Prologue

Vadin stormed down the narrow steps, taking them three at a time. Rage and grief burned through him like wildfire. His parents were dead. His siblings, childhood friends, and their neighbors were all gone as well.

The entire village of Graystone was destroyed, flattened by warring dragons and trolkin. He couldn’t take it in. The magnitude of loss was too great and his shock too complete. How could this happen?

He’d done everything the dragon lords had asked of him, learning their magic, developing his abilities, helping them fight their cursed battles. And all for what? In the end, they’d carelessly destroyed his home and loved ones.

It didn’t matter if the slaughter was unintentional. The dragon lords allowed it to happen, showing no more concern for human life than they would for vermin.

The stairway blurred as tears rose unbidden to Vadin’s eyes. He paused, taking a shaky breath, one hand braced against the cold granite wall. Darkness pressed close. Despair nipped at him from the shadows. He bared his teeth, growling like an animal in pain.

“I’ll make them pay—death for death.”

But this wasn’t the time to let his emotions loose. He had to channel their energy into magic, his own anger especially. It would make him stronger.

He must find the power to stop this war between dragons and trolkin—forever. There was no question of trying and failing. He would succeed, and now was the time to strike.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and turned down a corridor, following it to a dead end. The only light came from the sputtering torch he carried. It showed nothing but a blank wall, unremarkable and seemingly impassible.

Vadin knew better. He placed his free hand on the stone, murmuring a word of power. The blocks of granite ground together like muted thunder as they folded inward.

Stepping through, he uttered another command. Torches, set around the curving walls, flared to life, their resin scenting the air with a sharp tang.

This was his ritual chamber and a place of great power. Here, anything might be possible.

Vadin strode to an altar set up in the middle of the room. Around the structure symbols were carved deep into the stone floor, forming a large double circle. He lifted a staff from the altar, raised it over his head, and shouted words from the ancient speech of the eldrin.

The blue crystal of the staff began to glow, brighter and brighter, till it shone like a new star. He brought it down, planting the staff squarely in front of him, its tip touching the center of the magic circle.

Blinding light rippled outward, pulsing across the floor, igniting the symbols with brilliance. Vadin’s eyes closed as he slipped into a trance, singing the incantation like a dirge.

Magic reached out from his staff, from the carved symbols on the floor, and from deep within himself. Vast reservoirs of power opened to his call, drawn by the immensity of his need.

He channeled the energy up, through his body, building it to an explosive intensity. His eyes flew open, and his vision filled with a searing azure. The final words of binding tore from his throat, like the cry of a wrathful god.

The spell flooded out, a mighty wave of magic surging into the world. Dragons and trolkin would both be frozen, so they could do no more harm.

But what was this? The magic still lingered within him. Blue light swirled around his ankles, freezing his skin. Ice formed on his feet, rapidly moving up his legs to his torso.

Vadin struggled, attempting a fire spell to generate heat. It was useless. His energy reserves were drained. Panic gripped him as the frigid prison encased his arms and neck.

How could the spell turn on him? He was nothing but a reluctant accomplice of the dragons—not one of them. This was all wrong.

Ice shivered up his face and over his scalp, enclosing him completely. Awareness faded as he sank into a death-like sleep. A final question remained frozen on his lips.

“Why?”

Somehow, someday, he would have to find the answer.