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Chapters (53)
  1. Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area- Western Half
  2. Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area - Eastern Half
  3. Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area - Full Map
  4. Important Trigger Warning
  5. Prologue
  6. PART I
  7. One
  8. Two
  9. Three
  10. Four
  11. Five
  12. Six
  13. Seven
  14. Eight
  15. Nine
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Interlude: The River of Life
  20. PART II
  21. Thirteen
  22. Fourteen
  23. Fifteen
  24. Sixteen
  25. Seventeen
  26. Eighteen
  27. Nineteen
  28. Interlude: Fallow Fields
  29. PART III
  30. Twenty
  31. Twenty-One
  32. Twenty-Two
  33. Twenty-Three
  34. Twenty-Four
  35. Twenty-Five
  36. Interlude: Of Man and Monster
  37. PART IV
  38. Twenty-Six
  39. Twenty-Seven
  40. Twenty-Eight
  41. Twenty-Nine
  42. Thirty
  43. Thirty-One
  44. Thirty-Two
  45. Thirty-Three
  46. Thirty-Four
  47. POSTLUDES
  48. Postlude 1: Lana Vica
  49. Postlude 2: Ludo Vica
  50. Postlude 3: Cainan
  51. Acknowledgments
  52. An excerpt from Heartsworn, Volume II in The Forsworn Oath, available for preorder now!
  53. PART I

For a long second, it almost looked like he was floating, like he might slowly and gracefully make his way to the floor, where he would settle onto his back as if only sleeping. The moment passed and he flipped arse over teakettle, twisting and flipping wildly until, with a vicious crunch! he landed.

Tomas looked away, surprised at how easy the final few feet of his climb now felt, not making the same mistake as the last time, grasping onto one of the metal dividers that separated panes of glass, shimmying his way over the edge. And then, smearing blood the entire way behind him, he slid down the curved dome until his feet planted on solid rock.

And then he ran.

Interlude: The River of Life

Hern, Finfalla

The River of Life was a myth, a legend, a story passed down from father to son, mother to daughter, ear to ear and soul to soul, until its meaning, its true meaning, had been lost to anyone who still breathed air into their lungs.

Faryon dar Lamassi wasn’t one of those people.

He was both a pragmatist and a dreamer, a meticulous planner and a wayward searcher. But more than any of that, he was as determined a man as the world had ever known. From the day his father had told him about the River of Life, he had made it his life’s purpose to find it. Not because he sought eternal life, or unimaginable wealth, but because that myth, that legend, called to him. In the last moments before sleep dragged his mind into the abyss each night, he heard its song. And the moment he awoke, even before he’d rubbed the sleep from his eyes and shaken away the last of the cobwebs, he heard its cry.

It is out there, just waiting to be found, he would always think to himself in those moments. And I must be the one to find it.

But one couldn’t simply run off into the woods on a lark and a prayer. One needed resources, and as fate would have it, he was born into a wealthy family, at least by Hern’s standards. His father was the mayor, his mother a lesser noblewoman who’d grown tired of Marchessault’s endless politicking and backstabbing, seeking a life of adventure promised by marrying a leader at the edge of the great frontier.

Soon, however, both of Faryon’s parents lost themselves to their lavish lifestyle, the allure of hosting exclusive galas for which invitations could be earned only through favors and the general selling of one’s soul to the highest bidder.

Faryon hated every moment, spending more and more time in Lostwood, the place of refuge that, to everyone else, was a place to be feared.

The older Faryon grew and the more time he spent tucked away within the shadows of the forest, the more restless he became.