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Terry Goodkind


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The epic finale to the THE SWORD OF TRUTH series: 16 volumes 20 years in the making, 26 million copies sold.

Soulmates, pawns of prophecy and inheritors of an ancient conflict, Richard and Kahlan's destinies have been bound together since their first encounter in Wizard's First Rule. But now Richard lies on a funeral bier – suspended between the worlds of life and death and Kahlan faces her greatest challenge.

She must fight for Richard's very existence, and Richard, trapped in the underworld, must fight to keep the world of life from ending. Desperate sacrifices are required. This is the final battle in a war three-millennia old, a war that saw the Sword of Truth forged, a war that could mean the end, not only of their lives, but of their world.

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482 printed pages
Copyright owner
Head of Zeus
Publication year
Head of Zeus
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  • Stelios Tunshared an impression2 years ago
    👍Worth reading
    💞Loved Up

    I love this book so much

  • ynneivyshared an impression6 years ago
    💡Learnt A Lot
    💞Loved Up

    The most captivating heart stopping series ive read, its a must read for everyone

  • Rokylshared an impression7 years ago
    👍Worth reading

    It's the great


  • djeen7991007has quoted8 years ago
    his book is dedicated to my readers, who have lived this grand journey with me. Writing Richard and Kahlan’s story has been one of the greatest honors and joys of my life, but these stories don’t exist in my mind alone. They live because they exist in yours as well. It is your love for this world that has helped breathe life into these characters. Because of your passion, Richard and K
  • Fay .has quoted2 years ago
    she may be able to see what others will do, what others might be able to do, or have the potential to do
  • b3305914451has quoted3 years ago
    Feeling hot and light-headed, Kahlan stiffened her back as she stood at the head of the funeral pyre, staring down at Richard’s body laid out before her. The light mist and fitful drizzle felt cold on her face, like ice against the grief burning inside her. Wet cobblestones glistened in the late-day light. Irregular pools of standing water reflected parts of the citadel rising up beyond and the stone guard tower nearby, with the occasional tears of rain distorting those reflections.
    Although the mist and bouts of rain had soaked the neatly stacked wood of the pyre, she knew that it would burn. Thick layers of pitch had been slathered over the lower

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