If Hazrael Potter knew only one thing, she knew that she was tired. Not tired as in 'I'll grab a quick kip, and be right as rain'. But just plain tired. Done. Finished. Tuckered out. She had been so, for so many lives of man that she remembered precious little about much else. She was ready to move on.
The world she knew had moved on eons ago, her people finally subsumed into the greater morass of humanity. Then humanity itself was subsumed, caused by their very nature and desire to master the planet; as it was always destined to be. From the first time that the first man had taken that first rock in hand to bend their will upon the world, mankind had been on an invisible timer. Counting down the years until their eventual end.
Except it seemed, for her. She seemed to be immutable, unchanging, unravaged. She had seen trees, sprout, grow and die. Mountains rise and fall. Continents come and go.
Long ago she grew inured to her state. She needed no sustenance, no drink, nothing to maintain the functions of life. Yet, she lived. She could eat, could drink. She just didn't need to.
When she first realised her new state, it was immediately after what she called her 'first death'. It was a normal day, much like any other. She had gone through her usual morning routine. Armoured up and armed as was the way of the magical world. She was headed out the door when she heard the familiar refrain of.
"Glory be do the Dark Lord!"
Yeah, like that never got old. There was a familiar green hued spell barrelling down in her direction. There was no time to move. There was nothing to do but accept that it was her time. Except it wasn't. The spell struck her, and she felt nothing. No tingle, no pain, no floating sensation. She saw no dark tunnel, no white light to the beyond. Nothing.
Yet, at the same time there was power, it flooded into her. It made her lips itch, and her limbs tingle. All things being equal it was rather unpleasant. There was a sort of realisation that occurred to her, a kind of epiphany. She now knew that she did not need her wand, she did not need to speak. She knew (not that she knew how she knew) that she would forevermore cast her magics with only a thought.
Looking at her assailant, she didn't even have to whisper. She made a vague gesture with her hand, and he seemed to fold into himself, almost like an apparition gone bad. It happened so fast that he didn't even scream. One moment he was there looking poleaxed. The next he was gone.
She knew that she was changed, she didn't know exactly what changes were wrought upon her, but she knew there was change notwithstanding. With the questions she had there was only one person she could trust to aid her. Her friend, her partner in all things, her most intimate companion. Her Daphne.
Years passed, and neither of them had any concrete answers to their questions. Why did she not need nourishment? Why did she not succumb to fell magics? Why after so many decades did, she still look as she looked then? Neither one of them could answer.
She grew used to acting-for lack of a better term. She used a transfigured stick in place of her wand. She cast glamours to hid her agelessness. She ate, and she drank, and she lived and she laughed. But she did not change. The years passed, then the centuries, then the millennia, then the eons.
Humanity eventually ate itself; they never escaped their planet for any true long term space colonisation. They made their planet uninhabitable for themselves, and after fighting and railing against the rising tide of extinction they extinguished as a species.
Eventually after all of her magical contemporaries had passed from this life to whatever lay beyond; she began to take up varying identities. If only to have some semblance of a life in the new worlds she found herself in.
Now, taking up a new life was never as easy as willing oneself one's old effects, properties, or other various assets. She squirrelled away what liquid assets she could. But, living a cash existence in an ever increasingly cashless society was more challenging that she would have ever anticipated. Generally, every seven decades or so she would need to start from scratch. Not totally from scratch, but professionally so. She went to universities for degrees, got jobs, lost jobs, had relationships, had friends. All with the knowledge that she would outlive every contemporary she would ever have.
When the final bell tolled for Humanity, she hoped that this would be it for her as well. That after so long, this would be the end for her finally. It was a false hope.
Now she spends most of her time in a self-imposed dream state. Reliving her lives in memory. Not to say that she didn't explore the world, she did. There was such a great bitter sweet joy (and grief) in being the archeologist of places she one lived. She would excavate as carefully as she could and would wander the paths of her lives.
Time continued to pass her by. Eventually even the sun started to grow dim. Going from the beautiful buttery yellow of her memories to a dull and almost angry red. The sun loomed larger in the sky than ever, taking up much of the visible horizon at all times. Shadows were a thing of the past. The surface of the planet scorched, the oceans and rivers boiled dry. She was sat upon her mountain top, in peaceful acceptance of what was to come. Opening her eyes in the final moments of planetary existence, it was so beautiful to finally see the end.
A voice spake out of the bright void. "Oh my, what have we here?"
And for the first time in so very long a time she felt a human hand in hers. She opened her eyes in absolute shock. There was a person, no not a person, an entity of such luminous power that it had stilled the death of the sun.
"Wherefore bring thou hence?"
She didn't respond, it had been so long since she had spoken that she didn't know if her body would betray her. Her thoughts were running wild in a loop of 'Panicfearlongingquestionssomanyquestions…hope?'
"Hush, slow thy mind, nothing will interrupt us" the being said again. She felt her other hand get held and herself guided to a standing position. "Worry not my dear, we have all of the time we will need to talk, now please. Whatfor art thou still doing here of all places?"
She found her voice, with eloquence and grace she said, "Pardon me?"
The being, still kindly holding her hands spoke again. "Thou shouldn't be here; I have not visited this plane in some time. And, I know that thy kind ended ages past. I was alerted to the end of all on this realm and I came to set it aright. Imagine my surprise when mine eyes beheld thee."
Having finally stilled her thoughts, and mastering her tongue she replied. "I have been here for longer than I can recall, I cannot die, I do not change. I do not know why." There was a bitter note audible in the final words.
If a look of shock could be written across what Hazrael suspected was the face of God, or at least a god it was written hence.
"What dost thou mean? Thy means to say that nothing guided thee to this place?"
"No, I was human once; then I changed. This I have stayed."
She felt her hands get a comforting squeeze.
"Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. So, so very sorry for your travails. This should not be. Dost thou rememberest what thou were at the beginning?"
She replied, "I was a witch, a mortal, I was part of the magical society that once thrived here."
"A witch for sooth? Most intriguing. Were thy powerfully magical? Let me taste of your majicks. If it is as I suspect, a grave injustice has been done upon thee. And, a reckoning is due upon they that wrought it hence. Unshackle thyself and let fly with thy power."
Hazrael was confused. She hadn't hidden her magical powers for eons. Ever since the last human society collapsed into lawless anarchy she had unbound the various spells that kept her magical presence hidden from the ever increasingly sophisticated machines of man.
"I am afraid I don't know what you mean, my magic is not bound within myself, it is as free as I can make it."
The entity looked upon her with pity. "Oh my dear, it is worse than I had feared. Thou hast been totally abandoned on this dead plane, with no guidance whatsoever?"
Despite the kind tone of the being, Hazrael could sense a rising fury within it. Fury not directed towards her, but whatever creature had rendered her immutable from time. For the first time in many ages she felt a stirring of hope within her. Maybe it was finally time to move on.
"My dear, thou shall accompany me to the plane of my existence and I shall have a reckoning with they that made thee. If it is whom I suspect it is, they shall break themselves upon my fury. Keep hold of my hands my childe I shall guide thee henceforth."
Looking at the creature with all the hope and trust she had, she did as bade. With a fading feeling they were gone.
