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Identity.

It is a strange thing not to know who you are.

For most of my life I was convinced that I was a circus performer, an orphan, a brother, an act. When Fortunato (was that his name? Strange things are fading in and out of my mind) called the Mists and our band became separate from the circus, I felt lost, unsure. I recalled figments that I thought were memory but which seemed more dreamlike and less substantial than what I am coming to know as memories.

I remember the "abbess" and the "chief priest" being attacked by the topiaries in the garden. I remember the white dragonette flinching as my bolts of fire struck it. I remember the soulless creatures running through our numbers with knives. I remember these things in ways I have not remembered things before.

So, it is like becoming someone for the first time, having never know that you weren't someone in the past. As these memories become clearer, who I am is becoming less sure. This world of mists, magic and evils likes me. I can feel it. Sense it. Even taste it. Literally. The tomatoes grown in the remains of children nourished me and changed me slightly. I see more vividly in the dark. I both wish that I had eaten more and wish that I had eaten none.

And now, Midnight's Book. My book. A book as locked to me as my Mother's ghost or Enfer is. It changed me. Or did I change me by allowing it to do so? I have become a creature of legends, the dark elf mage named in stories bards tell. A mantle, it seems, passed down from one mage to another by virtue of a powerful book. No, I can feel that I have become slightly more frail for accepting it, part of the elvish nature I have inherited. And I like light less than ever before. But the slight ruddiness of my flesh has taken a beautiful blue-black sheen as has Enfer's coat. And my fingers: longer, more coordinated, and faster. I walk more gracefully, more fluidly, and am surer of my mental state than ever before. Spells are less complex now and I can remember more each night. I do not feel as if any consciousness other than mine, Enfer's, and Mother's is inside me, but I know that this has changed me and will change the way that strangers interact with me. Perhaps it is good that I have also started a collection of veils.

This thing that I am becoming is strong; I can sense it. When we needed to find a way to learn the powers of all the items we had found but lacked the resources to do it conventionally, I could see a path to do just that with enough time to study. Miranda's teachings allowed to create a new spell to do what we wanted, what I wanted. That act of creation brought all of what I have learned into focus. Through the application of knowledge and the proper formulae, the world will open up and do as I bid. But that leaves us in an interesting place, doesn't it? I already know that this world has it's own agenda and I know that it likes me, and now I must add to the equation that I work on it and bring it to do what I wish. This could end in a strange contest of wills because I know that I will not be a partner to this world no matter how it feels about me. Not in it's current state, at least.

I long to be back in that study in the abbey. What comfort and strength exists there. With enough time in that place, I think I might be able to forge my being into the thing it needs to be to resist and shape this world. But that is not our fate.

Yes, our fate. While Gabrell has always been tied to the trio of persons I am, Anna, Silas, Bell, Salivaar, and Pellam are all part of this in the oddest way. That is, they are the only real people I know outside of myself. As we spend more time divided from the circus by the Mists, they are the only things that I can be sure are not reflections of some false thing. How strange! How true.

Oh yes, the silent Brother Stern should be real, but he will be another transitory character in the play we perform. For now, and perhaps for much longer, I can see who is a part of the cast and who participates in our play.

This world is so interesting, I have much to learn. This simple temple we've just left had enough to fascinate me for years. A history including being an outpost for mages invoking the power of Night and Set. The Dying God descending and driving all into the chasm. The presence of powerful guardians, misplaced souls and bodies, and a boarded up room with treasure beyond any I've ever encountered!

I wanted to go back to the circus before I learned who I was. Now, I think that I might want to do something else. Perhaps, collect a set of veils. Perhaps build a sanctuary where all of us can have a place we feel at home.

But, I can't help but remember that I feel that we are latching on to something larger as we pursue the stories of the soulless children and the vile things that wanted them to be that way. How coincidental was it that in pursuing this story, I have now found a place to begin my memories?

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April 2010

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