Blood to salt and water,
Breath to wind and stone,
Soul to sun and storm.
The desert consumes us all.
For an instant, the desert heeded Syrina's call--sand and fire, wind and stone, igniting and attacking at her command. But the triumph killed ally and enemy alike, leaving her with a handful of survivors, broken expectations, and a dead man's boots.
There is no time to mourn.
The desert longs to feed on any Velshaan, and Raskah is willing to trade his own soul to command the sands. With hostages to ransom and the desert itself as his thrall, he will demand Syrina's surrender before surmounting the rest of their kin.
But Commander Pyrius rejects defeat and refuses surrender. Despite years of exile, he is remembered by Blade and bloodkin alike, and he will risk everything in his past to forge hope for the future.
But none of then yet understand that what is gained cannot always be lost when one chooses, and what is possessed sometimes refuses to be abandoned.
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