Sons Of Darkness

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON MEETS SUCCESSION IN AN EPIC REIMAGINING OF THE MAHABHARATA

- Gourav Mohanty

“Easily one of the best epic fantasy debuts of the last decade” – Fantasy Book Critic.

A blood-spattered prologue sets the scene for India’s first grimdark fantasy novel.

The stench of split flesh from the carcasses of the Children of Light wafted out to mock his hunger. The wolves had come, and then left without feeding. Ravens circled overhead, yet none descended. These details remained with the rider as he drew rein at the very spot where his foes had made their last stand. With his dagger he flicked the strands of his long hair, clumped with dried blood, away from his eyes. As he took in the sights of the carnage that had taken place mere hours ago, he absent-mindedly rubbed a luminescent powder onto his blade.

For a Hero of Light, he reckoned he cast a rather grim shadow. Hero. The word slithered nastily in his mind. An honour bestowed upon you when you had killed all those who would have called you a mass murderer.

“Shall we, Muchuk?” Asha walked her horse amidst the sprawled bodies to where he sat astride his stallion. “Time to deliver the good news.”

Ah yes. Trisiras is dead. He nudged his mount onto the slope of the hill, urging it into a collected canter as his sister followed suit. They made their way up the tortuous track towards the mountain fortress of Svarg – a great hulking fastness that loomed like a crystal-white orb against the dark, poisoned heavens. A faint pillar of light that rose from somewhere within the fortress served as their lodestar. The beacon of tyranny, Muchuk mused.

“You seem awfully quiet for someone who has won a war.” Two sharp eyes stared out from Asha’s beaky, grimy face packed in a half-helm. Under her armour, her hunched muscular shoulders looked all the more ungainly without a bosom to balance her form. It was a miracle she did not slide off her horse.