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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

That thought sinking into his gut, Faryon peered through the gates to find a space in the courtyard filled with dancers. His father led his mother on a whirling journey amongst them, their grace unmatched by any others. Not that anyone who happened to be more adept on their feet would be so foolish as to try to one-up them.

His father secured his mother’s back and dipped her.

Faryon met her eyes, upside down.

Later that night, his mother would swear to his father that she’d seen him outside the gates, a strange glow around his mouth, but that the next time she’d looked, he’d disappeared. His father chalked it up to the expensive, but strong, sweetwine she’d drunk more than her fair share of.

Both were found dead in their beds the next morning, daggers embedded in their hearts.

The assassin—for it must have been one trained in the art of killing hired by their rivals—was never brought to justice.

Faryon’s first act as head of household and Mayor of Hern was to shore up security, both for his inherited estate and for the city as a whole. The citizens lauded him for it, even as they pitied him for having become an orphan in the span of one fell night.

His second act was to lead an expedition into Lostwood.

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Ten years later

Sweat dripped from Mayor Faryon dar Lamassi’s brow as he toiled, stabbing the business end of his shovel into the dirt, pressing it deep with the heel of his boot, and then prying the sod, rocks and outer layer of leaves free. Insects scuttled away. The two halves of a worm squirmed and writhed as though searching for each other.

Faryon peered into the fresh hole, hoping to spy that telltale golden glow. When all he saw was brown, packed dirt and the things that lived inside it, he grimaced, trying not to show his frustration to his men.

Not that they cared. They got paid for their troubles either way.

In the decade since his parents’ untimely deaths, he and his men had chewed up miles of the forest’s floor with their shovels, spades and picks. They’d started their search at the ancient tree that had nearly ended his life while simultaneously changing it forever. They’d hacked its roots to ribbons, but only one had contained a small vein of the golden liquid. Faryon had harvested it, and it now hung in a vial looped around him like a necklace. It was intended to be a reminder of why they labored day in and day out, but lately it had felt like a cruel mockery of his failures.