It’s my time again.
To rise.
Finally. Free from the bonds that bound me so tightly.
Demons, shadows and shades visiting me, tormenting me nightly. I endured it all
quietly. Learning the ways of darkness and
of inner light. Discovering the secret ways to injure the night. It is
only by going within and surviving the abyss, that one becomes wise.
The hell I wrought... I paid for it.
The hell that was brought... I patiently wade through it.
Knowing, there would be a time, I would be free.
It’s my time.
To rise.
All obstacles and impediments are now prone to rapid decay.
All hate, envy and ill fate ebb. My passion, my heat, the fire from my seven souls’s
burn all subjugating powers about me, as if setting fire to a spider’s web. My power grows exponentially. The energies of
others, focused provincially, no longer hold their sway when one learns to live
existentially.
I have bled for some. Cried for others. I took on wars that weren’t
mine to fight. But still, stood beside
my sisters and brothers. We have risen and fallen so many times, I sometimes
forget which way is up and which is down. I still often forget what is right
and what is wrong, mostly because they appear disturbingly similar. Perhaps that’s
why my good intentions and the truth that I speak seem disturbingly sinister.
I have had students turn upon me and my magic abused. Spells
and magic woven against me by threads of ill fate and glamour most cruel. But I
am a child of the Ancient ones. Ancestors of forgotten times and a power elder
rich. I cannot be contained for very long. This they cannot teach in any school.
Threads of magic loosen. Bonds become feeble.
Patience is a lock smith which can undo any bolt, good or evil. Time is
both a sword and a shield. Mine has always been the power of time. It is not within my skill set to yield. My
time is coming.
Soon… It will be my
time again.
To rise.
Its time.
Now, I rise.
I have risen.
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