A forsaken princess and the dark god that seeks to destroy all she loves…
The Kaevari demons came not long after the Crown Prince of Waetherea died of the dark, ominous plague that overcame the Altanan continent. These beasts of shadows and carnage devoured the continent one kingdom after another.
The mighty kingdom of Therilea crumbles one fateful night when the full moon lights up the carnage for the gods to behold.
Therilean princess Ara Zypherus flees with her father’s trusted soldiers and his commander Raethin Corvus. Their escape leads them into the Rakevan Forest, a blessed, labyrinthine woods with a mind of its own.
The only way to survive is to seek shelter with the legendary druidic people and find a way to stop the Kaevari from wiping out the realms of all life.
But the gods have another plan. A dark entity seeks to devour all life–to twist the primordial gods’ creations of the mortal realms and remake it in his image.
Together, Ara and Raethin must reconcile with loss, destiny, and the truth behind the curse that plagues their realm.
The fate of the realm rests on their shoulders.
Will they accept destiny and play the roles their gods set for them? Or will they deny the gods their game and forge their own fate?
Targeted Age Group:: 16+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
It's actually a reworking of my first story that I wrote back when I was twelve, culminated together with a dream I had a few years ago. After playing around with different themes and strands of the story I finally put together this expansive world.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I love tragic backstories so all my characters have deep underlying lore behind them. My main characters to me are the different archetypes of the hero figure, all dealing with destiny differently.
Book Sample
The calming strums of an elven lyre drifted throughout Queen Adaena’s room, its tune a lullaby to the sickly matriarch. Ara Zypherus’s fingers plucked the lyre strings, and her soothing song soon slipped into a lazy, melancholy ambling of notes as she floated away into her thoughts.
Moments before, Ara sat close to her queen mother, their whispers of light gossip merging into yawns and an inquiry of an innocent, light performance from Ara.
The queen spent most of her days resting in her chambers. Her attendants were kind companions, but lately, Adaena sent for her daughter for every occasion. Today, like all other days, Ara’s visit went well into the evening.
Ara watched her mother, now dozing, and coddled her in lush bedding.
The last rays of sunlight illuminated the queen’s pallid complexion and the black veins adorning her bare skin. The markings etched up her neck from her chest. For years now, the inky lines were like permanent decorations on Adaena, a constant reminder that soon, the Shadow Plague would take her life.
The plague appeared decades ago in the valleys of Kava Sil. It quickly took the Altana continent like wildfire, spreading to Viloth and Therilea’s outer territories. In time, it reached Waetherea’s obscure mountains, soon devouring their beloved crown prince.
Ara didn’t know that Aescion Waethis had fallen ill until news traveled to Therilea and hadn’t gotten the chance to see him before he died.
“We mustn’t let the body rot,” Kaesith, the Waetherean king, said upon Ara’s funerary visit.
The Waetherean court allowed the princess to visit his tomb. But during her week-long stay within Sarcha’s golden palace, whispers of the prince’s rumored disappearance and an empty tomb hinted that he may still be alive.
Ara knew that most whispers of the public were rumors only, and though a part of her clung to a hope that the crown prince still lived, she locked it away when she returned home.
And that hope soon died as the decades wore on and the Shadow Plague worsened.
“Why did you stop, dear?”
Ara looked at her mother, whose eyes glistened. She cleared her throat and set the lyre down, a gift from said crown prince. She had little talent in any other way but with the lyre, and she had discovered said gift because of Aescion Waethis. Playing the instrument reopened old wounds, but Ara was soft for her mother, and when the queen requested a song, she couldn’t deny her.
Everyone knew that Adaena’s end drew near, and Ara didn’t want to waste any second. Instead, she wanted to fill her mother’s moments with laughter and joy.
Ara swallowed her sorrow and smiled.
“Just thinking, Mother. I’m sorry to wake you.”
“It’s alright, love.” Adaena smiled, though fatigue showed in her eyes.
Ara stood with a stretch, withholding a yawn. The last of the sun disappeared from their view, and the full moon replaced its yellow hue with a white glow.
“Shall I join you for breakfast tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
Ara collected her lyre, then froze as her sharp, pointed ears focused on a noise. A few seconds passed before she rushed to the window, eyes wide as a wail grew, a mile away.
Yards from the window, the iridescent surface of a ward shivered against vibrations.
Black masses interrupted the moonlight. A few at first, then dozens, then hundreds.
“Get away from the window,” the queen shouted.
Ara ran for her mother and caught Adaena as she nearly tumbled out of bed. Hurrying, Ara ushered her out of the room. Attendants and guards rushed to the two royals and ushered them from the queen’s chambers and down the stairs.
Thunder rolled through the palace, followed by quakes. Vibrant lights erupted outside as the Kaevari, demons with membranous wings and silky tails slammed their bodies into its surface. Their crimson eyes glowed—thousands of dots against the night sky.
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