The Shattered Sphere
book details and current status
The Shattered Sphere is currently still being edited before publication.
The expected release date is in early 2026.
Readers can download a free PDF preview version below to get a sneak peek at what's coming!
About the author
Álfur Þorgilsson
Álfur Þorgilsson is a storyteller born from a tapestry of quiet defiance, whispered lore, and the luminous shadows of Icelandic twilight. His stories, like hidden sanctuaries, offer shelter for those who find themselves lost between worlds, identities, and expectations.
A neurodivergent, queer, and disabled author, Álfur spent his childhood between library shelves and imagined realms—each story a lifeline, each book a companion in solitude. In his writing, the sacred dances softly with the scarred, memory bleeds into myth, and trauma becomes soil in which hope defiantly blooms.
The Shattered Sphere, Álfur’s debut novel, emerged from restless nights and fragmented dreams, pieced together from echoes of longing and whispered rebellions against forgetting. When he's not conjuring worlds or weaving words into patterns of light and shadow, he finds solace among Iceland’s wild landscapes—beneath skies that remember storms, beside fires that burn brightest in the dark.
You're still here?
(o・┏ω┓・o)
OH?
YOU THINK THERE'S MORE?
(˵¯͒〰¯͒˵)
WHY ARE YOU STILL SCROLLING?
I'M NOT JUST GOING TO TELL YOU IF THERE'S MORE OR NOT
(~￣³￣)~
No, really, there's no more.
You’ve reached the threshold.
Beyond this point: unfiltered goblin tangents, hyperfixation rambles, and entirely too much honesty about the things I love.
You’ve been warned.
Prepare for ND rambling
You kept scrolling. You found the stash. So here it is—everything else.
I’m the kind of person who picks up a craft like it’s a long-lost sibling. Who sees a tool or a texture or a technique and thinks, I could do that, and then spends three weeks learning to whittle a spoon, bind a book, or cast something from clay. I’ve always been that way.
I crochet. I knit. I paint. I draw. I carve. I cook. I bake. I bind. I sew. I stickerbomb. I hoard supplies like I’m prepping for the artistic apocalypse. I make costumes, not just clothes. I make food, not just meals. I make stories, not just books.
My brain doesn’t do casual. It does consuming. It dives, headfirst, into every interest like it’s the one true gospel until the next one whispers louder. Neurodivergence isn’t just a label—it’s the rhythm my life runs on.
I collect media like sacred relics. DVDs, books, burned CDs, fan-made comics, the forgotten animated movie no one remembers but I do. I read about psychology for fun, memorize niche medical facts because they comfort me, study languages like they might unlock secret worlds. I daydream about collapse and rebirth in the same breath.
I’m a crafting goblin, a foraging bard, a barefoot witch, a soft-punk survivalist, and probably a wizard if you squint right. I believe in firelight and found family, queerness as magic, and stories that stitch the broken back together.
So yeah—if you’ve wandered this far, now you know. This world, this book, this site… they’re made by someone with ink-stained fingers, a needle tucked behind one ear, and dirt under their nails. Because I don’t just write stories—I live like I’m inside one.
🐸✨🕯️
