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Fighter. Outcast. Prey.

Finan O’Brady sought nothing more than to master the art of Muay Thai and escape the shadows of his troubled past. But when a surreal encounter with an old friend on Koh Samui’s shores spirals into horror, Finan’s reality is upended. Visions of a black goat, whispers of a Banished King, and a crimson mist that hunts him at every turn—all signs point to a supernatural force far beyond his comprehension. 

As memories blur and allies vanish, Finan must navigate a world where betrayal hides in plain sight, myths bleed into reality, and survival depends on more than just his fists. Will he rise to confront the monstrous truths of the Banished King—or fall as yet another nameless victim?

In a world where courage and madness are two sides of the same coin, Bleed for the Banished King is a pulse-pounding blend of martial arts, psychological torment, and cosmic horror that will leave you breathless and questioning the boundaries of fate.

Bleed For The Banished King

Finan wanted to hang up and pack his bags. He resisted the temptation and cupped the phone closer to his ear, cradling it like a babe. "How? How do you know that name?"

Her erratic breathing came through on the other end of the land and he winced, holding the phone away from himself slightly.

"I need you to listen very carefully," she began, huffing up some storm. "I can explain everything to you in person. Okay? I've booked a flight to Koh Samui, I'm at the airport right now. My flight number is GCV198; pick me up at 3 A.M. if you can."

"Wait, you're just going to hang up? Don't do that to Chanda I need something some explanation—"

"It's not safe, Finan. I promise you I'll explain it all in person. Whatever you do, do not look at the red cloud. If it shows up — look away and book it. On my life Finan, you have to listen to me."

He tried stammering out a few words but she hung up.

'Breathe. Don't do anything; just breathe.' So, he took boxing breaths, exhaling through clinched teeth. It helped him calm down. Well, he was squeezing the life out of his phone, but at least he wasn't thrashing his room. 'GCV198?' He googled the flight number, tagging it on his phone before walking out of his room. Finan needed to move.

"Finan, I'm going to order some chips alright?" Emma asked from the living room. Finan ignored her, going out the front door. Rolling up his jeans slightly, he revved up their black motorcycle and raced off to the hinterlands, traveling back to where it all began: Chaweng.

"It was a full x-ray Finan. Nothing. No parasites whatsoever. You have some leg-swelling though and I can tell some of your ribs have been broken before. You're a fighter right?"

Finan rolled his eyes. "I could've told you that myself Dr. Allen."

Allen shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. Have you experienced any symptoms of post-fight head fog?"

As Finan shook his head, the doctor shined a phone light in his eyes. Finan blinked and weakly swatted at the phone. Allen just jotted down some notes on his tablet and shook his head.

"Any diarrhea? Abdominal pain? Anal itching?"

'No dumbass I haven't sniffed and itched my ass,' Finan thought, tightening his fists. He didn't voice his sardonic complaints, knowing they came mostly from his building frustration. 'I hope that Chanda explains this when I see her.'

No body. No blood. No crime scene, no yellow tape. Just tourists and islanders gazing out through the villa of Lat Ko. He waited there for three hours, standing by. His eyes roved the horizon and the waters, searching for both Banyen and that red cloud — against Chanda's wishes. He didn't know what to make of his ex knowing of the Banished King or his visions of the red cloud. 'Visions'. Finan chuckled to himself. 'What visions? If she's saying this stuff, that means you're not insane, right? Unless you imagined that conversation with her or something. Or perhaps you took some LSD accidentally or you're on hardcore 'shrooms. Maybe you got hooked on the same shit she used to use.' He shook his head, ignoring the stupid theory and focusing on what he could control.

When the tourists and islanders left as the night darkened, he stripped down to his underwear and swam out the rocky coast, diving as deep his could to find any sign of Banyen's body on the coast. Still nothing.

After coming back to shore, he changed back into his Muay Thai shorts and compression leggings, thankful for having an extra pair of them in his bike bag. Just before leaving though a red wisp of cloud caught his eye, brightened by the moonlight. Drawing closer. And closer. And closer.

He sped away down the main road, not daring to turn back.

Glimpse the Wisp