Falling Suun: Legends of the Fallen, #0

By J.A. Culican

He's the only one who can stop what's coming. But even he may not be enough.  

Onen Suun is immortal and the only one who has the power to go up against the dark god, Dag'draath, who is waging a war on everyone. Onen is doing the best he can to bring everyone together, to fight for the common good.  

But they're losing. With every day the war rages on, he loses more people. More victories mean fewer fighters for the next engagement. His allies, his trusted friends, are leaving him.  

He still has one move left. It's desperate, but so is he. So is the world.  

He will do anything to ensure the people of this world have the fighting chance they need to survive and outwit Dag'draath.  

Anything at all. 

Book 1: Dreamwalker (grab NOW!) 

Book 2: Spell Breaker, March 2019 

Book 3: Soul Healer, April 2019 

Book 4: Being the Suun, April 2019 

Book 5: Breaking the Suun, May 2019 

Book 6: Finding the Suun, May 2019 

Book 7: Soul Goblet, May 2019 

Book 8: Heart Stone, June 2019 

Book 9: Mind Ring, June 2019 

Book 10: Finding Longfin, July 2019 

Book 11: Becoming Longfin, July 2019 

Book 12: Longfin Rising, August 2019 

Stay tuned for continuous updates on this epic 27 book series! 

 
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.A. Culican
• Release date: Dec 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386612728

J.A. Culican

J.A. Culican is a teacher by day and a writer by night. She lives in New Jersey with her husband of eleven years and their four young children. J.A. Culican's inspiration to start writing came from her children and their love for all things magical. Bedtime stories turned to reality after her oldest daughter begged her for the book from which her stories of dragons came from. In turn, the series The Keeper of Dragons was born.

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J.A. Culican

Copyright © 2018 Armitage & Culican

All Rights Reserved.

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Edited by: Frankie Blooding

Cover by: Covers by Christian

www.dragonrealmpress.com

To all readers who cannot get enough to read.

Ever.

Onen Suun stepped over a corpse in brown armor, though he could easily have gone around. That warrior and his kind were the reason so many of his white-clad, pure warriors were dead, scattered across the broad valley’s grassy floor.

Another warrior, this one in white, moaned not far from him. A spear stood upright, rammed through the soldier’s belly. He couldn’t leave a loyal soldier to die a slow death, not when he could prevent it.

Onen scanned the grisly battlefield as he approached, still wary of enemies. Very little else moved on that ugly battlefield covered in so many dead. Satisfied, he knelt beside his mortally wounded soldier and forced himself to smile. This will hurt. Stay still, friend.

The soldier groaned, but closed his eyes tightly. Yes, my lord.

Onen gripped the spear shaft with one hand and held his other, palm down, over the wound. Settling his thoughts and pushing away the horror of so many lost in one battle, he focused on the wound, and visualized an energy moving through him, from his head and down his arm, into his hand, and out over the soldier’s slashed belly. Energy poured from him in a faint, golden glow. He imagined it covering the wound, finding its way into every cut and around every torn fiber of muscle, tendon, bone...

Soon, the flowing blood slowed and then halted altogether. With one jerk, he removed the spear with a spatter of crimson, and the faint glow flowing between his level palm and the wound flared, the light becoming brilliant for a single moment.

It was done.

Thank you, Great Suun. The loyal soldier coughed once, then propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at his new scar. I don’t deserve such an honor.

Onen smiled, this time with genuine warmth. Of course, you do. You fought to the end, earning a place by my side forever. For now, though, rise and search for other survivors. Spare no mercy on the enemy if you find any alive. They certainly didn’t spare any for you.

The white-clad warrior pulled himself to his feet, bowed with his left fist over his chest, and turned away.

Onen grimaced. There were many wounded who still lived, at least for the moment, but there were too many to save them all. For the rest, their time was like an hourglass running low, its sand their blood. If he could, he would have saved them all. Instead, they’d live on only in bad dreams that brought this terrible day back.

Curse the evil one, Dag’draath. This was supposed to be Onen’s big win, and the beginning of the end for the enemy.

All around him, the valley’s lush grasses and brushes wilted in the afternoon heat. The once-verdant trees dotting the valley were now tinged brown. It matched his mood.

Onen set down his shovel, the remnants of his army sweating in the sun with him, most bearing new scars that would glow faintly in the dark for the rest of their lives—the mark of Onen’s power, etched into their skin where he’d healed their wounds.

There were depressingly few of them left, not enough for the core of an army. It would take time to raise a new one, but for the moment, he busied himself preparing his dead for their ceremony, while his surviving army stacked their dead in the neat, precise pattern that would help them on their upcoming journey. Not far away, between three large stone outcroppings, the enemy dead were also stacked, but like cordwood. They deserved no purifying fire to send them off to the next stage, and Onen was happy to let their souls wander forever, denied to Dag’draath. They deserved it, and no better.

A warrior appeared at Onen’s side with a bucket of water and a ladle. My lord Suun, you shared our toil. Now, share our water. You have to be thirsty.

Thanks, Onen said, smiling politely. He didn’t really need the water, but he could feel the man’s deep need to share, to help. Making such a man into a soldier, a killer... It was yet another injustice brought into the world by Dag’draath and his mad quest for power, and another debt Onen swore to repay his enemy.

Onen wiped his mouth and put the ladle back into the bucket. When the soldier didn’t move on, though, he stopped and turned to look at the man.

Shifting from one foot to the other, the soldier said, I don’t want to overstep my place, my lord.

Onen sighed. A good leader took advice where he found it, but it was up to him whether to follow it. Go ahead. What’s on your mind?

After what happened here today, we need time to raise more war banners. The closest realms to the south would make a good buffer, buying us that time, if you could somehow convince them to join us in their own defense.

The nameless soldier had a point. Unless he could negotiate a peace with the south realms, Dag’draath would simply harvest them, too, and it would give him another fresh army, and soon. I’ll think on it. Thanks for suggesting it.

The water-bearer left to tend to others, leaving Onen alone with his thoughts. The realms to the south weren’t Dag’draath true-believers, but they’d joined up with him, giving lip-service to avoid…

Well, to avoid suffering the same thing that had just happened to Onen and his army. They could likely be convinced, with the right help, but it wouldn’t be easy.

For that, he’d need magic. The kind he did not possess.

Fortunately, the one person who did would gladly come to his aid.

He stepped away from the warriors and drew his dagger, shining blue in the sunlight. It was crafted of Gleetstone, named after the blue moon that remained in the southern sky and was visible day and night. The moon was the source of the expression common as a blue moon. The Gleetstone was the source of the dagger’s power.

He drew a shallow cut across his palm and concentrated hard to prevent the wound from healing as quickly as he could cut it. It took a bit of will, but he let his blood well up and fall to the ground. His blood formed a perfect circle, within which a misty sphere formed.

Savarah, come to me, he whispered. Then, he tossed in a sprig of yarrow and watched as it turned to ash, the smoke blending with the mist.

As soon as he stopped concentrating, the cut closed up as though it had never been, and he returned to conducting rites for his dead. Forever sending off the dead, that’s what war mostly was.

That evening, Aupra shone above among the stars, the moon’s ivory hue reflecting off the armor-littered battlefield.

Onen stood in the center of where he’d burnt his deadin a mass ceremony, the only marker for the passing of so many lives. He and his surviving troops hadn’t had time for individual rites, but it had been consecrated nonetheless.

Had his real reason for laying out his dead now, rather than later, been so he could summon Savarah? She could go anywhere in the world, with her magic, but only to where the barriers between life and death were weakest. Otherwise, he’d have had to travel to her, and that was hardly possible while leading an army. Dag’draath and his spreading corruption wouldn’t wait for Onen to handle personal business.

He doubted himself for a moment, but shoved the thought aside.

A woman’s rich, sultry voice interrupted his thoughts, calling to him from behind, her voice floating over the still battlefield. Onen Suun. I should have known it was you. Had I known, I’d never have come.

Onen’s knees trembled as he fought the urge to rush to her, to embrace her, to wrap her in his arms and leave that place of death. She had betrayed him by finding love with another. Savarah. Thank you for coming. I’m sure you knew I was the one who called you. Of all people, you know me best.

Or so I thought. I wish I had known you better, else I would not have given my heart to you. Betrayer. Tell me what you want, so I can spit in your face and leave.

Onen narrowed his eyes at her as he cocked his head, confused. "I never betrayed you, and you know it. You