CLOAK: The Lost Son of the Crested Folk
Cloak... the irony of his own name weighs heavily on his young shoulders. He is nearing his sixteenth year, but unlike his peers he has yet to grow a crest, a crown of spines whose form and degree will determine his role and standing in society. He covers his head and hides away, fretting constantly on what the future holds for him and unaware that others conspire to write his future for him. He is not what he appears. He is a well-guarded secret, a potent force nurtured from birth by dark majic, a weapon of war, a renderer and a conduit to majic from the earth's core.
His true name and birthright are known to only one man; the king. Concealed by the sovereign during his crestless years, Cloak has been hidden from the eyes of the seers and the touch of the tellers, but this is not destined to last. The king's plans to recover the boy go awry and as his cresting day approaches, the mists of time grow momentarily still. Prying eyes now spy him out, folk who lust after his power and fear it in equal measure. It is now that fate and majic intervene.
In the kingdom of the crested folk, threads of coloured majic flow freely through the earth. It is as vital to their lives as the air they breathe and is freely given by Mother Earth. Majic flows through all who bear a crest, but for those fortunate few blessed with a high crest, majic can be summoned, shaped and wielded. The grander the crest, the deeper and more powerful, the colour of majic that can be drawn. This rainbow of colours is put to many uses, but powerful as the colours are, they are naught compared to the power of the black and the white.
Throughout history the summoning of white has been the preserve of the Troll, the pure core majic fuelling their powerful charms. Black is never summoned; such majic seeks out its own vessels and bonds to them for life. Amongst the crested folk such a talent is rarer than rare, so much so that with the passing of the centuries, wielders of black have become mere myths and legends. Yet it is true.
In the hands of the chosen, black majic is timeless, it is yesterday and tomorrow, it is life and death. Cloak's world is about to be turned upside down, but who will ultimately succeed in shaping the boy's fate?