Volume 1: Corrupted Tales. Prologue: Saint of Minilon

“The waters!”

The map spread across the great oak table was a portrait of a dying land. The candlelight in the Priory’s high council chamber flickered, casting long, dancing shadows that looked like grasping claws.

Commander Ingeldamu’s voice was a raw, frayed rope. “The Silverleaf family at Ironwood farmstead. All four of them... found this morning. The scouts say their well was black as ink. The water did it.”

High Prelate Grizellum, a man whose spine was as rigid as his doctrine, did not even look up from the report he was studying. “Their faith must have wavered. A tragedy, but a spiritual failing nonetheless. We shall pray for their souls and enact the Rite of Consecration on the river.”

A hush fell over the room, thick and cold. Ingeldamu’s knuckles were white where he gripped the back of a chair. But before his rage could erupt, a soft voice cut through the tension.

“Runa Silverleaf…”

Both men turned to the girl at the head of the table, a slip of a thing in the heavy, embroidered robes of her office. Lady Serenya’s eyes were fixed on the map, on the pin that marked Ironwood.

“She brought me a crown of daisies last spring,” Serenya murmured, her voice barely a whisper. “She said they were to help me be brave.”

Ingeldamu’s shoulders slumped, his anger momentarily replaced by a shared, profound grief. He turned his gaze back to the map.

“My men’s blades dull against the Ironhounds’ hides. Our arrows shatter on their corrupted armor. We lose more ground by the day.” His fist slammed onto the table, rattling the pewter goblets. “Grizellum, your rites do nothing! The corruption gnaws at our borders like a starving wolf!”

His wild, desperate eyes fixed on Serenya. “Lady Serenya, the people look to you!” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “Give your order! A sign, a miracle… anything!”

She looks down, Lady Serenya huh... The Saint of Minilon? What a joke…

A sigh escaped her lips. She met the Commander’s gaze and a flicker of steel entered her soft voice.

“An order will not sharpen your men’s swords, Commander. A miracle will not fill their stomachs.” She leaned forward slightly, her presence suddenly commanding.

“What do they need? More grain from the priory’s stores? Every bolt of linen for bandages? Speak, and it will be done. I have done everything in my power. I have protected this kingdom since I was ten, and yet we face brutality like never before. My twenty million mana cannot save this land if its people will not act for themselves.”

“Serenya…” Grizellum speak slowly.

But Serenya’s voice softened, “Yet still… we all know the prophecies…” she continued, “Minilon WILL be the first to fall when Morvane comes, but I will not yield. I will do all I can, even at the cost of my own life. As the Saint of Minilon, it is my duty to see the people endure, even as darkness claims the land. Tell the king. We may need reinforcement, cause the saint can’t fight alone.”

.

.