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Racing against time, Edward must reclaim what is rightfully his before the balance of power shifts and he and The Zone cease to exist forever.
Rescued from the brink of death by the mysterious power of the Master Eye, Edward Fox and his friends make a daring escape from the city of Palantand and flee to the safety of Caprica Island. Once there, he is dismayed to learn from the Old Man that his ordeal is far from over, in fact, it has only just begun.
Tired and disenchanted, Edward has no choice but to allow Jasmiine Vaxin to return to the war-torn Tralon continent to try to lead an uprising against the Empire specifically designed to buy him some much needed time. With the mighty Doorgen Sandon by his side, Edward sails for the far off continent of Ventrolous in search of an all too familiar artifact buried in a mythical moving lake called The Lake of Sorrows … a lake that is also jealously guarded by a magical creature known only as The Chrimlian.
Meanwhile, the juggernaut that is the Empire of Halandon continues to expand outward aggressively, sweeping everyone before it aside as the Emperor sets his hungry sights on total victory. As kingdoms continue to fall beneath his mighty war machine, each square mile of new territory brings Daamand Wain that much closer to overall control of the balance of power in The Zone … and ultimately, control over Edward.
Somehow, Edward Fox must do what he has never been able to do in real life, he must overcome his guilt and his fears and become more than he is, for if he doesn’t, he and The Zone will soon cease to exist forever.
Edward slashed through the woman’s arm, severing it at the elbow, tears of shame and disgust rolling down his cheeks. It was midday at the Blood Game and light rain continued to fall, mingling with his tears, the wetness dripping off the end of his nose and chin in a steady stream. He shook his head roughly, clearing his eyes, water flying from his hair as he spun his sword sideways so fast that the blade seemed to disappear, cutting through her jugular in one smooth, precise motion. The woman wasn’t young and she looked like she’d never held a sword in her life before. She didn’t even have time to register that her arm was gone before she was dead, her plump body collapsing like an old barn falling down in a windstorm.
Edward tried to catch his breath, tried to resist the pull of the magic, but already he was running for his next opponent, the sword humming loudly as he twirled it in the air menacingly. His newest quarry heard him coming and he turned, his pudgy face widening with fear. He was short and bald, with a thin, almost comical mustache perched over thick lips. He had a heavy shield clutched in one hand, and a long spear in the other, but when he saw Edward he cried out and tossed them aside, falling to his knees and begging for mercy. Edward tried to avoid him, tried to force his body away, but his arm lifted, reaching out like a terrible finger of death and the bald man fell, his head no longer attached to his body.