[FY/PR] Duality Ch. 1-6 Up (UPDATE! 10-20-07)

[Leavaros]

Prologue

VelArian
~~~~~

Always, always, the future rewrites over the past. From old ages come new, and so, this time, it must seem that once again, new life is birted from old stone.

But that assumption would be entirely incorrect.

Because this time, somthing is different. A new change begins, and I can't quite tell why, or how I know. It is just a knowledge, like that, somehow this knowledge isn't really mine at all. I wonder, sometimes, if by writing this, and the right person reads it, how much will change. How much suffering would the world avoid if the proper person were to take the power of the past and forge from it a new Fate, with it's unavoidable errors and new possibilities?

But if this were to fall into the wrong hands, if this would become a bane to the world's becoming, and rebirth, would my name ever be uttered in anything but a curse?

In the end, these thoughts are idle. They have no place in my mind, because my heart has already made the decision to write. And write I shall, because I would not see the world come to what I have seen another time.

So, here I will record here perhaps the only memory of me that will ever survive this time, as I fade into that old age and a new one replaces this one. The memory of joy and sorrow, of love and hate, of grudges and forgivenesses, of kindness and old cruelties, but above all, the hope that the beauty that has for so long captured my heart live on forever past me.

I understand that this may never be read. I understand that all my efforts might be in vain, but I claim my effort as mine none the less--as a wise woman always told me, we all die in our last attempt to live. That should frighten me, or sadden me, but it doesn't. Death would be easier. But life is worth the hardship.

And besides, it's not for me that I write this. It is for memory's sake, so nothing like the Collapse can ever happen again.

But perhaps the tale should start with a proper introduction....
~~~~~  

[Leavaros]

Chapter 1: Broken Memories and Bittersweet Beginnings

Velarian
~~~~~

I'm afraid my accounting of these earliest years will be a bit...off. There is no word for what happened to them, some are too pastel or too bold, too jagged or too smooth, and all too dreamlike to be considered true memories.

I'm not sure if this is because there was such trauma that I could never remember my childhood place, or if it is because my memories have meshed with the older memories of that place, where children a bit too tall and a bit too bright to be human played just as I had. Perhaps, rather, it is a blending of the old and the new, just as the place itself was, and its inhabitants. And me.

That place, where I grew up with friends and family, that place that always smelled of flowers blooming and fresh rain was rightly called Springvale, but all of its denizens just called it Vale.

I don't remember much of it. I remember what the little town looked like, and how my mother used to smile so gently, and how father would steal a kiss from her when he thought I wasn't looking. I remember the smells of hearth and home, and those pink and green scents of the early Spring that was my home's namesake.

But I also remember the fire. And the charred stink of ashes. Even then, I knew it wasn't a clean fire. No one knew what caused it. Only a handful of us, parents and children, survived. I was one of them. My parents were not.

And so, each went their separate way. The few children whose parents lived went away, to another village with other relatives. Some of the adults who had lost children went away. I never found out what happened to them, though I have my suspicions. The worst were the young women, knowing what their future held. They went away too, and though I was to young to know then, now I have no doubt as to what their profession would be.

I count myself lucky, because I was taken away by an aged man in a robe with kind eyes who called himself Magister Nova. He told me that he knew what I had gone through, as he had lost parents at a young age, too. I remember asking him if it ever got easier, and his kind eyes grew ancient and sad. Something in me felt kinship with him. I know now that he chose me because I had magical talent, but then I did not even know what a "magister" was, though every country bumpkin on earth has heard of magic. I wonder now, if his attentions had been swayed because of the first, and I suspect that this is so. He was a quick oldster, I'll give him that.

My health was remarkably good for having missed a few days of food and drink, aside from a waterskin that Nova eventually got me to drink. I didn't like it--it tasted like goat. When I told him so, he just laughed and ruffled my raven blue-black hair, and told me that while it must taste awful it's better than ashes. I had to agree, though I sulked a while, to his initial dismay, and later laughter. He taught me a little song about wands and staves, and the right woods to make them out of. He got me to smile, and laugh, and that was good.

We went first to Treehaven, a close little village nearby, where he had me checked over. I had no burns, remarkably, and I was physically unscathed by the past few days. I was going to complain about my hunger, when my stomach did it for me, much to the humor of both the village Wisewoman and my elderly provider. I pouted, but eventually, the warm smell of broth won me over, and I sat there and ate with them, Nova acting like nothing had happened, and ruffling my hair, while flirting with the Wisewoman half his age, and managing to eat vociferously, too. He taught me--as much by experience as by words--that we who wield magic must learn to multitask. In years to come, I would retort that that does not mean flirting with every young woman one should chance upon. To that, he would laugh and disagree robustly, saying that one should take every opportunity one can, while minimizing risk. And I would roll my eyes and sigh. Later, I would come to treasure those simplest days with him best.

But at that earliest of dates, I could be not be past my seventh year.
~~~~~
Love and Vale,
~Leavaros Dapple