Deep within the Whitewood Forest, far removed from any trace of civilization, over two hundred soldiers honed their skills beneath the canopy, training tirelessly outside a small village built entirely among the towering trees. Their new home: the sacred domain of an Old One.
Old Ones—so named because they were the first existences at the dawn of creation. Each either born from the will of the Creator Himself or forged by the power of even greater Old Ones. Beings like Tenaria, who embodied the land, or Okeanos, who ruled over the endless seas.
It had taken the soldiers an arduous week to penetrate this deep into the forest's heart. Asher had gone farther still, disappearing deeper into the ancient woods to undergo training under I'ron's ruthless guidance.
Two weeks had passed since then. And for two weeks, the forest echoed with sounds so terrible and violent that it seemed as though the earth itself might split apart.
