Marissa

Something always goes sideways, but this is bigger than expected. Maybe it's not an entirely bad thing, though, as mana-infected animals spreading over the world would definitely make everyone more open to the idea of the apocalypse. The question is what was Silas supposed to do about it, though. He still couldn't tell anyone who wasn't inducted about the system. It was time to get creative. If that wasn't enough, though, he still had the wild hunt hanging over his head. Seven days to go, and then he'd be thrown into whatever twisted event the system had cooked up for him.

Ebora was once a glorious city, defended by legendary warriors and celebrated in song. Now refugees from every corner of Sarn seek shelter within its crumbling walls, and the enemy that has poisoned their land won't lie dormant for long. The deep-rooted connection that Tormalin, Noon and the scholar Vintage share with their Eboran war-beasts has kept them alive so far. But with Tor distracted, and his sister Hestillion hell-bent on bringing ruthless order to the next Jure'lia attack, the people of Sarn need all the help they can get.

Arrogant. Scornful. Full of pride. Darnuir, prince of dragons, cares nothing for the damage he's doing to the faltering alliance against the Shadow. He thinks himself invincible - right up till a mortal wound forces him to undergo a dangerous rebirthing spell, leaving him a helpless babe in human hands.