Snatched from her home by a Primordial Seeker, seventeen-year-old Avery is imprisoned by the people she intended to serve. In a desperate bid for freedom, she escapes, only to find herself racing against time to save those who seek to use her.
Driven by jealousy, the lust for power and the stain of ancient crimes, conflicting factions struggle to gain control of the magic of a Spirit Shield. Avery must dodge all who cross her path, for each group vies to control her actions.
Aided by the mythical creatures of her native land, she discovers that a true Spirit Shield is much more than a simple priestess. She must fight for control of the souls of the world, and in doing so must face her worst fear of all: family.
75 Amazon reviews and counting. First in Category winner, Dante Rosetti (2017)
The army rolled out of the southern plains and into the short hills, a river of red-coated lava swirling through the valley base. The push of soldiers clogged the narrows, splashing up onto the hillsides and coating the passes in a crimson crust of death.
The Primordial runners peered down at the roiling mass of men from their perch high atop an abandoned eagle’s nest, wedged in a towering deciduous tree which clung to the northern edge of the pass. The crown of the treetop camouflaged their lookout while providing an unimpeded view of the undulating scene below.
As one, the runners shimmied down from their perches and ghosted into the dense cover of squat pine, the thick carpet of needles providing silent footing as they ran. Of all the passes to approach, this was the worst, the most feared by the Primordial Chiefs, as the civil war left the defending clans stretched to the limit.
Indeed, some defenders had abandoned their posts, their fear over the rumoured fate of their kin overcoming their desire to fight. Whispers of villages emptied and entire families snatched away by unknown forces had caused a swelling defection within the forward units of tribal defenders. It was so rampant that the Chieftains now arrested those who attempted desertion and handed them over to the priests, rather than admit that the Flesh Clan defenders were cowards.
The Primordial priests were only too happy to receive the disaffected clansmen, as they had their own mandate to fulfill.
In a solitary camp perched high on the side of the Wailing Mountain, deep within the pass, the disloyal were marched with hands tightly bound in front, a never-ending stream of clansmen. The guards assigned to this duty delivered their prisoners swiftly and without delay, wishing to be away from the encampment full of shivering, wild-eyed priests.
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Cristina López
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