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North of the Five Cities, where Memory Blades and bastards rule the isolated land, and south of the Varasur Kingdom, where mercenaries and mages spread civilisation like a sickness, lies a place worse than both combined, where nobody ever willingly goes, except that is, for Whinter Shaw.
Acheron Valley: she'd heard the stories, how if you're looking for unusual, then this was the valley for you, but Whinter Shaw never said no to job for being strange, and especially not when she was being paid so much gold. All she had to do was find one girl in a valley of fifty towns, towns filled with teenage assassins and bang-happy Brimsticks, with mad mayors and their Breakers, with stray dogs and savage children, with wild farm girls and the Hunters who love them, and that's all before things start to get weird.
Empowered Master Monks, Divine Emanations, Forest Witches, Rogue Mages; all long odds trying to stack the valley up against her, but if Whinter were a betting woman - and she most certainly is - then she'd bet her boots and more that she'd find this missing girl within a week, and there was nothing this valley could throw at her to make her lose that bet.
