Connor's Little Lame Journal

To Connor’s lame journal, 

Don’t think that just because I picked you up for the first time in the-gods-only-know how long, that you’re going to start seeing some real action. This day is special. Not you. 

Well, I suppose with that, I owe a bit of an explanation. It’s been a while since I even remembered that you exist. Probably because good ol’ Carrot-Top Connor’s back on this side of life and death. And I remembered all the grief I gave him over you. 

He used to pull you out every night by the campfires we would light while we were on the road. ‘A diary? Connor, I didn’t know you were the mushy type!’

No, after all these years, I’m not going to pour my soul out onto these pages like Connor would have. I’m not going to use the ink that I may or may not have stolen from an immaculate desk belonging to one of the abbey’s sages to tell some sob story. And don’t get your pages in a crumple for the amount of cliches I use — I’m a thief, not a poet. 

But even if I won’t give you an apology for your neglect, I can give you a bit of backstory without all the baggage. 

It all started one-hundred-and-forty-seven years, two months, one week, and six days ago. No, I haven’t been counting the hours, minutes or seconds — some, myself included, might call that a bit too obsessive.

I can appreciate excess, but only in the finer things in life. And counting up the minutes until you see your heart’s desire again is more of a drag than any kind of passage of time has a right to be. Had to figure that one out a while ago. No, I appreciate a pretty girl, a good drink and some nice music. The usual. Not the drag of time when you're waiting for something to happen.

Plus, I discovered that counting every second is especially tiresome if you don’t sleep nearly half your life away, like humans do. A perk of asking Silver to turn me, I suppose.

Oh yeah, it’s been quite a while since you were told anything by anyone. So about that backstory… Let me get you up to speed. 

Last you heard from Connor, we were about to do some kind of rite, a ritual after the long pilgrimage was finally done. All so that beautiful Ora EverThere, our golden lady, created by the Bonded Gods and born mortal all so they could have a compassionate daughter see over their creations, could ascend and take her place as the Goddess of Peace and Elements. 

And yet, she was stolen by the Bound Gods. Torno, God of Death and Limbo, wanted things to stay the way they were, way back in the beginning. When it was just the four of them —you know, Akao, Macleo, Ming and Torno himself— all fighting over who did what and how to do ‘what’ right. And Ming, Goddess of Chaos and Decay, only went along with it because ‘darling Torno said so,” like some lovesick coward. 

If you ask me, though, those days of old sound like a total bummer. Real rough for anything with some kind of cycle of life. Even a vampire, long-lived as we are wouldn’t make it very long in a world like that. 

Anyways, Torno was being all pissy, so he rained on our parade and took Ora as we slept — like some rutting thief. 

‘Calling the kettle black,’ Connor would probably say to me right now. 

Yeah, yeah. I know. Nearly a century and a half with no sleep gives you lots of time to think about the wrongs you’ve done and the people you hurt when you did them. I got all self-aware and conscientious. Who knew it was possible? 

Thinking about it, I’ll have to apologize to the girls when I see them. I was kind of a murkhole during that whole pilgrimage. Some Connor might argue that I am still a murkhole. But hey, now I’m a murkhole with redeeming qualities, right? Ah, well, I guess I’ll have to let the girls decide that one themselves.

Can’t wait to see them... Get my ears chewed out by Donny. See Beamer's tempered smile. And Rayna's... huh. Don't know that much about Rayna. Guess I'd better get to know her.

Anyways, back to what I was saying before I so inconsiderately interrupted myself, though. We all woke up to find her gone, and Connor was yelling, and you know who he blamed? Me. Of course he did. 

So he shoves me, and says he’s going to find her. And amidst all the chaos of everyone crying and shrieking Ora’s name, Akao and Macleo appear and say they know where she is. And Connor — mister big-shot Chosen Hero gets to go after Ora. On a quest. All by himself. No one else. 

Not me. 

He gets some special cape that Macleo, Goddess of Time and Growth created, and Akao’s stupid sword. I wish him all the best. Not for him, of course. But I want to see Ora back, safe and sound. A means to an end, right? And then the Bonded Gods show him to the edge of the EverThere, the border of Akao’s domain and the end of space itself. So Connor can enter into Akao’s domain of limbo within the NeverWhere.

And I’m panicking a little, because I have no idea how long this whole Connor-saves-the-world thing is going to take. So I start looking into ways for a painfully-mortal human to extend his life span. Just in case. Wouldn’t want to miss Ora’s return, and a second chance to do over this whole pilgrimage-ritual thing. 

So I find Silver. She’s gorgeous, with creamy-white skin, piercing eyes of crimson, and endless auburn hair, always naked with nice proportions, and a scoundrel's smile. Bewitching to a mere mortal, as I was back then. But that personality. Whoof. What a hag.

Bitter, self-serving, an irritating flirt, vicious and cruel. What? You think that sounds like someone else you know, Connor? Nah. 

She agrees to turn me, but it’s not pretty, and the deal we struck was not one I would consider making again. She likes my looks, says my dark eyes remind her of the night, and she wants to drench my hair in blood so it matches her own. I’m kind of into it at first, but then it stops being fun when it’s not role-playing anymore. 

She hurts me, over and over. She latches onto my neck, and it’s not gentle. She pins me down, and she drinks my terror. She makes me believe that I’m just a snack. That maybe I’m only good to drain. Not worth turning. And then when I plead for my life, I have to keep the knowledge to myself that I’m asking for more time because I want Ora to still be surrounded by friends she knows. I want Ora to come back to people who care for her. 

I’m not asking Silver to turn me for me —or at least not in the I-don’t-want-to-die sense— or because it’s a fetish of mine to be turned, but I have to make her believe that’s why I want it. I’ve only known the seductress for a few days before she takes me into her den to rip away my humanity, but I can tell that if she knows my true goal, she’ll find a way to take it away. And she has all the power to stop me. 

So I grit through the pain, I close my eyes to all the blood, mine and hers, that stains the downy pillows and the corners of our lips, and I feel the sluggishness come on as my body pleads for sleep while it changes. 

I learned later that a vampire can inject venom, a numbing drug, to help coax prey into sleep when we bite our victims. The hag lets all her victims struggle through the pain, rather than using her instincts. She likes it that way. 

And she made me stay, even after my body had healed and the threat of an aged death disappeared from my thoughts. 

She held me captive, threatened to send her entire coven, all of them bloodthirsty monsters, after me if I left before she was through with me. After all, I had forfeit what remained of my human lifetime to her. 

Plus, she liked my fire. She lusted after my fight. She saw how I didn’t seem to break. 

She wanted me to break— 

Whoops, that all got a little dark. Went off on a tangent there. Sorry. 

“No baggage, promise” — well, that was bull’s murk. 

Well, you’ll be pleased to know (maybe), I came out the other end. It was years of torment, and Silver took me to bed every chance she could. Too much even for the most promiscuous. But one day she told me I could consider my agreement with her completed. Nearly sixty years after I had first been bitten by her. 

So I turned my back on her coven, and I didn’t show any fear that they might come after me. I’m sure my scent gave me away, but it hasn’t been a problem yet, thankfully. 

I travelled the world, I looked over my shoulder regularly just in case, and I learned as much as I could about anything that might help Ora when she finally came back. Fighting skills that used every type of weapon including one’s own hands, languages from every city and species that could be taught, and as much lore about the gods as I could find. I read books, I listened to shamen, and I even looked at works of art depicting the history of everything we believe in. And then I started learning for fun and my own interests. 

History — after all, I might be living through it in the future, might as well know what consequences happen because of those circumstances. I took classes in mathematics and physics and alchemy. I learned from the best in biology. I mapped the stars. I even studied some more… unsavory… schools, like astrology and fortune telling and misdirection. You get the idea.

And then one day, exactly one-hundred-and-forty-seven years, one months, three week, and one day after Ora had disappeared, I was practicing a card trick and suddenly my shadow was an inky-black servant, pooled at my feet and at my command, whispering, asking me what I wanted. 

And I told my shadow that what I wanted— what I had been wishing for had just come back. How did I know? 

Because once upon a time, more than a century and a half ago, I had been chosen by the element of earth to bear its steady strength until Ora was ready to receive all the power that the elements had to offer. Until she was ready to wield it for the sake of all the worlds in the EverThere. 

And I lost my control over the sands and metals beneath my feet, as soon as I became a creature of the night. I couldn’t wield the gift that I had been given as a human.

I know it was only me, the exception, the one who lost his powers way back when. Because I used my skills as a thief to spy on the girls at one point. And the Chosenkin sisters who I definitely owe apologies to? Those three still bore their elements —water, air and light— years after Connor had left after Ora. 

There would be a new bearer of earth and metal, and I would only be an intrusive pest. Nothing more, or so I had thought. 

So when shadows started to whirl at my feet, and when the night became a new kind of comfort for me, I smiled. Because the elements had decided that I still rightfully had a place at Ora’s side. I would be the new shadow bearer, and more deserving than the filth who had borne it previously would ever be. 

And when she was ready to do her pilgrimage yet again, I would be ready. I would be with her.

So, here we are, one-hundred-and-forty-seven years, two months, one week, and six days since the pilgrimage last ended, and I have stepped into the abbey to start this journey, once again at Ora’s side. Better prepared. Far more experienced. And just as loyal as I have ever been. 

I can smell her scent, honey and ginger, around the halls. 

Maybe Connor will look back at this journal one day. Maybe, he will read this entry, and understand the NeverWhere I went through to be here. Maybe he will finally grasp that we are both equally as devoted to Ora, to keeping her safe and helping her meet her goal, even if it means heartbreak for the both of us. 

Or maybe, he will read this entry, scribble it all out, and then make some snarky remark about vampires with bad attitudes. 

Who knows?

Well, wish us all luck on this journey, little dumb journal. Hopefully this time, I will prove my worth. 

And thank you, for bringing her back, Connor. 

Believe it or not, I’m excited to see both of you. To go on this pilgrimage once again. To see this through all the way to the end.

And I want to make amends. I mean it. 

Sincerely, 

Seth Silverhands.