Life sometimes works in strange ways. One day, it abruptly shoves into a sad fucker’s face an event that overturns his understanding of reality. The next moment, however, everything goes back to normal, and it turns out nothing fundamentally changed. The world then moves on, uncaring, just like always.

In my particular case, that callous slight lasted for the better part of a month, and the lack of development threatened to make me lose my marbles! I tried meditation, visualization, and even some breathing exercises I managed to remember from back in the days when I ineffectively pursued the empowerment of my Ka. Truly, I did everything, short of sitting down to make a Goetic Sigil and beg some purported daemon for help. And only because I don’t have the physical means to go through any of the rituals I can think of.

Hell, befitting my last life, as a digital citizen, I’ve even tested focusing on every variation of ‘status’ or ‘menu’ I could think of, murmuring them out loud, accompanied by copious hand-waving, whenever my new parents took their eyes off me.

Don’t judge me, as I said, I’ve been growing desperate here! Honestly, by now I just want to hurry up and grow up, so that I may pick the old witch’s brains for what I need. With deadly force, if needed! I can’t wait, I feel like a child again!

Hey, you! Yeah, you, you absolute dipshit! Bríg, Gulshesh, Neith, or whatever manner of cosmic overseeing strumpet out there who is screwing me over! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY MAGIC!? GIMME!!!

...

Sigh.

Even getting angry on my own makes me... Fuck being a baby!

No! No...

Let’s not further sour my mood, lest everything gets worse.

Breathe in... Breathe out...

Again.

That’s it. Happy thoughts.

Yes, you’re a happy, possessed baby. Just ignore the fact that your swaddling clothes are now soiled. Haven’t we already been through this before? Sooner or later, you’ll gain control over your sphincter, and no one will know about the ignominy! Yes... Since she’s holding onto me, Lina’s bound to notice the smell before things start getting itchy anyway...

Alright, let’s just make use of the ancient art of ignoring the problem until it magically vanishes!

Good. On a more positive note, I’m finally starting to get the hang of the language my new parents speak. A couple weeks ago, at long last, my brain decided to start recognizing the sounds that came out of their mouths as words, instead of pure gibberish, and since then I’ve managed to grasp the meaning of a few of them.

Oh, and the other day, when Lina took me out on a little promenade, my first one ever, I finally got to see the world at large, so to speak. For which I felt initially grateful, then, a bit conflicted.

But I should probably first state that I am -or perhaps used to be, I guess-, the kind of man who is very fond of looking at the sky. Not only are dusk and dawn more pleasing to the eye than any masterpiece, stargazing has always been a hobby of mine. Although the stars do slightly shift over time, the sky is perhaps the only element that has remained overall identical through my lives, as perennial as my existence...

But I don’t mean to get sidetracked. My very first proper look at the skies in this new life of mine was quite the eye-opener, to say the least. True, intellectually, I was already aware that me no longer being on Earth was a strong possibility. But there’s knowing, and then there’s really knowing. Which is why I experienced quite the shock when I turned my eyes upwards, subconsciously expecting boundless blue, only to be confronted with deep purple. There were also two damned suns, glaring at me with their reddish shine. All in all, though, I believe this second sky might have its own appeal.

Anyways, I digress, yet again.

The only other noticeable thing so far seems to be developing right now, before my very own eyes.

Despite her previously continued absence, the old crone who healed Lina is back today. Honestly, I initially thought she had come to check on her erst patient for any long-lasting sequelae, but I seem to have been in the wrong. Oh, she did take a cursory look at Lina’s leg, and they did apparently have a brief session of questions and answers right after. That being said, the entire examination couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes. Since then, though, and for at least twice as much, the witch and I have been engaging in some sort of forced, silent staring contest. Forced on my end, at least. No matter what I try, I can’t seem to move my eyes away from hers. Probably part of the reason why I’m feeling a bit grumpy.

From the way she’s breathing while holding onto me, I can tell that Lina’s agitated, almost on the verge of tears. Clearly, there is something very wrong with the old hag!

Ah! Worry not, mother, for I understand your pain! I myself feel like crying too! The old crone is beyond fugly, yet I can’t avert nor close my eyes!

“Teephr.”

Finally, the witch says something! Of course, I have no idea what...

Aaand, nope, still can’t even close my eyelids. Come on! Stop making me look at you, creature! Or at least cover your face, know some shame, for fuck’s sake!

And, I know, I know!

Oh, how vain! Oh, how very superficial!

How dare I care about appearances!

Bah!

I’m used to criticism! After having lived among men for long enough, it pretty much slides off me like a light shower. Though, I’ll gladly let anyone interested know I’ve certainly been less appealing than the crone. Much, much uglier, in fact. And, more than once even! Not only was I sometimes born particularly disfigured, to the point that I once got killed by a mob who believed me to be demonic spawn; other times, disease, or famine, or both, turned me into a consumed, walking carcass. And, let’s not even mention that time I succumbed to the Black Death, reduced to an abomination that would have put most fictional zombies to shame!

‘Bubonic plague’ they called it later? What do they know!? Granted, back in the day, we had no epidemiology, but the bunch of arrogant fucks think there was no one smart enough to notice hordes of rats dying in the streets, had there been any!? That the brightest brains at the time would have been unable to put two and two together!? Is that some sort of bad joke!?

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No, breathe... Happy thoughts.

Anyway, let an old man have his quirks; aesthetics are fundamental, and anyone who says otherwise is just a pretentious prick! If not, why would we feel fundamentally moved by the sublime? Why would our kind feel driven to strive for beauty? To create and appreciate art? I mean, real art, not that bastard mind-child of a certain intelligence agency’s psyop, demented snobs, and greedy money launderers... Why the in the fucking name of -!

Ah! May the-powers-that-be excuse my tantrum, but, aside from being there the first time Antigone was played for the general public, I had the luck to spend not one, but two lifetimes in Florence, during the Renaissance -first as a baker, then as a humble stone mason, but still!-, only to later find myself facing a crackbrained twat who squatted over a tableau, answered the call of nature, and then had the gall to call the outcome a masterpiece, even as mankind was already considering visiting the moon!

No, no, but all of this is beside the poi-

“***** **** *** ****.”

Suddenly, the witch said something else. Words that didn’t feel like words. Immediately after, her left hand started emitting crimson light.

What’s that supposed to be? Why does it give me goosebumps? I’ve no idea, but there’s no way that’s a good sign!

And those eyes... I’ve seen that look countless times, on the battlefield! Why the heck are you looking at a newborn like that, you insane old thing!? Did I somehow trigger your cute aggression? No-

Hey, hey, hey! Wait, keep that hand away from me, you fucking deviant! Baby doesn’t like ominous shiny limb, capisce?

Fuck!

...Could it be that I got busted?

No way! What kind of cheating ass sorcery is this!?

Including now, I’ve only seen the witch twice, and I was doing my very best, thoroughly field-tested, fully-certified baby impression the whole time! I’m kind of a master, if I dare say so myself, which I do. Not like gurgling, squealing or cooing are particularly hard to do, but...

Anyways, am I going back to Corridor again? So soon? Fuck! I at least first wanted to find out how this magic thingy works...

Maybe... Maybe, if I try one last time?

Yeah, let’s not give up just yet!

Hey, Lina- no, mother! Stop dumbly staring, woman, wake up! What the heck is being done to your child, right under your nose!?

No, don’t you look at me like that, as if hoping for everything to end well! Do something, dammit, Baba Yaga’s coming for my soft hide! Fight, for god’s sake! Sic her, girl!

...

Fuck everything, she’s not even moving! Completely useless!

Alright, it’s a bit shameless but, since the linen’s already dirty anyway, should we actively make more of a mess?

******

Grisella’s eyebrow rose at the boy’s reaction to her magical feint. She had been expecting for the creature, hiding under the guise of an innocent infant, to explode in a manifestation of Breath, or perhaps sheer raw power. Despite being thinly veiled by its delicate vessel, there was no mistaking the thing’s aura.

She could hardly describe it, but it felt wrong, on a fundamental level, as if it owner wasn’t completely there. It was also extremely aloof, unimpressed by the world at large, and so positively ancient that the only thing she could think of that came even close to it was her long estranged master’s.

Instead of having to put her life on the line to protect the gullible girl in front of her from a raging ancient monster, though, the baby did nothing, even as the curse that had taken her a week to cast almost claimed his head. Well, not really ‘nothing’ nothing. The little boy audibly shat himself and began crying. Pretty much like any other powerless baby would probably have.

Am I going senile, or...

Of course, feeling no conjured response from his part, she had stayed her hand, if barely a hair’s breadth away from scrambling the baby’s head. Her killing intent hadn’t wavered even for an instant, however.

No, I can’t be wrong; if that’s not an Old One, I’m a damned Elven princess! His aura still feels like being ogled by that disgustingly old Sphynx!

But then, why? Even if the being was trying to keep its act up to the last moment, it should know for certain that Lina, who wasn’t even Initiated, would be completely unable to protect it from her. Anyone with even a vague grasp on Breath would be able to tell as much, let alone an ancient monster.

Luminous Source above! The poor sweet girl was so deaf to the Call that she was still completely oblivious to the fact that Grisella had just almost ended her firstborn with a most powerful Gift!

Not to toot her own horn but, despite her still being far from achieving Communion, even a full-fledged dragon shouldn’t be able to come unscathed out of receiving her Curse of Termination. Not without first bolstering some sort of arcane protection, anyway. Of course, she would first have to be able to land the spell on the dragon which, among other things, required preparing a week-long ritual nearby, and direct physical contact. Not exactly convenient. But-

No! Again, she was getting sidetracked by her own mental farts!

Fate and its Rulers be cursed! As years went by, it was becoming harder and harder for her to stay focused on her ideas...

Right! The baby.

It-

It had just kept wailing, bundled up in Lina’s arms, like any other little fellow. Actually, no, even better than most little fellows. He sure was loud...

She shook her head.

She herself had never before come across an Old One, the Source be thanked. That being said, from the descriptions that were available in her Order -and, for all of their faults, she knew well the Order of the Owl had rightfully earned its reputation as one of the leading institutions of knowledge- she doubted any of them could debase themselves like that. Didn’t the most widespread verses go along the lines of ’... for Arrogance was their bastion, their sin, and their downfall...’?

Maybe...

After a few seconds of silent reflection, without further hesitation, she focused her intent on calling upon her fifth Gift, Understanding.

Immediately, the world came to a standstill as all the Breath in the room was brought to life in front of her eyes, painting everything in colors she couldn’t even begin to consciously describe. Suddenly, she felt like nothing could hide from her grasp, every hidden meaning easily revealed. And, in fact, she knew it to be exactly the case. Almost all of her Gifts had extremely stringent restrictions -and, allowing only one usage every ten years, aside from during some astronomical events, ‘Understanding’ was certainly not the exception-, but were all the more powerful for it.

Better hurry.

And not only because the Curse of Termination would soon vanish. Even as her sight shifted and her exclusive Oracle finally manifested, Understanding’s ever-accompanying headache was already beginning to show its vicious fangs. She was well aware it wouldn’t take long before the torment had her wishing her head would actually get bitten off.

...

”...going to be okay?”

A worried voice interrupted her inner musings.

Grisella blinked a couple of times, the centuries-old cogs in her brain going full throttle, struggling to bring her back from a trance that she knew had lasted but a mere instant.

A faint smile slowly curved her lips as her rusted brains started processing the answers she had gotten. Even answers to questions that, up to that very moment she’d beseeched Understanding, she wasn’t even aware she had had.

Slowly, as if still burdened by what was going on behind them, her eyes considered the still-crying boy, lovingly cradled in Lina’s tender arms. Indeed, what should she do about him?

”... Yes.”

It actually seemed like she had previously somewhat misread the situation. Alien as his aura felt, it didn’t seem to be particularly vast. Well, no, it was powerful, but only about as much as some weathered practitioner’s. A far cry from an Old One, or any other such beings of legend. There was definitely something else going on too, but...

“Yes, he’s going to be alright.” She forced her grin to widen. “Why, just look at him go, child! With lungs like those he’s bound to remain healthy, even into old age!”

Lina beamed at her words, and she even let out a little sob of relief.

“Thank you!” Her grin further widened, clearly stemming from the bottom of her soul. “Of course, he’s Munok’s child after all, my little Land Knight!”

Grisella felt her old heart curling in shame -just a bit-, at having worried the girl. After all, even though no little ones had died in their small village since she had retired, a solid century prior, some folks around still didn’t name their kids before their third year.

Old habits die hard, is it? On that note...

Once again glancing at the kid, before looking back at Lina, she added.

“Actually, about that, I can already tell he has an affinity for the Call...”

Perhaps the next few years would finally bring some life back to her old joints?