Betrayed for a sentient sword called Aislin, his friends dead or dying, Barr woke in the waters and starry dark of a strange realm. A place where living shadows moved about, a plane between planes, it was a world of swirling mist that allowed for travel by thought alone. Its benefits were not without cost. There was a balance to maintain, a price in furie to be paid by the Matron of the Mists – Barr’s mother. Without Aislin, her strength waned. Each use of the mists opened a portal to the Dark, a brief moment when umbrals could pass through. More than the Matron’s life, all of Faeronthalsos, every life on every world, was in danger of being consumed. Rather than face losing the mother he had only just met, Barr was determined to find and return the sword. Meanwhile, Markus and his revenants did the bidding of a mad god. Little stood in their way but Barr, his friends and… The Mists of Faeron.
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