Hey.

  I don’t know how you found this book. Maybe a friend told you. Maybe it caught your eye. Maybe you just needed a story to feel less alone today. Either way—thank you. You’re here. You made it.

  And since you’re here, I want to tell you something real.

  I’m not a literary genius. I’m not some tireless creative machine. I work a full-time job. I get tired. I procrastinate. I doubt myself all the time. Truth is, I’m a little lazy some days. I never felt like the brightest person in the room. But you know what? I still did this.

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  I wrote a book. I’m writing a series. And I’m doing it because something inside me refuses to stay silent.

  Because I’ve yelled into the void for a long time.

  Because I know what it’s like to feel like your story doesn’t matter.

  Because I wanted to build a fire and see if anyone else would come sit beside it.

  You’re sitting here now. That means everything.

  This story—these pages—they're not just mine. They're yours, too. And if you’ve ever thought about telling your story, chasing that weird dream, making something out of nothing... please do it. Please start. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to . If I can do it, so can you.

  From one dreamer to another,

  Thanks for reading. Thanks for believing.

  Now go build your own fire.

  I’ll be here, writing the next book.

  Four more wait in the roots.

  —Mojojojo