Strange creatures stalk the woods at night, and rumors spread of an ancient evil long thought to be dead. Valdin has returned.
The darkness is waking…

EXCERPT

The sound of rushing water reached Maran’s ears as he rounded the last corner of Woodhill Road. Ahead lay a large field, encircled by Ferendell Forest, save for the edge where the Brand River ran. Nestled into the far corner of the field was his home. 

Elihakel’s two-story lumber mill stood on the edge of the river where a large waterwheel nearly as tall as the mill churned along with the rushing water, powering the saw Maran’s fatherused to cut the large fallen trees. An elongated, tree-harvesting cart lay alongside the lumbermill, and two mules grazed beside it. They lifted their heads lazily as Maran approached. 

“Good boy, Aibus,” Maran said as he patted their heads. “Good girl, Dilly.” 

On the far side of the field, just past his home, a small herd of deer found shade from the midday heat. Animals were always present in the woods surrounding their home, but it was rare for a herd to journey so close. Maran approached, and their graceful, russet forms bobbed through the woods as they retreated to a safer distance. 

Maran could tell from the noise emanating from the sawmill that his father was working. Elihakel was stern but kind; swift to punish, but even faster to forgive. A tall man with broad shoulders, dark blonde hair, hazel-colored eyes, and a full beard, he was strong for his age; years of cutting down trees had hardened his body. When he was younger, Maran loved watching his father carve beautiful figures. He spent hours each day observing and praying his father would ask him to help, but now things were different. He would much rather practice his sword fighting, explore the forest, or spend his days in Brandirtalking to the merchants and catching up on the news throughout Anoria. 

Maran ignored the sawmill and headed directly towards the house. He was nearly halfway there when a rustle in the belly-tall grass caught his attention. Maran turned to see what caused the commotion, but before he could catch sight of the intruder, he was viciously knocked to the ground. He reached out his hands to brace his fall but was still met with a mouthful of grass and dirt. He immediately kicked out with his legs, attempting to free them from his attacker’s grasp. His right leg caught something soft, and with a yelp of pain, the assailant’s grip lessened. 

“Jerathim,” Maran shouted at his brother as he shoved him to the ground. “How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me!” 

“But it’s so much fun to see the look on your face,” Jerathim laughed as he rolled on the ground.