Life should have been easier for Sonea, now that Regin ignored her and the rest of the novices treated her with wary respect, but she cannot forget what she witnessed in Akkarin's underground room, or his warning that Kyralia's ancient enemy is watching the Guild closely.

Sonea is caught up in a confrontation between the hated Guild magicians and the angry youth of the slums. To her dismay, she discovers that she possesses the same powers as the reviled magicians. To avoid capture, she must seek protection from the city's feared underworld, The Thieves. In return, she must use her powers for them, but her magic never seems to do quite what she intends it to.

Sonea, former street urchin, now a Black Magician, is horrified when her son, Lorkin, volunteers to assist Dannyl in his new role as Guild Ambassador to Sachaka, a land still ruled by cruel black magicians. When word comes that Lorkin has gone missing Sonea is desperate to find him, but if she leaves the city she will be exiled forever, and besides, her old friend Cery needs her help.

Living among the Sachakan rebels, Lorkin does his best to learn about them and their unique magic. But the Traitors are reluctant to trade their knowledge for the Healing they so desperately want, and while he assumes they fear revealing their existence to the world, there are hints they have bigger plans. Sonea searches for the rogue, knowing that Cery cannot avoid assassination forever, but the rouge's influence over the city's underworld is far greater than she feared. His only weakness is the loss of his mother, now locked away in the Lookout.

Relieved that Lorkin is coming home, Sonea prepares to meet with the traitors on behalf of the Guild. Then bad news arrives: The Sachakan king has imprisoned her son.

As the Sachakan king tries to force Lorkin into betraying the traitors, Dannyl questions his friendship with Ashaki Achati. Can he trust the Sachakan? Not at all, if Tayend is right. But do Tayend’s suspicions spring from good political instincts, or jealousy? Easily evading capture by the Guild, the Rogue knows only one obstacle lies between him and his ambition to rule the underworld: Cery.

When Auraya was chosen to become a priestess, she could never have believed that a mere 10 years later she would be one of the White, the gods' most powerful servants. Sadly, Auraya has little time to adapt to the exceptional powers gifted her by the gods. Mysterious black-clad sorcerers from the south plague the land, and rumours reach the White of an army being raised. Auraya and her new colleagues work tirelessly to seal alliances and unite the northern continent under their banner, but time is running out.

Despite her hope for peace as the protector of the Siyee, Auraya is unable to avoid being caught up in the building conflict. As the gods' demands increase, Auraya finds that she must choose between those she loves and those she's sworn to serve. Meanwhile, Mirar enjoys acceptance and respect as he reclaims his place among his people, and Emerahl is at last able to join the Thinkers in their search for the Scroll of the Gods. The Pentadrians, determined to take their revenge on the conquering Circlians, plot and scheme to bring down their enemies by means other than direct conflict.

Although the architect of the White's victory, Auraya's first taste of war has left her sleep filled with nightmares. She walks in fields of blood while the dead rise in accusation. You killed us. You. It seems Auraya will know no peace while these nightmares haunt her, but the only one she trusts to help has vanished. The Dreamweaver, Leiard, still struggling to come to terms with the ever more powerful memories of the long-dead Mirar, flees into the mountains with Emerahl, perhaps the last of the Wilds.

Each year the magicians of Imardin gather together to purge the city streets of vagrants, urchins and miscreants. Masters of the disciplines of magic, they know that no one can oppose them. But their protective shield is not as impenetrable as they believe. Sonea, angry, frustrated and outraged by the treatment of her family and friends, hurls a stone at the shield, putting all her rage behind it. To the amazement of all who bear witness, the stone passes unhindered through the barrier and renders a magician unconscious.

My name is Peter Grant and until January I was just probationary constable in that mighty army for justice known to all right-thinking people as the Metropolitan Police Service (as the Filth to everybody else). My only concerns in life were how to avoid a transfer to the Case Progression Unit - we do paperwork so real coppers don't have to - and finding a way to climb into the panties of the outrageously perky WPC Leslie May.