The pain of death. The life of death. The order of dying. The chaos of living.

What does it mean to be alive? Where do we know when life has graciously left its last breath within us? As my thoughts grasp a misty reality they begin to slip away again. An irony I long to know. I yearn to live but fear of becoming enveloped in all that I seek has twisted my soul into a doom of fate. In a world, from a time that existed only in my deepest memories, I lived an innocent life. My father. He suffered history, he understood time, he knew life...

I will never know. The tragedy led us all to our separate destinies and I now live isolated. Heed these words. For I will never know what brings us so close to the edge. I am Gwyndeth. Soulseeker. Deathbringer and Lifegiver. I know no life except that of my own and my brethren. I survive precariously on the knowledge that someday I will know what parts immortality from the thread of existence in this vile world. My tale I tell you not with words of courage nor heroism but survival and great cost. For there lies a fine line between life and death and it lies enshrouded in shadows...

The blackness of the terrible force with which I awoke stirred my unconscious thoughts out of their reverie. The hood that covered my face drew closer as I tugged at myself quietly and rose from the outcropping of rock. The hills were silent as I padded from my small shelter and out into the twilight. I neared the fortress gates and summoned my follower close. My lips parted to form an ancient tongue. Long ago and forgotten words to all but a few who's ways tap into the nether world. Death some call it. Others call it necromancy. I call it survival. My body wavered from one plane to the next and a scarlet hue of light took hold of me. I made myself known to him who was standing watch over the citadel by whispering quietly in the air. A dark chill ran down his face as my black thoughts took hold of him. Painful waves of fear, mindful thoughts of dying, all my visions of psionic power became one with him. I converged on the essence of ecstasy and some terrible eagerness seeped through my blood, as I took his life. He began to convulse with spasms as death became evident. I held fast, seared his eyes with streaks of blinding light and finished him off with a crushing intensity that ended his very existence. I looked again at the decaying, infested corpse, pulled the roots from my maroon pouch and began my intonation. My voice resonated as I chanted carefully the sacred words of my ancestors. In the placid solitude, with the air chill on my back, time seemed to stand still. I took the carefully preserved bundle under my arm and began my way into the dismal gates to my next victim.

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