Blood Fist (Steel and Scale Chronicles #1)

Prologue

Millennia ago, when magic lingered in the air and dragons walked freely, humans were born. Their creation was a mystery to the magic residents of the land. Ostracized and weak, humanity faltered. But on their brink, a savior stepped from the mountains: Artrax.

Golden scaled and large enough to block out the sun, he could not allow such fragile creatures to die. He gifted the humans pieces of his magic and taught them how to use it. With Artrax’s magic at their fingertips, humanity thrived.

Brokering peace between the humans and the magic creatures of the land, the humans began to grow. Using Artrax as an example, they lived hale and hearty, developing unique customs and spreading throughout the land.

But not all humans were satisfied with Artrax’s magic. Humans were creatures capable of deep emotions—but they were flawed. They were too young to accept, to understand, such a precious gift. They grew greedy.

A lone sorcerer decided he wanted all of Artrax’s magic. To put humans above those who lived and created magic. Sinestrus gathered others with him, and together they searched the land for a magic powerful enough to destroy Artrax.

They found it in the depths of the earth. Locked away by blood magic and sacrifice, Void Soul lingered. Too powerful for a single human, the dark magic took over and leeched into the land. Magic was poisoned, destroying all it touched.

Along with the bravest of humanity, Artrax and the dragons fought Sinestrus. The battle was bloody, and though they were victorious, the cost was grave. Artrax was grievously injured.

As the great dragon was dying, he and the humans who fought by his side locked Sinestrus away. Artrax used the last of his magic, his very life force, to seal Sinestrus Void Soul in one of his mighty scales.

Where he fell, a mountain grew. Granite rock and impossible peaks, it stretched so high into the sky that the peak had never been seen. It was in the heart of this mountain that Sinestrus was hidden, locked away by Artrax’s remaining magic.

Upon his death, the remaining dragons fled. But with the dragons, what magic that wasn’t poisoned slowly died out. With it, the rest of the magical creatures. Only those who could live on the dregs, those who could adapt, stayed behind.

Without Artrax’s benevolence, humanity struggled.

Eventually, they found their way. Several bloodlines carried the knowledge of magic and they gathered together, created cities with great walls to keep themselves pure.

Soon, the tale of Artrax’s sacrifice faded into legend, and in time, it was twisted into something ugly.

No longer a sacrifice for the sake of love, he was seen as selfish.

Cruel. Taking magic away from the people.

Outside of the walls, the few humans that survived the battle with Sinestrus remembered.

They gathered their families close to the mountain range where Artrax died so they could watch over their savior.

Years passed, but they never lost sight of their hero.

Artrax’s name was whispered around campfires, his heroic deeds told to wide eyed children who would later play pretend in the crabgrass.

These Clansmen stayed far from Kaledonea’s walls, choosing to live close to the land Artrax and his dragons loved so much.

But like the changing seasons, humanity was doomed to repeat the same mistakes of the past. Amongst their complacency, evil is growing. Time spares no one, and the granite mountain began to crack.

Sinestrus Void Soul is calling.