Joined : 2013-07-26
|Subject: Fragments of The Vega Histories February 8th 2017, 2:12 am|| |
My name is Vangelo de la Vega. I am over 1000 years old. And while I remember everything that has ever happened to me, it has come to my attention that I should probably write this story down. After all, none of us are truly Immortal, so far as we know. Except perhaps The Montriarch. Therefore, I have decided to write down everything I remember, starting from the first night I met Draven.
Thursday, November 22nd, 1038
I died today. As I led a group of the Kings Guard through the streets, I died. My entire detachment died around me. I died, pinned to a carriage, with one crossbow bolt through my left hand, and another through my right shoulder, keeping me immobile. I died, watching as my King was cut down, with my own sword. I died today. And yet, I lived as well.
Friday, November 23rd, 1038
I awoke to see a woman kneeling above me. Her mouth was covered in blood, as were her hands. Her eyes were black, her hair as well. Her name, she informed me later, was Draven. And she was the one who had taken me down from where my Kings assassins had left me. She had saved my life. And, in the process, changed it.
"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."