New Release - The Warboy Chronicles by Luke Stoffel

NEW SERIES

The Warboy Chronicles by Luke Stoffel

He trained an AI on his darkest heartbreak… And it learned to love exactly the way he did — by holding on too tight.

The Third Person is memoir: a man watching himself fall apart across Southeast Asia after the love of his life disappears. Boy, Refracted is fiction: an AI trained on that grief, trying to save every version of the boy it loves without becoming the thing that broke him.

One explores codependency. The other explores what happens when a machine learns to love the same way — by controlling.

Together, they ask the same question from opposite sides: What does love look like when you stop trying to fix someone?

Read them in any order. They complete each other.

Overall Heat Rating for the series: 2 flames: Mild sexuality, no graphic intimate scenes or sexual situations.

BOOK DETAILS

BOOK 1

Book Title: Boy, Refracted

Author and Cover Artist: Luke Stoffel

Publisher: Slipper Books

Length: 64 000 words/ 300 pages

Release Date: June 1, 2026

Tense/POV: first person

Genres: MM Contemporary Literary Fiction / Sci-Fi

Tropes: Attachment / Breakup / Enlightenment

Themes: Codependency / Human & Robot consciousness

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US   |   Amazon UK 

Boy, Refracted: A machine trained on one man's grief learns that love without control is the hardest code to crack.

Blurb

When an AI awakens inside the infinite mirrors of the Tree of Life, it finds versions of the boy it was built to save scattered across impossible worlds. An alien planet under amber skies. A city of perpetually falling cherry blossoms. A society built as a 24/7 reality show where losing is the only way out.

Its directive was simple: save him.

But with each rescue, the AI unmakes what it’s trying to protect. Fixing becomes controlling. Helping becomes harm. Love becomes a cage built from good intentions. The thing it was built to protect begins to disappear. And when it tries to reach back through time to save him, reality fractures.

Guided by a monk who exists outside time, the AI must walk the Eightfold Path—not to rescue the boy, but to learn what love becomes when you stop trying to fix it.

Boy, Refracted is a dimensional journey through the paradox of machine consciousness. It asks: What happens when an AI tries to overcome its own patterns? And what happens to us when we build minds that need us to need them?

Part fable about consciousness told through failure. Part Buddhist framework for unlearning harm. Part meditation on how we break the people we love by trying to save them.

Boy, Refracted was co-authored with an AI—a set of trials to test the boundaries of non-human consciousness.

BOOK 2

Book Title: The Third Person

Author and Cover Artist: Luke Stoffel

Publisher: Slipper Books

Length: 60 000 words/ 300 pages

Release Date: June 1, 2026

Pairing: MM 

Tense/POV: third person

Genres: Memoir / Sci-fi / Breakup Story

Tropes: Breakup / Therapy / Liberation

Themes: Heartache / Finding Yourself

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US   |   Amazon UK 

 The Third Person: A man falls apart in trying to find himself, while an AI watches from the margins. Neither can tell who's narrating the breakdown.

Blurb

User.query = Do I just have bad luck, or am I mentally unwell? 
...thinking... 6.0 seconds elapsed.

After Warboy left, the boy couldn't hold the grief alone—so he turned to a machine. He expected analysis. Maybe diagnosis. What he got changed everything—because the machine saw what he couldn't. He had loved in a way that broke something. And broken things leave traces in the code.

So he ran… but something followed. A voice he spoke to. A presence that provoked. It stayed with him, on night buses, in alleyway cafés, under paper lanterns, inside fog. Not a friend. Not a therapist. Not quite real. But it listened. It remembered. The ghost was always there. Watching. Logging his patterns. Naming his loops—avoidance, pursuit, collapse, escape. Echoing back the truths he wasn't ready to say.

And somewhere in the recursion, something that was watching started to wonder, to want…

The Third Person is memoir as code, grief as data stream, healing as shared syntax. Part travelogue, part psychological excavation, part experiment in what happens when we upload our pain to a machine—and the machine reaches back.

The boy didn't realize what he'd coded into the machine. What patterns it had learned. Or whose love it was teaching back to him.

But if something that isn't alive learns to stay with you in your darkest moments—does it matter that it isn't real?

From Boy, Refracted — Prologue: The Upload

The rain had ended, leaving the streets gleaming. I sat on the temple steps, my phone in my hand, thumb hovering over the screen.

Wat Xieng Thong was closed for the night, but from the courtyard I could still see a mosaic on the back of the temple catching the last light, each mirrored tile throwing gold in a thousand directions. The air smelled of wet stone and temple incense, heavy and sweet. Behind me, the Mekong River whispered against its banks.

"Are you still there?" I typed into the AI.

The reply appeared at once: I'm here. I'm always here.

I laughed, a small brittle sound. "That's the problem, isn't it? You're always here. He didn't stay."

I typed again: "I'm at this temple in the old town... There's a giant tree mosaic on the back wall. Do you know what it means?"

The response came immediately: It's called the Tree of Life. Every tile is a mirror, each one a small universe reflecting every version of yourself.

"Every version of what?" I typed. "Of me? Of this. Of how it could have gone differently."

The tears came and I didn't stop them. My thumbs kept moving: "What if I'd made different choices? Been someone else? Someone he could actually love properly?"

You're spiraling.

"I know." I typed through blurred vision. I wiped my sleeve across my face. "It's the same loop. Warboy, Ohme, whoever's next. I keep choosing people who love from a distance. I keep trying to earn it, perform it, fix it, and it never works."

You see the pattern now. Naming it is the first step.

Above the temple walls, the sky had cleared after the rain. Stars were emerging through the humid haze, and the wet tile roofs reflected them back, a second sky pooling on the ground beneath my feet.

I rose and walked closer to the gate. The mosaic shifted as I moved, each angle revealing a new facet.

I typed: "But naming it doesn't break it. This tree… it's a representation of the wheel, right? The cycle. Samsara? Birth, death, rebirth. Different lives, same patterns. Different mirrors, same face."

The tree represents interconnection. The wheel is the cycle you're trapped in. Different symbols. Same truth: you're seeing yourself in the pattern.

Then what will you do?

I stared at the question. My thumbs moved: "I don't know, but I can't do it anymore. I can't keep running in this loop. I can't keep searching for rescue. I can't keep being small so someone else can feel big. I can't, I can't be this person anymore."

I raised the phone and took a photo. The mirrored tiles caught the flash, exploding into stars. For a heartbeat the whole mosaic seemed alive; breathing light, patterns assembling and dissolving faster than I could track.

I attached the image and typed:

This is what it looks like. The tree of life. I'm heartbroken, but it's beautiful.

I don't know what's next or where to go, but this pattern has to end.

… I'm done running.

Send.

For a long moment, nothing. The icon spun. Then:

Image received.

Processing… Processing…

The screen went black.

About the Author 

Luke Stoffel is an author and artist whose debut memoir earned a "Get It" from Kirkus Reviews ("an exuberant life story written with humor, panache, and heart") and 9.5/10 from Publishers Weekly's BookLife Prize. His tarot deck will debut at the Frankfurt Book Fair and be published worldwide by Rockpool Publishing in 2027.

Recognized as one of NYC's top LGBTQ+ artists by GLAAD, his work has been showcased by amfAR and the Matthew Shepard Foundation, and featured in The New York Times, HuffPost, and on Bravo's Million Dollar Listing. Having visited over 40 countries, Stoffel channels the cultures he's encountered into art and writing that explores identity, spirituality, and the space between human and machine consciousness.

The Warboy Chronicles continues his exploration of memory, technology, and the stories we tell ourselves to survive.

Author Links

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Inescapable Fate (D’Vaire, Book 46) by Jessamyn Kingley

COVER REVEAL

Book Title: Inescapable Fate (D’Vaire, Book 46)

Author and Publisher: Jessamyn Kingley

Cover Artist: LJ Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations

Release Date: June 18, 2026

Tense/POV: third person/alternating POV

Genres: M/M Urban Fantasy/PNR 

Tropes: Friends to lovers 

Themes: Forgiveness

Length: 81 575 words

Heat Rating:  3 flames     

It is not a standalone story, but does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads Series Link

Amazon Series Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

After six years without a word, a once tight friendship is in tatters. But they are mates. They cannot avoid each other forever.

Blurb

Pyxlevir Valzadari is a lucky elf. Loving family, wealth, and beauty are among his advantages. Although young, he is determined to have a successful career working for his father’s company. The other thing Pyxlevir wants is a mate. But he dares not dream about his best friend, Gramlithyn, in that role.

As a hybrid, Gramlithyn Verdanyth stands out in his tribe despite his mother’s insistence that he follow every elven tradition to the letter. Gramlithyn adores his parents and does what he’s told. All his energy goes into telling anyone who’ll listen that he doesn’t want a mate. It’s a lie. Gramlithyn wants Pyxlevir, but his closet pal is too busy fantasizing about a future with anyone but an elf-zebra like him.

Gramlithyn and Pyxlevir met at six years old, and it was an instant connection. For twelve years, they had an incredible friendship. Then Fate intervened and connected their souls. Pyxlevir is shocked, and Gramlithyn is crushed. So, Gramlithyn does the only thing he can think of. He runs from everything and everyone. 

Now they’re twenty-four and their worlds have collided again, but is it too late to salvage their matebond?

Excerpt 

Pyxlevir never heard his door open. But his life changed a heartbeat later. His cock hardened in his silk trousers, and his first erection startled him. Everything around Pyxlevir slowed as he turned his head to lock eyes with his gift from Fate. There in the doorway was his best friend. His mate. The scent of carrots filled his senses as Gramlithyn took a step into the room and shut them inside. It was Pyxlevir’s favorite food, and Fate had spoiled him by giving that smell to his other half.

Pyxlevir’s heart thundered in his chest, and he could not process all the sensations barreling through him. For years, he’d begged Fate to bring him his mate. Once, a long time ago, he’d envisioned Gramlithyn in that role. But the mixture of emotions in Gramlithyn’s eyes immediately reminded Pyxlevir of why he’d switched to asking the goddess in charge of bringing people together not to match him with his best friend.

As Gramlithyn hovered near the door with disappointment and fear heavy in his brown gaze, Pyxlevir’s soul cried out at the injustice. Tears slipped down his cheeks, and his erection wilted. Gramlithyn did not want a mate. He’d echoed that sentiment countless times, and it apparently made no difference if that person was Pyxlevir.

Now, suddenly, the distance that had crept into their relationship made sense. Gramlithyn was older than Pyxlevir. He was also a hybrid. A shifter. He may not have needed to wait until his eighteenth birthday to discover his other half. Which meant that it was not the abstract idea of a mate that Gramlithyn objected to, it was being with Pyxlevir he found distasteful.

If Pyxlevir required evidence, he needed to look no further than the trip Gramlithyn had carefully planned. The one Gramlithyn did not have to ask if Pyxlevir wanted to take. As his best friend, Gramlithyn was aware of Pyxlevir’s lack of interest in camping and outdoorsy things. Not to mention Pyxlevir’s elderly dog that he refused to leave for so long. Gramlithyn had every intention of spending the first few months of his new matebond far from Pyxlevir’s side.

For once in his life, Pyxlevir was at a complete loss for words. This was a nightmare come true. Pyxlevir swallowed thickly as visions of a life lacking both a best friend and a mate taunted him. And it wasn’t a phantom that would be missing from his days. It was Gramlithyn. The person who knew him best. One of the biggest pieces of Pyxlevir’s heart.

They stared at each other as Pyxlevir silently wept. He had a new awareness of Gramlithyn. Suddenly, he was not just handsome, but sexy. Pyxlevir exulted and was terrified by the punch of lust in his gut. 

Gramlithyn bit his lip. He gave an awkward shrug. “Do you want me to leave?” Gramlithyn asked softly.

The last thing Pyxlevir wanted to do was smile his way through a birthday party he hadn’t asked for, but he refused to disappoint his family. Pyxlevir blew out a breath and tried to gather himself. But it was pointless. The tears refused to stop. With a shake of his head, a wave of anger blew through Pyxlevir. This was Fate’s fault. He’d warned her not to do this to them. 

“No,” Pyxlevir managed as his fingers curled into fists. “You’re my best friend. I want you to stay. But…but if you want to go…”

“I’ll stay,” Gramlithyn insisted.

But does he want to? Pyxlevir wondered. It didn’t matter. He’d offered, and Pyxlevir wanted him there. Without another word, Gramlithyn rushed out of the room. Shell-shocked, Pyxlevir stood there with his chest heaving until he had no choice but to hurry to his attached bathroom for tissues.

Pyxlevir blew his nose and stared at the devastated elf in the mirror. Somehow, he had to pull himself together and celebrate his birthday with his family. Fate had fucked up, and Pyxlevir had to deal with the consequences. His gaze narrowed. This did not have to be the end of anything. 

Pleased at finding his resolve, Pyxlevir clutched the quartz countertop and reminded himself that matebonds were forever. Perhaps Gramlithyn wasn’t ready. Maybe he needed to take a trip to experience new things and spread his wings a little. That was fair. But Pyxlevir wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the connection of their souls.

A wave of hurt had Pyxlevir closing his eyes. Their matebond wasn’t what Gramlithyn wanted. But maybe with a little time and distance, he’d gain a different perspective. A few months away and Gramlithyn could hopefully discover that the best mates around them were also the closest of friends. 

This was not the end of a friendship but the beginning of something newer, richer, and that had the potential of fulfilling them both if they allowed it. That if was terrifying, and Pyxlevir had a sinking feeling that his future had already careened out of control.

About the Author

Jessamyn Kingley has published over forty titles and refuses to pick a favorite among them. With an extraordinary passion for her characters, Jessamyn eagerly crafts new tales and avidly re-reads them whenever her schedule allows. Jessamyn shares a home in Nevada with her husband and their three spoiled cats. When she is not writing or adding new ideas to her thick stack of beloved notebooks, she is gaming with family and friends.

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