Beware the wrath of a patient man.
Patercius--once the Sun God, Inti--is on a path of destruction.
Believing the spirits to be demons, the knight has tasked himself with fulfilling the Light's prophecy and ridding the world of shapeshifters once and for all.
The Great Dragon Nwyfre, having reunited with his true love, is on a similar path of hatred.
As the young Guardian's memories return to him one by one, he remembers just how much Patercius has ravaged his and Nessie's lives.
As the final battle grows nigh, spirits from around the world must work together to commune with the essence of Earth itself
in order to keep the two from tearing each other--and the planet--apart.
Patercius--once the Sun God, Inti--is on a path of destruction.
Believing the spirits to be demons, the knight has tasked himself with fulfilling the Light's prophecy and ridding the world of shapeshifters once and for all.
The Great Dragon Nwyfre, having reunited with his true love, is on a similar path of hatred.
As the young Guardian's memories return to him one by one, he remembers just how much Patercius has ravaged his and Nessie's lives.
As the final battle grows nigh, spirits from around the world must work together to commune with the essence of Earth itself
in order to keep the two from tearing each other--and the planet--apart.
|
The interactions and sense of urgency and introduction of new characters are woven together seamlessly.
- DebbAnn I could totally imagine Patty standing on the top of some kind of tower, bathed in rain while lightning and thunder reverberate all around him, and shouting into the void. Movie-worth material. - E Hail The mythology included is impressive, and the magic and battle scenes are exciting and beautifully described. - J Lawson |
This never ending rise of tension is amaziiiing! And watching [them] fight with words is truly tantalizing.
- C Zaragoza What a finale! This book took the world established in books 1 and 2 and brought it to an awesome, global scale. Storylines and POVs converged, epic spirit battles were fought, and questions were finally answered. - JL Dunn |
I strode through the dimly-lit streets of London-town, cloak billowing behind me. My second and third trailed after, eyeing beggars warily as the poor men sought to rid us of our sparse coinage. My Druids and I hadn’t much to give; we lived off the land. We spent our nights hunting the Sickened and our days hiding from the mobs that would order our heads thrust onto pikes. Our bestial heads, that is.
“Can you spare—”
The beggar’s voice erupted into a ragged cough and I winced, meeting eyes with my second. He shrugged as if to dismiss it as a mere act.
Upon further inspection, however, I noted the man’s spirit flickering as if harbouring a terminal disease.
I didn’t have time for such. I had to reach Flint & Flockhart soon; lives depended on it. But who was I to resist aiding an ailing man before me?
“I have nothing to give but my blessing,” I lied.
“Archdruid…”
I raised a hand to silence my second. He swallowed, gaze resting upon the beggar.
“As I said, my blessing. Noswaith dda a pob lwc,” I told him. Good evening and good luck. Clean and simple. Now for the hard part.
I rested a hand on the poor man’s shoulder long enough to sense the discord within his veins. I sent an arc of healing energy through his body, praying he would not notice until much later when his health would cease to decline. Or mayhap he would not notice at all. He may never have known the extent of the illness that seeped through his organs like liquid death.
I left the beggar, the image of his wrinkled face seared into the back of my mind. I knew them all. I remembered them. I lived for them.
“Y Ddraig Goch ddyry gychwyn,” my second muttered under his breath as the three of us stalked away, seeking to shelter ourselves within the slinking shadows.
The corner of my lip turned up at his remark.
The Red Dragon will show the way.
“Can you spare—”
The beggar’s voice erupted into a ragged cough and I winced, meeting eyes with my second. He shrugged as if to dismiss it as a mere act.
Upon further inspection, however, I noted the man’s spirit flickering as if harbouring a terminal disease.
I didn’t have time for such. I had to reach Flint & Flockhart soon; lives depended on it. But who was I to resist aiding an ailing man before me?
“I have nothing to give but my blessing,” I lied.
“Archdruid…”
I raised a hand to silence my second. He swallowed, gaze resting upon the beggar.
“As I said, my blessing. Noswaith dda a pob lwc,” I told him. Good evening and good luck. Clean and simple. Now for the hard part.
I rested a hand on the poor man’s shoulder long enough to sense the discord within his veins. I sent an arc of healing energy through his body, praying he would not notice until much later when his health would cease to decline. Or mayhap he would not notice at all. He may never have known the extent of the illness that seeped through his organs like liquid death.
I left the beggar, the image of his wrinkled face seared into the back of my mind. I knew them all. I remembered them. I lived for them.
“Y Ddraig Goch ddyry gychwyn,” my second muttered under his breath as the three of us stalked away, seeking to shelter ourselves within the slinking shadows.
The corner of my lip turned up at his remark.
The Red Dragon will show the way.
