Broken Circle: Akarist's Story

The first breath is always the hardest.

The body is not your own. It will move for you, speak for you, fight for you, and even die if necessary, but on some untranslatable level of being it knows that the spirit animating it is not the one that it belongs to, and it fights. Even once the native soul is gone beyond all hope of recall, the body remembers. It remembers, and it fights.

Some of my weaker brethren cannot win that battle. They remain as bodiless spirits because they are not able to overcome this resistance. It does not please them.

If they could go mad, they would.

I have already lost count of the number of times I have had to wage this war of possession, but I am still considered a novice at it by my more experienced kinsman.

(I must not think of them as such. I am outcast, now. The Circle is closed to me. I will never know again the company of those I had experienced damnation with for more millennia than I can count. I have chosen a different path. I cannot let the pangs of regret overcome me now; that way lay madness.)

“Akarist? Can you hear me? Are you there?”

“I hear.” I open the eyes that are now mine. “I hear.”

The woman who looks at me would scarcely be considered more than a child in the time that was once mine, but I can sense the carefully concealed power within her. I can taste it, but it has a bitter flavor in my mouth. “Mu.”

“Such is my lineage,” she nods her head in a curiously graceful gesture. “My name is Azuria.”

“Azuria. I did not expect to look upon the world of men again with human eyes.” I am bound securely to a chair with heavy chains. I am wearing an orange one piece garment. “I take it you are responsible for my resurrection?”

“Not by choice.” I have to smile at her honesty as I spot the crystal that had until recently been my prison. “I was asked to perform this ceremony and did so against my better judgment. My people have not forgotten the treachery of the Oranbegans.”

Old wounds are easily reopened by such words. “Perhaps if my people had not been so treacherous then the Mu would have been destroyed long ago. If we had not shirked genocide then your people would have vanished ages ago and mine would still walk in the sunlight.”

The woman raises her hands and I find myself wondering if my return to mortality will be a short one.

“That’s enough. We didn’t go to the trouble of releasing the mage’s spirit so you could blast him back to Hades, Azuria.”

It is then that I notice the other woman in the room with us. She does not have many more years than Azuria, but the hardness in her eyes belies the youth of her flesh. She wears a red and white uniform. “I’m Captain W. M. Dietrich, Akarist. I work for Longbow. Have you heard of us?”

“Somewhat.” The acolytes—the foolish mortals of this time and place who join us thinking that they will be given power and immortality—have spoken much of this world. The Longbow are an organization led by the granddaughter of this time’s Incarnate, Statesman. They strive to protect this land, but like so many defenders they have often lost sight of the things they are fighting for.

Not that an Oranbegan can accuse another of hypocrisy—not with a straight face, of course. Were we not once a peaceful and noble race? Did we not throw away everything we were in an attempt to preserve ourselves?

“We arranged for your resurrection because we needed your knowledge and skills, Akarist. There is much you can tell us about your people, and about magic.” Dietrich says the word “magic” as though it leaves a foul taste in her mouth.

“And if I refuse?”

Dietrich draws a pistol and places it to my head. “Then we send you right back to hell.”

“Then it seems the choice is an easy one. Would someone please release me?”

Azuria mutters a word and the manacles that hold me fast open.

I rise to my feet and rub my wrists. (It is important to think of this body as my own. It will help me maintain my hold over it.) “Not that I am ungrateful, but I am curious as to the origins of the flesh that I now wear.”

“A murderer. Scum.” The look in Azuria’s eyes—I remember the first time that I saw such hatred directed towards me. I was a mortal then—and it was the first time that I had met a member of the race of Mu. More than 14,000 years have passed, and yet so little has changed … “Like you.”

“The prior … occupant of your body had been sentenced to death. He was given the option of a sure death or an eternity as a bodiless imprisoned spirit—he chose the crystal.”

“More fool he, then.”

They do not know. They cannot know. Better death—better oblivion-- than an eternity in that hellish crystal.

There are worse things than death. The pity is that I did not know that 14,000 years ago.

“We chose that body carefully, Oranbegan.” The smile on Azuria’s lovely face is an ugly thing indeed. “There is no trace of Mu blood in his ancestry—no power that you can seize for your own purposes. Your lore survives—but the power is gone. I have seen to that.”

It’s true.

If there were any sorcerers in this man’s bloodline, it was in a time even more ancient than my own. There is scarcely enough magic to keep me tethered to his mortal frame. My knowledge is intact, but the power …

I smile slightly to myself.

There is a small ember of power left to me. There is meager fuel in this body to power it, but it exists. A small flame …

But even the smallest fire can become a roaring blaze in time.

I am Akarist of Oranbega. Once I belonged to the Circle of Thorns. My home is lost to me, my kind calls me traitor, and those I must seek shelter with do not trust me and will use me for their own purposes.

But I am still Akarist.

I have parleyed with an Infernal Prince of Hell and lived to tell the tale. I have broken the bonds of darkness and damnation that have held me for thousands of years. I have betrayed the Circle of Thorns and walk in the sunlight once more.

I am Akarist. I am a Mage.

And no one will ever own me again.

No one!


(I've been doing the Library of Souls Arc lately, and this popped into my head. Hope you enjoyed it!)

*applause* *calls for more*

*more applause* Excellent as always, Blue.

The first few days I spent in Longbow custody were … unpleasant.

Again and again, Dietrich asked—demanded, rather—that I tell them all the locations of the entrances to Oranbega, the weak spots in our defenses, methods to banish the possessing spirits from human hosts. Again and again, I pleaded ignorance. I was neither a warrior nor tactician; the defense of our City had always lain in the hands of others.

That was, perhaps, not entirely true. I certainly knew far more than I was willing to tell Dietrich. I had turned aside from my people, but I was not willing to countenance their absolute extinction, however much we might deserve it …

Eventually, she saw fit to place me in protective custody. I would not be able to travel anywhere without armed guards, but I would serve as a consultant to the authorities in regards to the various occult threats facing the world.

All things considered, it was more than I had expected, and I was curious as to why Dietrich had agreed to this situation.

My curiosity did not go unsatisfied for long.

I was busily engaged in answering some questions for MAGI about the history of demon summoning when one of the Longbow who guarded me, Edgar, opened my door. “Sir, there’s a Naomi Hutchkins asking to speak with you.”

I glanced at my other Longbow guard, Belinda, who had been standing in the room next to me doing her best not to look bored. “Would it be acceptable for me to speak with Ms. Hutchkins?”

Belinda put her hand to her head and reported the situation to her supervisor. “As long as one of us stays with you, that should be all right, sir.”

I’ll say this for the Longbow; they were polite. None of them have ever treated me with anything less than professional courtesy and respect, even those that had personally suffered at the hands of my people. If it had been necessary, they would have cut me down without a second thought, but they wouldn’t have been needlessly cruel as they did so.

“Thank you, Belinda. And please, call me Akarist.”

“Yes, sir.”

I chuckled, and was rewarded with a surprised smile from her.

I was pleased by this. As yet, I had no particular plans that would involve escaping Longbow custody, but bonding with my captors would only help me in the long run. One never knows what the future will hold.

Naomi Hutchkins was not a beautiful woman … certainly neither as fit or as youthful as Belinda. She studied geomancy, and her skin and hair showed the effects of a longtime exposure to the outdoors. To my senses, she literally smelled of sunshine.

Perhaps that’s why I saved her …

“Ms. Hutchkins, how good of you to visit me. Can I offer you some tea or perhaps something to eat?” I was unsure of the appropriate responses to a visitor; even in my first life, I had never been one to entertain very often.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She bit her lip and paused.

We stared at each other uncertainly.

Finally, Belinda cleared her throat. “Perhaps you would like to sit down, Ms. Hutchkins?”

“Yes,” Naomi shot her a grateful look and sat down on one of the chairs that had been provided for me. She looked around. “This is a nice place.”

“It’s very pleasant.” What did she want with me? Why was she here?

She laughed uncertainly. “This is much more awkward than I expected. What should I call you? Archmage, Mage …?”

“Akarist will do fine, Ms. Hutchkins.”

“Naomi, please.”

“Certainly, Naomi.”

We stared at each other again. She blushed, and looked away.

“What can I do for you, Naomi?”

“First, I wanted to thank you for saving my life.”

“It was nothing.” The words come automatically, but I know it’s a lie. In saving her, I changed not just my own destiny, but perhaps that of my people as well.

I hope that is so. I fear that it is so.

My failures in the past led to the cursed fate of my people … will my defection today lead to our redemption or our final extinction? Only time will tell …

“And second …” Naomi squared her shoulders. “There’s so much about your people your people that we know nothing about. Your history. The war with the Mu. I want to know about it. MAGI wants to know about it. It took some convincing, but Ms. Liberty and Captain Dietrich agreed.”

“I see.”

“I realize this may be hard for you,” Naomi said. “If you want some time to think about it …”

“No.” I shook my head. “No. Perhaps this is for the best. Perhaps it is right that your people should know how mine came to be what we hated. Perhaps that will enable your race to avoid our fate if you should ever wind up in a similar situation.

“Very well, listen carefully and I will tell you of the time before darkness, the time when Oranbega dwelt above the earth instead of inside it, the days of my youth …”

This is one of my greatest regrets; I did not get this one finished.

It would have quite possibly been one of my most elaborate stories.

Akarist was going to narrate the story of the Fall of the Council of Thorns. We would see him with his greatest friend (the Mage who would ultimately become Baron Zoria). We would see the woman who would have been the love of his life become a creature a darkness, a demon incarnate ... Lilitu.

We would see Akarist struggle to preserve the soul of his people in the face of damnation itself ... and we would see him fail.

I think that's why I wasn't able to finish it. It was going to be an ultimately dark and depressing story and I wasn't at a point in my life where I had the energy to spare for that.