It was that transitional time of the world, when man first brought the clang of iron and the reek of smoke to the lands which before had echoed only with fairy voices. In that dawn of man and death of magic there yet remained one last untouched place—the small forest of Ealdwood—which kept the magic intact, and protected the old ways. And there was one who dwelt there, Arafel the Sidhe, who had more pride and love of the world as it used to be than any of her kind. But fear of the world of Faery ran deep in the hearts of men, and when Ciaran Cuilean, Lord of Caer Wiell, a man with Elvish blood in his veins, found himself the object of increasing distrust and suspicion from his men, his king, and even his own family, he knew he must once again put his humanity aside and return to Ealdwood. For shadows of a newly awakened evil swarmed across both lands, and unless Ciaran reclaimed his haunted weapons from the Tree of Swords and joined Arafel, he would see this evil overtake not only the warm hearthstones of the mortal keeps but the silvery heart of Ealdwood itself!

They said that Ciaran Cuilean was fey—that he had the touch of the Sidhe on him, and on his lands. And it was true. Elvish blood ran in his veins, and he had been to that other world—that parallel and magical land of Eald, where Arafel, the Lady of Trees, held dominion. But what should have been a blessing was as much a curse—for jealousy and fear grew in the lands of men. Shadows of newly awakened evil swarmed across both landscapes threatening to bring the clang and reek of war from the warm hearthstones of the mortal world keeps to the silvery heart of Ealdwood. And Ciaran knew that he must once again put his humanity aside and reclaim his haunted weapons from the Tree of Swords or see both his worlds fold into darkness!