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Back Forsworn
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

When he felt strong enough again, he repeated himself, lapping more of the liquid from his fingers. The feeling that he was being healed wasn’t just in his head—this he knew with the same unassailable conviction that he’d had in his heart ever since the River of Life became the object of his dreams and desires. I am being healed, I know it. In fact, the pain was gone from his upper body. More than that, he felt strong again. Even stronger than before, if that was possible.

The only problem: he still couldn’t feel his legs, and he’d already wiped all of the golden liquid from the face of the root. He squinted, swearing he could detect more of the golden glow inside the crevice. If only he could get to it…

He stabbed his fingers into the earth itself, pretending to be some creature of the forest digging for their next meal, and then pulled. His muscles bulged, strained, and then succeeded, dragging his dead legs behind him. Thrice more he completed this maneuver, until he was directly beside the damaged part of the root.

“I’m sorry old friend,” he said aloud as he got to work. He started with only his fingers, but when the root’s armored outer shell resisted his brute strength, he procured a sharp stone and used it like a knife, slicing and chopping the edges of the opening and then prying them away until the inner flesh was revealed.

It shimmered.

He dove into it like a pig in its trough, sucking and licking and even biting to try to release more of it. And when finally, after several minutes, he lifted his head again, chin smeared with that golden glow, he froze, heart pounding.

And then he stood.

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When Faryon finally emerged from the forest, he expected to find a party of searchers roaming the outskirts of the town, calling his name. Instead, he found a very different kind of party.

He stared at the grand mayoral estate that was supposed to be his home, but in which, within its high walls and decorative gates, he’d always felt like a stranger. A hundred lanterns filled every window with light. Cheerful music provided the perfect accompaniment to the hum of conversation and trills of laughter.

Glasses clinked as toasts were made.

His own father’s gregarious voice rose above them all, capturing the attention of his guests, all of whom basked in the glow of his power and wealth, as if they might gain some measure of it simply by occupying the same space as him.

They didn’t even know I was gone.