Dead Moons Rising: First in the Honest Scrolls series

Contents
Untitled Document
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Blank Page
PROLOGUE: History of Haerland
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Appendix
Aydra Ravenspeak's Mark
Mark of the Venari King
Noctuans
Pronunciations
Acknowledgements


Dead Moons Rising
First in The Honest Scrolls series
Jack Whitney


Copyright © 2021 Jack Whitney
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9798588531726
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are the product and depiction of the author's wild imagination, and are completely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is purely coincidental.


For my sister.
For supporting and encouraging me always.
And for giving me the courage to burn the kingdom myself.
Thank you for the torch.


PROLOGUE: HISTORY OF HAERLAND
THE CHRONICLES SAY there was once a time, so very long ago, when the creatures of Haerland, both big and small, could roam free about the undisturbed and timeless lands without fear or restraint. A time when the curses of the current Age did not exist. A time when the term 'war' had no meaning. This was the First Age.
It was during this age that the earthen mother herself, for which the land had been named, lived in complete harmony with her creatures. After centuries of solitude, however, Haerland found herself growing lonely. She turned to the Architects of the sky and earth in the hopes they would answer with a solution.
Three Architects answered her call. The first was the Ghost of the Sea.
"In the southern waters," said the Sea, "you will find my gift. Take caution, dear Haerland. Treat this gift as you do your creatures. Only then will it serve you with respect and not disdain."
For a fortnight, Haerland searched up and down the southwestern coast. On the fifteenth sunrise, the Sea's gift showed itself.
A man was washed up on the beach, sand covering his olive skin. Haerland approached him and pulled him off the beach and out of the way of the crashing surf.
He coughed the seawater from his lungs and looked up at her. "Haerland?" he asked.
She nodded. "I am."
Once on his feet, he crossed his right arm over his chest and let his fist to rest on his breast. "I am Lovi Piathos. The Sea sends me," he said. "This reef behind me is my home. If you will have me, it would be my honor to serve out my days here in your beautiful land."
Haerland reached out and placed her hand over his exposed breast, and replied, "Welcome home, Lovi Piathos." When she removed her hand, she revealed a symbol engraved into his chest; five close-knit lines, the second and fourth longer than the others. It is the same symbol Lovi's children bear today.
The second Architect to answer her call appeared to her weeks later, eager to give Haerland his gift. This Architect was the Ghost of Fire.
"Haerland," he addressed her, "Tonight, I will awaken this mountain. You will know him as Mons Magnus. Treat him with respect, for he is a loyal being and has a hard-working and pleasing spirit. He is my favorite of the range, and now I give him to you."
The ground shook beneath her that night from dusk until dawn. With the rising of the sun, Haerland awoke from her slumber and strode to the foothill where the Ghost of Fire had come to her. There, she found a crack cut into the mountain that had not been there before. Inside this cave, she found a man.
The tall, bared man rose from his place on the ground and stepped directly in front of her. His body was streaked with soot and ash; his chest plagued with red burns.
"Haerland?" he asked.
"Yes?"
He took her hands in his and knelt down before her. "My name Mons Magnus," said the ashen faced and darkly bearded man, "and I am yours, my dear Haerland."
She smiled as he kissed the backs of her hands, and then said, "Rise, Mons Magnus. And welcome to my home."
The last Architect to find her was the Ghost of the Sun. She found Haerland on the first sunset of the new year at the highest cliff on the western coast.
"My dear Haerland," began the Sun, "I apologize for the time it has taken me to bring my gifts. Your patience is the greatest of your traits. As your reward, I come to you bearing not one, but three gifts. Three seeds. It is my hope they will find their home in your land and upon their maturing, I am sure you will never feel loneliness again.
"The first is a creation of mine and mine alone. Plant it here, on this hill, so that I may look over its growth directly." The Sun placed a small cloth in Haerland's hands. Within it lay a single small seed, pearly-white in color.
"The second was created with the help of both the stars and my beloved eagle, the Aenean Orel. Plant this seed in the north of the Preymoor." Again, the Sun gave Haerland a small cloth with a seed wrapped in it. This one was larger than the previous and a mossy blue in color, speckled with flecks of white and gold on the hull.
"My