Book 1: Tantrics of Old
 
'The Horseman had come to your apartment?'
Adri nodded.
'What did it want?'
'My goddamn soul.'
Tantrics. Necromancers. Exorcists. Talkers to the dead. Summoners of Demons.
An ancient art. A select few. The only ones in the land allowed by law to inscribe upon themselves the magical tattoos of the profession.
The city of Old Kolkata. Dark. Devastated. War-ravaged. Unforgiving.
Adri Sen, a banished Tantric, wakes up one morning to find the Horseman, Death, sitting at the edge of his bed.
The Apocalypse cometh. Wraiths whisper. Ancients bleed. Demons stalk. Fallen Angels rise. Assassins attack. Storytellers spin.
In every legend, a small grain of truth.
Run for your soul, Adri. Run.
 
 
Book 2: Horsemen of Old
 
‘There will come a time when it will talk to you.’
‘The Darkness?’
‘Yes. And when that time comes, do not answer.’
Cat and mouse. Hunter and prey.
A desperate flight, in sun and moonless night.
A country succumbing to the weight of its politics, bleeding in the shadow of its history.
Frozen Bombay, a city of thieves and pirates.
Zaleb Hel, an island of secrets.
Nemen Sui, the black place.
Rajasthan, a burning desert waste where the heart eaters roam.
But the sound of hooves. They grow ever near.
The beating of drums. The end of days.
The Four Horsemen. The Apocalypse.
You are powerless to stop this, siblings. You have lost much.
Your innocence. Your love. Your greatest ally.
All you have now is the blood that ties you.
All you have now is each other.
 
Book 3: Myths Of Old
 
‘Where is Adri?’
‘Hiding, somewhere in the darkness.’
‘I am Darkness!’
Come forth, come hither. It is finally time.
Fairy tales, and spit and blood and bone and venom.
Promises of revenge, the smell of fear, the ever long hunt.
And the stories. Oh, the old stories.
The serpent and the Dragon.
The tantric and the horseman.
There was time, once. All the time in the world, for the world.
Yet you still claw at illegitimate hope; the blade saint, the demigod, the hammer of numen, the paladins of light.
Stop. Look.
The skies are black, the rivers red.
For the last time, the sun sets. The dark master rises.
Gaze into his hypnotic coils, for it is here.
The end of the beginning. The beginning of the end.