Was it a trick of birth that I'm not one of them? Was I unlucky in the cards destiny dealt? Perhaps there is a God or Gods in some celestial plane or atop a mountain or at the end of a rainbow bridge charting out my future. Perhaps its Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos spinning, dispensing and cutting the thread of my fate. Determining my allotment of suffering and success with a fairly impartial regard. What if I am but ones and zeros embedded in a fiction of some superior intelligence's design? My existence could be the result of any or none of these. Perhaps there really is nothing and all is chaos.
Geurts delivers a compelling tale of the reluctant orphan who finds himself to be more than he could ever have imagined. Imharak's place in the world is so much more than the sum of his bloodline. Finding himself in the midst of invasion, Imharak must discover which side of himself to align with. Will he be the conqueror or the conquered?