PROLOGUE

“And the first father gave each of the children of the sky, the harvest and the sea a drop of his blood and he spoke ,‘as you, my children worship me as your god, I give to you my blood to create your own children who shall worship you,’ and humanity was born.” The Itara, Creations 13:23

PROLOGUE

“And the first father gave each of the children of the sky, the harvest and the sea a drop of his blood and he spoke ,‘as you, my children worship me as your god, I give to you my blood to create your own children who shall worship you,’ and humanity was born.” The Itara, Creations 13:23

“Tommandros, put those clouds back where you found them,” his mother called from the doorway of their cottage. “Can’t you see I’ve got clothes on the line? How do suppose they’ll dry if you keep the fog rolling in like that?”

“She has a point, you know,” Gran’s voice said. But she wasn’t there. Not really. She was dead, lying blissfully unaware of the failure-of-a-summoner her grandson was in her absence. Still, she spoke to him from a shaded corner in the back of his mind, a warm place . . .

“Tommandros, put those clouds back where you found them,” his mother called from the doorway of their cottage. “Can’t you see I’ve got clothes on the line? How do suppose they’ll dry if you keep the fog rolling in like that?”

“She has a point, you know,” Gran’s voice said. But she wasn’t there. Not really. She was dead, lying blissfully unaware of the failure-of-a-summoner her grandson was in her absence. Still, she spoke to him from a shaded corner in the back of his mind, a warm place . . .