Prologue

Her greatest challenge would go to her greatest follower.

In surviving that, Feronie hoped that her follower, her little child from another world, would grow and prosper. They would become the tree growing in the desert, with roots unfathomably deep and stout branches able to weather the worst winds.

Then, once the challenges passed and the rain and thunder of Feronie’s storm came, this one would be prepared. They would be a bulwark, impossible to fell and capable of enduring the worst pains.

First, the challenges. Each harder then the last.

Feronie would be there, tending to them as a careful gardener, even if it cost her more and more of her dwindling vitality to do so.

The other gods might revel in their new creations, in their growing power.

Feronie would humble herself for the moment.

Her warrior was growing. But no, Feronie didn’t need a warrior. What she needed was infinitely more precious than that. She needed a paladin, a crusader.

“Do you know what it means to be loyal?

Loyalty unto death is what I need.

But worry not, child of man, it is not your death that I want.

Lead, little one, a crusade of vengeance.”

***