In Cabaret in Flames, the fantasist pairs medic Ariadne, a quadruple amputee, with Quaint, an ancient monster known as a gul, on the search for her missing mentor.

What was your initial inspiration?

The first idea I had, and the most important to me, was Ariadne’s backstory. There’s this pervasive social idea that it’s better to die than to go through something extreme, which means that surviving particularly cruel violence comes with further isolation, dismissal, and stigma. More than anything, I was interested in the after, what it meant for her physically and emotionally, from mobility devices and security concerns to her high tolerance for guls and her sense of morality.

How did you conceptualize the vampiric guls?

The funny thing is that I wasn’t thinking of vampires! There’s an otherworldly element in creatures that consume human bodies—vampires, ghouls, zombies—but I wanted to stay away from the undead or the overtly magical. I imagined a species closely related to humans, with its own biology, but so similar to us that you couldn’t tell us apart at first sight, thus the need for doctors like Ariadne.

Ariadne and Quaint’s relationship never feels rushed despite the novella’s short length. How do you approach creating intimate romance in such limited space?

Every story has its own pacing and focus, even novellas, so it’s ultimately a matter of purpose. In this case, I wanted to build a relationship between two characters who have a conflict not with one another but with somebody else: Ariadne’s mentor, Erik, this third presence that lingers between them, not through jealousy but through the weight of his absence and actions. It also helps that I never felt obligated to name what the characters feel. They meet, they develop a bond, they’re attracted to each other, but they don’t need to think or talk about love right now.

The book is extremely atmospheric. Which setting was your favorite to create?

The nightclub Cabaré was the most fun to imagine, but it wouldn’t be fair to ignore Ariadne’s apartment since it’s the true heart of the story: the place where her current life starts, where Erik and Quaint’s relationship ends, where Ariadne and Quaint meet.

The name Ariadne is associated with Greek mythology. Is there anything your Ariadne and the Ariadne of the Labyrinth have in common?

She was actually the last character to be named from the main three. The labyrinth imagery feels like a very organic way of conceptualizing traumatic memories, so I went for Ariadne, which is an uncommon but normal name in Brazil. And since the mythological Ariadne was abandoned by a mortal man and beloved by a god, it fit her like a glove.