“Praise Ghrian the Lady of Light, and her merciful gifts. Glory to the Silver Champion Gealach, and the strength she bestows. Hail Realta, may the Overseer of Wisdom teach us all. In their names I pledge this oath.”

Faceless men in armor stood around me in the grand cathedral. Three stained glass windows towered over me, and three pairs of ornate eyes stared down on me.

“I pledge myself, from now and forever, to the Militia of the Holy Luvius Empire. I declare my oath is given freely, solemnly, and in the faith granted by the blessed trine.”

Red robes draped over the priest who stood before me. His face was as empty as the knights. My sword rested in his hands and pointed at my heart as the words continued pouring from my soul.

I had read the oath countless times. Each word etched itself into my heart. Each word meant I would be part of something more. Each word promised I would make a difference in the world. Each word bound me to protect the weak and innocent.

“I pledge to fight the minions of evil with my example through the cardinal virtues and to fight with the sword the minions of evil that attack the Order and the people under its protection.

I acknowledge and agree to follow the path set by the goddesses even if it should be a path of ultimate sacrifice and martyrdom. No matter how outnumbered I am, I will never surrender. Victory comes from the blessings of the trine, not through force of arms.

I acknowledge that in light of my authority as jury, judge, and executioner of evil, I am representing the will of the goddesses. I will not misuse the authority of my office but always serve the weak and innocent. I will never be blinded by hate or greed and will adhere to the cardinal virtues.

May prudence set my path, may fortitude and temperance keep me to that path, and may justice wait for me at the end of my path. May faith take over where mortal virtues fail.

This oath I pronounce loudly in witness of the Lady of Light, the Silver Champion, the Overseer of Wisdom, the knights present, the spirits of my ancestors, past martyrs, and the priesthood of the order. I sign this pledge and confirm it by my blood.

Amen.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Parchment lay in front of me, holding the words of my oath. My hand reached for the dagger used by all knights to sign their oath. This was the last step, and then I would be a knight.

My sword bit into my bare chest. My scream was as empty as the faces of the two knights who restrained me. A mouth grew on the priest’s featureless mask, then twisted itself into a smile filled with dark malevolence.

The blade cut deeper until it reached my heart and banished me to nothingness.

A warm hand clutched mine. For an eternity, that was the only sensation I could comprehend. The heat spread from my hand to the rest of my motionless body. Soft linens began to form around me. Herbal aromas found their way to my nose, which once again breathed the air of the living.

My eyes were so heavy and commanded me to sleep. The battle against them was fierce, but with each fragment of light I was able to let in, I was able to force them to open for a moment longer.

Familiar jars filled with strange concoctions rested on shelves that lined the walls of the small hut around me. Glyn slept on the bare floor next to me. His head rested on the cushion that he sat on during my last visit. His fingers interlaced with mine, radiating with heat.

My breathing stopped until a cough forced its way out of my lungs. The healer didn’t move, despite my quick movement and the ragged coughing. A rosy color peppered his otherwise ghostly face. His breathing was heavy and unstable.

Sure enough, his forehead burned under my touch. I quickly moved him to the bed and began to look for cool water.

“That won’t work mister,” called a muffled voice. Black fur sat against the window pane. I reached for my blade, only to find it was not at my hip. “There isn’t much time left. He needs medicine.”

“What have you done to him?” I demanded.

“It’s your fault, you know.” The rabbit hopped from one small window to another. “He had to heal you again mister.”

A small curse left my lips. I knew he had learned more from the aes sídhe than just a few herbs. His life, and perhaps his very soul were in danger. Frantically I looked around the room, hoping to find some willow root to help Glyn’s fever.

“I could tell you how to make the medicine,” taunted the rabbit.

“In exchange for what you vile creature? I will not help you take his soul.”

“Hey mister, has anyone told you that you’re not very nice?” The rabbit laughed and hopped back to the original window. “I just want to tell you which herbs he needs. Surely herbs won’t take his soul.”

An anguished moan came from my patient in the corner. The púca was right, Glyn didn’t have much time. But what if it was a trick? What if this aes sídhe was using me to make a deadly poison.

No, Glyn would die soon enough without a poison, and I doubt my knowledge of herbs was enough to save him. I would have to deal with the schemes of the fowl rabbit later. For now, I just had to keep the healer alive.

I followed instructions. Powders and liquids from different jars quickly filled the work table. I ground petals, mashed berries, and mixed it all together. Most of the ingredients came from the quickthorn tree outside. The fairy would scold me if it ever seemed that I was close to a mistake.

My amulet was the last ingredient to enter the bowl. It was not part of the instructions, but I wanted to be sure no fell curse lingered. The brew poured easily into a cup before I rushed to my patient.

“This is the most complex fever cure I’ve ever heard of.” Glyn’s skin was fire under my finger tips.

“That’s because it’s not a fever remedy mister,” the voice mocked. “He doesn’t have a fever.”

“What is this potion then?”

“It’s a potion to cure a very sick aes sídhe.”