Raz i’Syul Arro is a hunted man. To the south, the Mahsadën of Miropa are gone. The sef lay dead, slain at Raz’s own hands, their cruel will ripped from the shadows of the city. In response, riders careen to every reachable corner of the known realms, telling anyone with a mind to listen of the boundless riches promised for the Monster’s head. The world now turned against him, Raz is forced to flee, escaping along the northern roads just as the summer months come to an end. For a time the coolness and breathtaking verdure of the great rolling woodlands he finds himself in are a welcome change, offering a sublime peace from a life that has rarely known more than brutality and bloodshed.
But that peace – as is so often the case – is a shallow trickery. The North, it seems, is not far-gone from the corruption and wickedness Raz had hoped to leave behind in the fringe cities. Before long he finds himself embroiled in the savage politics of this new land, forced to play a part in the ugly game of intrigue and violence once more. To survive, Raz must again give way to the Monster, making his stand within the devouring walls of the cruel coliseum the Northerners call simply “the Arena”.
Blood, after all, freezes as hard and cold as anything else.
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