Keyla Damaer has been an independent author since 2017. Her passion for storytelling is evident in her works, which are characterised by their imaginative worlds and complex characters.

Born and raised in Rome, Keyla currently resides in the Eternal City with her husband.

Readers Favorite for Tales from the Sehnsucht Series Part 1-The Manderian Halden

The Sehnsucht Series by Keyla Damaer

The Parallels: Some people say to never trust a spy

A militia officer on the hunt for a murderer. A scientist with the key to humanity's future. A girl in a glass tank with no memory.

One seeking justice. One seeking fame. One seeking answers. With the galaxy on the brink of war, time is not on their side.

Join them in their battle for survival.

The Girl from Two Worlds: The truth is just another lie.

In a universe of political intrigue, espionage, and the endless struggle for power, a high-ranking officer in the Manderian militia wrestles with personal loss and fracturing family relationships. Forced to work with the woman responsible for his brother's death, he faces a moral dilemma that could reshape his loyalties and the fate of the galaxy. Will he seek vengeance or forge an uneasy alliance? As the lines between ally and enemy blur, he must walk a path of secrets and deceit.

Join him on a journey where the choices made could shatter his world.

CURATOR'S NOTE

•Keyla has a real talent for weaving compelling tales of courage and sacrifice, the kind that make you feel like you're right there on the front lines with her ingenious and courageous protagonists. In the two books featured in this omnibus, the galaxy teeters on the brink of all-out war, and it's up to heroic allies o unearth startling secrets and forge a path toward a better tomorrow. In the hands of this masterful science fiction author, you'll root for these isnpired saviors and thrill to the brave acts they take to chart a course to a star-spanning realm of freedom and enlightenment. – Robert Jeschonek

 

REVIEWS

  • " The Parallels, The Sensucht Series Book 1 by Keyla Demaer is a great sci-fi romp that is truly epic in scale. The author is a real craftsman and weave a truly unique and interesting sci-fi setting."

    – Reader review
  • "The world-building is exceptional and well-crafted. I appreciated the author's inclusion of a glossary. This is not an easy, breezy read, but well worth putting forth the effort. I'd recommend it to all hard-core science fiction lovers."

    – Reader review
  • "The author has also successfully created a captivating sci-fi universe with numerous races and factions. The creativity and originality exhibited in the author's creation of races, names, and terminology are highly commendable. It appears that this is just the beginning of a much larger space opera and series, making it suitable for readers interested in exploring this expansive literary universe."

    – Reader review
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

The Paralleles

Prologue

Air. It saturated her lungs, choking her.

Breathe!

It hurt at first, but the longer she tried, the better she could inhale and exhale.

Her slow awakening made it hard to focus on her blurry surroundings: a curved glass-wall confined her, and something kept her suspended in mid-air inside a massive, cylindrical jar. She tried to move her arms, but a wave of horror overcame her when she found electrodes attached to her naked body. They pierced her skin. How deep did they go and what was their purpose?

At least breathing caused no additional pain after a while.

A moving shadow.

What is that?

And then another one.

The electrodes limited the movements of her head while shadows kept moving within her peripheral view. One of them fell on her. It belonged to a woman in a white coat wearing round spectacles, her soft blonde curls framing her face. The woman examined something to the left of the tank, took notes on a tablet, and left, never resting her eyes on her, as if she weren't even there. Perhaps, she was a doctor. She did behave like one.

Only when she tried to speak did she pay attention to the oxygen mask over her mouth.

Of course, that's how they're supplying oxygen to me. But I have no memory of breathing before.

If she had to be honest to herself, she had no memories at all before now. She was conscious of being a female and could name everything she had experienced: she could feel, see, and hear. But that was it; she didn't even remember her name.

More confusion hit her when she gazed down at her naked body. Her breasts were those of a teenager; two peaches ready to drag attention to them.

How can I remember all this but not my own name?

She placed her palms on the glass of the tank. The surface felt smooth and cold to the touch, as expected. She knocked, hoping to get the doctor's attention. Or someone else's. No one showed up, though. She tried over and over again, but nothing happened. No one came to check on her.

Maybe they're in another room. She would wait. Sooner or later, someone would tell her something.

Somehow, she knew she had time. She could wait.

And so she did.

Time went by. She fell asleep and woke up again, but no one wandered about anymore. No more shadows moved around, no white coats, no blonde scientist.

Where's everyone gone? Have they abandoned me here?

Panic gripped her.

What if they're all dead and I'm alone? What if someone attacked me and I'm surrounded by enemies?

She screamed inside the mask. Her fists pummelled the glass cage. Her heartbeat accelerated; it looked like her organ would explode inside her chest at any moment.

A weird taste assaulted her mouth. When she tried to spit it out, she couldn't. Fear rose as a wave of dizziness overcame her. Her struggle increased until her muscles refused to work and the need for sleep intensified.

***

She flinched when she came around. The bulbs—the only source of illumination inside her tube—disturbed her vision, causing great discomfort to her eyes.

What happened?

Oh yes. She remembered now. She panicked when the thought of being left alone—or worse, imprisoned by enemies—occurred to her. And the machine responsible for the oxygen inside the tube had reacted to her erratic heart-rate with an automated safety procedure, sedating her. This was a self-sustaining lab.

But how do I know all these things? Am I alone? She had so many questions, but no one there to answer them.

'You're mistaken.'

Her heart missed a beat.

A woman's voice. Where is it coming from?

Someone spoke to her. Maybe the blonde doctor she saw before? There could be a hidden communication device inside the tank. She wanted to talk back, but she couldn't speak with the respirator over her mouth.

'Don't be stupid, Eleanor! You remember how to talk to me,' the voice said.

No, I don't. She couldn't talk. How could she with a mask over her mouth?

Who's Eleanor?

Whose voice was that? And how could she hear it in the first place?

'Yes, you do. You're talking to me right now. I can hear you the same way you do with me,' the woman's voice said. 'You don't remember my name … or yours. You are such a disappointment, Eleanor! TALK TO ME!'

The pain inside her head became excruciating. Soon, darkness and silence engulfed her once more.

***

When she woke up again, nothing had changed inside the room. With all the lights out but for the ones inside her tube, she couldn't see anything but herself, the electrodes, the bulbs, and the tank. Without the pain inside her head, she rejoiced at being alone.

The voice has gone. Did I imagine it?

She must have because the doctor never spoke out loud. Despite her conclusion, her mind kept wondering and wondering.

Who's Eleanor? Where's everyone? Am I crazy?

She concluded that she must leave the tank and find out who she was and what was going on before going bonkers, especially if enemies surrounded her. When she moved her hands to remove the electrodes hindering her head's movements, however, more doubts beset her.

Where does the feeling of being surrounded by enemies come from?

'A good question, Eleanor. Why do you think you are surrounded by enemies?'

That voice again.

Wait a moment!

All this time, she had been thinking. How could the voice know what she was thinking?

'Are you reading my mind?' That truth struck her as something familiar. Were they telepaths?

'No, I am sending smoke signals,' the woman replied with sarcasm. 'I refuse to work with you. You're not worth my time,' the voice concluded.

'Who are you? Who am I? I have so many questions. I thought I was alone. Where are you? I want to—'

'Will you stop it? This is not an interrogation. I have been trying to talk to you for hours. Your mind is useless!' Eleanor could see the woman's face inside her own head now as a projection from her own mind.

'Jorelle. That's your name'

And they were telepaths.

Eleanor's lips curved up. She remembered something.

'Yes, I'm Jorelle and you're Eleanor. Now, stop prying inside my head or I'll hurt you,' she spat. 'A little bit of pain can't be too bad for you, can it?'

The discomfort at the back of Eleanor's head exploded once again. Her smile died on her lips, turning into a grimace.

The pain increased, and visions of a burning city flashed into her mind, then faded into blackness. Darkness moulded into shapes. A face looking like Jorelle, but somehow different—perhaps a sibling—familiar visages, places, and unknown faces appeared and disappeared in her dreamlike visions. Then nothing.

The Girl from Two Worlds

Prologue

Araw 2495

Sunneth's scorching rays pierced the green awning in the bone-dry back yard of the Kossets's summer home on Mander Prime, but it didn't penetrate the cold around Draken Kosset's heart.

7,050,941. The number flashed at the bottom of the screen of his tablet.

Definitive.

Irrefutable.

The ridiculously high number of Manderians born in the year 2443 derived from the Black Squad's old and incomplete database. The year his brother was born from a batch of damaged eggs that had killed their mother and the other hatchlings.

'Thank you, Agent.' Draken scrutinised the stocky silver-scaled spy in front of him, dressed in the standard Draconian black uniform, complete with gloves. An ominous reminder of a dark day in the history of the Kosset family. 'There was no need to rush all this way for this,' Draken continued with feigned disinterest.

'It was nothing, Tal Kosset. I'm sure you'll make good use of it. I'll leave you to your guests.' The spy bowed and departed swiftly, before Draken could reply.

He shuddered as he put the tablet away in his pocket. It was hard to separate rational thought from feelings when he remembered the hover-car accident that had forever marked his life.

Memories of that night fifty years ago when the sedan Draken had been travelling with his family had crashed. Metal screeching on the pavement, smoke choking his lungs, and the flames licking his scales still haunted his sleep, leaving him shivering like a newborn mammal. His fear of fire and guilt over not saving his little brother still tormented him today.

Yet, Delvek Kosset's body was never found, and as Draken had later discovered, many other children had vanished under similar circumstances when they too were three years old.

The cobweb of lies surrounding the mystery had melted like ice at Draken's initial enquiries. He'd kept them discrete, because as an honorary member of the Advisory Board and head of security of the Elite Guard—the Director's personal security detail—he never ran out of enemies, starting from Vice Director Hertak Rogar, the most powerful woman in the Directorate.

Fortunately, his position of power offered him plenty of opportunities to mask his searches as highly recommended exercises to his subordinates for new recruits of the Elite Guard. An order with the suggestion to review deaths among military intelligence and Secret Service operatives, dressing it up as a cost-saving exercise, gave him access to the files of all those operatives. Data analysts then correlated the trends showing him all the information he needed, leaving no trace of his actual intentions for any lurking political opponent.

Soon he would know if Delvek was still alive.