Publisher's Synopsis
Long ago, the kingdom of Eryndor flourished under golden skies and bountiful harvests. Its kings, the Thorned Kings, were warriors and sorcerers, their crowns forged from iron and enchanted thorns. But power breeds ambition, and the Thorned Kings sought dominion beyond mortal reach. They turned to the Pale God, an ancient and enigmatic entity lurking at the edge of the Veil-the barrier separating the living and the dead.
The Thorned Kings struck a bargain: limitless power in exchange for a piece of the kingdom's soul. But bargains with gods are rarely simple. The Pale God cursed Eryndor to eternal twilight, a world neither alive nor dead, where shadows whispered secrets and dreams became nightmares. The Thorned Kings fell one by one, their souls consumed by the thorns they once wore with pride.
Centuries passed, and Eryndor's people adapted to life under the cursed sky. Tales of the Thorned Kings became myth, and the Pale God faded into legend. Few dared to remember the Shadow Queen, a being of terrible beauty who emerged from the Veil to rule over the twilight. Her shadow creatures prowled the land, and those who resisted her were never seen again.
On the fringes of this broken kingdom lived Eira Ashwood, an herbalist and healer who preferred the solitude of the wilds to the judgmental stares of her fellow villagers. They called her witch, whispered of her connection to the old magic, and avoided her unless in desperate need. Eira paid them no mind. She was content with her life of quiet toil, gathering herbs and scavenging ruins in search of forgotten knowledge.
But fate rarely allows the content to remain untouched.
One fateful twilight, while exploring an abandoned temple deep within the forest, Eira stumbled upon an ancient altar tangled in briars. Words of an old tongue etched into the stone beckoned her, promising power and answers. Unable to resist, Eira traced the runes with her fingers, her voice trembling as she spoke the forgotten incantation aloud.
The air thickened, the shadows deepened, and a figure emerged from the thorns-a man, bound in chains of shadow and crowned with a broken circlet of iron. His presence was both regal and menacing, his eyes burning with a light that defied the gloom.
"I am Alaric," he said, his voice a low rumble, "the last of the Thorned Kings. You should have left me to the darkness."
Eira's heart raced, but she stood her ground. "The curse that binds you-it binds this land as well. If you wish to be free, then we share a common cause."
Alaric's laugh was bitter. "You know nothing of what you've unleashed, herbalist. My freedom is a double-edged sword, and every step I take brings this kingdom closer to ruin."
Unwittingly, Eira had set in motion a chain of events that would unravel the fragile balance of Eryndor. The twilight kingdom had slumbered for centuries, its curse dormant and its rulers forgotten. But now, the last Thorned King walked again, and the Shadow Queen watched from her dark throne.
The Veil was thinning, and with it came the promise of salvation-or the end of all things.
Eira could not have known the weight of her actions that day, nor the sacrifices that would be required of her. All she knew was that her quiet life was over, and the shadows that had once been her allies now seemed to close in around her.
In the cursed land of Eryndor, love and hope were as dangerous as the thorns that choked its forests.
And yet, beneath the eternal twilight, a single thought stirred in Eira's heart: what if the curse could be broken?
