Morningstar is a work born not merely from fascination with the American frontier, but from a deep meditation on the fragility of order, consequences of human ambition, and moral ambiguity of survival. While the story is set in an alternate version of 1860s America—a land fractured by economic collapse and lawlessness—it is not a tale about history so much as it is about the people who survive its failures.

There is no heroic arc to guide them, no promise of redemption. The landscape itself is both setting and adversary—a vast, unfeeling expanse that swallows man.

In writing this book, I was not interested in glorifying violence or romanticizing the myth of the Old West. Instead, I sought to confront it—when the only compass left is the quiet murmur of conscience, or the lack thereof.

Writing this wasn’t easy. It asked more of me than I expected. But I kept going because some stories demand to be told, no matter the toll. If this book feels rough, conflicted, or deeply human, it’s because I tried to make it that way.

Some truths are not meant to be comfortable. And if any of it lingers with you—unnerves you, challenges you—then I’ve done my job.

Thank you for reading.
—William Jefferson
(pseudonym)