IT WAS NEAR DAWN IN THE SUMMERLANDS when a group of fifteen emerged from the Blood Woods of Eracuse. Their robes weren't dotted in snow or painted by the winter behind. All of the chosen Icelandic warrirors were dressed as subtly as any local farmer.
They had exchanged their formerly heavy winter cloaks for lighter garments the moment they neared the forest's edge. Looking upon them, one would presume them to be denizens of the village ahead, and not great Icelanders of the North.
The entire mystic realms of Valkalon was now behind them as they looked onward. Only to the lay of summerlands before them.
The Flameseekers had wandered a night in the Blood Woods, moving their way through a path the gigantic red trees carved up for them. The Aeon of course secured their passage and none of the Night Children that nested in the forest had come near during their entire journey.
They'd been under the guidance of the Blood Knight.
