SeamRipper

In a lonely Tower to the east of the great Foraes Dair forest, on the edge of the mysterious mountains known as the Greylumings, (in time, out of time) a young woman sits at her loom. She is the Weaver of her world, Mer'edrynn. Stories flow from her fingers as finely and deftly as magic from the hands of a mage. The gold, russet and azure blues of Human Kings intermingle with the jet black and silver of Elven Knights amid the myriad magical hues of all the Elder Races. Their sparkling tints and sultry tones depict the Life of the World – rich and fertile, diverse and complex. All seems well in this fair and fertile land. And yet ...and yet ... sometimes she stops and stares into the void. Her gentle face grows cold and slowly fills with fear. She turns to the dark and stinking vials; the fate-warped spools she prepared unwillingly sit on the table at her side. She does not wish to weave such horror into the frame, but it is already there and she must depict the truth. Threads of dissolution and division mingle between anger and pain. Death is delivered into a world of Life. Mordecai von Adamm with his ruthless Adammite army begin their campaign of destruction and dominance of Mer'edrynn. They will stop at nothing – even if it means genocide in their ambition to rule and conquer. And only four young people might – just might – have the power to stop them.