Filed under: Character Interviews | Fantasy Antagonists | Whispers of the Selkie
Location: Unknown. The scent of rain lingers. Somewhere between now and never, I was summoned.
I have interviewed heroes, haunted souls, and even the occasional ghost. But never before have I interviewed someone who felt like the room belonged to him the moment he entered it.
Lucien de Noir Chevalier did not walk into the room—he appeared, already in place, seated in the high-backed chair like he’d been waiting longer than I’d been alive. Clad in a black tailored coat with silver embroidery curling like runes along the cuffs, he offered me a nod so polite it was almost condescending.
His eyes—dark, fathomless, and unblinking—did not smile. But his lips did.
“Ask your questions,” he said, voice smooth as ink in water. “I have limited patience, but endless time.”
I began.
“You are… difficult to find, Mr. Chevalier.”
He chuckled softly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. “That’s by design.”
There was no mockery in his voice—just truth.
“I find it advantageous to remain just visible enough to influence, but never quite enough to be blamed.”
When I asked where he was from, he didn’t answer. When I asked how old he was, he smiled like a magician withholding the final reveal.
“They say you blend selkie magic with druidic practice. That it’s forbidden.”
“They say many things.” Lucien leaned back, steepling his fingers. “What matters is what works.”
“Selkie magic is rooted in memory. Druidic magic in the land. Combine the two, and you can alter more than nature—you can alter perception. History. Desire.”
He glanced toward the candle on the table. Its flame flickered sideways, though there was no wind.
“Tell someone a lie often enough,” he said, “and they believe it. Tell the world a lie with enough power… and it forgets the truth entirely.”
“People call you ruthless. A manipulator.”
“That’s not a question,” he said smoothly. Then: “But yes.”
He made no apology for it.
“Power belongs to those willing to carry the cost. Others hesitate. I do not.”
I asked if he regretted anything. He smiled again—but this time, there was no warmth.
“I regret how often I’m underestimated. But it does make the game more entertaining.”
“What do you want?”
For the first time, he tilted his head slightly—as if actually considering the question rather than performing civility.
“What everyone wants,” he said finally. “To outlast my enemies. To shape the ending. And to be remembered… correctly.”
He tapped one finger on the armrest. A sound like a clock ticking, but slower.
“Legends are shaped not by the victors, but by the ones who write afterward. I intend to be both.”
“There are rumors about your involvement in the disappearance of Morwenna Brightwood’s parents…”
Lucien’s eyes gleamed like dark water at night.
“Rumors,” he said, savoring the word. “What an excellent tool. Do you know what makes a rumor effective?”
He leaned forward, suddenly close.
“It must have just enough truth to haunt.”
Then, he sat back and said nothing more on the subject.
“You rarely raise your voice. Why?”
Lucien waved a hand lazily.
“If one must shout, one has already lost control. I prefer my words to do the cutting. Quietly. Deeply.”
He paused, then added:
“Besides, fear delivered in a whisper travels further. And lasts longer.”
“If someone were to challenge you—truly—what would you respect in an opponent?”
That drew a genuine reaction. He tilted his head back slightly and let out a thoughtful hum.
“Not strength. Not noise. Certainly not righteousness.”
“A worthy opponent knows when to hold back, when to sacrifice, and when to lie beautifully.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“I have so few equals. It’s disappointing, really.”
“What would your ideal day look like?”
Lucien blinked slowly, then gave a smile that bordered on nostalgic.
“I don’t indulge in leisure. But if I were to imagine such a thing…”
He trailed off for a moment, then continued, his voice lower.
“There is a place—an old observatory off the western coast. Long abandoned. Still warded.”
“The sky there turns violet just before dusk. I used to study the stars from the top balcony. Not to divine the future. Simply… to watch.”
Then, as if catching himself, he shrugged.
“But ideal days are for those not burdened with potential.”
“What don’t people understand about you?”
Lucien leaned in, eyes narrowing with something between amusement and warning.
“They assume ambition is a flaw.”
A pause. A longer one.
“I’m not heartless. I’m efficient. There’s a difference.”
He stood then, slowly, as if concluding a meeting rather than ending an interview.
“People spend their lives praying for change. I offer it. They recoil. That’s not my fault.”
He looked toward the door—which had not been there when we started.
“One last thing,” he added, glancing over his shoulder. “Tell Morwenna… I’m proud of her.”
And then he was gone.
Lucien de Noir Chevalier is the central antagonist in Whispers of the Selkie, where every secret carries his shadow.
What his role will be in Song of the Drowned is harder to say.
Some enemies return.
Some rewrite the rules.
And some... were never enemies at all.
📚 Enter the world of cursed magic, selkie lore, and dangerous ambition.
Lucien is waiting—whether you seek him or not.
🔗 Read the first chapter → https://storyoriginapp.com/giveaways/fd779638-7bbd-11ef-b803-8f9e6db44812
🔗 Add Whispers of the Selkie to your TBR →https://lisaamooreauthor.com/books/whispers-of-the-selkie-the-enchanted-heritage-trilogy-book-1
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