Any child can tell you about the Evil One – lord of darkness, master of despair… the deathless, wicked tyrant in his black tower, all spikes and blades.
Children, in fact, are the only ones who truly grasp the concept of utter, soul-rotten vileness, because they all seem strangely drawn to it.
They’re also the only ones who ever ask why.
Why would anyone want to be hated? Why would anyone want to live alone, with only the cobwebbed corpses of would-be assassins for company? Why would anyone, given the power of sorcery, choose to brood in a draughty old spire of masonry encrusted with gargoyles and bat guano?
This is the story of an Evil Lord. But it’s not told by the grinning, lantern-jawed heroes or simpering sorceresses who have been trying to kill him for three hundred years. This is Evil (capital ‘E’ included) in its own words, from a short and brutal childhood right through to the obligatory cape and horned helmet. It’s also a story of sword-swinging warfare, city-leveling magicks, the downfall of empires and the machinations of mad gods.
It is the story of Kuhal Moer, uneducated son of a drunken warlord, and of how he came to be the single most feared entity this side of Death himself. And when the hero of your saga is a cynical and slightly unhinged young necromancer, you can bet that the villains are going to be something else entirely…