He's always watching me. There's never a time I don't feel his eyes on me, waking or sleeping. There are many watchers here at the Circle. There's never a moment alone, never a moment to yourself. Not even bathing or more...private activities. It's enough to drive any person insane.
Most of our observers seem harmless enough. They're content to go about their business with as little overt attention to the mages they encounter as possible. Many are distant, aloof. Some of them appear almost benevolent - kind, protective, compassionate, quick to intervene when trouble arises. With others, the malevolence is unmistakable. There is a cruelty to them, an evilness that emanates so thickly that even the most naïve child would not be fooled. These, strangely enough, are the safest. It's easy to avoid the obvious trap. More perilous are the ones you can't see. The ones you suspect but aren't entirely sure about.
My particular watcher is one of these. They offer treats, the suggestion of friendship and comfort, even intimacy. And those kinds of things are very tempting when one is locked away in a tower. The company of your fellow mages becomes dull day after day and there are only so many means with which to divert oneself for years on end.
It's hard to know at first how to react when one pair of eyes singles you out from amongst the crowd. When you feel one particular gaze follow your every movement, to know that you have attracted that regard by some deed or characteristic that is wholly your own. There's a moment of pride, of accomplishment, that you have stood apart and that you have been noticed. A thrill of anticipation, the excitement of the unknown, of what might be to come.
Then fear follows, uncertainty. One grows accustomed here, to varying degrees, to the constant observation, day after day. But this is different somehow. With the others, it's superficial. They see, but don't. You haven't drawn their attention yet. This is scrutiny, sharp and focused. It follows your every move, analyzes your every word and action. There is a palpable intensity to the gaze, something solid and tangible. Even when you can't see him, you know he's there, simply watching, biding his time to make his move.
After awhile, by some unknown criteria, you pass the inspection. Contact is made. Tentative at first, fleeting and furtive. Never where someone can see or overhear. Never for very long, rarely in the same place or way twice. But eventually, you come to anticipate, to know when to expect the visits. You begin to look forward to them, to eagerly await them despite the dread of the unknown, the fear of being discovered. There is an excitement to the secrecy and the hiding, to the illicitness of it all. We mages know we're special, removed from the rest of humanity by our abilities. But here, you're just one mage among many. It's thrilling to be unique, to be set apart from your peers once more. Somewhere along the way, however, it becomes obsession.
Now, I feel him watching me, all the time. He whispers to me in my dreams, and the whispers are frightening, compelling, seductive. He asks only one thing of me, that I give myself over to him, to be his wholly and completely. Though a part of me says I should fight, that I should resist, that the comfortable life of the Circle though boring is safe, there is a part of me that longs to yield. What could we be, if we two were one? And what could we accomplish together? What indeed? Could the world stand against us if we were together, united? Could the templars, or even the Maker himself?
I think it is inevitable. One day, I will let him in.