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Blood Wroth - Part 2

- The Foundation

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Blood Wroth, Part 2 - The FoundationWhat a difference six months can make. From schlepping in caves filled with bat guano in Afghanistan, to being transported to another cave in Wyoming, sleeping in tents, Chance's next stop was a magnificent Gothic style fortress built in the shape of a seven-pointed Faery star. The Hawk Foundation. Aside from the impressive seven Dragon Towers which comprised the fortress, the Foundation could boast of having the most modern state-of-the-art facilities, a luxurious hotel, and thousands of acres of park-like settings behind tall, fortified fences.They'd need every square foot of those barricades (and then some) to hold back the tide of what would inevitably be striking at them: Hel Blar, led by Draugar in league with an old nemesis, Camazotz, the Bat God. Each unfolding scrap of intelligence they'd gleaned had only served to highlight the urgency of identifying their needed seven Dragons. All would be for naught unless Chance's mother, the Medean Witche, could unite the Ri Ardri of the North, the Old Dragon, with the part of his 'misplaced' Dragon consciousness. Each mysterious thread unraveled in their Dragon tapestry revealed yet another tangled connection in a web of schemes and deceptions reaching back over three thousand years. None was more adept at deciphering the maze than Jacques, a man tragically haunted by his own inability to discover the fate of his lost love, Aimee. Once again, Zee's prescient knowledge proved accurate. The Healer's arrival was unveiling serpentine old enigmas. The spirit of Madadh's wife was indeed within the red-haired woman. With preparations for the All-Hallows Masked Ball proceeding as planned, Jacques' Blood Wroth at hand, his path would unexpectedly be diverted to the past, to le labyrinthe de l'epervier. Was it not fate, whose name is also sorrow, that bade me pause before that garden gateto breathe the incense of those slumbering roses.

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  • Sprog:
  • Engelsk
  • ISBN:
  • 9781794557000
  • Indbinding:
  • Paperback
  • Sideantal:
  • 468
  • Udgivet:
  • 21. januar 2019
  • Størrelse:
  • 152x229x24 mm.
  • Vægt:
  • 621 g.
  • 8-11 hverdage.
  • 27. november 2024
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Beskrivelse af Blood Wroth - Part 2

Blood Wroth, Part 2 - The FoundationWhat a difference six months can make. From schlepping in caves filled with bat guano in Afghanistan, to being transported to another cave in Wyoming, sleeping in tents, Chance's next stop was a magnificent Gothic style fortress built in the shape of a seven-pointed Faery star. The Hawk Foundation. Aside from the impressive seven Dragon Towers which comprised the fortress, the Foundation could boast of having the most modern state-of-the-art facilities, a luxurious hotel, and thousands of acres of park-like settings behind tall, fortified fences.They'd need every square foot of those barricades (and then some) to hold back the tide of what would inevitably be striking at them: Hel Blar, led by Draugar in league with an old nemesis, Camazotz, the Bat God. Each unfolding scrap of intelligence they'd gleaned had only served to highlight the urgency of identifying their needed seven Dragons. All would be for naught unless Chance's mother, the Medean Witche, could unite the Ri Ardri of the North, the Old Dragon, with the part of his 'misplaced' Dragon consciousness. Each mysterious thread unraveled in their Dragon tapestry revealed yet another tangled connection in a web of schemes and deceptions reaching back over three thousand years. None was more adept at deciphering the maze than Jacques, a man tragically haunted by his own inability to discover the fate of his lost love, Aimee. Once again, Zee's prescient knowledge proved accurate. The Healer's arrival was unveiling serpentine old enigmas. The spirit of Madadh's wife was indeed within the red-haired woman. With preparations for the All-Hallows Masked Ball proceeding as planned, Jacques' Blood Wroth at hand, his path would unexpectedly be diverted to the past, to le labyrinthe de l'epervier. Was it not fate, whose name is also sorrow, that bade me pause before that garden gateto breathe the incense of those slumbering roses.

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