Official RELEASE: – 15 March 2026

orders now open. Shipping begins 3rd of March

Two legacy lines.
One woman.
A sacrifice that shaped them both.

Before the Legacy, Before the Ten is the origin story of the Pentergasp world. The foundation of two family lines, bound by love, duty, and the choices that echo through generations.

This is where the choices were made.
This is where the lines divided.
This is where everything that follows was set in motion.

Available in:
Hardback
Paperback

Release Date: 15 March 2026
Shipping begins: 3rd March 2026

UK Orders:

Printed Editions:
Order by Wednesday 11 March to receive your copy by Saturday 14 March 2026.

Digital Edition (E-book):
Available for download from 29 March 2026 via secure BookFunnel delivery.

About the Book

Before the Legacy, Before the Ten

This was not the life Matilda had envisioned for herself.

When circumstances left a child in need and no one else able to step forward, she did what she had always done — she stepped in. What began as an act of protection became a lifelong commitment. Shaped by quiet resilience, fierce loyalty, and sacrifices few would ever fully see.

As love deepens and responsibilities grow, Matilda finds herself building something far greater than she ever intended — a foundation strong enough to carry generations. Yet legacy is never formed through intention alone. It is shaped through choice, through endurance, and through the courage to stand firm when it matters most.

In this intimate prelude to the Pentergasp Legacy, one woman’s decision to remain becomes the beginning of everything that follows.

Some legacies are inherited.
Others are chosen.

Excerpts from the story

The Shape of Inheritance

Ernest stood for a moment longer than necessary once the paperwork was done.
The land no longer belonged to him in the way it once had.

It was right. He knew it was right.

But there are some handovers a man rehearses in his mind — and they never look quite like this.

It should have been his son.

The thought arrived uninvited, sharp but familiar.

When Royce came running back from the far end of the park, wind in his hair and dirt on his hands, Ernest felt something shift.

For just a moment — in the set of his jaw, in the way he turned his head — Nathaniel was there.

Not as a ghost.
Not as memory.

But as continuation.

📚 “Do you get the answers in advance or something?”

It was supposed to be fun.
Just a Year 3 classroom game.
Each week, a new “Star of the Day” sits in the middle of the circle while classmates ask them questions.

Most are harmless.
Favourite book. Dream job.
Chicken-sized elephants vs elephant-sized chickens. (Yes, really.)

But then Max raised his hand.
And Royce—barely eight years old—was hit with a question that wasn’t really a question at all.

“How come you always get A’s?
What—do you get the answers in advance or something?”

Oof.
You know that tone.
We all do.

Royce could’ve crumbled.
He could’ve joked it off.
Instead, he sat up straight and told the truth.

“I just listen. I try hard. At school and at home.
And if I don’t know something, I ask.”

Simple.
Clear.
Unshakeable.

And then — something beautiful.
His classmates rallied.

“You helped me with that maths thing.”
“You let me borrow your coloured pencils.”
“You never show off.”

They didn’t clap.
But they backed him.
And that meant everything.

This was the first time Royce stood his ground in front of his peers.
It won’t be the last.

Wednesday 29 September 2025

📖 Before the Legacy, There Was Loss.

The house was warm.
Not just heated — full. With food, laughter, and the kind of quiet joy that only lives where love lives.
Royce, barely more than a toddler, toddled close to Matilda’s legs, stacking blocks and stealing hearts. Ernest, Matilda’s older brother, grumbled about the soup. His wife Estelle had brought sweet bread. Jameson, the family solicitor — steady, kind — dropped in with a paper bag and a half-made dessert.
It was a Sunday. A nothing-special Sunday. Well for them at least.
The kind no one ever remembers.

Until the knock came.
And the world tipped.

Grace and Nathaniel were gone.
No witnesses.
They were simply found — still, and silent — on a mountain.

Royce’s parents.
Gone.
Just like that.

Matilda didn’t cry. Not at first. She looked at Royce instead, watching his little head tilt in confusion, already sensing the shift.
What do you say to a child who just lost everything? One who didn’t even know what they had lost?
You don’t.
You carry what’s left.

That night, the house dimmed.
Estelle cleaned. Ernest withdrew; their son was gone. Jameson lingered, pressing her shoulder before stepping out into the night.

And then he was gone, too.
Everyone.

Except Royce.
And Matilda.

She hadn’t planned this, and Matilda, who had never asked to be anyone’s mother, was about to become one.
She wasn’t their backup.
She was Nathaniel’s aunt. Grace had been her friend.
But she was here.
And Royce needed someone who would stay.

That night, Matilda didn’t sleep.
She drifted. Swept. Folded. Sat in odd places. Whispered to the walls.
She fixed a sink that didn’t need fixing.
And when Royce woke in the early light — no tantrum, no demand, just need — she took him into her arms and held him close.

That’s when grief loosened.
And something quieter whispered:

We’re still here.
We’re still together.

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