AN EPIC HIGH FANTASY SAGA
The Chronicles of Wetherid
When an ancient threat awakens and alliances shatter, only the courage of a few remains.
When an ancient threat awakens and alliances shatter, only the courage of a few remains.
The Chronicles of Wetherid are a monumental high-fantasy saga spanning multiple cycles. The first cycle, The Legacy of the Elves, tells of a classic fellowship quest through a richly layered world of magic, ancient peoples, and forgotten legends. When the Shadow Lord Erwight of Entorbis forges an alliance of Gray Dwarves, Mist Elves, Ogres, and Orcs to subjugate the free realms, a band of unlikely companions rises to stand against the coming darkness.
The second cycle, The Guardians of the Seven Artifacts, shifts the focus: political high fantasy with epic scope. Intrigue, betrayal, and power struggles play out across a large ensemble cast and parallel storylines — set within a classic high fantasy world where alliances are fragile and every decision carries consequences.
The Chronicles of Wetherid begin as an adventure. They end as a war for everything.
A sacred book disappears, and with it the safety of an entire world. A band of unlikely companions sets out to recover it – through enchanted forests, forgotten ruins, and realms where every encounter comes at a price.
Twenty years later, the peace they fought for is crumbling. At noble courts, those who speak the truth at the wrong moment die, and from the Soul World an influence seeps into the minds of the powerful, turning them against each other long before the first blade is drawn.
Wetherid is a world where decisions carry consequences. No alliance holds simply because it was once forged. No hero walks away unscathed.
What begins as fellowship becomes a test of breaking points – between duty and loss, between loyalty and survival.
The narrative shifts between the perspectives of warriors, rulers, schemers, and those caught between the lines. The tone is serious, the world is unforgiving, and not every story ends well.
Wetherid spans multiple continents – from the great realm in the west, across the Northland with its clans and Frost Elves, to the steppes of Kahroska in the east. In the Southern Sea lie Shanburia, the Aruvaren Islands, and the mage island of Horunguth.
Opposing them stands Fallgar, a realm of volcanic fortresses, death swamps, and shadow mages, whose peoples have never relinquished their claim to power.
21+ peoples. Over 140+ characters. More than 40+ locations. Creatures ranging from ice dragons to the giant sand worms of the desert. A world waiting to be entered.
The world stands on the brink. While Gorzod Graywing continues to prepare for the arrival of the demon Xaroth in the depths of Raga Gur, his dark alliance grows. Distrust threatens the alliance from within, and in the Dark Forest, the laws of nature are changing.
About the Book
The beginning of the end. The Orc shaman Gorzod has summoned a demon. Gorathdin and his companions must travel to the dangerous Northlands to find long-forgotten artifacts before it is too late.
About the Book
In a world where ancient magic and mythical creatures maintain the balance, a sacred book disappears. An unusual group of heroes must unite to prevent catastrophe.
About the Book
"Ornux, the shadow roams through our ranks. Why should we place our fate in the hands of your master once again?" Gorzod countered, his voice deep and piercing, as he gripped his staff tighter. "Because the power of the Entorbis grants you strength, because our alliance with Raga Gur and beyond can lead to power never seen before," Ornux replied, but he felt that words alone would not convince the proud shaman. The orcs murmured among themselves, their eyes glinting suspiciously. "Gorzod, show us a sample of your strength and your wisdom. A duel of magic between us. Should you win, I shall return with nothing accomplished. But if I win, you renew the alliance." "A duel of magic then. Very well, Ornux. May the dark power decide," Gorzod agreed and laughed in approval.
Lady Merdiva stepped closer, her voice rising with a dangerous clarity. "A clever player knows when caution is better, Eryndor. Your restraint could be called betrayal—and both Aldion and Belmarr would surely punish that." Eryndor stood up, his gaze sharp, his eyes flickering with anger. "Betrayer? You are brave to say such a thing to me." Before she could answer, he reached for her and grabbed her arms. Yet she remained perfectly calm. No flinching. For a moment, they stood there—the tension hanging in the air, unspoken yet palpable. Then she tilted her head slightly to the side, her lips curling into a barely visible smile. "You are dangerous, Eryndor—that makes you alluring." Her fingers glided up the back of his neck; his tension held for a moment, then she pulled him toward her.
"You should be grateful that your scarred head still sits upon your shoulders." Prince Sylvian's left hand slowly moved toward his boot. Silently, he drew a dagger and pushed it under the edge of the table until the tip was barely a hand's breadth from Elroth's side. "Moderate yourself," he hissed. "You are in no position to demand anything from me." With his right hand, he opened the pouch. Slowly, almost deliberately, he pulled out something dark. At first, just a matted strand of hair. As he pulled further, Elroth froze. His eyes were wide with terror. A shrunken head now lay in Sylvian's hand. Elroths breath caught; the blood drained from his face. Prince Sylvian noticed the reaction with satisfaction, cast a quick glance across the room, and slowly pushed the head across the tabletop. "Do you recognize her?" he whispered.