S. W. Raine

There’s a moment that happens sometimes when you’re reading a story, where a villain says something… and you pause. Not because you completely agree with what they’re doing or because you suddenly want them to win, but because, for just a second, you think:

…wait. They’re not entirely wrong.

It’s the same kind of moment you get with characters like Loki or Killmonger in the MCU—when the line between right and wrong gets a little harder to see. Those are the moments that stick. The ones that make a story feel bigger than a simple good-versus-evil narrative.

Those are the kinds of villains I love to read, watch… and write. And it’s exactly why villains make good points in the stories I write.

Villains Who Believe They’re Right

Some villains are trying to fix something. Others aren’t. But the ones that stay with me are the ones who believe in what they’re doing—or at the very least, have a reason for it.

Jocephus Giddeon in The Techno Mage is a perfect example of that. Everything he does is driven by the need to undo something that never should have happened, and he’s willing to cross every line to make that possible. He’s dangerous, manipulative, and absolutely in the wrong… but his motivation is something deeply human.

That’s where the tension lives for me. Not in whether a villain is right or wrong, but in understanding why they believe they are.

The Kind of Chaos I Love

I have a soft spot for a very specific kind of villain: tricksters who bend the rules just to see what happens; masterminds who are always five steps ahead; morally gray characters who make you question which side you’re actually on; and tragic villains who didn’t start out this way, but ended up here anyway.

Captain Benedict Keenan (moreso in The Techno Mage than in the kind-of villain-origin prequel spin-off—try saying that five times fast—Rise of the Sky Pirate) sits firmly in that gray space. He pillages and plunders, makes morally questionable decisions, and has no problem using people when he needs to—but he also has a code. There are lines he refuses to cross, shaped by his past, and those lines matter. They don’t make him a hero, but they make him more than someone slowly becoming a villain.

And those are the characters I find the most interesting to write—the ones who shift the balance of a story simply by existing in it.

Why They’re Allowed to Make Good Points

When a villain makes a good point, it doesn’t mean the story’s agreeing with them—and it’s a big part of why villains make good points in the first place. The story is just willing to explore something more complex than a simple answer.

Sometimes villains see flaws the heroes are ignoring. Other times they push against systems that actually are broken. And sometimes they say the quiet part out loud, even if their solution is the wrong one.

That’s where the story deepens—when understanding a villain doesn’t mean supporting them, but it does mean you can’t dismiss them either. Because the moment you can see where they’re coming from, even a little, the conflict becomes more than just a fight. It becomes a question.

Villains Who Cross the Line

Not every villain needs to be sympathetic. Some of them are cruel. Ruthless. Some hurt people because they can. And those villains have their place in a story too.

Thomas Davies from Rise of the Sky Pirate is one of those characters. He’s the very definition of a bully. And he exists to create harm, to push other characters to their limits, and to represent a kind of cruelty that doesn’t need to be justified to be real. You’re not meant to sympathize with him; you’re meant to want him stopped.

And sometimes that’s exactly what a story needs.

But cruelty on its own isn’t what makes a villain interesting. What matters is intention. A villain can be chaotic, calculated, or completely unhinged, but they still need a role in the story—a purpose that pushes the narrative forward or forces the characters to grow.

Like Shikki from The Gatekeeper’s Portal. He’s ruthless, volatile, and driven by anger that’s been building for a long time. Being overlooked, ignored, and treated as invisible left its mark, and when he finally has power, he uses it in ways that hurt people. There’s a reason behind it. There’s a history. But that doesn’t make what he does okay… it just makes it understandable.

(I actually had to tone him down in edits. He was so powerful, he almost turned my urban fantasy into a dystopian novel… which was not the plan.)

And that’s the space I find the most compelling—where you can trace the path that led someone here, even if you still want them stopped. That’s where the line is for me. Not in how dark a villain gets, but in whether they feel real, deliberate, and necessary.

What I Want You to Feel

When you read one of my books, I don’t want you to feel just one thing about the villain. I want you to hate them when they cross a line. To understand them when their motivations come into focus. To feel that flicker of “okay, but I see what they’re saying” even if you still want them defeated.

Some villains make you think. Some make you uncomfortable. And some… you’ll be very satisfied to see gone as quickly as possible.

(If you’ve ever wanted to shove a villain off a cliff like my bff wanted to do to Jocephus, you’re not alone.)

And if you ever find yourself arguing with yourself about whether they have a point, then the story is doing exactly what it’s meant to do.

The Villains I’ll Always Write

The villains in my stories may be chaotic, calculating, or completely unhinged in the best way. They may challenge the heroes, complicate the story, and push everything further than it was meant to go.

But they won’t be empty.

They’ll have reasons. Beliefs. They’ll definitely have something driving them, even if that something is messy, misguided, or destructive, because the most interesting stories aren’t built on simple good versus evil… but on people. And people are rarely that simple.

Who’s your favorite villain? Let me know in the comments. I’m always curious what kind of chaos people gravitate toward.

Raine