Blood waters the fields of Alfheim, as war rips across the land of usurped kings and elves.
As the Fae gods draw near, Queen Kallan’s strength is tested as she follows King Rune into Alfheim. But the Shadow Beast caged within Rune’s body writhes in hunger, and Kallan’s newest companion - Bergen, the legendary Berserk - is determined to end the conflict with her life.
As the three come together, the truth buried in the past resurfaces. Now, Kallan must master a dormant power... or watch her kingdom fall to the Fae, who will stop at nothing to keep their lies.
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At the farthest ends of Midgard, where Alfheim begins, the Fae goddess Fand gazed upon Kallan’s fair city. Lorlenalin. The White Opal. The Dokkalfar citadel. Humming a ditty, she collected her skirts and idly glided through the wood surrounding the city.
Like threads of gold, Seidr flowed from the tips of Fand’s fingers. It flowed down her gown and branched across the first autumn frost glistening in the moonlight as if the Fae gods themselves had emerged from Under Earth and touched down on the lands of Midgard. Like veins, the Seidr webbed a path to the city. The life she found there was strong, but hollow with grief for their missing queen. Fand called the Seidr back, and she smiled. Memories of the dead never survive the ages. It was only a matter of time before the Dokkalfar forgot their precious queen.
“This won’t be too hard.”
Fand took a step and strips of leather wove themselves around her bare foot. By the time she took a second step, she wore a pair of fine leather boots. Her gowns of Under Earth re-knitted themselves into something simpler, but just as suggestive. Just as inviting. The gems she wore to ordain her bodice became grains of golden sand that vanished with the wind. Her cheekbones rounded out. Her pearlescent skin darkened to look more like a daughter of Alfheim than the pale, jeweled complexion of a Fae goddess of Eire’s Land.
