Prologue

  500 years ago

  The Banishment of Gods

  Destruction was one of the only words that could be used to describe the scene in the aftermath of their fight. You could also have used decimation, Annihilation and ruin, among others. But then that’s the least that you can expect when you fight and banish a god of undeath.

  Dian, the Starling’s moral leader, picked his way through the devastation - another good word for what he was looking at - making his way towards the centre. It was not lost on him that the destruction of the mountaintop - the location where they fought - was the best case scenario. If they’d been forced to fight anywhere else… he didn’t even like to think about all the lives that might have been lost.

  He was looking for survivors. He knew that it was a long shot but all of his companions were strong, if he’d survived, then there was a chance that they had as well.

  Of course, I didn’t really survive… he thought as he looked back over his shoulders at the wings that sprouted from his back. Though they were diminished in his exhaustion they were still there, glowing with pale light as they flickered in and out of existence while he recovered. He sighed. That part of the fight had not been a dream after all. He already knew it in his heart. He could already feel his new master’s pull, beckoning him to the celestial plane. He had until Dawn to say good bye to his friends, he knew that in his soul, but seeing the wings really solidified it.

  The angel, newly born after his mortal death, sighed and shook his head. They had all paid a price for this victory. His was, at least, one that he had chosen, the others… they had paid bills that weren’t due them.

  Still it was worth it. To stop a newly born god, to banish him and the nine gods of The Pantheon beyond the veil and into the Star Sea where they couldn’t interact directly with mortals again… It was a great achievement, perhaps the greatest achievement in all the world of Stj?rna. It just didn’t feel so great in that moment.

  Perhaps, Dian mused as he pushed aside a great rock that had blocked his path, this is how all the great people of the past felt when they achieved their great deeds. It felt somewhat arrogant to set himself alongside all those wondrous people, except he and his friends had just defeated a god, so maybe it was okay to allow himself some arrogance, just this once.

  As his mind wandered, Dian lost his footing, slipping on a dark green sludge. He sneered at it, and tried to scrape it free of his boot. It was solidified undead energy, residual power of the god of undeath that had been left behind after its banishment.

  The stuff was spattered all over the place, but it got denser the closer to the centre of the fight that he got.

  With a groan Dian pulled a large boulder aside and revealed a halfling woman, small even for her race, lying in the dirt below. She had short brown hair and a cute face, though he only knew that because he’d seen it before it had been covered in blood and dirt.

  “Lyra…” Dian whispered with concern and checked her pulse. She was alive, but just barely. He placed a hand on her head and concentrated. Dian didn’t have much left in him, but he could save her life at least.

  Warmth swelled within his chest, then moved down his arm and into his fingers. They burned where he touched her, almost enough that he needed to pull his hand back, but he kept it there. The blood didn’t disappear as it did in stage performances when a person was healed, but her breathing became stronger and one of her eyes opened.

  She focused on him and she seemed to relax.

  “Is it…” She started and Dian smiled, nodding.

  “It’s done.” He promised her.

  She nodded. “Good.” There was a pause and then she forced herself to sit up. “The others?”

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  Dian shook his head. “You’re the first I found.”

  She sighed and climbed to her feet. Dian followed her lead and got back up. “We should hurry.” She decided and, limping, continued towards the centre of what was left of the mountaintop.

  They walked in silence, clambering over larger boulders, and pushing aside smaller ones to reach their destination. The sky was dark, usually that would mean that the planet’s ring would be totally invisible, but a white shepherd moon, only visible for a year every five years, stood out bright in the middle of the ring floating directly above them, as if a great eye stared down on them. This moon was known as Dren, it was one of five moons that shepherded the ring of Stj?rna, and it was the only reason that they could see what was going on around them.

  As tired as he was, Dian was unable to properly gauge how much time passed as he and Lyra scurried across the mountaintop, looking for survivors. It took so long that Dian had begun to despair, until he heard a noise to his right. A scream of rage and pain. It sent Dian into a momentary panic. Was it not over? Was their adversary still here? Had it left minions?

  He was not strong enough to fight, he was spent, and yet…

  Lyra looked up at Dian and, from a clip on her hip, she pulled out her one-handed crossbow. With a look of determination she nodded to Dian and he drew his own sword.

  She was right. This was no time to throw in the towel. This was no time for cowardice. It didn’t matter if he was weak, if he was tired. If there were people for him to protect then he would.

  They moved quickly. They were a contrasting pair, Her with her cross bow making no noise as she ran, him with his sword and his heavy armour clanking as he made his way across the devastation.

  They scaled the rubble and dropped down into the clearing at the centre of the battlefield to find, not a battle, no monsters - dead or otherwise - but a dwarven man knelt before a dead young human man.

  “Oh no…” Lyra whispered.

  Grotgur Stonefire, the dwarven warrior of their band and his adopted son, Tedwin Forbare Stonefire.

  The scream had been Grotgur’s upon finding his son dead.

  There was movement on the other side of the clearing and Dian gripped his sword tighter in order to defend his grieving friend, but it was unnecessary.

  The remaining members of their adventuring group, and the allies that had come with them appeared from behind rubble and rocks all around the clearing.

  Grotgur, silent tears pouring down his cheeks, scooped up his son, wrapping him in his arms and pulled him into an embrace. Though he wasn’t visibly weeping the tears continued to pour, catching in his beard and spattering over the young man’s face.

  After a moment Grotgur bowed his head.

  Dian stepped forward before any of the others, dropping his sword to the ground and kneeling before the grieving dwarf

  They remained there for some time until, after a long moment, Dian reached out and touched Grotgur’s shoulder to comfort him. “Grotgur…” He said, concern in his voice.

  The Dwarf looked up and his eyes met Dian’s, then shifted past him and concern crept across his featured.

  “Dian…” Lyra said with confusion in her voice.

  Dian frowned then, at Lyra’s urging, followed Grotgur’s gaze over his shoulder.

  When he looked around he found an odd sight. Mist or perhaps smoke, a sickly green colour, the remnants of Vengeances power, was swirling around them. It had been still before, congealed and settled into that sticky sludge, settled around the area, spilling from Vengeance, but now it was spiralling around them… no, it was spiralling around Tedwin.

  “No…” Grotgur growled.

  Dian raised his hands, tried to force up some sort of shield, but he was too tired, his magic was all but gone. There was nothing he could do. Nothing any of them could do. Not as it spiralled, not as it condensed, not as it began to infuse Tedwin.

  It all happened in so quickly. Swirling tighter and tighter and then swiftly it was sucked into Tedwins body.

  The boy gasped and his eyes shot open.