I suppose everyone has a beginning, all beginnings though, from what I have learned have one thing in common. They all start with tears.
I can still remember the story now, as my nursemaid tossed me down into the corner and near ripped the hair from my head as she began to plait it for yet another ceremony, "Setara", she said, "We don't want to hurt you, Well, You deserve it, Can't you see? she always asked me that, "Can't you see? I never could though, the difference was this time she spoke further, a softly hushed yet brittle tone to her voice,"Setara.you are not like us. Sure, You may look like us, speak our tongue, practice the rights and even have favor in the eye of the goddess, but you", she said almost as if glancing upon a half digested carcass, "You are a freak, an abomination, Child we are not the only ones who live in these dark times. There are those that flay the minds of all they encounter, feeding off their mind and their very essence. This energy seems to flux though, and it washes over our cities, in this cycle there are many stillborns. But once in a great while one survives. Some say you're the favoured of the lady. Spared from the dark magics, given the traits of her avatar. How simple are the minds of those who think that!"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing; It made no sense to me, what was mind flaying? What did it have to do with me? Why was I different? Of course she would tell me. If only to be cruel. Such was our way.
"Have you never wondered why people look at you differently? Why you are sickened by so much of what we enjoy? You would have been killed long ago but fate seems to be on your side. she laughed darkly then and snapped my head around to face hers, I remember her cold skin against mine and those cold eyes peering right into mine as her last words echoed through my being, "You will not survive.
The tears burned hot in their ducts, though I dare not let them show.
I of course did. There seemed to always be an accident in my favor, a servant sneaking up behind me once knocked over an urn, the creature inside quickly rose up to devour her. Another time I was being chased, I had nowhere to run and my assailant tripped on a wet cobblestone and plunged the dagger deep into his heart. Strange things seemed to always keep me safe. Yet serve to make others blame and hate me even more.
When I came of age some very long, hard years later. I was sent as an emissary of sorts to the other houses. They would point and mock. I soon got used to it. All those cold eyes, I can feel them even now as I pen this account. They were everywhere.
It was returning to the noble house of my family after one of these duty sessions, that my life changed forever. I sat quietly in the dismal light of the palanquin, my cloak pulled tightly around me. As always I was lost deep in thought. Trying to make sense of my existence. And all the things that made me different yet never quiet grasped. It was almost as if people would run in fear, and mock, but never were they willing to explain why.
I felt a tug and the edge of my cloak and thought nothing of it; I felt a hand upon my thigh, moving places I did not wish it to go. I looked up to meet the gaze of two dark yet burning eyes, their surreal impression upon me overshadowed only by the pouting lips pulled back to reveal a sick and sinister smile.
The next thing I can recall was a thump and looking down to see the still hooded head roll onto the floor of the cabin, the feelings of dread that washed through me were only compounded by the slowness of time as I watched by blood stained dagger clatter to the floor to landing next to the head which had rolled over to stare at me. The sinister smile replaced by an innocent, almost angelic smile of one that could not have been much older then myself.
I yelled for help and it did not come, it hit me for a moment that screams such as mine must be all to common coming from the interior of palanquin's.
I stood and threw myself out the door without a moments hesitation, barely skinning by my knee, for a moment I cursed my resiliency, and for once again I was saved. I stood and began to run, I had never moved so fast in my life. I had no idea where I was running. But my head swam only with fear and self-loathing. I knew I just had to get out or that head would follow me.
I made it out of my city, I know not how long or far I ran. But I know there came a time when I began to feel the burden lifted from me. It was during this period I came across a small camp of artisans. As they slept I would steal what meager food I could get my hand on. So many items I had never seen. I took to following them, listening to them. Soon I found myself understanding their words. During one such observation period, I learned there were people who followed gods who only did good! O how my heart sang! I thought I had found my salvation at last!
For days I would follow these bands, watched silently as they struck down the vilest of foes with only their faith. I was in awe! There came I day when I dared to think myself worthy. I took into my possession one of their holy relics, and I swore myself to fight grand battles as they did. I vowed to strike down all minions of evil, especially those who flayed the minds of others, who had cursed me with their strange talents I had barely begun to grasp. And to take special pleasure in sending to my god the spirits of the arcane.
I fought with honor and vigor for so many years; the beauty of that evil never tore me. Never swayed by their temples and their claims of holiness, the world was mine to cleanse. There came though, even after all this, my final battle, after which my cudgel would no longer gleam. Or my cloaks sway softly in the dying wind from a mound and rapidly decaying foes as I stood upon their worthless bones.
This battle though, did not involve great armies, or even a single weapon.
This battle was one of my own spirit, and one that has lead me to a distant land, and even what seems a different time.
