the parable

“Perhaps, my child, my favored student; perhaps it is time I spoke of the parable of the Warlock and the Hunter to you.”

The reagent flattened the dark dress she wore, and looked her younger pupil straight in the eye. “Once upon a time, in a different place, a different era, there were two young women, as spry as spry could be. The very picture of the pinnacle of youth at the time. But, as a lack of luck would have it, a calling of an unusual sort would befall one of the two one day, as she was cornered by a Serpent; a Setite. Implored by what could only be described as disembodied voices to act, she wiled her way out of the Snake's grasp and was allowed to live un-manipulated another day. She was sought by others who had escaped similar fates, who tried to guide her hand. They called her Hunter, as that is what they believed they were meant to do to those they deigned unnatural.

“A similar curious fate would befall the second of the two young women one night, alone. She, cornered in the dark by hooded figures whose identities she could only guess, was told she was 'chosen'. She was given an ultimatum; accept the Embrace, or die, because now she knew entirely too much. Unknowing as to what this Embrace entailed, the young woman accepted it regardless, as her true death would mean devastation to all of her loved ones. She was taught the ways of the night, taught what she was. They called her Warlock, as her powers were akin to the mages tales spoke of.

“Regardless of the clear separation between the two now that they were Imbued and Kindred, their friendship burned bright as the stars in the night sky. One might say they only grew closer, and closer, and closer still, despite the objections from both sides. They grew fairly enamored of one another, though neither had the nerve to say it.

“The Hunter grew to hate the voices in her head, those which they called Messengers, and the limitations imposed on her. She could never experience the rush of vitae, she could never become like the Warlock. She was even unable to provide her blood from which to sustain. She knew she would die one day, and the very thought terrified her. Similarly, the Warlock grew desperate. She wanted so badly to save her, to have her to hold for as long as she might live, but as it was, she couldn't. It ate at the very core of her being, knowing that the Hunter wanted so badly to take back the deal that cost her any chance at immortality, and that their time together was now so limited.”

“This is starting to sound really familiar...” Anya groaned, “And not in the good way.”

“Ah ah, let me continue.”

“Er... okay.”

“When the Warlock asked her reagent what could be done, she was reprimanded. 'Why in blazes are you talking to a Hunter at all? Their only goal is to kill us,' the reagent barked. The Warlock was ordered to stop this nonsense. But stop, she never did. She refused to listen, and she studied the art of Thaumaturgy night after night, even in secret, to find a 'cure' to the Hunter's 'condition'. She knew she was lucky to have been able to get away with it with her unlife intact, as any more such incursions would have meant her Final Death. She tested, and she experimented. She poked and she prodded. She ran herself ragged, nearly drove herself insane trying to find some answer, some way to lift the grasp of the Messengers from her beloved Hunter, despite having no ground to start from.

“Before she knew it, the Hunter lay on her death bed. The Warlock was devastated. Surely this was too soon, it had only been a few years! But unbeknownst to her, it had been many more than that. By now, the Hunter was in the grasps of old age. The years had passed before the Warlock could even have realized, and she let all that time she could have spent with her beloved slip away. The only thing she could do was hold her hand as she drifted off to the great beyond, knowing very well that they may never see each other again. The Warlock sank into a deep denial after that. She was never able to let go of the love she was never able to admit. For a long time, she refused to admit this was happening. They say to this day she still keeps the ashes of the Hunter in her Haven, in an urn of fine ceramic and glass. It was all she had left, and for a long time, she spoke to it as if it was the Hunter, live and well.

“Denial, however, inevitably becomes anger. She began to hate herself. It was her fault for letting the Hunter slip through her fingers. It was the Messengers' fault for taking a scared, vulnerable girl in the first place. It was the Chantry's fault, for telling her that Thaumaturgy was limitless. In her anger, she nearly lost her way, nearly let her own compassion slip through her fingers just as the Hunter had. It was a difficult nightmare to wake from, for the Warlock, one that nearly led her down a road of destruction and ruin. They say her temper made her master one of the most dangerous Paths there is.

“When the Warlock woke from that nightmare, the stage they call Bargaining began. She pleaded to the heavens. To God, to Allah, to anyone who would listen. Please, bring her beloved Hunter back so she could even just have the time she lost. Please, she begged to every higher entity that could listen, let this lowly, cursed soul have just one happiness in this world, let her see her love again, tell her what she truly felt.

“It quickly became depression. Now, the Warlock became a drifter, only carrying with her the urn in which the Hunter's ashes were stored. She left her homeland, and she traveled across the continent on which she was born. She wandered that continent for a hundred years, she did. And when even that couldn't contain her melancholy, she sailed the ocean, crossed over to a new land that she had only before heard rumors about. And she wandered that continent, too, until she came to settle in a little town called Seattle. She gained power in this town, power and favor with the local Prince. Eventually, she was allowed to found her own Chantry, small as it was compared to the much larger one on Vancouver Isle. And though she never quite shook the depression, she managed to distract herself. In that time, she vowed never to let what had happened to her happen again.

“But lo and behold, years down the line, she would happen across another young woman of her clan causing just a touch of trouble. The Warlock decided to attend to it personally, only to learn how similar this young woman was to her in situation and in demeanor. The young woman spoke of a beloved Imbued of her own, how much she didn't want to lose her. It struck a chord with the Warlock, who remembered her own pain, her desperation. She warned her not to go down that path, and she worried. She worried herself sick over this poor neonate. Immediately, she felt a fondness, a kinship. She wanted to protect this neonate from the tribulations, the despair she had faced. So she told her that any time is good time. Enjoy what time you have with her, because it will be done and gone before you even have a chance to realize, and you'll tear yourself apart for hundreds of years.”

“Oh... ohhhh...” Anya bit her lip. “I had no idea...”

“...Her name was Natela. It comes from the word in our language that means brightness and light. If you had been around to see her, you would have believed it. She certainly was the light of my life. She had a heart of gold despite herself... She was... compassionate, ever-caring... she held on even though I lost myself... I wanted so desperately to turn her, even though she would have been much better a fit for what we now know of the powers of the Salubri. She would have made a wonderous healer. She always did speak of miracles... I loved her, so much. I never did move on."

'I'm so sorry..."

"You remind me so much of me in my youth... never, ever lose that spark. I never want to see you walk the same path as I did, forever devastated that you never spent as much time with her as you were given. I hope my story puts things into perspective. I share it with earnest concern for your well-being.” The reagent named Makvala took her student's hand. “I wish you the best. May you succeed where I failed. Make sure she knows she's loved. Give her your all if you truly do love her.”

“I understand... thank you, for the perspective, ma'am...”