Kirn Halfhand has known only chains and blood. A young gladiator stripped of his past, he fights for survival and fleeting glory in the brutal arenas of Dekha. But when whispers of rebellion reach his ears, Kirn seizes a dangerous opportunity to escape—and sets out on a perilous journey to topple the oppressive rule of the tyrannical Elven Lords.
In the heart of the Elven Empire, a different kind of battle rages. Prince Farren, heir to the throne, must challenge his cunning and ruthless brother, King Lanceln, for the crown. But this is no mere struggle for power. With civil war brewing and ancient forces stirring, Farren discovers the Elf Tears—mystical relics that grant unimaginable power at a terrible cost.
As Kirn and Farren’s paths converge, the fate of the realm teeters on a knife’s edge. Myths long forgotten awaken, alliances are forged and shattered, and the choices of a gladiator and a prince will decide the destiny of empires. Freedom, vengeance, and survival clash in a tale of treachery, ancient magic, and a world on the brink of chaos.
The Crown & Stag
Kirn gripped the metal bar at the end of the chain, the silver watch swinging back and forth over his knee. Across from him sat Artemis, a man whose timekeeping seemed to defy the very laws of reality.
"This trinket of yours," Kirn began, his voice raspy from years of dust and combat in the Dekha arena, "It allows you to use your magic?"
Artemis, a mischievous glint in his eye, stood from his chair and dusted off his elaborate robes. "No, the magic comes from me. The watch does exactly what it says – keeps time." He extended a hand towards the watch, but Kirn only tightened his grip.
"I need you to do a favor for me," Kirn said, the weight of his forgotten past heavy on his tongue. "In exchange, I'll give you this trinket." He recounted his fragmented memories, the snatches of a childhood brutally stolen, the shadowy figure who had slipped him a strange potion, wiping his mind clean.
Artemis listened intently, scribbling notes in his journal. His eyes widened as Kirn described the potion – thick, warm liquid sliding down his throat, his vision blurring as the world faded to black. "The stars outside, did you see them?" Artemis asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.
"I remember what they were from the pit a couple days prior," Kirn said, the memory of that star-filled sky a rare beacon in the darkness of his past, "but not from that room."
"Well then," Artemis smiled, clapping his hands together, "you are in luck. Now, let go of the clock, and I will see you very soon."
Kirn hesitated. He felt a pull towards this strange man, a flicker of recognition in those bright, inquisitive eyes. He loosened his grip, surrendering the silver watch, a piece of his past exchanged for a hope of reclaiming what was lost.