Chapter One

The Bone Forest at night is a dangerous place to be. The ground is marshy, spread with silent pools of water waiting to catch the steps of the unwary. A permanent fog shrouds the air in the colder months; in winter little can be seen of the landscape save the twisted trees looming out of the dark, their branches reaching into the sky like stripped bones.

Once in a while, though, the moon shines briefly from between layers of heavy black cloud and the mists gleam bone-white in response. And even more rarely, a flicker of ghostly white near the black earthen ground begs to catch the eye: a glimpse of a marsh spectre, so easy to miss.

The marsh spectre is not, as might be inferred, a spirit but in fact a flower. It grows in only the wettest of marshes; were its delicate petals to dry out it would crumble and fade into the wind like a wraith.

It crouches low to the ground, its foliage ash-grey veined with silver. It is rare. The conditions for its growth are specific; a particular temperature, a significant degree of moisture, not too much light. Without these it will never thrive and its coveted blossoms - only one per plant - will never appear.

On one particular frosty night, few souls were abroad to witness the delicate white glow of the marsh spectre as it unfurled its petals. Coveted as it was, few could brave the dangers of the night-shrouded Bone Forest with impunity. Konrad Savast was one such, and as he navigated with care through the dripping fog a bright glow caught his eye, blazing briefly but powerfully in the grey forests that ringed the city of Ekamet. It was a light he recognised, for he had set out on this cold, wet night in search of this very blossom.