I am the Nightwing.
This is all I am.
Imagine a world where magic still thrives; a world where one can truly be free.
The crops prosper from the farmer's song while the tender elements of nature adhere to the magician's will. Rain comes when it is needed; sun when it is called. Miracles become a daily thing as the Powerful repeat them. There is no ailment which cannot eventually be repaired, no problem incapable of being overcome. One's limits are only their knowledge and passion; no social hierarchy to hold them down. The Gods themselves linger just out of reach – watching, waiting, always there to come to aide. Faith is backed by Power, and thus has access to it as well.
Magic, after all, is simply a constant flow of energy which one may learn to sense and control. There is a certain amount of it in the Universe, and all it ever does is merely change forms. There are several types of Magic, all found in a fragile balance swaying in the slightest breeze. True Magicians no longer need to try to use their Power – it simply happens. Of course, such a skill does not come free, as Sanity must be offered in exchange.
And Death? Death is just as natural as Life and the two form a cycle. Without one, the other is meaningless. Any immortal would tell a mortal that their Lives are meaningless unless they have the potential to Die, and any mortal will prove that a person's Death is insignificant unless one considers their Life. However, Death is not black and white. One may have passed on, yes, but that does not mean that they have left. Those one loves never truly abandon one in death, no, they remain locked within one's heart. They are still with one, watching over one, wanting for one to Live. Those who one loves live forever, within one. As long as one remembers even a single detail, the Dead are still there. Thus, the fear of it is gone. Death is natural, but by no means necessary. Trade-offs can be made, exchanging one's Freedom or Magic for the ability to live forever. Such decisions are few and far between, but the extending of one's life becomes so commonplace that it now seems simply normal.
My place in all of this, you ask? I was the Nightwing – a member of one of the more powerful lines of Raiken. Once upon a time, I had found Death; I enticed Death; I lured Death out and then I betrayed Her. In exchange, She cursed me, not knowing that she had given me Strength beyond man's greatest measure. I was capable of Magic which you could never even dream, made even stronger by those with whom I surrounded myself.
I am Gasha. I am not my twin brother Armen, no, I am me.
Society grew fearful of me when they realized that they could no longer restrain me. They tried, hard as they could, to destroy me, but failed. So, instead, they massacred my people, the Raiken, and killed my closest friends. My brother fell among them. I went to seek out Death again and found Her, on the edge of an eternal Abyss. I cut my throat in hopes that She would give my Life to those lost for me.
She agreed.
Alas, She had deceived me.
After what seemed like an eternity, I awoke yet again, but this time I was no longer whole. In my half-life state, I existed; I plotted; I planned. Death had broken Her promises to me, and my own power had let me escape from Her grasp. However, she was an eternal being, and I was merely immortal. There was no way for me to take her down, unless…
You see, brave soul, you asked what my role in this magical world was. You think, perhaps, that magic is merely a part of fantasy, something to be imagined but never had. You dare not believe that once upon a time it was really there, that things were once possible that can never again be.
However, I assure you that magic once existed.
It was just as alive as you or I.
Of course it was - other wise, how else could it have died?
After all, I would know - I was the one that killed it.
Introduction and coding by 0llyness.
Art by slipfang.
