The air in the kingdom of Eryndor hums with secrets, a low pulse that thrums beneath the cobblestones and gilded spires. It's the song of the Void, a dimension of raw, untamed power that only the royal bloodline can touch a gift and a curse that has shaped the empire for centuries. To wield the Void is to hold infinity in your palm, but its price is whispered in shadowed corridors: a slow unraveling of the soul. In a world where power is both salvation and damnation, one man's betrayal will ignite a war that could shatter the kingdom—or remake it in darkness.
"James Varnholt", once a prince of Eryndor, now stands at the edge of oblivion. Tall and lean, with storm-gray eyes that seem to hold the Void's own shadows, James was raised to inherit the crown and its terrible burden. His hands, once steady with a sword, now tremble with the weight of betrayal. Cast into the Void by those he trusted most, he emerged not broken but changed—touched by a power that lets him summon creatures of nightmare, beasts woven from the Void's black heart. Each summoning strengthens him, but the whispers in his mind grow louder, urging him toward a madness he cannot outrun. James is no hero; he's a man driven by vengeance, teetering on the edge of becoming the monster his enemies claim he is. Yet beneath his rage lies a flicker of hope—a desperate need to reclaim what was stolen, even if it costs him everything.
"Mira", the leader of the Dustcloaks, a ragtag band of outlaws, is James's unlikely ally. Her sharp tongue and sharper daggers have kept her alive in Eryndor's underbelly, where trust is a currency few can afford. With auburn hair cropped short and eyes that miss nothing, Mira is a survivor, her loyalty earned through blood and shared scars. She sees James as both a weapon and a liability, a man whose power could topple an empire or destroy them all. Her own past is a tangle of regrets she keeps buried, but James's presence stirs questions she's long avoided: Can a man touched by the Void still be saved? And why does her heart quicken when he meets her gaze?
"Toren", the Dustcloaks' enigmatic alchemist, is a man of contradictions. His wiry frame and ink-stained fingers belie a mind that dances between genius and madness. Once a scholar in the royal court, Toren fled when he saw the Void's true cost. Now, he crafts elixirs to dull the Void's whispers and studies its mysteries, hoping to unlock its secrets without losing himself. He's drawn to James's raw power, but his warnings are clear: the Void gives nothing without taking more. Toren's quiet intensity hides a guilt he won't name, and his knowledge of the Void may be the key to James's survival—or his downfall.
"Lyssa", the Dustcloaks' scout, is a ghost in human form. Lithe and silent, with eyes that seem to see through walls, she moves through Eryndor's shadows like she was born to them. Her loyalty to Mira is unshakable, but James's arrival unsettles her. She senses the Void's taint in him, a darkness that echoes a loss she's never spoken of. Lyssa's quick wit and dry humor mask a heart hardened by grief, and her instincts tell her James is a storm waiting to break—one she's not sure she can outrun.
In Eryndor, the Void is both a weapon and a god, its power woven into the royal bloodline through rituals older than the kingdom itself. Only those of Varnholt blood can open rifts to the Void, calling forth its energy to wield unimaginable power—telekinesis, elemental fury, or, in James's case, the summoning of void-beasts, creatures that defy nature's laws. But each use comes at a cost: the Void's energy seeps into the mind, sowing doubt, paranoia, and a hunger for more. The royal family guards this secret, presenting their power as divine right, but the truth is uglier. The Void is a parasite, and those who wield it are both its masters and its slaves. Beyond the palace walls, the common folk whisper of heretics—those who survive the Void's touch and emerge changed, branded as abominations by the crown.
As James and the Dustcloaks wage their guerilla war against an empire that betrayed him, the Void's pull grows stronger. Every rift he opens, every beast he summons, binds him tighter to a power that could save Eryndor—or plunge it into chaos. The kingdom watches, holding its breath, as a fallen prince and a band of outcasts challenge a dynasty built on lies. But the Void does not forgive, and its crown is forged in sacrifice.
Will James conquer the darkness within, or will he become the very thing he fights against?