Norcastra has fallen. Gevern the Brave is dead. Bloody Orric sits upon the throne of Castria. And the greatest of his enemies is his prisoner. Orm Drunkenax expects nothing but his own death at the hands of the newly-made king. He expects this, and some would say he wishes it, while forces beyond his reckoning in lands he has never seen offer a salvation which may be no more than damnation. Djazar and his son wander the parched wilderness of the Deadlands alone. Alone but with an infamy he scarcely comprehends as he seeks those he has lost and the vengeance which he declares as his by right. The slavers who ravish his lands, who have butchered his daughter, who have robbed him of his wife, live in fear of his approach and his fame for his acts may yet lead him to those who hold within their hands the power to return to him what has been lost. Drakeen Mortes is a notable of the Sestrian Royal Guard, an officer, a soldier, a man of standing. And an outcast in his own land. A half-breed. Less than a man to most of his countrymen. His love for a woman will force both to flee the fear and intolerance and ignorance of their homeland on a quest for a greater knowledge than any creature of their world has ever had. On this other world great events unfold. Three men, strangers to each other, will each, for reasons of their own, pursue the fabled relics of times long since gone. The Holy Remnants. Revered and feared in equal measure for the power they may yet hold and the knowledge they may yet unleash. For those who seek them seek nothing less than the secrets of all the forebears of their world and perhaps the secrets of their Gods.