Kan Savasci Cycle Book Tour & Giveaway

Tears of a Heart Kan Savasci Cycle Book 1 by Chase Blackwood Genre: Epic Fantasy

Winner of John E Weaver Excellent Reads Award#50 of 100 Best Fantasy Series Ever– reedsydiscovery He’s been called the Scourge of Bodig, the Bane of Verold, but most know him as the Kan Savasci. He’s one of the most feared men alive. Chaos and war have followed him like an angry shadow. The one problem, as the world faces the wrath of forgotten gods, Kan Savasci is nowhere to be found. The annalist, a man trained in the ancient arts of the arkein, has been tasked to uncover the whereabouts of the Kan Savasci at any cost. In order to find the man, one must unmask the depths of his reclusive history. The clock is ticking as Verold descends into darkness. Delve into an award-winning fantasy novel described as “epic,” “beautiful,” and “reminiscent of Rothfuss’ work.”Goodreads * Amazon

Tower of the Arkein Kan Savasci Cycle Book 2

2017Royal Dragonfly E-Book Award Winner, 1st PlaceBeverley Hills Book Award Finalist: Fantasy2017 Best Book Awards Finalist: Fantasy#50 of 100 Best Fantasy Series Ever– reedsydiscoveryTrapped as a slave, facing an impossible decision, Aeden must choose between his friends and his soul… The clock is ticking as the world descends into darkness. He’s been called the Scourge of Bodig, the Bane of Verold, but most know him as the Kan Savasci. He’s one of the most feared men alive. Chaos and war have followed him like an angry shadow. The one problem, as the world faces the wrath of forgotten gods, Kan Savasci is nowhere to be found. The annalist, a man trained in the ancient arts of the arkein, has been tasked to uncover the whereabouts of the Kan Savasci at any cost. In order to find the man, one must unmask the depths of his reclusive history. Goodreads * Amazon

Into the Fold Kan Savasci Cycle Book 3

Continue the Award Winning Saga… For over a millennium The Fold has been a carefully guarded secret, shrouded in mystery. Within its shadowy depths the greatest of the old gods had carved a world unto himself. A place unrivaled in its beauty, obscurity, and danger. Trapped within The Fold, under the tutelage of the last arkeinists, Aeden must overcome his greatest obstacle, or die trying. Goodreads * Amazon

Welcome to Chase Blackwood’s author bio, where he’ll try to write something interesting about his life that captures your attention. Chase Blackwood’s life has been defined by struggle the way a moth battles an insect zapping light. He’s studied martial arts since childhood in an effort to overcome fear. He’s lived in a half dozen countries in an effort to “find himself,” traveled to over 60 countries in an effort to “find humanity,” lived in nine states just for the hell of it, oh… and the military has had something to do with that too. Chase has enjoyed combating terrorism, working as a federal agent, and also really likes puppies. His most recent passion, puppies aside, has been working on the Kan Savasci Cycle, a series of fantasy novels that pulls from his life experiences to make the most vivid world imaginable. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

SAMPLES FROM: “TOWER OF THE ARKEIN” by Chase Blackwood
The cliffs that rose to either side of the River Lif were sheer walls of immense beauty. They had the
appearance of having been sculpted and smoothed over the centuries. Veins of marble colored the walls,
creating patterns that the mind struggled to understand.
The cliffs were highlighted in rays of light under a still and quiet sun. A startling blue sky watched over thick
puffs of white clouds that billowed about lazily. The morning air was cool, and the subtle texture of history
weighed upon the gentle breeze.
“We’re getting close,” the archduchess said, approaching Aeden.
Aeden looked up, surprised she had ventured out into the sunlight.
Alina had spent the entire prior day and night in the shelter of her cabin. Perhaps she had simply come for

some fresh air. He didn’t care the reason. She was out, and he was happy.
“Close to what, my lady?” Aeden asked.
She pointed ahead to the gentle curve in the river. The cliff walls on either side grew narrower and even taller
still.
“Godsend’s Pass,” she said reverently.
Aeden nodded his head, as if he knew what she was talking about. Verold was huge. In the last couple of
years, he had seen more of it than he had ever imagined, yet he knew that he had only scratched the surface.
There still lay vast continents unexplored, unclaimed islands beckoning the adventurous, and places that lay
uncharted and unseen by human eyes.
He had read about The Great Mysteries of Winter’s Bind, The Forbidden Forests of Varna, the wild tribes of
Dimutia, and only a scattering on the great empire that once was Templas, yet the more he read, the more
ignorant he felt on the vast span of history that was Verold.
Aeden’s revere on the breadth of his ignorance was interrupted by movement. He noticed one of the crewmen
join the other at the front of the barge. He then glanced out along the portion of water before them. They were
alone. No other rivercraft was within sight. The waters were moving quicker as the river narrowed, but never
dangerously so.
As they rounded the great bend, the clouds parted and shafts of light fell upon the rock sculptures of
Godsend’s Pass. There, stood immense carvings of each member of the Scapan, the Old Gods; Anat, Ansuz,
Baal, Balder, Bellas, Enlil, Gauri, Ghut, Huta, Kegal, Kurat, Marduk, and Zhov.
They stood proudly on the southern side of the River Lif. Each crafted in such detail, one would have thought
the sculptor had just finished yesterday.
Aeden studied each in open-mouthed awe. Here they were. Here were the gods of his people, The Thirteen.

Here was a reminder of his failure to avenge the fallen villagers of S’Vothe and free them from their semi-
mortal coils.

“They’re amazing aren’t they,” Alina whispered.
Aeden looked over. She was closer now, studying his expression. She seemed amused by his amazement. He
closed his mouth, his face turning slightly red. He normally masked his emotion the way a fire gecko masked
its scent.
“We had something similar back home, the Sacred Pools we called them, but,” Aeden paused, taking a
moment to study every lovely line that made up Alina’s face, “they were nothing so large and impressive as
this,” he broke his gaze and gestured to the statues.
“You see that one there,” Alina pointed to the tallest in the center, “that’s Magis, many believed him to be the
most powerful of the old gods.”
“We called him Ansuz,” Aeden said quietly.
Alina turned to look at him. Her face oddly passive.
“What did you say?”
Aeden stood on the deck of the Tempest, as he watched the shores of the Imperium fade away. Adel stood
by his side, silent as a willow.
A gentle wind spread the salty spray from the bow across the stern of the ship. The sun was warm and the sky
free of clouds. It felt like nature was working to bring peace to Aeden. He closed his eyes and felt the warmth
of the sun and the soft touch of the sea air.
He smiled.
It was a new start. He would find answers and purpose on the Isle of Galdor.
Aeden then looked to Adel and nodded to himself.
“You got the letter,” he said quietly to his friend.
Adel looked up at his adopted brother and clapped a hand upon his shoulder. He didn’t need to say anything.
Adel could tell Aeden was hurting.
Adel had been surprised to receive a letter from the First House of Bodig, from the archduchess herself.
Several of the monks had been curious, teased him, and gossiped. The letter had been an invitation to join
Aeden. It was a letter releasing him from the bonds of the Holy Order of Salvare and allowing him to
experience Verold.
“You remembered,” Adel replied.
Aeden merely nodded, remembering his promise to let Adel know if he left Bodig.
“I couldn’t stay at the monastery anymore,” Adel said quietly, “not after everything I had seen on the

pilgrimage. Not without Odilo, and Thomas, and you.”
Aeden looked over to Adel and managed a smile.
“We’re starting a new life,” Aeden said.
He looked across the cold waters to the distant shores of the Imperium. Aeden felt a pang of sadness as he was
carried farther from his old life, swept away from the sweet touch of the archduchess.
“What happened?” Adel asked.
Aeden continued to stare across the open ocean. Somehow, he felt unable to answer. If he spoke, everything
he was feeling would come spilling out. Instead, he simply stared at the ever-changing pattern of the sea.
“I’m here my friend,” Adel said in a whisper, “and I’m not going anywhere.”
Aeden closed his eyes.
There were the obvious physical indicators of Aeden’s encounter at Water’s Gate. In fact, when Adel had
found Aeden, blood was running down Aeden’s face, blood flowed from a cut in his arm, and a gash in his leg.
Adel helped treat the wounds, cleaning, sewing them shut and wrapping them as best as he could.
It was the emotional pain that lingered. It shrouded Aeden the way mist clung to a mountain peak. So, Adel
did what any true friend would do. He remained by Aeden’s side. He didn’t talk much. He didn’t need to.
Adel let his own questions dissolve into silence.
The continental landmass faded to nothing but a line upon the horizon as the ship drew away. Sailors rigged
sails, tied knots, and busied themselves with the activities of sailing. Aeden hardly noticed.
He didn’t notice as the sun slowly traveled through the horizon. He didn’t pay any attention to the other
passenger, a female from the north. He hardly even paid attention to Adel, the one friend he now had in all of
Verold.
Instead, Aeden sat on the ship consumed by thought. The gentle rocking of the caravel, the soft caress of the
salty air, and the warm touch of the sun only served to transport him further from the setting.
The ship’s sails billowed under the prevailing wind, and the Tempest cut a white swath through the azure
waters.
Memories of Aeden’s last sea voyage drifted languidly into his mind.
He saw the nearly toothless captain, Nawfel Murad Q’Bala, covering the Bocian, the holy book of Ghut,
written by the prophet Beccid. He remembered the boatswain Hamal Badi Agir and their bout beneath the
unrelenting sun of the Gulf of Galdor. That’s when Aeden’s thoughts

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