I am Ren of Atikala. Kobold. Sorcerer. Warrior. I am many things and I have many stories to tell. This one is about my home. Home. The word has a special resonance with us all. Great or humble, rich or poor, everyone cherishes their home and if deprived of it loses a piece of themselves. I remember looking back at Atikala, its ceiling collapsed in, the homes of fifty thousand kobolds crushed under unimaginable tonnes of rock and dirt. I remembering the feeling of horror and denial that immediately set in. I wanted to reject that this had happened to me, to scream to the ceiling until the rock receded, until fate changed its mind and restored everything to the way it was. I thought that life could not be so cruel as to take everything I’d known in an instant. Oh, how I now understand that life can be capricious indeed. This is story of how I came to the surface of Drathari and unwillingly traded a life for a life.

I am Ren of Atikala. Kobold. Prisoner. Experiment. My father owns me and my days are full of pain. I have many stories to tell. This one is about death. Kobolds die every day. Even hatchlings are familiar with death, taught to understand it from an early age. Death is our nursemaid. By the time a hatchling has reached adulthood it has seen a hundred lives ended. Humans do things differently. Humans avoid talking of death. It is spoken in whispers, avoided in conversation. When they must discuss it they use euphemisms, silly phrases like “passed on” or “sleeping” or “gone away”. They are hoping, perhaps, they can pretend such euphemisms will not one day apply to them. Ultimately, though, they always do. These are some of the hardest times I have ever faced, along with some of my sweetest joys. I have so many stories to tell but this one should come next. It will take some time. This is the story of how I came to truly understand death, and what it means to take a life.

I am Ren of Atikala. Warlord. Conqueror. Murderer. I have many stories yet to tell, but this one is the most bloody. There was a time I thought I was a God. Something greater than inconsequential mortals; better than my kobold kin, better than elves and dwarves and everyone. Peerless. Indefatigable. Monomaniacal in my quest for superiority. Everything I had done to lead me to this point ultimately hurt me. Death was my shadow and I cast it everywhere I went. It grew larger and larger, sucking in everyone around me and swallowing them whole. Then it fell on me. This is the story about how I am not a hero. Book three of the Kobolds series. The Kobolds series: #1: Ren of Atikala #2: Ren of Atikala: The Scars of Northaven (Now available for preorder!) Other stories set in Drathari, the World of Shattered Dreams: - Sacrifice - The Pariahs - The Pariahs: Freelands - The Pariahs: Elfholme - The Pariahs: The Abyss (coming soon!)