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!)

1. Chapter 1

The chill of the night filled the air, overseen by the cold, uncaring light of the moon.


On the outskirts of the remote village of Stonesthrow sat a small hovel, a cheerful fire crackling within.


At the old, rickety table sat two Men, young and old, eating their dinner in unaccustomed silence.


Finally, the older spoke, his gruff voice commanding attention.


'I hear tell ya got in another fight, lad'


Braen stared into his stew bowl, gritting his teeth in anger.


'Yes, Da'' he said.


The big Sheep-herd grunted.


'What about?'


The Raven-haired boy clenched his fists.


'Rion Thatcher tried to force himself on Meira Tanner. I had to stop him'


His Father chuckled.


'Heh. You've always had a good sense of right, Son. But maybe you just stumbled on a lovers spat-'


'-He was tearin' her dress off!'


The man's mood darkened in an instance.


'That's a serious thing you're implying, Son'


'I know what I saw, Da'!' he said indignantly.


'Look at me, Boy'


All hints of his former, relaxed self had disappeared. A look of deadly seriousness having usurped his face.


'Are you sure about this?'


Braen nodded, his jaw clenched in resolve.


The Man sighed. 


'Always knew that Lad was trouble. Trouble's all ye get when ya spare the rod'


He took a bite of his stew.


'Let it go'


Braen's incredulity was almost tangible.




'I said let it go! The only thing worse than bein' a bastard is bein' a self-righteous bastard. His sins'll catch up to him, Son: you mark my words'


'Yes, Da'' he replied, frustrated.


The fire popped again.


'They always do' 

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