A runaway gladiator frustrated with fighting in the sandpits of Bahmaris becomes the ward of a mysterious warlord. With a mythical healing amulet in hand, she is determined to save the world and protect her sickly twin brother Jairus from the great prophecy at all costs.

She knew what they saw. They saw a dirty, feral creature, not fit to be alive. They saw a beast. An unsightly, gaunt, one-eyed monster. A freckled bronzed face that had been hammered down by past victories. Tufts of brown hair, pushed behind her ears, grazing her nape from where her treasured plait used to hang. Mother had sold it a few years ago during the famine. It wasn’t like Kalyssa cared about looks anyway, she reminded herself, swallowing the lump in her throat. Mother meant well after all. Kalyssa was no fool. She was never going to be a great beauty. Kalyssa was simply going to be great.

The Kin-Killer King. The Lyornmar. The Great Heir of Salantir. A tragic emperor held prisoner by a prophecy, a tyrant who slays the lives of many in the name of mercy. Cursed with destruction and death with every breath.

Outstretched their hands and called his name in prayer. The heir of Salantir. The Lyonmar. The Lionhead sent to save them all. Kyros bit his lip hard, drawing blood. What a lie, what a bittersweet lie.

Fair, handsome, and gentle, Jairus is Kalyssa’s dying twin brother who suffers from ruin and the constant stress of being Kal’s other half. Despite being a child of the prophecy, he is a pacifist and serves as Kal’s only source of reason.

Jairus’s brown eyes darted back to Kalyssa’s. They were sombre and warm, nothing like hers or Mother’s. They were too kind—too tender to speak harsh truths.

A bastard Prince of Asura, Zale is the elder brother of Emperor Kyros and a vicious lycanthrope, feared by all. Though his mother originates from Azol, the half-breed Prince is talented with the ladies and even more so with his sword.

‘They will come for you all.’

‘Which gods?’ 

‘The only ones who ever mattered.’

‘Look around you,’ Prince Zale flashed her a dimpled smile as he splayed out his bloodied arms, his voice soaring over the sounds of infinite screams and roaring fire, ‘we are the only gods left who matter.’

Once a Princess of Mayek, once a prized possession of Asura, Maya reigns every inch of the seven seas as the Mistress of Mist with her gaggle of undead sirens. Her only goal is to return to her daughter and will do anything in her power to undo the curse laid upon her by the Glass Maiden, even if that means betraying the only man she’s ever loved.

All her life love had been a dance between joy and danger. She looked across the ship at her once-husband’s face and felt that rope tighten around her throat like a noose. Even in death, Kyros would never let her go.

A young Princess of Asura, betrothed and sold off to the Vandalish at the age of nine-years-old. Despite her lonely upbringing, Aylin is a loving and curious child who yearns for knowledge, the friendship of others, and the love of a mother she’s never known.

It was a terrible idea for a girl so young to fill her head with ideas of the world. The world was a wooden sword.  A plaything fashioned from hardwood and stone, carved for boys and men to wield. Women were merely stars, burning brightly. Beautifully. Soundlessly. Uselessly. She didn’t understand how the young princess could take so much pleasure in inked symbols strewn across aged paper, written by men who never intended for someone such as her to read their memoirs and stories of travel far west. But here the child was, her head tucked beneath her sheets, her mind lost in distant lands filled with love, war, and everything in between.

The Great Shadow King. The Father of all Nepherim. A God in a godless world. Bahmar is an immortal being of unknown origin, hell-bent on reclaiming the world as His. With His legion of daemonic descendants, he will restore the realms back to balance at the cost of humanity and reclaim his long-lost love.

‘The great king of kings is returning. I can feel his power. Bahmar’s essence lingers here. In the citadel. I can feel it. He’s already here.’

The youngest of the Elder Shadows, daughter to the Hearth Mother and the Shadow King, the gentle fire-wielding daemon must cast her familial allegiances aside in the name of love, honour, and justice. Defender of the women and children of the Holy Province of Aramus. She leads the cursed Crimson Hoods against the forces of darkness.

‘I am the Keeper of the Realm. The Crimson Hood.’ Farah’s voice trembled as her eyes implored him once more. ‘That name meant something to you once. When your brother voyages too far to the east, the Holy Province of Aramus is too easily susceptible to foreign invaders. The women and children here have suffered enough for centuries at the expense of violent men whose greed knows no end. Savages. Bandits. Pillagers and plunderers. This is the only haven in the world for the truly innocent. They need me here.’

A rogue vampyre prince with no allegiance to the Collective. A drunkard and a swine, buried deep within the sea beds of the Isles of Mist for over a thousand years. He awakens to a strange land ruled by the Heirs of Salantir, and the replacement of the Starlight Child. He seeks out the Abaros Grimoire to sever his immortality and end his life without risking the lives of his blood clan. Jovial and kind in nature, Jun is horrified to discover the Nepheros and the creation of the Hollowed Ones, eager to return to the Higher Realm and wreck havoc on mankind. In exchange for the grimoire, he makes a deal with the mighty Mistress of Mist, retrieve the Zuran princess and evade the wicked emperor.

The brothers’ blood was not as pure as he liked. They had not treated their bodies well over the years, malnourished and laced with drinking poison over the years, but who was he to judge? Jun dug his nails into his palms. He shouldn't. The last time he took a sip, half of Shayenn had bled dry. Every man, woman, and child. He looked back at the ashes and corpses on the raft. He had done worse, much worse.

The Thousand-Eyed Daemon. The Dancer in the Dark. She is a shapeshifting Elder Shadow with the ability to cloak herself in invisibility, daughter to the Hearth Mother and the Shadow King. With her diamond anklets and flowers in her hair, the ancient Mayeki dancer is as sensual as she is cunning. Trapped in the Forgotten Forest in the Kingdom of Varsul, she heartily awaits the return of her Lord Father.

‘We were supposed to rule the world. You and I!’ Lyra hissed. ‘We were all supposed to rule before mankind laid their stench on this earth. This was never their land to begin with. This is not their home! You gave up our birthright for a man!’

The three-eyed liar is as swift with her schemes as she is with her shapeshifting. Shackled to the heirs of Salantir for centuries on end, she recites the prophecies she chooses, truths be damned. When Kal bears the lycaeris amulet, it is the Oracle who must step forward with her neck on the line. The girl must retrieve an unholy sword and kill the emperor by the coming blood moon, or risk the return of Layl’s evil father, Bahmar - The Shadow King.

‘Despite what you may think, we’re not all bad, Kal. We Shadowfolk are much like the Children of Men. Nepherim vary from good to evil just like everyone else does. We didn’t ask to be created, just as you didn’t. We didn’t want to be here. I thought you of all people would understand that.’

Son of the Hearth Mother and the Shadow King, a powerful teleporting Elder Shadow and father to the Fireborne. He serves Bahmar well and leads the Collective against mankind.

‘Father was right, of course,’ Xaro said with a small chuckle. ‘He was always right. I had never realised how much I’d miss him until he was gone. You're not truly a man until your father passes…now that he’s back…I almost feel like I can be a child again. To start anew. Just me and him this time, with none of the others to steal his light.’

One of the six vessels foreseen in the ancient prophecies. He is kind and whimsical like a child, eager to serve the Heir of Salantir against the Shadow King.

‘We’ve all got scars, missus.’  Khaleel crouched closer to the trembling princess. ‘Most people’s is only on the inside is all, see. It’s okay to cry.’