Guile is the Prism. He is high priest and emperor, a man whose power, wit, and charm are all that preserves a tenuous peace. Yet Prisms never last, and Guile knows exactly how long he has left to live. When Guile discovers he has a son, born in a far kingdom after the war that put him in power, he must decide how much he's willing to pay to protect a secret that could tear his world apart.

When the cultivators came to Earth, they destroyed our entire civilization in a matter of hours. Armies fell, cities burned, and that was before the moon turned red and filled our world with monsters. Now, over a decade later, what's left of humanity slaves under the heels of our Qi-infused masters. The luckiest of us might even become one of them, they say—if we serve the Dynasty well enough and harness the power of Qi. But I want none of that. I'm sick of serving, and I want nothing to do with their world. Instead, I want them to pay for what they did to mine.

The Empire of the Wolf simmers with unrest. Rebels, heretics, and powerful patricians all challenge the power of the Imperial throne. Only the Order of Justices stands in the way of chaos. Sir Konrad Vonvalt is the most feared Justice of all, upholding the law by way of his sharp mind, arcane powers, and skill as a swordsman. At his side stands Helena Sedanka, his talented protégé, orphaned by the wars that forged the Empire.

Sacred artists follow a thousand Paths to power, using their souls to control the forces of the natural world. Lindon is Unsouled, forbidden to learn the sacred arts of his clan. When faced with a looming fate he cannot ignore, he must rise beyond anything he's ever known...and forge his own Path.

Pete is a simple man who enjoys a good drink amongst good friends. Not too much to ask, right? Now, he's trapped in a fantasy world far from home, stuck underground and inside the body of a smelly dwarf with fantastic facial hair. The worst part? The swill that the dwarves are falling all over themselves to drink. It's flat, it's watery, and it has the alcohol content of a rancid coconut. Can Pete save the dwarves from their own sour fate, or will he be forever doomed to plink his pickaxe away in hopes that he hits the motherlode?