The Old King's Crown Flames of War a race of half-human

a race of half-human

When Marc Spector's serial-killer brother returns from the dead

labyrinths and fountains - but not just anywhere

Robert Heidbreder's rhythmic poetry is paired with Dusan Petricic's exuberant illustrations to perfectly convey the terms' meanings

a serious face and a surprised face

The Old King's Crown Flames of War a race of half-humanSome say he passed peacefully in his sleep, others insist a terrible illness overtook him in the end. Some whisper of foul play. Some say he was secreted away or that he has been seen, wandering the wilderness, wild eyed and quite mad. Regardless, the old king is gone, the kingdom's crown has lain unclaimed and unworn for too long. Past the salt shot, spray soaked coast, through arcades of elm and sleeping slopes of pine, to where the last lonely road