FLESH OF SAINTS | Book One

Heroes do not make history because they are heroes. They do not make history at all; those they save write the history to wash the blood from it, so they might feel worthy of being saved.

Some of us are things in the dark, waiting for the day violence is considered holy so humanity might live on. But it makes you wonder: what defines a saint from a sinner? What separates a hero from the things they slay?

Intentions.

The world lives on - barely. In a post-apocalyptic time, the Old Gods returned to save humanity, but in exchange, every year they demand each citizen train for four months of the year. The First Voiding was just barely stopped by the gods, but the Second One is coming. Soon. To offset the risks, the gods have suspended the militia training. Instead, five hundred competitors will enter into a series of seven tasks meant to cull the weak and battle-harden the survivors.

Merit Kingsman is one such competitor, but not by choice. Her patron goddess conscripted her, and now she has no choice but to fight - and pray she isn't weak. Survival tastes bitter, but a taste at all is better than none. As the Trials progress, Isis' divinity is growing in her, strengthening her and reshaping her in ways she didn't know were possible. Form is shaped by function, Isis tells her. So when her bones crack at night and her skin feels a little too tight, she ignores it. It's what's best. She must be a hero.

But sometimes, heroism is built from burying a knife in the stomach of your own humanity and licking the blood off it.