About he Lexicon of Unmaking: A Dark Romantasy of Forbidden Language, Body Horror, and Reality Rewritten
What if speaking a single sentence could rewrite reality—at the cost of your own body?
In a world where language is not communication but the source code of existence, certain words can bend physics, erase memories, and rewrite history itself.
They are forbidden. Weaponized. Alive.
A state linguist is forced to decode and deploy this language for assassinations ordered by political elites—each mission costing him pieces of his flesh, his identity, and his past.
Then he meets her.
A revolutionary who speaks the language fluently.
A woman who doesn’t lose herself when she speaks—because she is not entirely human.
Their connection is intimate, obsessive… and lethal.
Every word they share reshapes reality.
Every moment of closeness erases parts of who they are.
As bodies unravel into meaning and people become walking sentences, he begins to realize a terrifying truth:
He has already spoken something he cannot remember.
And it has already changed everything.
In a world devoured by language, silence may be the last act of rebellion.
Perfect for readers who love:
Dark romantasy with high-concept magic systems
Psychological and body horror
Anti-heroes and morally gray protagonists
Dystopian political intrigue
Reality-warping, mind-bending storytelling
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Author Bio:
Rowan Ashcroft
I grew up in a mining town that no longer exists on most maps. The kind of place where the church bell rang louder than ambulance sirens.
My sister disappeared when I was nine.
The town called it an accident. They found her red coat on a wire fence near the old mine shaft. My father said it was God’s will. My mother stopped saying much of anything after that winter. The case was closed. The casket at the memorial service was empty.
I started writing when I was twelve. Not because I loved stories — but because I needed somewhere to put what I couldn’t explain and couldn’t stop thinking about.
My work tends to explore faith, inheritance, and the quiet violence of communities that protect their version of events at any cost. I am often asked if I believe in the supernatural.
I believe in what people are willing to sacrifice to avoid admitting they were wrong.
I now live in the Pacific Northwest. I share my home with a black dog that refuses to go near the basement door.
I don’t return to my hometown.