They are the sons of Ponderosa Springs. Alistair Caldwell. Silas Hawthorne. Thatcher Pierson. And none Easton Sinclair hated more than Rook Van Doren. Birthed from the lineage of founding families, the people here worship them out of fear. In the Springs, there is no one with more power. False kings sitting on thrones built from the bones of their enemies, crowns forged from teeth and generational wealth.
