Rise of the Soulweaver, Part II: Eclectic Boogaloo

read this initially : What is a soul?




For before there were humans, before even life itself, there were souls.
Each soul is constant, it is unchanging, it cannot perish for, without the soul, there is no life.
All sentients, every race throughout time, have made a pointless effort to understand the true nature of the soul. Really, the soul cannot attempt to know itself.
I learned all this long ago. As the Inshad once said, "What but the soul could itself define?"

Surely, I do not question this. Not even the greatest force in existence could hope to do so.
The souls I use are not mine to command. I do not create them, I merely channel them. 'Weave' them, if you will.
Having these abilities has done nothing to increase my understanding of the soul. It is immutable, and thus for every soul I plant into a being, I must add a piece of my own soul, too.

But I digress. Where before I narrated with detachment, I need to take a more authoritative role so as to better explain the events of the year 3502 B.C.E., my 12,229th year of being. I apologize in advance if my typing is not adept, I haven't used a keyboard in several centuries.

So long in the earth's history, I heard talk of homes. This term confused me, as my peoples were nomadic; we never took to building permanent places of settlement.
Though I had lived in several towns and villages by that time, I never felt 'at home'. Humans are understandably hostile to 3-metre tall 4-armed beings from space, and at first I could not understand why they ran from me.
After a while, I even became accustomed to it. But eventually (and I will say, I was a slow learner then), I got the thought to adopt their form. I was not a shape-shifter, so the process was a very slow and painful one. I first decided to relieve myself of my extra arms. This hurt. I then used my weaving powers to replace my normal body parts with human ones that I borrowed from those who no longer needed them.

Eleven weeks later, I was human, at least in appearance. The first people I met were still quite frightened.
Luckily, I then realized humans had only two ears. I slowly acclimated myself to human behavior and customs, and at last I found a village that did not cast me out. After all, a 3-metre human is still better than a 3-metre alien.
Soon I started learning their language. In my earlier days, I only heard a few words, like "demon", "horror", and "incontinence". I still don't know what that last one means. The people also spoke many different languages, some nice and guttural, some dreadfully melodious. But the people I dwelled with soon taught me, as they would an infant.
They told me that they were called 'Vornians'. Today, I looked through my library for texts on the Vornians, but I have found none. Shame. There were more of them then, I think there are only a few dozen now, in northern Germany.
Even these people knew I was different, but they were still hospitable to me. Anyways, I lived with the Vornians, mostly as a soldier and scribe, for 3 centuries, hiding my true nature.

In 3502 B.C.E., however, morbid reality caught up to my new life.
Never before or since was there a woman of such beauty as Elba. She was a seamstress in a neighboring town, and I didn't meet her until I went with a group of envoys to collect 'peace money'. She came out of the loom-house, her alabaster form damp with sweat and her thin hands calloused from the day's work. The Alsa had no sense of beauty. Nevertheless, I clearly learnt it through observation, for at her sight I was smitten.
Deliberations finished at sundown, just before the loom-house closed.
For 3 weeks, negotiations stiffened between the Vornians and Elba's town, and I was kept in the council hall to enscribe the debates. After every session, I would go to the loom-house and look for Elba, occasionally she would even look back! I asked her name of the councilman, and planned to propose to her the following Wednesday, a common day for marriage in the area. But my life, as I now know it would, took a turn for the worse.
Sunday, a local, tired of the Vornian's dominance, burned down the council house. However, the fire quickly spread over the wood and thatch buildings. Ash clouded my vision and smoke burnt my lungs, but I did not care. My greatest, no, my first thought was for Elba. I ran through the inferno, clutching my Fallow Club, as though it could quell the torching fires.

Her form was unrecognizable. In fact, I never found it among the wreckage of the loom-house. Yesterday, I searched Elba's name. She resides in a river now, apparently. But I did not know this then. I knew only that, after the fire, she was gone forever. I could not stay with the Vornians, my grief was too great, and with my power I sent my rage onto the conflagration. In anger, I created awful daemonic beasts of fire and ash. I do not know if I ever actually unmade these horrors, because I cannot remember that day beyond that point. As I may have ended many lives in my grief, I knew I had to leave. My soul was reborn that day in the ashes, a Phoenix on the rise.

		To be continued...