Victory is never absolute
Seven centuries ago, the forces of order won the Illyriite War on the plains of Har'muth. Darmatus and Rabban Aurelian slew their elder brother, Sarcon, the despotic architect of the conflict, then sacrificed themselves to banish the cataclysmic vortex opened with his dying breath. The first advent of the Oblivion Well was thwarted. Even without their vanished gods, the seven races of Lozaria proved themselves capable of safeguarding their world.
Or so the story goes.
The year is now 697 A.B.H (After the Battle of Har'muth). Though war itself remains much the same, the weapons with which it is waged have evolved. Airships bearing powerful cannons ply the skies, reducing the influence of mages and their spells. Long range communication has brought far flung regions of Lozaria closer than ever before. At the center of this technological revolution are the three Terran states of Darmatia, Rabban, and Sarconia, who have fought a near ceaseless campaign of 700 years in an attempt to best each other. The roots of their enmity lie buried beneath the wasteland of Har'muth, a place all three nations consider best forgotten.
However, an ancient power sealed within Har'muth has not forgotten them, and the descendants of those who fought on that field must now take a stand to rectify the mistakes of the past.
Image Credit: Renaud Perochon
The Penitent drowns in excess, desperate to forget failures past and present. The Coward teeters on a knife's edge, unable to reconcile dreams with fear. The Exile's time has stopped, chaining them in memories, pushing them toward destruction. And the Scion, prodded along a path not of their choosing, is granted an opportunity for freedom that may cost more than they know.
Lozaria burns. Though time ticks forward, the clock cycles back, dredging to the surface a cataclysm sealed away, not defeated. Will these four succeed where their forebearers could not? Or will they, likewise blind to their enemy's true nature, merely delay the end once more?
Darkness looms; the future is shrouded from all, mortals and divine alike. Yet it is only by abandoning sight that any may truly see.
Courage beyond measure will be needed to take that leap of faith . . .
About the Author
Christopher Russell (native of Williamsburg, VA) is a 28-year-old mechanical and aerospace engineer (graduate of the University of Virginia) who has loved reading since the day he picked up a book and writing since he could scrawl his first letters. After voraciously consuming titles from every genre—ranging from Star Wars to Lord of the Rings—he decided to combine the expertise from his professional education, passions, and Christian faith into a fantasy epic bridging the gap between magic and science. He currently resides in Charlottesville, Virginia, with his loyal dog, Vallen, named after the protagonist of his first work. For behind-the-scenes information on all of Christopher Russell’s works, visit christopherrussellauthor.com.
". . . Unless the curse of these brothers, forever locked in combat, can be rescinded, this world shall not know an end to despair, now or at the gates of eternity."
Steward Rowan Metellus
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