Rend: The Afflicted Saga

By Katika Schneider

The best weapons come with a story. This one came with a life.

 

Created to serve as the harbinger of death for a world ignorant to mortality, Rend had obediently culled the aged and ailing for his goddess. For two-hundred and thirty-eight cycles, he questioned neither his duty nor actions. But after the thousands of deaths he'd facilitated, he was tired.

 

Then, a bright-eyed child introduced him to what it meant to dream. To be happy. To live. And Rend discovered that even a divine construct was capable of doubt. 

 

Rend had been appointed the harbinger of death to protect the mortals from fear and suffering. But who was there to protect him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katika Schneider
• Release date: Aug 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9780997426885

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Copyright © 2019 Katika Schneider

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction, distribution, or unauthorized use of the material contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locations, events, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

No Generative AI Training Use.

This author expressly prohibits the use of this book and any other title published by her for the use of training any and all artificial intelligence technologies to generate text. This book was written by a living human for the enjoyment of other living humans, without the use of predictive language software in any part of its creation. All efforts have been made to ensure all affiliated artwork has been created by fellow human beings. Katika Schneider thanks you sincerely for supporting the arts and those who create them.

ISBN: 978-0-9974268-8-5

For my Readers

New and Old.

May Abaeloth always offer a home to you.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A special thanks goes out to Jairo Veintimilla (gVeintimilla on Fiverr) for being one of the best cover artists I've ever dealt with.

You brought Rend to life beautifully.

And my gratitude is forever with my beta reader team.

You guys jumped on board this story and devoured it in the most humbling way possible.

You're the best.

Rend stood at the lip of the chasm, toes peeking over the pit to nothing, as the old man's screams were enveloped and sealed away by darkness. He felt no remorse, nor did he feel joy, because such sensations were reserved for creations far more beautiful than himself. All that mattered to Rend was duty; that was the sole reason he'd been created. Instead of reveling in a job well done or mourning the man's fate as he'd seen village children sputter over the loss of a pet, Rend pulled a worn leather book the size of his palm from his pack and opened it to the most recent entry. Pressing his thumb into the tip of the plain hunting knife hanging against the leg of his brown woolen trousers, he marked a print of blood at the end of the last line and closed his dark eyes.

It is by Serene that I've been made and it is to Serene that I return.

That mantra had existed in Rend's mind before he'd known his own name. It was the essence of his being, and it pulled him to his goddess's side as reliably as ever.

Serene, goddess of the tiny world of Perfection, occupied a realm of simple splendor, as peaceful as her name implied. The quiet glen of manicured topiaries and lush shade trees offered Rend a welcome reprieve from the lively bustle of mortals' daily routines—or a bleak contrast to what it meant to be alive. There were no shouting vendors in the serenity of this realm, no chattering of birds or clacking of axes felling trees. Only the stream which flowed between Serene's little cathedral and Rend's quaint stone cottage bubbled with sound. Every other day in the past, its pleasant babble washed away any notions Rend might find to question Serene about his purpose, but this past round of assignments had been particularly trying, even to one who had no independent grasp on emotions.

Rend was the harbinger of death on a world that didn't understand mortality and, after two-hundred and thirty-eight cycles, he was tired.

Serene emerged from her little cathedral, gown of silver silk and gossamer billowing behind her as her bare feet carried her across the mossy ground, greeting Rend with a warm smile that reflected in the fathomless reaches of her milky eyes. She always welcomed him in this manner, pleased by his safe and successful return, relieved by his flawless obedience. Rend had never been much for smiling, reserving the confusing expression for when he went to gather villagers to embark with him on their pilgrimage, and he didn't return the gesture now. Silent, he held out his journal for Serene's delicate fingers to close around so she could lift its burden from his aching shoulders.

You served me well, dear Rend. Her voice was a smooth alto, melodic, if Rend had been of the mindset to enjoy it.

As is my duty. Having recited this response thousands of times had cheapened its meaning.

Serene, as elegant as ever, tilted her head, the mass of black hair piled atop threatening to tumble over her shoulder. Her frown never reached her thin lips, but it did flaw the space between her brows with a shallow crevice. You are troubled.

Troubled wasn't nearly deep enough to encompass the sensation scratching at Rend's heart and eyes now. His steps were no longer confident, his resolve no longer calm. When he approached the villages Serene sent him to, it wasn't with the honor of being born the goddess's champion. When he led those villagers to the pit that would steal them away from their friends and families, it wasn't with the peace of executing the goddess's will.

Rend felt dead inside, but of course he did; he'd never been allowed to know what it meant to live.

In an unusual bout of defiance, Rend lifted his weary eyes to Serene's patient ones. I am no longer fit to serve as your champion.

That ripple between Serene's brows pinched deeper. Of course you are fit to serve as my champion. It is why I created you.

Humility