Chapter I

Mountains dominate the skyline in deep, turquoise green and rugged cliffs give way to silvery, sheer rock faces. The majestic giants slide into hills that tuck and roll like fabric, smoothing into a valley where few people live. In the valley was a remote village, where a woman hid from the rest of the world. She was a spellcaster destined to seek out death that night.

Her given name was Hawthorne Declan. But to the village, however, she was ‘Demoness’: their local spellcaster-a necromancer, their protector, and the target of their ever-growing hatred for her particular “kind”.

“IF ET TWASN’T FER THA RISEN SPIRETS, WE’D KELL YA, DAEMONESS!” The words of the women rang through her head every time she defended the village from dark creatures, and she knew it to be true: hadn’t they already killed her child? It was the only way to end the reign of terror over their lives; that was the excuse given as she mourned for her only babe.

She had nearly destroyed the entire existence of the village-almost wiped it clean from history in the erupting hellfire, but she didn’t, because in her grieving trance, a Voice had spoken- and shattered her violent will. She couldn’t find the origin of the Voice in any magic texts, legends, or rituals, but some instinct told her it was powerful and was always watching her. Nevertheless, she would never forgive their crime and would remember the events of that day forever.