Of Skybound Beasts and Befriending Birds

Some people build fantasy worlds with magic systems, ancient bloodlines, and sprawling maps.
Mine started with a name from my family history, and then, a bird. Well, not just a bird. A dinosaur bird. A massive, majestic skybeast I first met in a survival game.

Meet the Angfalks, mythic winged guardians in the world of Nalavaris. They’re powerful, elusive, and nearly lost to time in the first book of my series… but their legacy? It stretches far. They’re based loosely on the Argentavis magnificens, a real prehistoric bird that was basically a feathered hang-glider with talons. They also share DNA (and a pixelated soul) with the rideable sky dinos from ARK: Survival Evolved, a game where I’ve clocked far too many hours pretending to tame creatures I could never meet in real life. But the Angfalks didn’t just come from a fascination with cool prehistoric creatures.
They came from longing.

Everything in Nalavaris seems to fly...

And it’s not just for worldbuilding symmetry (though yes, I do like a good theme) It’s because birds, and flight in general, have always felt like magic to me. There’s something sacred about the tilt of a wing in sunlight. About a creature so light it can ride wind like water. About a fleeting moment where a wild bird lands near you and chooses not to fear you. I love all of that.
So I write about it.

On the hill outside my kitchen window, I leave out peanuts and mealworms...

I’m slowly trying to befriend the western scrub jays that visit our homestead. Every morning, I step out with offerings like a hopeful druid, whispering, “Just a little closer today, okay?” Sometimes they come. Sometimes they don’t. But when they do, when they land nearby and tilt their heads at me, there’s a flicker of something deep and old that lights up inside me. A whisper of connection. A shared breath with the wild.

Maybe that’s why the sky matters so much in Nalavaris.

Because it’s not just about the birds or beasts. It’s about the idea that freedom, grace, and trust could coexist.
That something untouchable might choose to land beside you, and stay. The Angfalks are woven into the empire’s history. They’re part of its mythos and magic, its power and its pain. But for me, as their creator...they also represent hope. Connection. The kind of magic that isn’t cast with spells, but offered in open hands and quiet patience.

So yes, a lot of my creatures fly. Because that’s what my soul longs for.

And in fantasy, we get to build the worlds our hearts keep reaching for.