Chapter 1
In the minds of the faithful, the plague had cleansed the world of evil and sin. But, there were many remained. They lay scattered across Europe as well as beyond the borderlands, in the darkness of largely unvisited places. But Satan, bearing many guises, had not done it with those now lying in festering open graves. He had simply changed costume and waited in the wings, rehearsing for the next act. The fear of pestilence would soon be replaced by an age-old adversary. Paranoia.
From the Isle of Wight to the Scottish border, England lay as a gem off the coast of northern Europe. Birthed by war and blood, it stood out as a spectacle of history, going back far beyond the Roman Empire, its ancient heroes having risen up into the immortality of mythology. But England was also a place of magic and serenity, with rolling hills, green pastures, and stories of ghosts and all other manner of things unseen. A poet which England as always having been a place of myth and magic, its moors, graveyards, and castle ruins haunted by invisible woodland creatures and battle-scarred soldiers, their hearts pining with the memories of wives and children left behind. And although the land had been shaped by the brutality of history, England would someday see better days.