Chapters (53)
- Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area- Western Half
- Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area - Eastern Half
- Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area - Full Map
- Important Trigger Warning
- Prologue
- PART I
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Interlude: The River of Life
- PART II
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Interlude: Fallow Fields
- PART III
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Interlude: Of Man and Monster
- PART IV
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- POSTLUDES
- Postlude 1: Lana Vica
- Postlude 2: Ludo Vica
- Postlude 3: Cainan
- Acknowledgments
- An excerpt from Heartsworn, Volume II in The Forsworn Oath, available for preorder now!
- PART I
She closed her eyes.
Images flashed through her mind:
She was the bear, foraging through the undergrowth in search of something to fill its empty belly. It was hungry to the point that its abdomen ached, craving something, anything to gorge itself. Lately game had been hard to come by. Instinctively, the bear knew something had changed in this part of the forest, but its gnawing hunger dismissed such thoughts, for it had nothing to fear, not when it had spent its entire life as the apex predator in these parts.
It sniffed the air, scenting something. Soraya, as the bear, sniffed too. The aroma was sweet, alluring. Throwing caution to the wind, the bear took off at a lope, snapping anything in its path, ignoring the pricks of pain as it decimated a thornbush that had the misfortune of blocking its way forward. Thorny vines stuck stubbornly to its fur, but the bear didn’t care, not when it was so close to its quarry.
There!
The buzzing was a steady drone as tireless worker bees swept in and out of the massive hive, off to search for fresh pollen and nectar. If the bear didn’t care about the bush bearing thorns the size of its claws, it certainly wasn’t worried about tiny insects with stingers so short they couldn’t get past its outer coat of fur.
No, it tore into the hive, shredding the surface with its claws, peeling back the layers, which fell to the ground in clumps, releasing the bees inside, an angry swarm that swirled, tornadic, around the bear. Most were harmless, thwarted by its fur, while others found its less protected areas; namely, it’s unfurred snout and ears, which were stung a half-dozen times as it continued to burrow into what was left of the hive, finally finding what it was looking for: the honeycomb. The sugary sweetness of the honey exploded onto Soraya’s tongue, but what was more surprising were the larvae and eggs that spilled freely into her mouth. She swept them to the back of her mouth and swallowed them whole. Already the gnawing hunger was beginning to subside, so she took one final chomp and then retreated, shaking the bees from her fur in much the same way as she’d shed water after a bath in the river.
I’m not the bear, she reminded herself. Even as she tried to cling to that reminder, that truth, she felt herself falling deeper into the bear’s memories—her memories. It was getting more and more difficult to discern the difference between them, everything mingling together as though she and the bear had lived both lives together as one.
Most of the bees had given up pursuing her now, so she stopped, flopping onto her haunches and licking the rest of the honey from her chops, sighing contentedly.