CHAPTER 1

A fair-haired man sat on top of a thick, wooden dresser, staring blankly out of the golden draped window and into the falling snow that made a blanket over the dark dirt of the forest.

He’s dead…
Buried beneath the dirt…
…and now beneath the snow, as well.

The man closed his dim, sapphire eyes; his blonde eyebrows curving taut in grief.

There was a knock on the door of the grand room, and he opened his eyes instantly, staring down at his slender, knee-high booted legs, before raising his attention to the door as a young man entered, bowing.

“His Majesty wishes to see you,” the bowing boy said, his eyes on the maroon carpeted floor, remaining there even as he straightened upright.

“Thank you, Cadmille. I’ll be in his court at the present moment,” the blonde-haired man replied, and the younger man, Cadmille, bowed once more as he exited the room rear first, shutting the door quietly.

This is what I have to do...

… It is my duty to avenge him…

…He died for me, and now I will die for him…

The man’s eyelids slid slowly shut as he lingered on the wooden dresser, one arm clutched around the knee of his leg.

After a very brief moment, he rested his cheek against his kneecap, his head turned to one side to gaze out the window.

He breathed deeply, leaving tiny puffs of moist cloud against the clear glass.
In the reflection of the glass, he could see his own face staring back at him.

He was a man of early twenties, with hair as gold as heated bronze flowing down his neck and onto his shoulders. Combed neatly, one smooth bang of his hair covered half of his face, shielding a side of his pink pout, lightly tickling against his angular nose.

With eyes the color of the night sky, he blinked slowly at the window, examining his own gloomy expression, before he let out a defeated sigh, his shoulders rising and falling as he sat up straight again.


His eyelids shut once more, as he took another deep breath, and before he reopened his eyes, he was a changed man. No longer defeated, but determined.

I must be strong…
…This is only the beginning…


With almost an athletic leap, he dropped from the dresser, landing onto his booted feet with a whump from the carpet.

He then glided across the well-furnished room, resting his hand against the brass doorknob and pausing once more.

The man only stopped for a second, straightening his shoulders and taking one last breath, before he twisted the knob with his wrist, stepping out into the hallway on the other side.



He was surprised to find that Cadmille had waited for him; the younger man waiting just outside the door.

After a brisk bow, Cadmille began to scurry down the hallway, gesturing for the blonde man to follow him with polite waves of his hands.



Obediently in pursuit, Cadmille led him to a lengthy room; where there was armor clad knights lined along the walls, with coordinated torches lit between them. High above the torches were colossal paintings of well-dressed royals, and heavy drapes blanketed the oversized windows.

Infested with armored knights, standing with great pride and precision to each side of him, the blonde man’s eyes moved to the opposing end of the long room, bowing low to the crowned man that sat upon a decorated, golden throne.

The man had a dignified look about him, with his back straight against the chair, his neck held high. He was an average man of middle-aged, with withered skin that created wrinkles on his forehead, and crows-feet on the edges of his eyes.

Wrapped in a heavy, blue, velvet cape that was lined with the fur of countless rabbits, he stroked the fuzz of his goatee with one hand, tapping the jeweled fingers of his other hand on the armrest of the throne.

The King was prepared for his entrance, his eyes intent on the blonde man as he entered the room, watching as he lowered to one knee, bowing. There was a lengthy red carpet connected the blonde man to the King, with several sets of soldiers standing between them.

As the blonde man rose again, the King sat forward in his throne, the jewels and gold of his crown reflecting the firelight of the torches.

“Ah, you’re here,” the King confirmed unnecessarily as the blonde-haired man stepped forward at his acknowledgement, nodding his head once in response.

“Your Majesty,” he then replied politely, bowing his head slightly so that his eyes were on the red carpet beneath his boots.

“I have heard about your recent trysts… and though I do not approve of your plan of action, I will not interfere. If this is what you want, then it is just that, which you will get,” the King started in a firm tone.

The blonde man nodded once, raising his eyes to the King as he continued on.

“No matter where your travels take you on your quest for vengeance, you will make your way to Elonach, on the far side of this world, and discover the hidden resting place of the Sacrosanct. Of course, you cannot use your real title or name in regions beyond this kingdom, or you will be slaughtered on sight. From here on, you will be known as Lord Kendal of Bedivere. Use this name if you are in need of any necessity for your journey,” the King said, and the blonde man, now known as Kendal, blinked once, his face calm.

“Yes, your Majesty,” Kendal said with yet another nod, bowing forward slightly, preparing to turn away.

“May luck be on your side of avenging the noble knight Gerraint, and may God bless your soul on your righteous quest. Farewell…Kendal,” the King said with a hint of a smile, and Kendal rose from his bow again, returning the King’s small smile, before he turned away, shuffling out of the room quickly, away from the eyes of the many knights.


Once Kendal exited the courtroom, the large, engraved double-doors shutting swiftly behind him, Cadmille ran up to him, walking alongside him as he made his way through the elegant hallways.

“My Lord,” Cadmille called to him, and Kendal twisted to look at the servant.

Cadmille, my friend for years.

“There’s no need for that. We’ve known each other far too long. Call me…Kendal,” Kendal said with a little wink, and the servant boy nodded, only allowing himself a little grin.

“Yes…Kendal,” Cadmille replied as they continued to shuffle down the hall.

“The King has a special gift for you. I am to take you to it, immediately,” Cadmille then continued, and Kendal came to a halt, turning to face the servant now.


What? It is not in our ways to give gifts to the departing.

“A gift? What for?” Kendal asked with an incredulous eyebrow, and the servant boy gestured for him to follow him again.

“This way,” Cadmille called to him as he quickly began to turn down yet another hallway, and Kendal began following before he lost sight of him in the immense castle.


Strange. What is King Beowulf up to?



They reached the west wing of the castle, beginning to descend down stone, spiral steps, moving deeper beneath the castle. The air became less breathable, the walls less vibrant of color. There were no paintings, only painted walls that were faded and chipped. The ground beneath their feet wasn’t carpeted, but only cold, dark stone with muddy footprints littered with dust.

“I am to take you to the Servant Quarter,” Cadmille explained when he saw the disgusted look on Kendal’s face, and once again, Kendal raised an eyebrow in thought.

The Servant Quarter?



They then continued in silence until they reached the very bottom of the spiral staircase, stepping out into a rather large room. The entire space, once a place where servant’s slept, was now filled with many sets of unused armor. There was a table to one side, set with recently polished helmets, and a rack to one wall with mallets, spears, and large axes.

On the other side, there were several knights wielding one of each weapon, swinging at metal dummies as hard as they could, grunting as they did.
As Kendal followed Cadmille through the room, making their way towards a rickety looking door, one of the observing knights turned, spotting him.

“There you are! It’s good to see you, my friend!” the knight said enthusiastically, smiling over at the blonde-haired man brightly.

The knight was not plastered in metal skin like the others, but a navy blue uniform that complimented his auburn hair, and steel gray eyes.  

“Mervin!” Kendal called happily to him, smiling brightly as he embraced the knight in a rough, back-slapping hug.

Once they released each other, Mervin’s eyes lowered down to Cadmille.

“You are dismissed,” Mervin said briskly, and Cadmille bowed, already beginning to back towards the spiral staircase he had led Kendal down.

“General, My Lord,” Cadmille said as he excused himself, nearly running off.



“General, now, is it?” Kendal asked with a teasing smile, his midnight eyes glowing, and Mervin nodded once in agreement.

“Indeed. After Gerraint’s death, it was only fitting,” the General replied, and Kendal’s smile instantly faded, his mouth growing taut, before gradually forming a smirk. With a lowered head, Kendal’s eyes began to lightly glaze over with a thin layer of unshed tears, but his blonde bangs sufficiently hid them from Mervin.

Gerraint…It won’t be the same without you…

Mervin seemed to notice the change in Kendal’s body language, regretfully sliding an arm over the back of Kendal’s shoulders and neck consolingly.  

“The King has told me about your journey to avenge his death. I know that you and Gerraint were close and…” Mervin trailed off as he released Kendal, gesturing with a quick jerk of his head to follow him.

“He also told me about how he’s sending you to seek out the Sacrosanct,” Mervin sighed lightly, his shoulders almost slumping forward, before glancing over his shoulder at Kendal with his steel eyes.

“And?” Kendal asked, almost annoyed by the way Mervin approached the subject.

“…You do know that… no one has ever returned with the Sacrosanct, right?” Mervin asked as he pushed through the rickety door, proceeding to descend another flight of spiral steps.

He’s leading me to the cells. Why would I need to go there?  

“Yes, I know. What about it?” Kendal asked, his mind racing with questions as Mervin sighed again, rustling his hair lightly, before snatching one of the torches from the wall as the light became dimmer.

Kendal began to hear water drops, the floor now covered in muck as he continued to follow Mervin down the seemingly non-stop spiral steps.

Just when he thought it would never end, they finally stepped out into a rectangular room. It was dark, damp, and covered in mildew and all sorts of molds. Kendal tried to best to stay away from the walls as to not dirty his uniform, sticking close to Mervin’s firelight.

As they moved forward, Kendal glanced from side to side, examining the cells of the prison. There was sludge on the bars metal bars, broken buckets covered in, what he hoped, was grime, and the rat population flourished on the remains of the prisoners that had long since died in the corners of the cells.

All that was left were simply stacks of bones, clothes, boots, makeshift stools, and rotting buckets of waste.

“I begged the King to reconsider sending you for it… but he would not deter. Instead, he’s made you a Pariah,” Mervin said as they passed through, not even taking notice to the putrid cells.


“A Pariah?” Kendal asked with interest, tilting his head to try and view Mervin’s face, before his eyes to the right of him, examining the cells as he as Mervin led him even deeper into the prison.

“Y’know, like a group of bodyguards,” Mervin explained less formerly, before finally coming to a stop, and turning towards one of the cells on his left.


Kendal halted, turning his head as well, before his eyes widened slightly, his body facing the cell now as his jaw dropped.


In the firelight of Mervin’s torch, Kendal had briefly seen a pair of eyes gazing at him almost sleepily, before it scurried back from the bars, moving to hide behind something black.

After a moment, Mervin moved off to one side, raising his torch to light one of the fresh wicks on the wall. As he pressed his fire to it, the wick erupted into flames, bursting into a fireball, lighting the cell safely from the outside.

As he did, its habitants were revealed to Kendal’s eyes, and after another shocked pause, he heaved another heavy sigh.

“He’s sending me on a mission… with a bunch of prisoners. How thoughtful,” Kendal commented quietly with a very sarcastic tone, his eyes now examining the prisoners inside.

There was a shirtless man with skin as vivid as a maple tree, shackled by his wrists to the wall. His arms were outstretched and pressed to the walls tightly by his chains. He had chrome-colored eyes that seemed to flare out at Kendal and his black, sculpted brows curved in what seemed like infuriation.

The man’s facial features were dramatic, with his cheekbones high, his eyes at a slant, and a long, oval-shaped face.

Hair the color of coal was tightly wound into two beads, extending lengthily to lie flat against his slender, nude chest. Along with the tribal-like beaded bangs, there was a low tuft of hair that swooped and curved to partially cover his left brow and eye. The back of his hair was cut to resemble short spikes, but was mussed from being pressed against the wall from his binds.

As the torch’s fire flickered, the man’s colorless eyes squinted as they tried to adjust to the light, his ears twitching to lie flat against his scalp.

When they did, Kendal was surprised to see that the ears were the same size as any normal ears, but were at a diagonal tilt, meeting sharp points at the top.

He was Elven.





Beside the elf was a boy who was also shackled, but his wrists were chained high above his head, leaving his lower body almost dangling.

Between his two skeletal arms, sea-colored eyes peered out beneath a mass of rustled hair the color of wet sand. He had thin, wavy locks that curled around his ears, and his mouth was almost that of a grimace.

In the boy’s position, his ribcage was present; the rags of the pants his wore nearly fell off, hanging low off his hips, which were also neglectfully bony.

To Kendal, the boy looked emaciated; like he hadn’t been fed in months.

The blonde man tried to see through messy curls to examine his face, but the boy’s hair was so matted, he gave up, only settling with the glaring eyes, and grimacing mouth.




With a low breath, Kendal stepped to the other side of the cell, settling himself to peer between the bars on the left side of the cell.





It was there he undeniably spotted a Valkyrie, with broad, black-feathered wings that were slightly expanded behind his back. The Valkyrie was much taller than Kendal, with long, slender arms that were folded to his chest, and legs that never seemed to end.

As he canted his head, much like a questioning dog, strands of black silk hair fell over his shoulders, flowing down to his hips. There were bangs along his forehead, cut sharply at the ends that reached his brows, while another layer nearly met his nose, and swept at an angle to the right side of his temple.


With somewhat of a smirk, the Valkyrie’s attention was directly on Kendal, his emerald eyes almost laughing as they glowed against the light.

The Valkyrie had a square jaw, with pursed, complimenting lips. His eyebrows were smooth, his eyelashes long, creating a canopy and shading the emerald eyes that seemed to speak silent words.





After a brief pause, one of the Valkyrie’s wings was pushed to one side, and a white-haired boy with dazzling eyes the color of a sky-reflected water peeked out.

His white-feathered wings were small as he held them tightly against his back, his head to one side as he hesitantly peered around the Valkyrie’s larger wing. The eyes were widened as though he were frightened, his thin lips in the shape of a circle as though he were mystified by the presence of the blonde man and the knight. The strands of his pearlescent hair were shoulder-length, with a bang that began on one side of his hair, curving down to nearly cover the opposing eye.

The Harpie’s white hair was clean, despite his surroundings, and his skin seemed to almost illuminate against the firelight.


Upon further examination, he saw that the Harpie had an adolescent-looking round face; not a child, but not quite a man. His skin was pale, not entirely drained of color, but a light pastel that hadn’t been kissed by sun for many months, it seemed.

As Kendal’s eyes fell on him, the Harpie’s facial expression suddenly changed, and bright, joyful smile appeared so big, his eyes were nearly shut.

The white-haired prisoner then raised a hand to wave shyly at Kendal, his shoulders rising, and his fingers waggling in the wave.

When he did, Kendal noticed that the Harpie was extremely slim, and about half the height of the Valkyrie that he hid behind.

He also noticed the beige-colored bandages that wound his forearms from wrist to elbow, completely engulfing every inch of skin.







“…An elf… one scrawny human boy… a Valkyrie…and a Harpie,” Kendal stated so blandly, his face stern, that Mervin had to clear his throat before replying.

“Meet your Pariah,” Mervin said in a shaky tone, trying to seem enthusiastic, but failing miserably.

Kendal laid a hand on his forehead, sighing.

“You’re kidding me, right? This is a joke?” Kendal asked disbelievingly, his eyes gazing up at the general from beneath his hand.

“This is no joke, my Lord,” Mervin said, chucking lightly, before looking over the prisoners again.

The four occupants remained in their spots, not uttering a word, or even moving an inch.

“…Explain to me exactly what my Pariah will do,” Kendal said, examining the four men inside the cell.

“Well, sir, they will help guide and escort you, protect you, and help you blend in so you are not mistaken as a spy or thief. They are your bodyguards, servants, and followers. They will do as you say, when you say it. You see the thin straps around each of their necks?” Mervin asked, gesturing at the emaciated boy with a jerk of his head, and Kendal’s night-sky eyes shifted to him, seeing a black choker strapped tightly around his neck.  

It was simple leather strap, with a broad, ovular shaped piece of metal with Bedivere’s crest engraved into it.

“Yes. What are they?” Kendal genuinely asked, shifting to lean on one leg, a hand on his hip.

“If they so much as disobey you, attempt to harm you or escape, the necklace will explode, along with their useless heads. No matter where they are, all you have to say is, “Death to Pariah…” finishing the spell by saying their name, and boom,” Mervin said, using his fingers to demonstrate an explosion as he snickered.

Inside the cell, the Harpie hesitantly reached upward until his fingers neared the area around his neck. Without even touching the actual leather band, a spark of electricity shot off it, flying over to shock the Harpie’s hand sharply away from it.

The Harpie jumped in pain and surprise as it did.

“Anyway, these rats were all sentenced to death as penalties for their crimes, so when the chance of becoming a Pariah emerged, they volunteered. You see, when a prisoner becomes a Pariah, and survive the mission they are sent on, they are granted their freedom. Usually though, they are only sent on dangerous missions, much like yours, and will die anyway,” Mervin said, now frowning at the shackled boy with a disgusted twitch of his upper lip.

“I see. So they all have some sort of skill that will be useful?” Kendal asked, oblivious to the knight’s obvious dislike for the emaciated prisoner.

“Their skills are the reasons why they’re here,” Mervin said as he turned his back to the prisoners so that he would be face to face with Kendal.

The blonde man, however, was still enthralled with occupants of the cell, his eyes on the Harpie that was still trying to recover from his electrocuted hand.

The Harpie’s nose was scrunched from the pain, shaking his hand in the air as though it would help alleviate it. When he noticed Kendal watching him, he smiled shyly, trying to act like he was waving at him as he had done before.

“Uhm… why is the Harpie smiling?” Kendal asked in surprise at the Harpie’s seemingly everlasting grin, and Mervin sighed, humming to himself in thought at how to reply to his question.

“…Er, you’ll come to realize that he’s almost always joyful…no matter the situation,” Mervin said, and Kendal’s eyes remained on the white-haired prisoner as seemed to finally gain the courage to stand beside the Valkyrie, rather than behind him as a majority of attention remained on him.

“What’s your name?” Kendal asked curiously, leaning forward slightly as though he would get a better look at the strange creature that smiled from within.

“Tobias,” the Harpie replied, placing his hands behind his back as he grinned at Kendal.
“But you can call me Toby,” the Harpie said, and Kendal raised one of his gold brows, gazing at Mervin for a moment, before returning his attention to Tobias again.


“…I’m not calling you Toby… And your name?” Kendal then asked, his eyes on the Valkyrie.

The black-feathered man didn’t reply, only remained silent, but his eyebrows did rise at his question, looking almost defiant to answer.

“Are we going to have problems, Valkyrie?” Kendal asked him in a much darker, warning tone.

“His name is Seth,” Tobias replied for the Valkyrie in his child-like tone.

“I didn’t ask you, Tobias,” Kendal replied to the Harpie, and Tobias dug a dirty toe into the dirt, grinding it back and forth as he dropped his head.

“Just trying to help…” he said sadly as he looked down, his neck hung forward.

“My Lord, the Valkyrie is a mute. His ability to speak was taken from him by his own kind. It’s rumored that the crime he committed was so treacherous; the Valkyrian king wanted him to stay quiet, taking it as a secret with him to the grave,” Mervin informed Kendal, and as he did, Seth’s black wings fluttered for a second, his green eyes remaining on the blonde man.

“Interesting. And what about you, boy?” Kendal asked, quickly moving from the Valkyrie, to the emaciated human hanging from the wall.

“What about me?” the boy snarled at him in a voice deeper than what Kendal would have thought he would have, but still young, nonetheless.

“Tell me your name,” Kendal said to him calmly, not trying to seem intruding, but the boy turned his head away from him sharply, which was considered an insult to Kendal and Mervin.

“His name is Roarke. A self-proclaimed Master Thief. In your recent absence, he was caught trying to break into King Beowulf’s vault,” Mervin said, and the emaciated boy spat on the ground, his wad of saliva landing only inches from Mervin’s boot.

“Charming. I was curious to know why he was shackled. So you thought you could get through my locks, eh?” Kendal asked, and the boy paused, becoming completely still, before he gradually turned his head to him.

“Those were yours?” Roarke asked in a quiet voice, and Kendal nodded almost triumphantly as he rested his hand on the gun in his holster on his lower hip.

“I designed them. Should’ve tried to take out the tumblers before snapping the chain,” Kendal said, winking at him playfully, and Roarke’s jaw dropped, his eyes large in disbelief, but he remained silent.




“What about him? I’m assuming he’s shackled to keep him from using magic,” Kendal said with his eyes on the ebony-haired elf, and the elf smirked, a small, evil smile growing on his lips.

“There’s a genius amongst us,” the elf hissed nastily, his voice husky and dark, but Kendal only smiled, not phased by his remark.

“There’s also a smartass in chains, making witty remarks when he’s in no position to,” Kendal said in bright tone, as though he wasn’t aware that his comment was insulting, and the elf’s smirk left his face, and a daunting glare came to his silver eyes.  

Tobias burst into laughter, bending forward somewhat as he curled a hand over his stomach, before he abruptly became silent, his hands shooting up to cover his mouth, his wings stiffening as he stifled his laughter.

“Was that out loud?” Tobias asked in a whisper, looking innocently up at Seth, and the black-haired Valkyrie nodded his confirmation.

“Last but not least, there’s our good buddy Vincent. That temper of his is what led him to murder over forty-five people over the years. He’s also a known arsonist. Has a thing for fire,” Mervin explained, shaking his head in shame at Vincent.

Kendal almost did the same, but a question evaded his mind.


“Hmm… and what about Tobias? What was his crime?” Kendal asked as his eyes shifted over to the white-feathered man, who was being glared at by Vincent’s evil eyes.

Tobias was busy attempting to dodge the glare, ducking behind Seth’s broad wing.

“Massacred an entire army… a Harpie army,” Mervin said quietly, watching as Tobias’s face changed from frightened, to that of remorse.

His white brows became tight, knitting together as his eyes lowered to the dirt floor of the cell. He began to ease backwards, moving to stand behind Seth again.

“…He massacred an entire army?” Kendal asked skeptically, raising his brow at Mervin now.

“That he did. Never really told anyone why. Just snapped one day, slaughtering his own, killing over three thousand in a matter of minutes,” Mervin said as Tobias became completely hidden within Seth’s black-feathered wings.

Kendal blinked at Mervin, as though he were waiting for the general to admit that everything was a joke, but Mervin only shrugged his shoulders at him.

`“Well, gentleman,” Kendal said finally, turning back to face the prisoners, and he saw Tobias’s tiny face peek out from behind a wing.

“My name is Lord Kendal of Bedivere. It is to my belief that a large part of the rules of being my Pariah have been explained. Note that I will not take no as an answer…” Kendal said, looking directly at Vincent. “…from any of you…” he said, before speaking to all of them again. “… during this entire journey. I am a man of mercy, but I do have limits. I hope that you all will live up to your job, and that I will not be forced to end your lives prematurely. Follow my directions, and you’ll live to see another day. Am I understood?”

“Loud and clear!” Tobias squeaked in an enthusiastic tone, grinning again as he stood behind the nodding Seth.

Kendal then looked to Roarke, whose blue eyes stared down at the dirt near his bare feet.

“…Understood…” the boy whispered quietly, almost miserably, before Kendal turned his attention to the last occupant, Vincent.

“Tsk,” the elf said, throwing his head away from Kendal now.

“That’s good enough for me,” Kendal said with a bob of his own head, his attention turning to Mervin again.

“They are all filthy. Make sure that they have baths and fresh sets of clothing before we depart in the morning. I want them all suited to their liking, with weapons of their choice,” Kendal said, and Tobias perked up even more at the word ‘bath’.  Mervin bowed somewhat in response to Kendal’s orders just as the blonde man turned and began to walk away from the cells.

“Have a good evening, gentleman,” he called over his shoulder, waving a backwards hand as he moved away from the cell.

“Bye!” Tobias shouted from the cell, running up to grasp the dirty bars within his slim digits, poking his head between two of the bars and smiling at Kendal’s back.

Mervin only shook his head at the Harpie before pursuing Kendal out of the prison.





“So they’re calling you Kendal now, eh?” Mervin asked when he caught up with Kendal halfway up the staircase.

“It’s a decent name,” Kendal stated simply.

“And it suits you.  But tell me something, my Lord. Why are you yourself going after Gerraint’s murderer?” Mervin asked in a puzzled voice.

“Because… he forfeited his life so I could live. Why not use the time he gave me to make it mean something?” Kendal said quietly, glancing over his shoulder at Mervin.

“But, sir, that’s what knights are supposed to do. They’re suppose to die for thei-,” Mervin was saying, when Kendal suddenly turned on him, becoming aggressive.

“He was more than just a sacrificial pawn to me!” Kendal growled at him, nearly yelling into the man’s face, and Mervin obediently backed down, lowering his head and eyes away from the blonde man.

“Forgive me, my Lord…” Mervin said, and when he finally gained the courage to raise his eyes, Kendal had already disappeared, leaving the general alone on the staircase.