventually becomes the catalyst in the Millennial War. As I get older, those I remember in my writing become fewer. But those that remain in my heart ever spark the embers of my imagination. Thank you for that. Enclosed are the final moments of the book. No explanation until you read it. However, I will say, the music is The Gray Havens from Return of the King - one of my favorite pieces of music from one of the defining movies of my life. As I chose it, I thought of a friend. A friend who has had so many chances to cease our friendship - yet still, endlessly proves their worth in deed, in conversation, and in endurance. Nothing in creation is by accident - it is all woven together with love and intent.

Can I tell you a secret? This was one of my favorite scenes to write in Child of Dawn. I remember sitting there with “Coming Back Around” from How to Train Your Dragon soundtrack playing on repeat, and something in me just… unlocked. Those of you who know my process know I don’t just write scenes—I see them. They unfold like film in my mind before they ever touch the page. And this one? It was entirely cinematic. Sweeping horizons, golden light breaking through clouds, the kind of sunset that feels almost too beautiful to belong to a world on the brink. Lens flares. Wide shots. Silence that says more than dialogue ever could. But beyond the visual, what makes this moment so sacred to me is what it gives these characters. For once—just once—Anda and Dagsbrún are allowed to exist outside of prophecy, outside of war, outside of the relentless pull of responsibility. There is no Vale to save in that breath. No past clawing at their backs. No future demanding sacrifice. Just two people… standing in the quiet aftermath of everything they’ve survived. And in that stillness, Dagsbrún says something he has never truly allowed himself to say—that he is hers. Completely. Not as a warrior. Not as something broken or feared. But as a man who has chosen her in every lifetime he’s lived in his own haunted mind. And Anda—ever resolute, ever fierce—meets that confession not with fear, but with softness. With playfulness. With love that doesn’t ask him to be anything other than what he is. That balance—of devastation and tenderness—is the heartbeat of this story. Because Child of Dawn is filled with duty, with sacrifice, with characters who are constantly being pulled apart by what the world demands of them. But this moment… this rare, fleeting moment… reminds us why they fight at all. For love. For connection. And maybe that’s why I hold it so close. Because even in a world as fractured and unforgiving as the Vale… they found a way to come back to each other. And that is something, as a writer, I long for. Those moments that exist in between the heartache and the pain. The moments that are truly full of passion and magic—where the creator is seen for the power they hold at the very tip of their fingertips. #book #booktok #fantasy #morallygray