War is cruel.
Mankind always seems to have set it as the default solution when things fail to work the way they envisioned it. Mankind is always at war. We wage wars against others for food. We wage wars even if we are not powerful enough, or perhaps because of it. We’ve been waging wars for so long that even fighting against violence has to become a war in of itself.
What – then – is the solution to this? Can there truly be a war to end all wars, or is such a solution beyond the grasp of even the most enlightened men? Are we to bow to the Outer Gods for a solution, or give up and do our utmost to sink the world into oblivion? What is the meaning of a magus’ pursuit of ascension if it still ends in just another war, if only on a greater scale? Does war give pleasure to those who win? Does that pleasure offset everything they’ve lost leading up to it? Are men merely cruel by nature, or is it the cruelty they were born in that makes them cruel? No matter one’s excellence, no matter how high one deems their “arete” – this question – old as the world itself – is destined to remain unanswered.
Yilaien was born in the flames of war, and it perhaps was written in her destiny for her to try and grasp the answer to this primordial wrong. Are swords cruel – or the men wielding them? What are swords wielded for, and will abandoning all swords save the world? This pursuit is endless. This answer is gnawing at the back of one’s mind – the possibilities endless but shallow all at once. If the answer does not exist – is enlightenment even real? Can you truly ascend? To qualify for this abstract pursuit - one must first have power. Might is what allows a mage to live past just another war, and then the next to come. Might is a birthright, one that must be groomed with vehement effort if one wishes to survive. After all – war is cruel.
In 1945, the Second Sino-Japanese war was nearing its end. The conflict was at its peak, and there seemed to be no resolution in sight. The flames of conflict burned ever so brightly across the mainland coast of China - with millions ravaged by the disaster brought upon by man’s cruelty. It is an inescapable theme, but it fails to convey reality as it happened. Humans are fickle beings, and so they ignore and move on. Unknown soldiers marching into your home, breaking what makes you human and drowning your hope for any resistance… Enemies trumping over you with power that you could never be able to sway -- what is it that gives them the right? What gave them the right to barge into the Miraluka home? Who gave them the prerogative to assault, rape and pillage? To leave a newly married woman with child then leave nary a day later? No God could be this cruel, and chaos is too abstract. As Yilaien pondered the suffering her mother had undergone, she came to terms with the notion that there is no order in this world. There are no laws other than the ones you make for yourself. Only your ego can dictate your path. Might is right. It gives you the justification you need, and so long as you do not stray from the path you’ve deemed ideal - enlightenment is near. There are a thousand roads to the Dao - all are true - but you can only follow yours.
Returning to the matter at hand, though – to the raped woman who wound up pregnant after a foreigner abused and tossed her aside – to the gloom frowns on her parents, and the vibrant rage burning in her husband’s eyes who had just returned from a war he had no calling in… Whom was she to blame for being discarded, shunned and chased away from a village that ostracized her? She might have blamed the Emperors, the officials, the village-folk or even her parents - but in truth she could only blame herself for being too weak.
Too weak to stand up for herself, and far too weak to nourish a newborn with no roof over her head - perhaps only through a miracle did she “survive”. Yes – survive, because a life like that is not living. Hunger driven, poverty stricken and homeless. The sea calling the advent of death in the form of a winter chill… she was desperate. As fate would have it, she did find some hope - if not for herself then for the innocent baby. She enrolled herself in a war of her own. Sacrificing the last shred of dignity - she was to become a slave of carnal desire - a courtesan. A sacrifice far too heavy to bear for most.
Yilaine’s mother was strong. At least that is how she will be remembered. The strongest woman Elaine has ever met. Stronger than any archmage, battleship pilot technocrat or sword wielding warrior. She managed to give her breath under the stifling cruelty of that war, and then persist for a dozen years more and see her become a lively teen. Mmm – that woman was not weak by any means. She should not blame herself - it is the world that ought to be judged for being too cruel. Elaine has power now, and thus she will make the world right. A sacrifice must not be wasted, her honor dictates so.
Let us rewind to a time when Elaine was not strong, though. A time when she was a scrawny child roaming the streets and swindling people with divination sticks. A time when she wandered from town to town, gasping at skybound mountains and abyss-deep ravines. Orphaned at the age of twelve, Elaine made do with what little she had. Naturally enthusiastic, she got along with people and integrated in any village or town she came across, but she always felt like she lacked something. It is this calling at the back of her head that drove her to roam the world. Still - nothing felt like home to her.
As the years passed - she came to learn many things - including a growing interest for divination arts. The first friend she’d ever made happened to be a diviner. A stargazer, a palmreader, and pretty much everything in between. In short - a lowly charlatan. It was good money, and so she figured she’d give it a spin. But, something didn’t quite feel right as she tossed the sticks. The bones felt shallow, and the dice meant nothing. Was it a lack of natural talent, or was everything wrong? Perhaps being one of the first few quirky obstacles she’d faced, she grew a greater interest in it - and sought to unravel the mysteries of divination.
As her obsessions grew - so did her talent. Before she knew it - she firmly believed in the weave she’d spun herself. She was infatuated with the mysteries held in the stars, and what a leaf floating in a cup of tea can tell one about a person. As she moved from town to town - making a local legend of herself as a fortune teller who speaks true - she came to realize that her life may have found an inkling of meaning.
There is a saying among old warlocks of shadows, that if you stare into the abyss long enough - it will stare back at you. Perhaps the same could be said for Fate also. As Elaine tugged at its strings in an attempt to unravel its mystery - perhaps her destiny was wrapped in its chaos also.
Perhaps it was just a coincidence - but no qualified diviner will admit to such absurd things.
The turning point happened on a moonlit night, in a clearing in the woods where she had taken rest after stumbling on an unfortunate wounded rabbit. This nightmare is something that will forever haunt her. The crackling of flames, trickles of oil sizzling with spicy aromas - and then the eerily quiet forest around her. The foreboding calling - the blood red sky crying for the next sunrise – and then the rhythmic echoes of the earth singing of danger.
Majestic hooves circled by scales of ice – weaving ghastly trails of withering death through a forest that was otherwise alive. She still remembers the moment she’d lifted her eyes and saw it. A single rider - on a single mount. No taller than three metres. It was no giant, yet it had left her petrified. A six hooved horse, armor crystalized of ice. Its rider - jagged bones soaring to impale the sky - and a crowned helmet of pale gray thorns. The low neigh - freezing the flames at her feet – and the thing she will remember most clearly – were his eyes.
A face gaunt yet solemn - eyes sunken beneath a dreadful mask of steel. A gray so common you could see it anywhere - yet within them laid hidden the demise of worlds many. As her eyes were cast into his own – Elaine witnessed it as clearly: a planet crust shattered apieces, flames dousing the skies and rains of meteor stars pouring in to ravage it to completion. A dead world. A future that awaits all life. The answer fate had in store for this world all along – elimination.
Alas - what use is it if one is not strong enough? As she doubted what she’d seen - the cost for her impudence was paid in full. The halfling who set her eyes on a God met his gaze. She heard his voice clearly, and though she knew not his words – it was apparent that a mere gesture would result in death. Perhaps it was a prayer at the back of her head, or her belief that her destiny does not end here - but the rider moved on before she knew it. As his horse galloped away - her eyes still reflected that final scene of doom, and it would be the last thing she’d ever witness.
As lava trickled from within the earth - so did blood stream across her eyes. The crust crumbled, and it is only then that the pain set in. She realized - the world was now void of light. Blood trickled unto her hands, and it dawned upon her that it isn’t the world that was destroyed - but her eyes. Shattered into pieces, she could only imagine the gruesome sight - but she could not see.
Perhaps another miracle of fate - a local herbalist had stumbled upon her in the morning. She was given basic treatment, but no one could support another life so easily back then. The blind child was thus brought to a temple in the mountains and thrust into destiny’s hands once more. It was here that she’d found warmth, a place she would make home for decades to come. Upon being questioned at the temple, she was not shunned for her tale. Their voices did not carry scorn, but concern and worry.
The Akashics observed Elaine as she underwent her tragedy, but unlike their expectations - she did not need their aid to rouse her spirits. Though her eyes were lost – she felt like the truth she witnessed was important enough to warrant such a sacrifice. At least she lived to speak of it, what fate truly had in store. For once, she felt like a true diviner. A seer of misfortune.
As she made minute and trivial efforts to pick herself up – she naturally came to befriend the temple attendants also. Through trickling conversation, she’d learned of their history and extended duties - and naturally came to open herself up to them. She could no longer roam the world as she used to, and as such she’d found warmth and comfort among them instead. Perhaps thanks to her Kinain heritage, or a subconscious effort on her part - she managed daily activities quite well and was functional within weeks.
Emboldened by her progress - she wanted to become a wanderer again. Though she could no longer see, perhaps spreading her tale would help the world and make it all better. When she spoke of her intent, the monk for some reason seemed very pleased. He praised her for her courage, but advised against it. At that night, they spoke in detail of the world - and through it Elaine came to know that the world is far larger than she knew, and the enemies who would rather stifle her truth far too numerous.
Understanding that her doomspeak would earn her more trouble than it is worth - she renounced herself to a life in the shrine. A few months later, a monk from the head temple came and took her away. Although reluctant, she trusted the monk and followed the ascetic up a mountain. The journey was grueling, but she stuck to it and finally made it to the home of the brotherhood.
The following dozen or so years could be summarised with a montage of training. As determined by the shrine monk, she had awoken as a weaver of reality - and her inner will was most impressive. The temple thus dedicated some resources to teach her earnestly. She had difficulties with it – of course. A blind person’s progress seemed ever so slow compared to her peers, but she never gave up - and her efforts did pay out. As decades passed - her magick crafts advanced also. It made her life easier, and in turn her training took a tipping point past turtle speed and into something more common. Though she could not read by herself, she had an easier time comprehending what others around here were doing. Combat was rough, though.
Being struck and beaten senseless because you could not predict a hit was a truly brutal experience. Time and time again, until she got a knack for it, and then beaten some more until she achieved excellence.
Though still impeded by her blindness - she can hone her other spatial senses and her mind’s eye to perceive the world around her. Her eyes were cursed, and even when healed would only burst violently again. She had no choice but to rely on everything else - to hone those tools better than everyone else - just to be on par - just to be enough.
Although she had made peace with her state of being and pushed past her disability - allowing her to advance her spirit to a greater state - Elaine grew too reliant on the temple. That home became the only world she knew - and she seldom ventured out. Her adventurous spirit died with her eyesight. She was a fully trained assassin, an unexpected weapon for the brotherhood that could strike as needed then disappear. She fought with her life on the line, but she was strangely at peace. Her life did not feel as meaningful, and she started to feel shallow and yearn for more - and perhaps in response to that - fate delivered.
It came as a dream - she saw herself venture beyond the mountains and the Ocean, venturing past dangers and obstacles of all kind. She experienced the thrill of sea storms and the vibrant flora of jungles, and her spirit was kindled anew. At last - her eyes were set upon a lone mountain by the Sea - the time-worn pine trees piercing the skies and the diverse creatures roaming in the town below. She saw but a mirrored ghost, a trace of a person unknown - yet it resonated within the depths of her soul. It was a calling, unlike anything she ever felt before. Loud and clear like the chimes of an unobstructed bell, it summoned her into the fog of destiny - she stepped forward - and then she awoke.
The dream came as a necessary awakening call to her - and she finally left the brotherhood home. Unwilling to remain idle in the mountains and let life slip by - she set on to her journey for a mountain unknown. Wandering past arid deserts, sky-blue lakes and black forests - she let herself be guided by fate. After an unknown amount of time, and countless struggles big and small - she finally saw it. A town of elder shapeshifters, Hsien Gods, demons and millenia old vampires. Though dreadful, risky and unnecessary - she trusted fate. She will wage this war, no matter how cruel - and thrust her blade in this dance of reckless death – because that person, the one destined for her - is here.
