A thousand years have passed since the Sunspear, an ancient weapon forged by the Gods, was lost to the sight of men in the last great battle of the Raven Wars. Now, the Dark God again reaches out from the Land of Eternal shadow to touch the world with his evil. The Goddess Danu gives Ciaran, a young Celtae warrior powerful in the Psi, the vast psionic power of the subconscious mind, the quest of finding the Sunspear. If he fails, the Dark God's Long Night will fall over the world forever. The quest leads him ever deeper into the Forbidden Lands, perilous realm of the Shadow, where he is pursued by the Dark God's evil Ring Lords, who also search for the Sunspear. The Ring Lords, however, are not Ciarán's only worry. The Dark God sends one of his First Born, a Shaádhul mind-slayer, into the world to capture him and bring him to the Stone of Tears where he will either accept the Dark God as his Master or be cast into the Well of Souls. As he strives to elude the Shadow Lord's hunters, Ciarán must confront his forbidden love of Danu's tiny priestess, RILLSONG. He is further assailed with guilt over his infatuation with the beautiful Shadow Druidess, ISÉNGÁEL who captures his beloved foster sister KIARA and gives her to the Ring Lords. In the Valley of the Gods, he rescues Iséngáel and her half-Elven Ahati warriors from the deadly, Halfsouled Draugr. Joining forces, they fight their way through hordes of the near-immortal beings to reach the lost city of Gorias where Ciarán claims the Sunspear. Using the ancient weapon's god-like power, he destroys the Ring Lords' army that pursued him to Gorias, killing thousands of warriors, and laughing as their dying screams fill his ears. Only then does he realize that the greatest evil he has to overcome is not the Dark God, but the darkness that dwells within him. He must both learn to use the enormous power of the Sunspear wisely and keep his Darksoul at bay. If it gains control, he will become a creature of shadow, a Soultaken.

The Hezaroth Shaul never slept. Even at this late hour, the Dark Tower's brightly lit corridors were crowded with Shau Asar, Shau Semati, and Darkrunners, coming and going on the Dark God's business. Ainghuróth stalked down the broad hallways, the dark look on his face making all he met shrink from him. Darkrunners and servants going about their tasks simply fell to their knees as the Ring Lord passed. Arrogant, red-veiled Darkswords, powerful in their own right, ducked into rooms or vanished down side corridors. Others with no safe haven available bowed deeply with clinched fists crossed over their hearts, hoping he would not notice them. By the time he reached his chambers; Ainghuróth's anger had subsided. For a moment, he wished he had brought Bahjat with him. The boy was not only beautiful; he was a skilled lover. But, there were more important things to consider than pleasures of the flesh. Flinging the door open, he stalked into the anteroom. Neither Kendha, his chief servitor, nor any of the slaves came to greet him. "Kendha!" he roared, his hard won serenity crumbling. "Attend me, fool!" He whirled toward a sound, ready to shrivel Kendha with his displeasure. His anger froze into a knot of fear as an exceptionally tall woman, dressed in a long silver robe that shimmered in the light, stepped from the shadows with sinuous grace. A hand taller than the Ahati who guarded his door, The Dark God's first born had raven-black hair and pale ivory skin. Full red lips, shapely nose, and delicately pointed ears gave her a demonic beauty. Opaque blue eyes, flecked with gold, held him like a mouse caught in a viper's gaze. Shuddering, Ainghuróth jerked his eyes away and bowed deeply "How may I serve, High One?" he asked. "Why..." His voice turned into a croak as he sought to work moisture into his throat. "Why are you here?" He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the polished black floor and waited. The Shaádhul gazed at the human's bent form, touching the surface of his mind. A small shiver rippled through her, and for a moment, the desire to feed was strong, but feeding was not her purpose here. Finding collaborators powerful enough to aid her quest was. "Is this not the House of my Father?" she asked in a rich, dulcet voice. "Wherever there is Darkness, I may go." Ainghuróth's mouth went dry. In the past both Shaádhul and their brothers, the Gorzhul, had been limited in where they could go. Not that they could not go anywhere they desired, but their strength in the Psi diminished the further away from the Meru ab Shau they went. Now, if he understood her, the Shaádhul, at least, were no longer tethered to Shadow Mount. He quelled the howl of terror threatening to break past his lips. "I live to serve, High One." "How do you serve, Ainghuróth Sul?" she asked in a silken voice. "By wasting time in useless talk while a Chosen of my Father's great enemy, the Goddess, walks the living world?" Irritation wormed its way through his fear. The Black Council was only convened to address matters of gravest importance. "High One, my Ring Brothers and I..." "Were told to capture Chosen and take him to the Stone of Tears," she hissed. "My Father's commands are to be obeyed before all else, Ring Lord. Above all else. So why are you here?" "We are obeying, High One." He answered in a voice finding strength in his rising ire. "The Kamen Kha-t was convoked to determine the best course of action against the Chosen. New information has made it necessary for him to run free for a time." Forgotten were the accusations made during the opening session of the Kamen Kha-t, that Úlmaríath was derelict in fulfilling the Dark God's decree. Forgotten too were his demands for immediate action against the Chosen. Taking a deep breath he straightened to face her. "I do not understand. We have faced and defeated Chosen before. Why has the Great Master involved Himself this time?" The Shaádhul moved with the quickness of a striking death adder. A scream died in Ainghuróth's throat, choked off by the powerful hand gripping him beneath the chin, lifting him off the floor until his face was level with hers. Eyes bulging in fright, he thrashed and gurgled helplessly in her grasp. His terror became complete when she blocked him from his Psi. Her sending exploded into his mind. {You dare to question your God? I should take your mind now.} She laughed a melodious, deadly laugh. {So powerful, so sweet the essence of your mind, Ring Lord. You, I would savor long before I released your puny soul for my Father to eat.} A choking grunt broke past his lips as he struggled to drive her from his mind. Suddenly he was hurled across the room. He hit the far wall and slid to the floor. The Shaádhul shivered with desire. "It is not for you to question, human—only to obey." "Yes, High One," Ainghuróth rasped. His bruised throat made speaking difficult. "See that you remember, Ring Lord. Now hear my commands." For several minutes she instructed him on what he was to do. After he had repeated them in a tremulous voice, she asked, "Would you be Shen-nu Uán, Ainghuróth Sul?" He went completely still and she nodded. "Obey me and it is within your reach. Disobey and you will be a long time dying." "I hear and obey, High One," Ainghuróth said faintly. He waited for her to speak again, but the only sound was his ragged breathing. He lifted his head slowly, wincing as pain lanced through his neck. The room was empty. He had not sensed or heard her leave. Cursing, he levered himself into a sitting position. The slap of feet on the tile floor jerked his eyes to the door of his sleeping chamber. Tárhan, the Shau Semati who commanded the Psi'ans of his personal guard, burst into the room and froze when he saw his master sitting on the floor. Kendha, following close on the Shadow Priest's heels, ran into him nearly sending them both to the floor. The need to hurt and humiliate them as he had been humbled surged into him. From the haunted look in their eyes they had not fared any better against the Shaádhul than he had. "Well?" he snarled. Help me up!" As soon as he was on his feet he began issuing orders. "Gather the household. We are returning to Zahiráh tonight." Tárhan blinked. "Tonight, Lord? But the Kamen Kha-t..." He blanched at the look on Ainghuróth's face and, bowing deeply, said, "As you command, Lord." When Tárhan had gone, Ainghuróth limped to a chair and sat down. "When I am Shen-nu Uán, Úlmaríath," he muttered savagely, "I may let you clean chamber pots."