About the Author & Artist

Michael Rocha

From my earliest memories, creativity has been the guiding force of my life. Even as a child, I felt a magnetic pull toward the act of creation, a compulsion to shape ideas into tangible forms. My love for reading, as natural as breathing, became the cornerstone of my imagination. Books of every kind—detective mysteries, sprawling fantasies, sharp-edged science fiction, thought-provoking philosophy, and gripping historical accounts—fueled my young mind with infinite possibilities. Later, my mother nurtured another profound love within me – Cinema. She didn’t just show me films; she introduced me to their very soul – the intricate craftsmanship behind the scenes. Through her, I came to see cinema not as mere entertainment but as an art form encompassing scriptwriting, photography, editing, directing, and so much more. Including music…

My father, on the other hand, gave me a love for the natural world and a passion for sports. From a young age, I threw myself into physical pursuits with vigour. For twelve years, I practised karate, mastering discipline, and balance. For ten, I swam, carving my way through water. For eight, I played basketball, learning teamwork and precision. These weren’t the only pillars of my athletic life; alongside them, I explored countless other sports, each enriching me in different ways. My schedule was a symphony of movement, with every weekday dedicated to a different pursuit.

But my creativity demanded more than physical outlets. At just five or six years old, I began crafting percussive music with household objects, finding rhythms in the mundane. Around the same time, I became captivated by the idea of world-building, sketching intricate maps of fantastical lands where my imagination could roam freely. These maps soon gave rise to stories, each one a reflection of the landscapes I had drawn. By the age of seven or eight, my creations took on a three-dimensional form as, with my father’s help, I began building miniature towns and villages for my action figures, giving my imagined worlds physicality and life.

At ten, my creativity took a playful turn as I invented pirate radio stations. With boundless enthusiasm, I became the entire production team. I was the MC, the DJ spinning tracks, the advertiser dreaming up products, the interviewer asking questions, and the guest answering them. I would slip between roles with childlike glee, each recording a world unto itself. Later in life, when I became familiar with George Carlin’s early life as well as Bill Hicks’, I found the parallels amusing.

In my teens, my artistic endeavours blossomed further. I taught myself to play the acoustic guitar—a choice that would remain my instrument of preference to this day. Songwriting soon followed, and with no proper recording equipment, I improvised. Using two old tape decks, I would record one track, then play it back while layering another. I taught myself to play other instruments and just dove in. The resulting sound was far from pristine, but the process thrilled me. Later, when I acquired better tools, I continued to play every instrument myself, creating the illusion of a full band where I was the sole musician.

Photography entered my life during this period, alongside poetry and short story writing. While music consumed most of my time, these quieter pursuits became the foundation for a broader artistic vision. My stories grew longer, my worlds were more intricate, and my voice as a writer, if I had one, began to emerge.

Music, however, dominated the early decades of my life. It wasn’t merely a hobby. It was a calling. My largest audience was a sea of eight thousand faces, a moment that remains etched in my memory. Ironically, it wasn’t until I was 28 that I learned from a casual conversation with my father that his father, my grandfather —a man I had always known as a florist—had been a jazz drummer for thirty years. He had died when I was only eleven, and even though I had a close relationship with him, I couldn’t help but wonder why he never mentioned it. The revelation felt like destiny whispering in my ear, as though the rhythm of creation had always been In my blood.

But amidst the music, another creation was quietly taking root. The MiddleVerse, the seed of my imagination, began forming in those early years. I devoured films from the likes of Kurosawa, Tarkovsky, Hitchcock, Scorsese, Godard, Scott, and Lucas, amongst many others. I marvelled at how cinema blended my passions: photography, architecture, music, poetry, dance, and storytelling. Each medium fed my creativity, and by consequence, The MiddleVerse itself.

For most of my life, The MiddleVerse existed solely in my mind. It grew and evolved, its mythology expanding with each passing thought, but I never put it to paper. Life carried me forward, demanding my attention elsewhere. Yet, like an eternal flame, The MiddleVerse remained.

It wasn’t until my early forties that the tides shifted. The music industry, already weathered by poor taste, faced an additional blow from a certain global pandemic. With the world in disarray, I found myself at a crossroads. It was then that I realized my truest passion wasn’t confined to music – it was the act of creating itself. It was time to turn fully toward The MiddleVerse.

I began with the skeleton, crafting the mythology that would form its foundation. I wrote the histories of its Houses, the intricate relationships between them, and the grand arc of its cosmic narrative. As I worked, I sketched the imagery that would bring these stories to life. The MiddleVerse, which had lived so long in my mind, now began to take shape in the real world.

Today, my imagination overflows with more ideas than I have time to bring to life. Balancing creativity with family life has become a delicate dance. Time, as precious as a fistful of sand, slips away faster than we can hold it. Yet, I am determined to use the second half of my life to leave as much of The MiddleVerse as I can for others to explore.

I create because I must. It is not a choice but a necessity! A relentless drive to shape the infinite into something tangible. Through The MiddleVerse, I hope to share the wonder, the beauty, and the boundless possibilities that have filled my mind since I was a child. It is my gift to my young progeny, a piece of eternity woven from the fabric of their father’s imagination.

Publications 

The House of Aran

Visual Guide

Specifications

Pages: 112

Binding Type: Paperback Perfect Bound

Interior Color: Full Color

Dimensions:

US Letter (8.5 x 11 in / 216 x 279 mm)

The House of Aran Visual Guide is an elaborate and richly detailed compendium chronicling the civilization, culture, and history of the House of Aran, one of the most unique and resilient human societies in The MiddleVerse.

Descended, in their distant past, from the House of Abraxas, the Aran inhabit the desert planet of Zarah in the Leander System. Unlike other civilizations that straddle different terrains, the Aran are wholly shaped by their arid world, thriving amidst endless deserts that range from scorching equatorial dunes to icy polar wastelands. Their existence is not one of mere survival but of mastery, for they see themselves as custodians of the land, embracing the desert’s challenges as a sacred test of endurance and ingenuity.

The guide meticulously details the vast and varied landscapes of Zarah. The planet’s deserts are not monolithic; they are living, breathing entities, each with their own identity. From the sun-scorched golden dunes to the cold, crystalline deserts of the polar regions, Zarah’s geography has sculpted the House of Aran into a people of unmatched resilience. The rocky highlands serve as fortresses, while the scattered oases—lifeblood of the desert—are fiercely guarded and revered.

Each region has given rise to distinct kingdoms, six in total, each thriving in harmony with its surroundings. The subterranean halls of Arsian, the moonlit capital of Qamar, the coastal bastions of Yara – every settlement is an architectural and cultural marvel adapted to its unique landscape. The kingdoms remain united under the great Desert Accord, an agreement that fosters trade, military alliances, and the sharing of technological advancements, ensuring that the House of Aran remains a formidable force despite the harshness of their world.

The House of Aran Is more than a collection of warriors and desert nomads; they are artists, scholars, and visionaries. Their society is shaped by an intricate interplay of tradition and innovation.

At the heart of their culture is the legendary Black Desert Steed, a horse bred for speed, endurance, and an almost supernatural connection to its rider. The Great Desert Race, held in Qamar, is a breathtaking event where the finest riders from all six kingdoms compete in a gruelling test of skill and endurance, an embodiment of the Aran spirit.

Their artistry Is no less breathtaking. Sand carvings, intricate rock paintings, and masterful desert weavings adorn their cities and temples. Music is the soul of the Aran, with instruments like the Desert Lute, Sand Harp, and the hauntingly beautiful Sand Flute capturing the very essence of their environment. Their melodies are not just for entertainment – they are prayers carried on the wind, summoning the spirits of the desert, celebrating triumphs, and mourning losses.

The guide delves deep into the Aran’s warrior culture, detailing their unparalleled mastery of desert combat. Cavalry units mounted on their legendary steeds strike swiftly before vanishing into the dunes. The Kingdom of Sayf, known for its elite swordmasters, produces some of the deadliest fighters in The MiddleVerse. Arsian’s underground citadels house formidable armies, while Kartal’s eagle-eyed archers rain death upon their foes from the high cliffs.

Yet, their most powerful weapon is their ability to harness the desert itself. The Order of the Sacred Desert, a sect of priest-warriors, serves as a hidden hand against external threats, particularly the insidious House of Draco. Through centuries of conflict and deception, the Aran have developed an acute ability to detect the Draco’s manipulative tactics, standing as a barrier against their subversive influence.

“The House of Aran Visual Guide” does not merely describe the present – it weaves the rich tapestry of Aran history. The Great Desert Unification, where King Aran I brought together the scattered tribes, remains a pivotal moment, immortalized in grand carvings across the Crimson Cliffs. The Siege of Shamas, a defining battle where Aran warriors repelled a coalition of invaders, is detailed with meticulous care, capturing the sheer brilliance of Aran military strategy.

Yet, not all battles are fought with swords. The guide recounts the Great Sandstorm Crisis, a catastrophe that nearly destroyed the kingdom, but through innovation and unity, the Aran emerged stronger, developing groundbreaking technologies in weather prediction and desert survival.

For the Aran, the desert is more than a home – it is a sacred force, an entity that speaks through the shifting sands and howling winds. The Priesthood of the Sun, keepers of this spiritual wisdom, interpret the will of the cosmos, ensuring harmony between the people and the land. Their rituals, conducted at the Temple of the Sun, connect them to the celestial forces governing Zarah.

The House of Aran’s spirituality is not passive – it is a guiding force in their governance, their wars, their art, and their everyday lives. They believe the desert remembers, and through their rituals, they honour the past while securing the future.

The "House of Aran Visual Guide” is more than just a chronicle – it is an epic, a testament to a civilization that thrives where others falter, a people who see the unforgiving sands not as an obstacle, but as a sacred challenge. It is a story of endurance, of artistry, of war, and of an unbreakable spirit that echoes across the vast deserts of Zarah, carried on the wind like the songs of their ancestors.

The Book of Aran

Novel

Time is an unrelenting tide, sweeping away the names of the forgotten while carving the legacies of those who dared to rise above oblivion. In the vast expanse of The MiddleVerse, where the cosmos churns with destinies yet unwritten, one name endures, echoing through the annals of history – the name of Aran ibn Khalid. His was not merely a story of conquest and rule, nor was it a tale confined to the shifting sands of a single world. His life was a fulcrum upon which the fate of an entire civilization balanced, a convergence of past and future, war and peace, division and unity.

At the heart of this epic lies Zarah, a world of endless desert and ancient mystery, where life clings tenaciously to the few gifts the land bestows. It is a world of extremes, its people hardened by the relentless sun and the cold embrace of its twin moons. Here, the First Tribes – Shamari, Rasha, Bahir, Ulema, and Tarek – each fought for survival, bound by the unforgiving laws of the desert. Proud, fierce, and unyielding, they were warriors, mystics, and wanderers, their histories written not in ink but in blood and sand.

Yet, even in such a realm of hardened souls, there are those who see beyond the struggle. Aran ibn Khalid was one such visionary. Born into the Tarek tribe, he was raised in the ways of the desert – its silence, its fury, its secrets. But while others saw only division, he saw a future forged in unity. He spoke not of conquest but of brotherhood, not of submission but of a shared destiny. And for this, he was both admired and feared.

But fate is never kind to those who would reshape the world. The House of Draco, a power as old as the stars themselves, had set its sights upon Zarah, weaving their insidious influence into the fabric of its warring tribes. They came not with armies but with poisoned words, with gifts that enslaved, with whispers that turned brother against brother. To them, the desert was not a land of sacred struggle but a prize to be claimed, its people mere pawns in their endless game of dominion.

Amidst this encroaching darkness, Aran rose – not as a conqueror but as a unifier. Through fire and war, he sought to bind the fractured tribes, forging alliances where others saw only enemies. He faced betrayal, exile, and the ever-looming spectre of the Draco’s machinations. He stood before the might of the Bahir warlords, braved the lunar visions of the Rasha seers, and walked the treacherous halls of power in Sarim, the Jewel of the Northeast, where the fate of Zarah hung in the balance.

Yet even as he wove the tapestry of a new era, forces beyond mortal reckoning conspired to undo all he had built. The House of Draco would not yield so easily, and in their arsenal were weapons far more potent than steel – secrets buried beneath the sands, ancient powers long forgotten, and the unrelenting march of time itself.

This is no mere legend. It is history, recorded by the House of Tempus, the silent watchers of the Cosmic Dance, the weavers of time’s great tapestry. For time does not forget. It whispers through the shifting dunes through the echoes of the past through the bloodlines of those who still carry Aran’s name. His was a journey of destiny, of fire and revelation.

And his story is far from over.