CHAPTER 1: The Blood-Stained Sanctuary Kyran’s POVThe weight of a continent settled into my limbs with every step across the flagstones of the inner sanctum. My armor was split from collar to hip, caked in black gore from the abyssal front and the venom of the Void Serpent had settled into my marrow, burning like a fiend fire. I could barely draw air without my ribs grinding against one another.The arched doors of my private chambers lay ahead and beyond them stood the only peace I had known in three centuries of slaughter.. my wives. Cressida whose frost arts could cool the fire eating my blood.. Morwena whose cauldrons held the draughts to mend meridians and Nyssa whose wards could unravel the curses still clinging to my flesh. I had torn the heart out of the Star-Iron Realm to bring Cressida the frost core she needed to survive. I had sacrificed half my cultivation sight to secure Morwena’s relic and bled my own veins dry to break the blood curse on Nyssa’s clan. They were th

CHAPTER 3: The Mountain Path Kyran's POVThe rhythmic clang of the valley’s brass alarm bell echoed off the high slate cliffs, scattering crows from the dead trees above.Down in the pit, the remaining slaves stood frozen in the dust, staring at the three dead guards with wide and hollow eyes. None of them reached for a fallen weapon. Years of starvation, iron collars and daily lashings had broken whatever will they once possessed.. they were cattle waiting to see which way the herd would be driven.Only the scrawny youth who had spoken to me stayed close with his fingers nervously picking at the fraying hemp rope around his waist.“My name is Ris,” he stammered, following two paces behind as I stripped the bracers from the dead spearman and strapped them over my thin forearms. “We slept in the third bunk of the lower trench, Drax. You came in three moons ago from the southern marches. You didn’t speak to anyone.. you just worked until your hands split.”“The man who did that died t

CHAPTER 5: Ash on the Wind Kyran's POVGreasy black smoke rose three hundred feet into the afternoon sky, twisting like a dark spear against the slate-gray clouds that choked the upper peaks.Down in the valley floor, the main crushing sheds, the sorting yards and the timber barracks burned with a low hungry roar. The heat was immense, radiating outward across the gravel yard and baking the remaining pools of blood into dry, cracked crusts that flaked under the mountain wind.Near the shattered southern gates, three heavy freight wagons stood lined in a row. They had been thoroughly searched and packed with iron discipline.. sacks of hard winter grain, wheels of salted rind cheese, bundles of dried beef, crates of heavy iron picks and forged steel broadswords and two massive iron-bound chests carrying the unrefined stabilizing crystal extracted from the deep veins.Around the wagons gathered forty freed men. They had cast aside their broken shovels and rusted wrist-irons, taking up