What is one, lowly peasant boy in a world of implacable Kings and scheming, murderous Nobles?

One with a destiny beyond imagining.

Young Braen is a simple shepherd, like his father, and his before him. Nothing ever changes in the village of Stonesthrow, save for the turning of the seasons.

But when death finds him, the young man quickly learns that 'the end' is not so clear-cut.

At least, not for those granted the gift of immortality.


Author's note

(Some of the names and terms I've outright invented (which is most of them) might be confusing as far as their proper pronunciation goes, so here will be a (likely) ever-expanding list to aid you, dear reader, with just that!)

Braen - Bray-en (Celtic inspired)

Rion - Rye-on (Celtic inspired)

Meira - Meer-a

Patras - Pah-trahs (Mediterranean inspired)

Kleonic Marathon - Klee-oh-nik Marath-on (Kleon is derived from the Greek word 'Kleos' which means 'glorious'. 'Marathon' was the site of a famous battle during the Greco-Persian wars.

Urik - Your-ik (Anglo-Saxon inspired)

Obfuscationist - Ob-few-scay-shun-ist (Obviously not a 'real' word, but it damn well should be!)

9. Chapter 9

Braen awoke in a cold sweat, the hairs of his neck standing on end.


The sun was just beginning to peak over the hills, and the birds were singing.


'A glorious morning, is it not?'


Brother Davin sat with his back turned, watching a herd of deer play and fight near the gurgling brook.


'YOU!' he said, angrily throwing the thick blanket aside, and moving towards his rescuer with balled fists. 'I know what you are! You could have saved my Father!'


Davin turned to him and shook his head.


'No' he replied simply. 'I could not'


'He didn't have to die!'


'Did you not hear the words of my Brother?' said Davin, now standing. 'It was his time'


'NO!' yelled the enraged youth, charging forward with the intent of pummeling the faux-Elder.


But just as he reached him, an invisible hand suddenly threw him back, sending him tumbling through the grass.


'Enough!' He boomed, his mortal guise having momentarily disappeared.


'Do you think I know not of your pain, mortal? I watched my brethren destroy one another!'


The being's eyes were solid, glowing sapphires, his tattered robes were now blindingly white, and four massive wings stood outstretched as if prepared for battle.


Braen's fists were still clenched, but the anger was now leaving him in fresh, hot tears.


'Why?' he sobbed. 'Why him and not me!?'


'Because......' Said the Angel, assuming a new mortal form. 


'......There is a time and a season for all things'


Davin was no longer old, nor a Priest. Now he was a sandy-haired Man in the prime of his life, dressed in full plate with a longsword at his side, and a look of deadly-calm.


'I hate you' he said, feeling his anger return.


'Hate me all you wish, but know that I am your guardian, and I have been sent to prepare you'


'Prepare me for what?!' said Braen, insolently.


Davin smiled.


'For your destiny'

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