Prologue
Monster and human once walked the earth together, if not in harmony, with an understanding that each deserved a place in the world.
However, such an existence is easier to accept when you’re the predator in the equation.
As the human population grew, as they built their villages and towns, encompassing more and more of the land they had previously shared with the ancient beings, they became suspicious that a different balance was possible than the one they had adapted to.
Why live as the hunted, when you can become the hunter?
Of the shadowcreatures, they feared the Primordials most of all. And so, as humans do, they set aside their differences with each other to face the giant beasts as one.
They killed every Primordial they could find, until only one remained.
For each life a Primordial took—be it human, demon, mage, or otherwise—it only grew stronger, engorged with darkness and death. Over time, none had claimed more lives than Qaeus. Qaeus was the most powerful of all the Primordials. No matter how diligently the humans fought, not even shadowsteel could pierce the creature’s flesh, and for each failed attempt, they were only feeding it and stacking the odds against themselves.
With no other option, the humans turned to the mages. The two races had long since been at odds, however, realizing just how powerful the Primordial Qaeus had become, the mages agreed to isolate the shadowcreature in the farthest corner of Arcathain, in what became known as the Forgotten Forest of Eyve.
And though Qaeus was quiet for centuries, it wouldn’t remain imprisoned for long.
In time, the mages’ magic failed. The barrier keeping Qaeus in the Forgotten Forest of Eyve shattered. On that day, the Primordial bellowed, an earth-shattering and malicious cry. All who heard it swore it meant death to them all.
Once again, the creature began walking the lands of Arcathain, only this time, it brought the Blight with it. A blackness crept across the land like a plague and mangled everything it touched.
The mages, fearful of the beast’s vengeance and of what the Blight would do were it to reach the magical soil of West Arcathain, used their powers to split the continent and flee across the ocean, creating the new country of Illashore, and leaving the humans on their own.
The Arcathainians were abandoned, utterly outpowered, and left with nothing but their shadowsteel to comfort them.
But, as is often true in the face of adversity, humans discover their strength. When one has no other option but to die or fight, many choose the glory of battle rather than the shame of awaiting an inevitable and visceral demise.
And thus, the Shadow Crusade was born, a legion of warriors sworn to find the Primordial Qaeus from where it dwells inside the blighted lands of the Shadowthorn and slay the creature, once and for all.
They are humanity’s only hope.
Cometh, the Blight
The Wallows, Gravenburg, Arcathain
Every time I leave the cottage, it’s like wandering straight into a demon’s maw.
From our doorway, darkness stares back at me from the forest yonder, eerily quiet for a place that I know to be crawling with danger. Our front door is east-facing, and as such, the encroaching Shadowthorn will soon be at our front doorstep. For now, at least there is still a few houses between us and the blackness, and a few Crusaders patrolling to keep us safe, but judging from the rumors we glean from the neighboring villages, and the refugees who have flooded our own, not even the Shadow Crusade can protect us.
I stand, frozen in the entryway, wrapping my cloak around my arms as I fix my eyes on the spaces between the blackened trees. The creatures that live there are too quick, too skillful at ducking between the shadows for me to spy any of them with great detail, but I feel their presence all the same.
Malicious.
Malevolent.
And always, always watching, waiting for an opportunity to strike.
“Does this mean I won’t have the pleasure of your company today, daughter?” my mother, Evelyne, calls from behind me in her usual singsong voice. From the safety of our home, sometimes it’s easy to forget what’s outside of these walls, especially since it’s been approaching for so, so long.
I close the door a crack to give her my full attention, careful not to allow any of the creatures easy access inside—not that cottage doors or thatched roofs have ever stopped them before.
I find my mother buzzing around like the bees we keep outside. The braid hanging over her shoulder is as frosted and glistening as the snow that coats every inch of the Wallows outside, the poorest part of Gravenburg where we reside. Defying the laws of how much a single person should be able to hold in their two slender arms, my mother gathers a large spindle of wool string, a knife hanging from the wall, an iron pot, a ladle, and the other usual assortment of tools she’ll need for making her candles today.
And thankfully, I won’t be joining her.
“Sorry, mum. I promised to accompany Dimitri to the town square. The Shadow Crusade is coming through and—”
My mother stops so abruptly she nearly trips over the hem of her skirts. The tools in her hands fall to the floor like they are sinking in water, like time has slowed their descent just to give me long enough to realize how careless I’ve been with my words. They clatter against the floorboards, the spool of string unraveling before me.
I rush across the room to her side, the frayed edges of my cape billowing behind me, and bend down to collect her things.
“Don’t worry,” I say, trying to sound reassuring. “I have no interest in joining the Crusade. It’s Dimitri who’s enlisting.” When my arms are full and the floor cleared, I stand back up to face my mother. Seeing her cheeks are still pale, I offer her what I hope is a comforting smile. “I promise, Mum, I’m not going anywhere.”
It takes her a moment before the color returns to her skin, another two before she’s able to find her breath again, and longer still before she finally takes her supplies from me.
“Yes, well,” she starts, clearly miffed. “Dimitri shouldn’t be enlisting either, Halira. You know as well as I do that it’s a death sentence. He should already know that too after what we’ve all been through these past few years.”
I nod, and when my mother continues on her trajectory across the room, I step aside to let her go, but I’m not completely unscathed. Of course Dimitri knows how dangerous a Crusader’s job is. We all do. But his options are limited. He’s been fortunate enough to find work after his family died, but soon the Blight will engulf Gravenburg just like it did every other village and town before it. Our home, all of the Wallows, will be among the first to go, and the butcher’s place—Dimitri’s place—won’t be too long after. If the Shadow Crusade doesn’t stop the Primordial, soon all of Arcathain will be consumed by the Shadowthorn.
“He knows that, Mum, but few orphans have better choices. If the Blight spreads any farther, everyone here will lose their homes. Unlike us, Dimitri doesn’t have any other family to turn to, not that our options are plentiful either. He wants to do what he can to protect Gravenburg while it still stands, before we become refugees like the ones freezing in the streets outside.”
My mother sniffs, a haughty, disapproving sound. “Then he’ll die.”