I’ve been working on The Endling Saga for a long time, mostly in fragments.

It began after my third book, The Spiral Path, was published in 2017. I knew I wanted to keep telling stories, but I also knew I wanted to break away from children’s fantasy, and more broadly: from traditional narrative altogether. I wanted to make something that excited me again, something that could pull together all the things I’m interested in without worrying too much about genre, format, medium, while still living under one story roof.

I’ve always been drawn to big sandbox worlds. Star Wars is of course the benchmark, but games were just as influential - especially the way they abstract linear storytelling and let the audience move through a world on their own terms. I love that idea, and I wanted to explore that kind of freedom, even if it meant letting go of beginnings, middles, and ends.

A friend once told me about a book on productivity that argued you should only ever focus on one thing at a time. Finish it properly, then move on. He’s right, of course. I’m just not built that way. My attention flits from one thing to another, and this project, by its nature, encouraged that rather than resisted it. So, I let it.

The result is that, 8-9 years later, very little of The Endling Saga feels definitively finished. Over time, that stopped feeling like a problem and started to feel like… the point.

The Saga changed shape.

The scope grew and it became less about telling a single story and more about stories themselves. About reality, belief, perception and, occasionally, talking motorcycles.

The Endling Saga isn’t a single book or a conventional series. It’s a body of connected work that shows up as writing, images, short pieces of story, abandoned experiments, and half-finished threads. Some of it looks like fantasy, some like science fiction, and some of it doesn’t sit comfortably in either category.

At the centre of it is a familiar idea, one that’s been explored many times before - so often it’s become a trope. If there are infinite universes, then all possible realities exist. Patterns repeat. Time doesn’t behave the way we intuitively think it does. Stories don’t necessarily unfold in straight lines, and if every possible outcome of reality exists - then they’re all true.

Rather than laying that out directly, the Saga lets it leak out through moments. A world that appears as lived history in one place and as mythology in another. Objects that behave differently depending on whether they’re being observed. Clues that surface in images, in lyrics, or in places you weren’t really expecting to find them.

It’s become a kind of exploration. Not something to be solved in one go, and probably not something that ever fully resolves. I’m still working through it myself. For me, it’s about finding more pieces, not reaching an answer.

One thing I’ve always been interested in, as both an artist and a storyteller, is that feeling you get when you realise you’re only seeing part of a much bigger picture. Not feeling confused by that, but sensing… scale. The sense that there’s an inner life to the work that isn’t announced, but is definitely there if you spend time with it.

Back in 2017, the project was originally conceived as an exhibition. Paintings on the wall. A short film playing in the corner. A comic. A small book. Each piece would stand on its own, but connections would start to form the more you consumed. The website eventually became a way of approximating that experience. A place you can wander through rather than read in order.

I’m currently in the process of redesigning it completely, trying to make it less of a lore dump and more of an adventure.

Some experiments worked. Some didn’t. I’ve left most of that history in place. Failed systems and abandoned artefacts feel honest to me. They’re part of the texture of the work, and part of what the Saga is actually about.

This is both a fine art project and a love-letter to pop culture. It takes its ideas seriously, but it isn’t precious about how they’re delivered. There are swords and monsters and ruined worlds, but also questions about reality, memory, observation, and what it means for a story to exist at all.

You don’t need to understand everything here. You’re not meant to. If one fragment sticks with you, that’s enough. If you follow threads for longer, that’s cool too. There’s no correct order, no finish line. The work is designed to be entered, left, and returned to if you like. All at your own pace.

That’s all it really asks.

I’ve been working on The Endling Saga for a long time, mostly in fragments.

It began after my third book, The Spiral Path, was published in 2017. I knew I wanted to keep telling stories, but I also knew I wanted to break away from children’s fantasy, and more broadly: from traditional narrative altogether. I wanted to make something that excited me again, something that could pull together all the things I’m interested in without worrying too much about genre, format, medium, while still living under one story roof.

I’ve always been drawn to big sandbox worlds. Star Wars is of course the benchmark, but games were just as influential - especially the way they abstract linear storytelling and let the audience move through a world on their own terms. I love that idea, and I wanted to explore that kind of freedom, even if it meant letting go of beginnings, middles, and ends.

A friend once told me about a book on productivity that argued you should only ever focus on one thing at a time. Finish it properly, then move on. He’s right, of course. I’m just not built that way. My attention flits from one thing to another, and this project, by its nature, encouraged that rather than resisted it. So, I let it.

The result is that, 8-9 years later, very little of The Endling Saga feels definitively finished. Over time, that stopped feeling like a problem and started to feel like… the point.

The Saga changed shape.

The scope grew and it became less about telling a single story and more about stories themselves. About reality, belief, perception and, occasionally, talking motorcycles.

The Endling Saga isn’t a single book or a conventional series. It’s a body of connected work that shows up as writing, images, short pieces of story, abandoned experiments, and half-finished threads. Some of it looks like fantasy, some like science fiction, and some of it doesn’t sit comfortably in either category.

At the centre of it is a familiar idea, one that’s been explored many times before - so often it’s become a trope. If there are infinite universes, then all possible realities exist. Patterns repeat. Time doesn’t behave the way we intuitively think it does. Stories don’t necessarily unfold in straight lines, and if every possible outcome of reality exists - then they’re all true.

Rather than laying that out directly, the Saga lets it leak out through moments. A world that appears as lived history in one place and as mythology in another. Objects that behave differently depending on whether they’re being observed. Clues that surface in images, in lyrics, or in places you weren’t really expecting to find them.

It’s become a kind of exploration. Not something to be solved in one go, and probably not something that ever fully resolves. I’m still working through it myself. For me, it’s about finding more pieces, not reaching an answer.

One thing I’ve always been interested in, as both an artist and a storyteller, is that feeling you get when you realise you’re only seeing part of a much bigger picture. Not feeling confused by that, but sensing… scale. The sense that there’s an inner life to the work that isn’t announced, but is definitely there if you spend time with it.

Back in 2017, the project was originally conceived as an exhibition. Paintings on the wall. A short film playing in the corner. A comic. A small book. Each piece would stand on its own, but connections would start to form the more you consumed. The website eventually became a way of approximating that experience. A place you can wander through rather than read in order.

I’m currently in the process of redesigning it completely, trying to make it less of a lore dump and more of an adventure.

Some experiments worked. Some didn’t. I’ve left most of that history in place. Failed systems and abandoned artefacts feel honest to me. They’re part of the texture of the work, and part of what the Saga is actually about.

This is both a fine art project and a love-letter to pop culture. It takes its ideas seriously, but it isn’t precious about how they’re delivered. There are swords and monsters and ruined worlds, but also questions about reality, memory, observation, and what it means for a story to exist at all.

You don’t need to understand everything here. You’re not meant to. If one fragment sticks with you, that’s enough. If you follow threads for longer, that’s cool too. There’s no correct order, no finish line. The work is designed to be entered, left, and returned to if you like. All at your own pace.

That’s all it really asks.