‘When the great deserts of Bahmaris are laden with ice, and the West is doused in smoke and plague, mountains of human flesh will rot and turn and fade to ash. Warm shut eyes will awaken, trading brown for wicked silver. Fever will scorch through blood and bones, reverting mankind into shadowfolk. Then I shall watch, right here from your gilded towers. Watch as the last of mankind flail and die. Watch from these chains as they fall upon each other like wolves to grazing cattle, feasting upon anything that moves. Then I shall rest, knowing a great fire will blaze once more, one that will break the seal of the Netherworld and return the old gods to this plane. My king shall return by the next blood moon,’ she wheezed as she clutched her aching chest, ‘but so too will yours.’

The oracle fell back as the divine revelation released her. She blinked and gasped for breath, the silver returning to her eyes.

— Prologue Chapter

Kalyssa crawled on her hands and knees, slowly circling her opponent almost twice her size. The crowd consisted mostly of fellow lowborn boys and a handful of highborn men and their kingsfolk, coupled with a few ladies of the night who erupted in cheer, fascinated by the one-eyed beast who appeared human but howled as if ensnared by a full moon. They tossed their handkerchiefs into the crowd and peered at the beast behind their paramours’ shoulders. 

All the boys often fought in this way, in a circular sandpit surrounded by a crowd of onlookers…but Kalyssa was no boy. She knew better than to voice such a dishonour. Kalyssa had heard of such lands where a creature could dare set foot outside its mother’s womb without a worm curled between its legs and dare to breathe an extra day, but Bahmaris was no such land. You should be lucky, they said. Lucky, your parent deemed it fit not to bury you alive. Kalyssa clucked her tongue as she stretched her neck. It was starting to feel like an extraordinarily long day. Lucky you’re even allowed to wrestle in the great sands of Bahmaris and not in a brothel. It was they who should consider themselves lucky for Kalyssa had taken a vow to silence evil but never to kill.

— Chapter One

And so, it had begun. The tyranny—they would call it. The age of shadows. The madman, they’d coin him. The Beggar Prince. The Vagrant King. The orphaned royal traipsing from town to town, with no home to call his own, slaying his own relatives in distant lands to earn back his throne. But there were others out there who chanted his name. 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.

— Chapter

‘We Solemna Sisters have guarded the realms of mankind for far too long, bound by ancient oaths we no longer need to follow. Our sun has already risen in the West, and she will set her wrath upon the East. Our sacrifices have paid off at long last. You can torture and maim us all you like. It’s too late. The blood of Salantir is weak, drifting from the plains of this world thanks to centuries of your own family squabbles and civil wars. Our gods walk among us now, and they will reclaim the birth right of the shadowfolk over mankind once again.’ She spat at Zale’s feet and bared her fangs. 

‘They will come for you all.’

‘Which gods?’ 

‘The only ones who’ve 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.’ 

— Chapter

‘Snow shall descend upon the red desert. The white moon will blacken with rage. Then at the last hour in the age of mankind, the sun will rise bloody and vengeful before falling to its death, the Elvenstar will strike, and the age of shadows shall arise. Unless time is warped, and destiny slips past us yet again.’

— Chapter

 ‘You must dial back the sands of time and slaughter the young emperor in his infancy before the Lord of Nepherim and all Shadows return to consume his body. Only you can contain the God of Chaos, Bahmar. And only you can bind him shut… forever this time.’

— Chapter