Afanc's Tale: Chapter 1
There was a time, I want you to know, when I was alive. Oh, that sounds like an obvious statement doesn't it? But you must understand, I do not mean alive as in living and breathing. No I mean alive as in truly alive, spiritually alive to the point where I would not have chosen this damned existence had I been offered the choice. But that was never their way, to offer any choice to those they thought they could use.
As a mortal, my name was Nicholas Metorin. At least, that was the name that my parents had given me, and it was the name I kept until the day they died. Until the day I killed them.
It was not something that I meant to have happen, just one of those unfortunate coincidences that happen. They had been on their way to see me in the hospital, because I had passed out in school, gibbering is some language that no one could understand. No one ever truly understood what happened to them, and that includes me. The official police explanation was that a gas main had cracked, and the gas had seeped upwards, pooling in a pocket above the pipe. Something had happened further down the pipeline as the gas had spilled out of the pockets, and a little bit of gas had come in contact with a spark. The gas ignited, and the ensuing fireball broke through the surface of the street. My parents had the misfortune of being directly over the main had the pocket when this happened.
What I never told anybody was that I had been there. Not in person, but I had seen the whole thing, I had seen the fire ball fly into the ground, cracking the street open and causing the gas pipe to rupture, the gas to ignite and kill them. And I knew, instinctively somehow, that I had caused it.
I ran away from the hospital that night, out into the dark warrens of the city. I joined a gang of kids, all my age and older, and took a new name: Afanc. The gang called themselves the Coven of Psiloch, and we tricked others into thinking us paranormal; using tricks of technology. They became my new family.
It was as a member of them that I first learned to fight, to kill. They taught me the tricks of the trade, and I learnt those lessons well. But while a member of them I taught myself as well. I'd take any book I could find on the occult, and I would memorize it. Of all the lessons though, the one that I learnt the best was the last lesson they taught me.
I told one of them how I killed my parents one night, and he told the others. They drove me from their ranks with their curses. Terrified I fled the others fearing the promised retribution. This was the final lesson they taught me, the final lesson of my mortal life. Never trust anyone. It hurts less to be alone than it does to be betrayed. That night was the night of my death.
He came to me while I was trying to find a place to sleep. A place where I'd be safe from the family that now hunted me. I'd send him before, but only in my dreams. He was the figure who had constantly galvanized my study of the occult. He always gave me the impression of being able to read my mind in the dreams.
"You've always wanted power, haven't you?" He'd asked, "I can give you the chance to gain power beyond your wildest dreams. But there is a price."
My mind was already made up. "I'll pay it."
I never could figure out what happened next. All I remember is the agony. "Why?"
"To die and learn the power that is infused in life, only to be reborn, with an eternity to learn how to use it." The dark abyss rushed up to claim my soul as he spoke in my ear.
* * *
There was a time, I want you to know, when I was alive. Oh, that sounds like an obvious statement doesn't it? But you must understand, I do not mean alive as in living and breathing. No I mean alive as in truly alive, spiritually alive to the point where I would not have chosen this damned existence had I been offered the choice. But that was never their way, to offer any choice to those they thought they could use.
As a mortal, my name was Nicholas Metorin. At least, that was the name that my parents had given me, and it was the name I kept until the day they died. Until the day I killed them.
It was not something that I meant to have happen, just one of those unfortunate coincidences that happen. They had been on their way to see me in the hospital, because I had passed out in school, gibbering is some language that no one could understand. No one ever truly understood what happened to them, and that includes me. The official police explanation was that a gas main had cracked, and the gas had seeped upwards, pooling in a pocket above the pipe. Something had happened further down the pipeline as the gas had spilled out of the pockets, and a little bit of gas had come in contact with a spark. The gas ignited, and the ensuing fireball broke through the surface of the street. My parents had the misfortune of being directly over the main had the pocket when this happened.
What I never told anybody was that I had been there. Not in person, but I had seen the whole thing, I had seen the fire ball fly into the ground, cracking the street open and causing the gas pipe to rupture, the gas to ignite and kill them. And I knew, instinctively somehow, that I had caused it.
I ran away from the hospital that night, out into the dark warrens of the city. I joined a gang of kids, all my age and older, and took a new name: Afanc. The gang called themselves the Coven of Psiloch, and we tricked others into thinking us paranormal; using tricks of technology. They became my new family.
It was as a member of them that I first learned to fight, to kill. They taught me the tricks of the trade, and I learnt those lessons well. But while a member of them I taught myself as well. I'd take any book I could find on the occult, and I would memorize it. Of all the lessons though, the one that I learnt the best was the last lesson they taught me.
I told one of them how I killed my parents one night, and he told the others. They drove me from their ranks with their curses. Terrified I fled the others fearing the promised retribution. This was the final lesson they taught me, the final lesson of my mortal life. Never trust anyone. It hurts less to be alone than it does to be betrayed. That night was the night of my death.
He came to me while I was trying to find a place to sleep. A place where I'd be safe from the family that now hunted me. I'd send him before, but only in my dreams. He was the figure who had constantly galvanized my study of the occult. He always gave me the impression of being able to read my mind in the dreams.
"You've always wanted power, haven't you?" He'd asked, "I can give you the chance to gain power beyond your wildest dreams. But there is a price."
My mind was already made up. "I'll pay it."
I never could figure out what happened next. All I remember is the agony. "Why?"
"To die and learn the power that is infused in life, only to be reborn, with an eternity to learn how to use it." The dark abyss rushed up to claim my soul as he spoke in my ear.
* * *