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The gods are dead, but they are not gone. Their bodies litter the cosmos, magical fuel for vast interstellar empires, giving birth to mages, and more importantly, to magitech.

A pyramid predating all known cultures appears without warning. Its discovery throws into question everything we know about the origins of mankind. Inside lies incredible technology, proof of a culture far more advanced than our own. Something dark lurks within, eager to resume a war as old as mankind. When it is unleashed it heralds the end of our species’ reign.

Tech Mage (Book one) Aran awakens in chains with no memory. He’s conscripted into the Confederate Marines as a Tech Mage, given a spellrifle, then hurled into the war with the draconic Krox and their Void Wyrm masters. Void Wyrm (Book two) Major Voria stands ready to accept the cost for her actions at Marid. Stripped of command and resources, Voria must find a ship and rally a crew. Somewhere within the Umbral Depths lays a hidden world, a world that the dead god Marid intended her to find.

After 26,000 years the Void Wraith have returned. The Eradication has begun. Mankind’s outer colonies are disappearing. Without warning. Without a trace. Fleet command chalks the attacks up to pirates, but Captain Dryker of the UFC Johnston isn’t buying it. Humanity cannot stop them. Not without help. Captain Dryker’s only hope is to forge an alliance with mankind’s greatest enemy, the savage Tigris. One maverick captain, an unlikely crew, and an aging vessel are all that stand between humanity and the Eradication.

A pyramid predating all known cultures appears without warning. Its discovery throws into question everything we know about the origins of mankind. Inside lies incredible technology, proof of a culture far more advanced than our own. Something dark lurks within, eager to resume a war as old as mankind. When it is unleashed it heralds the end of our species’ reign

I saw it in a memory. I know how crazy that sounds. There were ten kingdoms of Atlantis, as Plato taught us, each ruled by one of the sons of the legendary Poseidon. I know where they all are. We are not the first advanced civilization. We aren't even the second. Others existed, and they left behind clues to help their descendants. To help us. I found those clues, including a device used by the ancients that allows me to relive their memories.

It’s the 22nd century. The galaxy has opened up to humanity as a hyperactive beehive of stargates and new technologies, and we suddenly find ourselves in a vast playground of different races, environments, and cultures. There’s just one catch: We are pretty much at the bottom of the food chain, and there’s only one way for humanity to move up - by becoming mercenaries. In every mercenary’s life, though, there comes a time when things go wrong and even the best laid plans go awry.

I am the reincarnation of a dark god. I cannot escape that now. The prince of demons come again. And I am hunted. The Fomori have a prophecy about my return, and have been so kind as to dispatch the Morrigan herself to slay me. She's even forging a special divine sword. Their armies of beastmen and giants march upon Hasra, and the ailing empire is in no shape to hold. They need new troops. They need us. My friends and I are being sent off to the other Catalysts we control to gain more magic so that we can resist the Fomori advance.

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We've discovered Terra, but the cost is bitter. All that remains is the Vagrant Fleet, carrying the refugees from every world. Earth is our only hope, but their leaders don't even believe in magic. We also have to convince the Earth flight protecting them that we're not hostiles. Did I mention the dread fleet is right behind us led by a dark god who seems to have a real hate-boner for Xal'Aran? If we're going to win, then we must harness the most powerful Catalyst in existence, the Eye of Om.

I have been sentenced to death for the crime of being born; of winning the Hasran's war for them. But my death has purchased the freedom of my people, and so I go to it gladly, ready for whatever final torture they might have in mind. The Imperator has decreed that I will be sacrificed in the Great Games, a sacred ritual that will magically empower the Gateway Arena. It requires five god-souled, the reincarnations of gods, divine shards that can be fed to the Arena, and used to increase its size. It means my life has narrowed to one purpose: live.

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A pyramid predating all known cultures appears without warning. Its discovery throws into question everything we know about the origins of mankind. Inside lies incredible technology, proof of a culture far more advanced than our own. Something dark lurks within, eager to resume a war as old as mankind. When it is unleashed, it heralds the end of our species' reign.

My name is Xal, and I live in the dims - a walled prison where my people are kept by our cruel masters until we are needed to fight once more. One member of every family must answer The Call, for our blood bears the magic of a demonic god and all the terrible power that brings. We march to war against the Fomori, an unstoppable army of giants and their behemoths. If we do not, then our families are put to death. The Hasrans use us as cannon fodder and worse. They used up my father, and he never came home. Die resisting. Die fighting.

Aran awakens in chains with no memory. He’s conscripted into the Confederate Marines as a Tech Mage, given a spellrifle then hurled into the war with the draconic Krox and their Void Wyrm masters. Desperate to escape, Aran struggles to master his abilities while surviving the Krox onslaught. Fighting alongside him are a Major who will do anything to win, a Captain who will stop at nothing to see him dead, and a woman whose past is as blank as his own.

They sent me into the blasted lands to die. I refused. I lived. And now...I return to the empire that discarded me. A god, rich with worship. I don't know what has become of Hasra, or the war with the Fomori. I don't know where Li is, or if her homeland is still dealing with the wyrm Khonsu. My sister and mother were freed—the reward for my blood price— but I have no idea what has become of them. It is time to go home. Time to right old wrongs, and to find the legacy left behind by my former incarnation. Three tombs remain. Once I am certain my family is safe I will seek them.

The war in Hasra is over. A monstrous puppet sits upon the throne. Valys has fallen, and the Praetor rots in prison while his daughter remains a public hostage. Calmora is under Khonsu's rule, the dragonflight's plaything. Worse, my aunt and the other demon princes have fostered a new religion, which is sweeping the west. Our only choice was to flee to Olivantia, where we huddle with the dreadlords, who are under assault by the Tree of Blood and its armies of consumed. Things have never looked so grim. I have no more tombs. No more miracles from friendly gods.

Nefarius has risen. She is implacable. Unstoppable. God after god is fallen and consumed, and each time the terrible dragon-goddess grows stronger. Nebiat has stolen the Spellship, depriving Voria of its strength when she needs it most. But Nebiat's schemes have never been tested by someone like Talifax, and she will finally discover she's not as clever as she believes.

Krox's assault on Shaya has been foiled, but the cost was bitter. Ternus lies in ruins, its gravity doubled by a god. Shaya is a paradise, but one populated by a mere handful of survivors. Only one power strong enough to oppose Krox remains...The Last Dragonflight. Aran and his Outriders travel to Virkon to wake Virkonna, praying that she will join the war on their side. But neither Krox nor Nebiat is the true threat. Nefarius's rebirth has been carefully orchestrated, and is finally at hand.