Snips from Book One:
Tarakis’ ears perked up. Crystal Lake, that’s where Ghosty McGee told him to go. What were the odds he’d randomly hear it mentioned now? Weird coincidence or sneaky fate? Some instinct nagged him to follow this batty breadcrumb trail; all logic be damned. Before thinking better of it, he chugged his ale and sidled up next to the men. —Tarakis, half-fiend rogue of Jovian Falls
Valen had taken to wandering in the last hours before dawn rather than lying sleepless in bed. Each night had been the same; first, the enjoyable company of his consort Solara, then drifting into a deep slumber. And then the dream. The same vivid dream three nights in a row, always ending the same way. He would awaken afterward, heart pounding, drenched in sweat, and wide awake.—Valen Halen, Warlord of Jwarl Avignon
Though the King’s instructions were vague and strange, Tavannos knew better than to question his monarch openly. He would discuss the matter in private with Airrak once they had left the tower. For now, he remained outwardly obedient, hiding his unease.—Sir Tavannos, Knight of the Southern Kingdom
Airrak shook his head. “My friend, he insisted we travel together three separate times in but a few minutes of conversation. And his instructions make little sense. We are to investigate something, yet he provides no details of what or why.”—Airrak, Royal Archmage of the Southern Kingdom
Near him, the undead milled around aimlessly, some like him, with their heads down, and others stared off into the dark void, mouths wide in a silent scream. They paid him no heed, lost in the nothingness of their minds, and he to them.—Szarzekk, undead berserker of Under City
Though the blind woman’s words made little sense, Xilton felt compelled to act. Those vivid dreams, now coupled with the mystic’s cryptic message, were omens she could not ignore. She must go to Pembrook and discover what fate awaited her there.—Xilton, monk of Saint Chandler’s Monastery
Leaning toward the growing fire, Darius lifted the parchment, watching as it slowly caught flame, then released it into the hearth. An affirmation of sorts—he would go. But first, Darius thought, I need a bloody drink.—Darius Varen, Captain of the Kingsguard of the Northern Kingdom
Though Lanithier’s advice was sound, apprehension still gripped Shadowhawk’s heart. She wished to delay this reckoning, to ignore the summons in her spirit just a little longer. But deep down, she knew prolonging the inevitable would only magnify her unease.—Shadowhawk, wild elven ranger of Greenmar
Waving a swift hand, Kai’las enclosed himself in a shimmering protective shield, but he could only watch helplessly as his beautiful home melted away, consumed by the nightmarish inferno.—Kai’las, Light Fae Prince of Faery
As she clashed blades with one man, her wings unfurled mightily to bash aside the other two. They hurtled backward with cries, one slamming into a trunk while the other was lost overhead in branches. Already, she had turned the tide against her aggressors.—Makaelah, Commander of the Celeyian Armies
Valen had taken to wandering in the last hours before dawn rather than lying sleepless in bed. Each night had been the same; first, the enjoyable company of his consort Solara, then drifting into a deep slumber. And then the dream. The same vivid dream three nights in a row, always ending the same way. He would awaken afterward, heart pounding, drenched in sweat, and wide awake.—Valen Halen, Warlord of Jwarl Avignon
Though the King’s instructions were vague and strange, Tavannos knew better than to question his monarch openly. He would discuss the matter in private with Airrak once they had left the tower. For now, he remained outwardly obedient, hiding his unease.—Sir Tavannos, Knight of the Southern Kingdom
Airrak shook his head. “My friend, he insisted we travel together three separate times in but a few minutes of conversation. And his instructions make little sense. We are to investigate something, yet he provides no details of what or why.”—Airrak, Royal Archmage of the Southern Kingdom
Near him, the undead milled around aimlessly, some like him, with their heads down, and others stared off into the dark void, mouths wide in a silent scream. They paid him no heed, lost in the nothingness of their minds, and he to them.—Szarzekk, undead berserker of Under City
Though the blind woman’s words made little sense, Xilton felt compelled to act. Those vivid dreams, now coupled with the mystic’s cryptic message, were omens she could not ignore. She must go to Pembrook and discover what fate awaited her there.—Xilton, monk of Saint Chandler’s Monastery
Leaning toward the growing fire, Darius lifted the parchment, watching as it slowly caught flame, then released it into the hearth. An affirmation of sorts—he would go. But first, Darius thought, I need a bloody drink.—Darius Varen, Captain of the Kingsguard of the Northern Kingdom
Though Lanithier’s advice was sound, apprehension still gripped Shadowhawk’s heart. She wished to delay this reckoning, to ignore the summons in her spirit just a little longer. But deep down, she knew prolonging the inevitable would only magnify her unease.—Shadowhawk, wild elven ranger of Greenmar
Waving a swift hand, Kai’las enclosed himself in a shimmering protective shield, but he could only watch helplessly as his beautiful home melted away, consumed by the nightmarish inferno.—Kai’las, Light Fae Prince of Faery
As she clashed blades with one man, her wings unfurled mightily to bash aside the other two. They hurtled backward with cries, one slamming into a trunk while the other was lost overhead in branches. Already, she had turned the tide against her aggressors.—Makaelah, Commander of the Celeyian Armies