Chapter Two
A Story Promised, A Story Told
Now you've definitely intrigued me, mortal. You did what I asked of you. How thoughtful of you.
…
Still do not wish to speak, I see.
…
It's no matter. A story promised is a story told. And I promised you a tale from the beginning of Time itself. So, I'm going to tell you the story of how I became The Outsider.
…
Do I have your full attention, mortal?
…
Good.
…
Did you know that I was once a human being, just like you? Yes. I was mortal. Hard to believe, isn't it? Everyone seems to believe that I am a malevolent spirit. When, in reality, I used to be flesh and blood. To some degree, I suppose it's fair to say that I still am.
I can feel my fingers twitching in rage. Does the mortal notice, I wonder?
I was born on what you mortals now call the Pandyssian Continent. Pandyssia is as great of a mystery now as it was over four-thousand years ago.
…
Don't give me that look, mortal. I could subject you to unending nightmares, if I so desired.
But I won't.
At least, not yet.
Consider yourself lucky that I find you so…captivating.
…
At the age of fifteen – was I truly only fifteen years of age? – I was an orphan. I know not who my family was, or what happened to them. Nor do I care…
If they hadn't of abandoned me, I never would have been forced into that ritual!
…If I ever find the souls of my family and captors, the torment I'm going to put them through will be grand!
…
Why do you watch me so intently, mortal?
…
Is that empathy I detect? How…curious.
Do I perhaps have more humanity left in me than I care to admit to?
Or have over four-thousand years of solitude finally driven me mad?
…Perhaps I should direct my insatiable curiosity to my own being.
…
As a child, I was abused. And I was powerless to stop my abuser…abusers…
Did you know that a child who is abused, and is powerless, almost always becomes someone dangerous? Someone to be feared.
If you could speak, I would tell you to go ask someone who worships me to tell you about their past. I promise you, they, too, were made to feel powerless and isolated by their pain.
…
Hmm…I see comprehension in your eyes.
How?
Why?
You truly are listening…Maybe I will grant you a Mark someday…
…
I will continue, mortal. You can stop your ceaseless staring.
It's okay to blink every now and again. It may even help you to see what is before you more clearly.
…
I cross my arms, giving myself time to stifle my anger. Millennia upon millennia still isn't enough to make me stop being bitter about this subject.
I was kidnapped by a group of cultists.
…
Of course I was. I was an orphan. No one would miss me.
…
Their name?
…
I do not wish to speak it. They are unworthy of being recorded by history.
…
Enough of those questioning looks, mortal. It is time to heed my words.
…
These cultists…They forced me to undergo a ritual. They swore up and down, down and up, that I was special. Apparently, when all sorts of celestial signs that you could care less about match up, and a bunch of worthless fish die…You're suddenly special.
They imposed their will upon me, robbing me of my own free will.
I wonder…Do I do something similar, when I bestow my Mark?
No…I simply observe. I do not interfere in their decisions.
I am not like them.
…
You seem doubtful of my well-being. Doubtful, but not fearful.
You are a strange mortal, indeed.
…
These cultists…They bathed me in a repulsive combination of blood, unholy water, and dust. Void dust, they claimed. Then they dressed me in what I appear in now. Yes. The rings were included as part of the ensemble.
…
I have been alive for over four-thousand years, mortal. Incredible, isn't it?
…
The cultists…made me merge with The Void. How? I wish I knew. The ritual, even to this day, still remains a mystery to me. They left me with nothing better to do than to watch over you mortals. Occasionally, I bestow my Mark upon your kind, and watch to see what you do with its power.
More often than not, you all seem to go mad from it. I've seen it used to acquire more power. I've seen it used for love, obsession, money, revenge…
I've even seen it used for redemption.
…
Why? It matters not to me. I am simply an observer of such things that are, for the most part, disappointing and all so very predictable.
But do you know why I bestowed my Mark upon those mortals?
I smile. You will have to earn that part of the story.
I believe you will.
Eventually.