The hardest war is the one a man fights alone.

One hundred years ago, the Eternals, thirteen men and women of immense power, closer, many believed, to gods than mortals, stood against the greatest threat the world had ever faced.

And they lost.

They died.

All save for one, known as the Youngest, who managed to flee with the enemy leader's weapon, a cursed blade of incredible power.

He has traveled for a hundred years since, alone save for his companion, Veikr, the only remaining horse of a legendary breed.

The last, just as he is the last.

Hunted by creatures out of nightmare, he seeks only to survive, to keep the magical blade from the enemy's grasp.

Not to save the world, for the time for saving it is past. Instead, he seeks only to delay its ending.

It is a battle he fights alone, for after they defeated the Eternals, the enemy used their magic to pose as their conquered opponents, taking over the rule of the world in their stead.

For the last hundred years, the people have believed that the legendary Eternals triumphed, that they are safe. Only the wanderer knows the truth, that the world crouches with its head resting on the executioner's block, waiting for the axe to fall.

And the only thing keeping that axe at bay is him.

He had a name once, but he has it no longer.

He is simply the Last. The Youngest.

He is the Wandering Sword.