Hey Guys and Girls, this is my first attempt at a Fantasy book of my own. I hope that you will like this book. I know it is a pretty grim start but it will all make sense in the future I hope. English is not my native language so please forgive if I have any grammatical mistakes and please mention any concerns you have in the comments! Thanks! Have fun reading this book!.

If you have any suggestions for the sword name comment below :) Not a fan of the one I picked.         

 The prison cell enveloped the lonely man in darkness, broken only by the faint glow of moonlight that filtered through a small window. His body hung lifelessly, suspended by his outstretched arms that were bound by chains attached to the wall. His ankles were also shackled, restricting any movement. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could make out the intricate markings etched onto the walls by previous prisoners, a testament to the despair that had consumed this place. A heavy iron door loomed before him, a formidable barrier that taunted his yearning for freedom. The agonizing screams of tortured souls echoed through the corridors, a constant reminder of the horrors that awaited him. 

The man winced in pain as another piercing scream reverberated through the air, triggering memories of his own torment. His body bore the scars of countless lashings, the gashes etched into his muscular frame serving as a haunting reminder of the relentless abuse he had endured. His hands throbbed with agony, the bones within still mending from the brutal beatings inflicted upon him. Bruises marred his face, a testament to the relentless interrogation tactics employed by his captors in their desperate quest for information. His fierce, steely grey eyes burned with a fiery determination, reminiscent of a caged lion ready to pounce on its prey. Dried blood stained his face and clothes, a grim testament to the violence that had consumed his existence.

          In his desperate search for an escape route from his confining cell, he scoured every nook and cranny, but alas, there seemed to be no glimmer of hope. Frustration and fury consumed him as he directed his rage towards the very men who had inflicted immense suffering upon him, loyal followers of Xalvador, the epitome of malevolence in this realm. Just when he thought all was lost, a surge of memories flooded his mind, resurrecting words he had once read in the distant past.

"From the dawn of time, a relentless battle for control of this world has raged between the mighty Creator and the cunning Xalvador. In the ancient days, when the Creator was meticulously crafting the very fabric of our existence, fashioning creatures, plants, and humans with care, Xalvador, one of the earliest beings, dared to defy the Creator's command and deceived him. Thus began an enduring conflict that has spanned countless millennia, shaping the very essence of the Paladins' history. For centuries, these noble warriors have valiantly fought against the relentless forces of Xalvador, unwavering in their dedication to safeguarding the Creator's vision and preserving the delicate balance of power."

         As the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears, the man instinctively glanced upwards. He could sense the impending doom, and despite his desperation, he knew he was powerless to prevent it. Summoning every ounce of strength, he strained his neck to look up and observed the door swinging open. Stepping into the room was a man with a sinister aura, his dark hair adding to his menacing appearance. Behind him trailed a burly, bald figure, notorious for his expertise in inflicting pain upon prisoners. However, there was a third man, an enigma yet to reveal himself, lurking in the shadows, intensifying the air of uncertainty.

"I hope our guest is feeling right at home, Grim" the man of dark hair said to the bald man.

"Of course, master. Gareth and I had a nice good chat the other day. Like best friends." Grim replied. Gareth hated the man named Grim with all his heart, and he had sworn that one day he would have his revenge, but chained as he was on the wall, it was a far fetched dream.

"We would not want our Paladin to feel unwelcome." the black haired man said as he punched Gareth with all his strength. Despite the pain in his body, Gareth didn't make a single sound.

"What do you want?" Gareth said defiantly staring at the man with a look that could kill. His eyes burned with anger and his heart raced as he pulled at the chains in vain.

"I think you know perfectly well what I am searching for." the man said with a smile.

Gareth spat at him. "I will never reveal where they are." Gareth shouted.

"Don't be ridiculous. Your friends are of little importance... What they carry though, that is of a far greater value." the man said.

After countless months of relentless searching, he and his companions had faced numerous obstacles in their quest to locate the elusive Hercling, a fabled artifact of immense power. Legends whispered that this extraordinary sword possessed the ability to vanquish not only demons but also the formidable Creator and Xalvador. As he closed his eyes, a vivid image materialized in his mind, revealing the resplendent sword adorned with a golden hilt encrusted with glistening rubies and diamonds. Forged from the very breath of the mythical Dragon Ithundar, the blade shimmered with a radiant grey hue, pulsating with an undeniable energy that seemed to beckon him closer. The sword's edge was so razor-sharp that he couldn't help but wonder if it could effortlessly slice through the very air that surrounded him. The memory of his first encounter with the Hercling remained etched in his mind, as he vividly recalled the harmonious melodies that resonated within his thoughts and the electrifying surge of power that coursed through his hand upon contact.

"I'd rather die." Gareth said quietly.

"That can be arranged. But first you must reveal the item's location." the man said. "To help you with the task our dear friend Grim has brought you a little present. Come now Grim, don't be shy." the dark haired man said pushing Grim who was holding a glowing orange iron rod.

"He can ...." Gareth tried to insult but the dark haired man punched him on the face..The punch was strong and had made Gareth's nose bleed. Another memory came to his mind this time from his childhood.

As he stood there, his heart skipped a beat when he noticed a pack of children approaching him. A wave of unease washed over him as he recognized the familiar faces. Among them was Maelstrom, a notorious troublemaker known for his intimidating presence. Maelstrom, with his stocky build and a menacing aura, was already displaying signs of physical strength at a young age, thanks to his blacksmith father. Gareth, on the other hand, was two years younger and lacked the same brawn. His two siblings trailed behind Maelstrom, their mischievous grins widening as they caught sight of Gareth practicing his swordplay with a humble broom.

"What are you doing there Gary?" Malestrom asked, toning the last word.

"None of your business!" Gareth said defensively as the three kids encircled him. He took a step back, ready to run away at the first sign of danger. He had learned too often to avoid them as soon as he saw them but this time they had surprised him.

"Come now, don't be a baby. Look guys, he is ready to cry." Maelstrom said aloud and his two brothers laughed along with him.

"I'm not!" Gareth shouted, his face becoming red with anger.

"What are you carrying there? Is that a broom?" Farok, one of Maelstrom's brothers asked pointing at the broom he had been practicing his sword fighting with.

"Yeah it is. I think he is practicing to be a maid or something!" Lahm, the third brother said in a mocking tone as the others laughed along with him.

"Just leave me alone!" Gareth shouted as he grabbed the broom with his hands, ready to use it. He was frustrated as this was not the first time the three were bothering him.

"Or what?" Maelstrom asked with a fierce expression.

A large crowd of kids had been attracted by the shouts and the laughs and had formed a large circle around them. Some laughed as some others looked on with blank expressions.

"Fight, fight, fight, fight, fight!" the kids shouted around them rhythmically.

"I don't want to fight" Gareth said but already Maelstrom's fist connected with a resounding thud against Gareth's jaw, sending him reeling. As he crumpled to the ground, Farok and Lahm wasted no time in delivering swift kicks to his prone body. However, Gareth's determination refused to waver, and he quickly regained his footing, fueled by a surge of anger. With a fierce battle cry, he retaliated against Maelstrom, channeling every ounce of strength into a powerful punch. The force of the blow caused Maelstrom to stagger backward, but he retaliated by swiftly striking Farok's nose, shattering it instantly. In a desperate attempt to defend himself, Gareth found himself on the receiving end of a brutal kick to the stomach, causing him to double over in pain. To his dismay, Farok's weight came crashing down on his back, further restricting his movements. Blood droplets splattered onto Gareth's shirt and shoulder, serving as a painful reminder of the relentless assault he endured. Summoning every ounce of strength, Gareth managed to kick Farok off him and swung a broom at Maelstrom's arm with all his might. Although the arm held, the broom shattered into two pieces, eliciting a cry of agony from Maelstrom. Realizing he had no other choice, Gareth made a split-second decision to flee, forcefully clearing a path through the swarm of attacking kids.

"Come back here you coward! You're dead! You hear me? Dead!" Maelstrom said as he staggered back.

"Gareth is a coward, Gareth is a coward!" Farok sung and the other kids sung along with him, laughing, the words swimming in Gareth's head.

As the seconds ticked by, his piercing grey eyes remained fixated on the vibrant orange rod that inched its way closer and closer towards his trembling body. The anticipation of the impending agony grew with each passing moment, until suddenly, a violent eruption of searing pain engulfed him, accompanied by the nauseating stench of singed flesh. Despite the excruciating torment, Gareth's determination prevailed, and although his body convulsed with agony, not a single scream escaped his lips.

As the night fell, Gareth's mind began to churn with a plan. Restless, he lay on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling, meticulously shaping the final intricacies of his scheme. When the opportune moment arrived, he rose from his bed, his determination palpable. In his room, he carefully packed a selection of travel clothes into a long-forgotten sack, ensuring he had everything he needed. Casting a final glance around the small space, he couldn't resist slipping the book he had been engrossed in earlier that morning into the sack as well. Clutching his cherished toy tightly, he steeled himself for what lay ahead and cautiously unlocked the door, mindful of the consequences if he were caught. With utmost caution, Gareth made his way across the hallway, his footsteps barely audible, although a few creaking wooden planks betrayed his presence. Descending the stairs, he froze momentarily as he heard a faint stirring from someone in their slumber. After a few tense seconds, he resumed his stealthy journey, eventually arriving at his desired destination - the kitchen. Swiftly and efficiently, he gathered a handful of apples, pears, and assorted fruits, placing them carefully into his bag. His eyes then fell upon a small kitchen knife, its gleaming blade beckoning to him. After testing its weight and considering its potential usefulness, he decided to add it to his growing collection of provisions. It would undoubtedly serve him well wherever he was headed.

With a deep breath, he finally pushed open the heavy wooden door, feeling the rush of icy air instantly stealing the warmth from his body. Determined to leave his past behind, he closed the door as quietly as possible and swiftly made his way down the street, his footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night. Seeking refuge, he found solace behind a nearby corner, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched a mysterious figure approaching from the opposite direction. After what felt like an eternity, Gareth finally reached the outskirts of the dense forest. Its reputation for harboring dangerous bandits, ruthless thieves, and fearsome creatures like wolves and bears that could easily overpower a group of grown men sent shivers down his spine. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Gareth steeled himself for what lay ahead. This was the reason he had left his home under the cover of darkness. The events of the day, the confrontation with Maelstrom and his brothers, and the haunting melody sung by the village children had pushed Gareth to his breaking point. In his room, he had made a solemn vow. By venturing into the treacherous forest, Gareth was determined to prove to himself and others that he was not a coward. He longed to emulate the bravery of the legendary Paladins, like Uthar and Artorius, who had founded the esteemed Paladin Order of the Phoenix. Whether he returned to the village years later as a renowned Paladin or not at all, Gareth was prepared to face the unknown and forge his own destiny.

Unyielding and resolute, he refused to succumb. They could try all they wanted, but they would never shatter his spirit. As a devoted Paladin of the revered Order of the Phoenix, he held steadfast to his convictions. With unwavering determination, he repeated this mantra, a shield against their relentless attempts to break him. Yet, amidst the trials, his thoughts were consumed by one person, the very embodiment of his unwavering devotion. In his mind's eye, he envisioned her graceful form, a vision of beauty with cascading brown locks and mesmerizing green eyes. Clad in a pristine white robe, her countenance radiated the wisdom of ages, while her enchanting smile illuminated the darkness like the moon in a starlit sky.

As he lay there in agony, the name Adelaide echoed in his thoughts, providing a temporary respite from the pain that consumed his body. Despite the excruciating torment inflicted upon him, his mind stubbornly clung to the cherished moments he had shared with her, as if seeking solace in those memories. The passing hours seemed interminable, with not a single word escaping his lips, until even Grim and his sadistic partners grew weary of their cruel game. With a heavy thud, the iron door slammed shut, enveloping him once again in the oppressive darkness of his desolate cell. A sigh of relief escaped Gareth's lips, grateful for the temporary reprieve from their menacing presence.

Gareth couldn't help but ponder how he had ended up in this dire predicament, fully aware of the reasons that had led him to this cold, isolated cell. The weight of his actions bore down on him, and he couldn't shake the nagging question that plagued his mind. As weariness overcame him, he closed his eyes, surrendering to the embrace of a deep slumber. Yet, even in his unconscious state, his thoughts continued to unravel the tangled web of his past, replaying the memories that had shaped his journey and now flooded his mind with a bittersweet nostalgia.