FolkLore

Foretold across the aeons of ages was the Virescent Dusk, an omen scribed upon the Ostracon of Dreams. The Glim One, doom of man and all his kinglands would draw nigh during the dying age.



It was sworn and promised by the Sleeping-Sage.



Caught within the maelstrom of the ancient divination is a 27-year-old free-sword. Alasdair Wuldric, a sardonic man with a sharpened blade, a bloodied past and a ruined heart.



The threads of fate weave and tangle before his eyes of silver and pearl, conjuring before him more questions than answers.



What will he sacrifice to discover the mysteries of the Virescent Dusk?



And what shall come should it arrive?





(Will contain scenes that readers might find offensive)