A shadow grows over Celenic Earth, as foul creatures attack the villages. The leader of hurorcs and purorcs commands them to attack the southern tribes, and is captured. But Mercius, once known as the Windfarer, finally breaks free after years of imprisonment and sets his sight upon the Asbec College of Elements where an ancient power is rumoured to be hidden.
Shadowolf is in his last year of studies at the College when word of the escape spreads. Strange things happen and he becomes entwined in a world of mystery and murder, using the power of the elements to survive. Ignoring the secret meetings of the Headmaster with four professors collectively called the Sandrihelin, Shadowolf returns home and does everything in his ability to protect the five southern wolf tribes. He merely frustrates Mercius’s plans, but significantly learns that Mercius is subservient to a dark lord; someone more powerful, known as Le’Mar.
Between the protection of his family, the loyalty of the Shadow Clan and the new-found love of his life, can he pull himself away to stop Mercius from reaching his goal? For neither the elves nor the dwarves can stop him should he gain the power he seeks. Even the dark lord seems troubled.
The Masaran Phenomenon approaches, and the “Prophecy of the Windfarer” is upon them.
“Mercius has escaped.” Nighthale watched Shadowolf’s expression change.
“When? How?” Shadowolf asked, surprising his father with his sudden calm.
“This morn. The guards were found dead. There was a hole in his cell. No clue as to his escape. Look, Shado…” Nighthale walked over to Shadowolf and placed his hands on Shadowolf’s shoulders.
“The reason I am telling you this…We are far from home. I just want you to be careful out there today.”
Shadowolf looked down and then back into his father’s eyes, smiling.
“I’ll be fine,” Shadowolf replied. Nighthale narrowed his eyes.
“I know that tone. Don’t think you can play the hero. If you need help, send Nelnar.”
Nelnar looked back at the lake and ran to the tip of the falling tide. The wolf howled at the lake. Shadowolf walked to the group of friends as they waited. Then she appeared.
Her sharp, curled black hair rose out of the far water first. The hair fell to her naked shoulders and the water from the tips fell over black shell-armoured cups that were strapped around her torso. As her feet finally cleared the water, Shadowolf realised that the only other bodily wear was around her waist of fine weed and pieces of shell to keep it in place. Her legs were bare.
“That’s some nice armour,” Lanel whispered, deserving a hit on the arm by Mourna. Shadowolf could tell her strength was in her arms and legs for the muscles, though gentle and soft, were very noticeable. She had finally reached the gaping group.
“My name is Shedaaij,” she responded with a sly smile. “I am born of a man and mermaid, twenty-one years ago. I am the only one of my kind: a Merlani.”
Shadowolf remembered the pole that had staked the aVampeyer and he got an idea. He swam up out of the wreckage of the once peaceful home and held his palms upwards. He tensed his forearms and the water around it grew colder. Ice shards formed on his hands and he structured them with his mind to form conically sharp stakes. One of the beasts swam towards him in haste and Shadowolf threw the shards at its chest.
The hilt and handle were a deep red like the crossbow with an intricate dragon design winding around the handle. Three rubies were equally distributed on the one side of the hilt and when Shadowolf turned it around, there were another three. Mannius has also provided a sheath with the same red dragon design, and a belt to tie around the waist.
“Wow,” Darcwulf uttered. “Are you going to name it?”
Shadowolf looked at the letter and his eyes focussed on ‘willow tree’ and ‘rubies’.
“Ruben-Willow,” Shadowolf announced.
Le’Mar did not mistake Eldor’s power either. Here was an adversary worthy to challenge. The Gate shimmered in his glory and Le’Mar could see through the Gate into the canyon behind him. The pegasus on the other side was beautiful beyond words, a reflection of Eldor’s power wrought in flesh. Similarly, its eyes glowed yellow. He understood their bond; their souls had merged and become one. Le’Mar had tried that once without success. He had never known anyone until this point that had succeeded; another evidence of Eldor’s power.
But Le’Mar knew a way he could defeat Eldor. If only he would accept the challenge.
“Do you think…” Shadowolf stood, ire burning within him, “I survived on bravery so far? I will face the Windfarer, and I will sway him from his power. And I will do it alone!”
“Let him go, Nighthale,” Elgoth said. “Masara feels that Shadowolf might indeed stand a chance against the Windfarer.”
“Nevertheless. Make your way there, and he will provide you with the key to destroy Le’Mar. Or you can continue on your quest, and die.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have a promise to keep,” Shadowolf turned to leave the forest.
“And how will you keep it in death? One day you will rid the world of the evil, but only if you heed the dragon’s council. Please, Shadowolf. There is more at stake than your word.”
He turned to face her, but she was gone. Not a whisper remained of her presence. He made his way to Mandy and Nelnar, considering the conflict inside him.
“I don’t believe it,” Farnerd said, the doubt etched in his voice. “No blasts, no racings down the fields with a horse stolen from the underworld? Shadowolf, you must be losing your touch.”