Herald (Teaser)

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CHAPTER 1

A cool breeze blew up from the south, ruffling August's hair. He sat at the peak of one of Trent's many rolling hills, watching the sheep huddle together far below. The ache in his muscles felt good; it meant a hard days work had been done. Now, it was time to sit, and watch the sun descend behind the hills. Moments of rest were precious, especially during such difficult times.

August reached under his collar, fingering his mother's necklace. He often thought about her on the hills. The pendant on the necklace was a simple silver hexagon, each side representing one of the gods that had died in battle alongside the humans. If only August's mother could see him now. He had grown so much since she had died.

"It's my birthday tomorrow Mom," August whispered into the breeze. "I wish you were here to celebrate it with me, even if it is my eighteenth. I hope I don't get the Death Mark, but if I do, at least I'll be with you." August kissed the pendent on the necklace and closed his eyes. "I know you'll be watching over me. I love you." The Death Mark either appeared or didn't appear on your eighteenth birthday. If it did, you had to give your life as a sacrifice to the Pale King. It was a rarity, but still frightening.

Something rustled on the hill behind August. He quickly tucked the necklace away, fumbling over himself as he turned to face the passerby. His stomach sank as two Pale-kin approached, riding up the slope on black steeds. Their armor matched the color of their horses, a stark contrast to their ashen, hairless skin.

"Resting on the job again, scum?" snarled one of the beasts as it approached. It had slits for nostrils, and wickedly sharp teeth. August hated pale-kin; all of them. Anything that had to do with the Pale King was vile.

"No, sir," said August, with as small a bow as he dared to give. "I was praying to the Pale King when you approached. I'm sorry for the confusion."

The Pale-kin growled at him, leaning down closer to his face. It smelled of decay. "You're lucky I don't tear your hide off, boy. Pray when the work is done. You are to sacrifice two of your sheep to the Pale King tonight. Fail to do so and suffer the consequences."

"Yes, sir," August said, bowing again.

The Pale-kin rode off, back towards the village. Their requests had been nearly impossible lately. August barely had enough sheep for shearing season as it was, and now there would be two less. He cursed, running off to collect the Pale King's sacrifice.

August arrived home soon after, herding the sheep into the small pen by the house. His father, Bran, was seated on a stool outside. He shakily stood when August approached, grabbing his crutches to hold himself up. His right leg popped and cracked as it straightened.

"That's four sheep this month," Bran said. "Do you think we'll be able to manage this winter?"

"We'll be fine," August replied, helping his father inside. "I'll make sure of it."

"I've gotten you something," Bran chuckled. "It is your birthday, after all."

August sat his father next to the fireplace, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. He looked so old in this light; so frail. "My birthday is tomorrow, Father."

"Yes but-" Bran began.

"Have faith," August interrupted. "I won't be marked. You can give me the present tomorrow. Thank you." August gave him a reassuring smile.

"Your mother would be so proud of you, son. You've become a good man."

"Save the sappy speech for my birthday, old man," August laughed. "I'll make us some dinner once I'm back. I've got to take the sheep to the Black Flame. I'll be home soon."

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⏰ Last updated: Oct 09, 2014 ⏰

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