Pure As Gold

[Kalush]

Solo Quest

Note: Only this post will be in first person. Others will be posted in third.

Hooded green eyes peeked out beneath half lids to stare at the mystery before them. The hasty glances of puzzlement had long turned into contempt. Their subject was young. She was beautiful. She was terrifying.

They were staring at me again.

No one ever grows accustomed to looks of hatred and condemnation. If you are ever told that, they are lying. It is never easy. Over time it will pass and become more tolerable Then there will be that one comment, that one slicing pain, that grips you in the horror of its power. There is power in words. It is such a power that when spoken often enough it becomes truth.

My being a demon had long since become truth.

It seems such a little thing, doesn’t it? Age? Nothing anyone considers unless they believe themselves to be too old or too young. It is not something to be fretted about constantly, nor is it something to become obsessed with. Throughout the course of ones’ life there may be times where what they are experiencing is known as a type of “life crisis” as they suddenly come to terms with their age and their head first rush towards Death. These people are frightened of being old, afraid of dying and afraid of what God may await the end of their journey. I have seen this happen to many people, none of which I considered to be good. But then, what right does a demon have to make judgement?

No, I have never had such a problem. Old age never frightened me away from living in the time I have now. I never appreciated my years less simply because they were fewer than before. To be perfectly honest, who can actually say they used their time here wisely? Who has taken the sum of their life with few or no regrets and said, “My life had meaning for those that come after me”? Only fools believe they lived to full potential. I am not a hypocrite; I believe I have flitted my time away just as well, though to my great credit I have acknowledged that fact.

I was not always so...dreary. I had spirit, once. I had life, once. I even had joy. Yet these things seem to have dwindled over the years. When I turned 21, I was ambitious and high-spirited. When I turned 21 again I was no less disheartened. The next year in my 21st year I began to look confused and unsure. In my tenth year of 21, I was hated. In those first few years there were excuses made for me. “She has grown too well”, they would say, or perhaps “She’ll regret this youth in a few years.” Sometime in later years, the excuses changed into something more condemning, more cursed. “Consorts with demons, that one.” “Don’t get too close; that one’s half-wild.” “Feral beast.” “Drinks the blood of our children to keep her cursed face!” “We ought to be rid of her pollution and taint.”

These were just words. Words with meaning, yes, but they never did anything about their fears. The fear that I would hurt them outweighed the fear they held for their children. More time passed and the words settled to a dull ache that was never quite there but never quite gone. Not a comfort, but something of a routine so well known I had given it little thought anymore. I wish I could say that eventually things settled down and the words dwindled to nothing and I was allowed to live my life.

But they were still staring at me.

It was enough.

Nothing keeps me here.

I don’t think I’ll stay.

They watched as I walked. I watched right back. I wanted them to remember my face, to ingrain it into their mind so perhaps one day, a very long time from now, they may look deeper than flesh. There would be pity for them in my eyes if I ever returned. Pity that they were so busy looking at me that they were never able to look at themselves. I wonder if these people, so much older and yet so much younger would ever live outside their ignorance. But it didn’t matter. There was nothing for me here and nothing to keep me rooted to their hatred. I am not a martyr.

[Kalush]

Her people turned their eyes away from her in disgust. How long had it been since they had found her abandoned in the forest so close to their home? For how many turns of seasons had she lived among them, learning and yet feasting at the same time? How long since they had sworn, and called her demon?

It was their Elder that had found her, lost and alone. The Elder of the Rendi was a hard, stern woman. And so came the question: how could she have done such a soft, foolish thing as to bring in such a dangerous child? Black hair grew wildly atop her head, framing her tan skin as if she had far too much sun and yet not enough. Yet it was her eyes that were most striking. When the child was first brought to the Rendi, she was welcomed with awe and admiration. Gold eyes peeked out beneath tired lids to greet her new family as she cooed softly and fell asleep once more. They named her Kalush, which meant Window to the Soul in their tongue.

Only did they realize their mistake.

She grew as most children did, happy and carefree. She was a quick study in survival and hunting, yet soft and fair enough to appreciate music and weaving. Her voice was well liked and in the early stages of her womanhood there were quite a few of the older boys who were quickly turning their attentions to her.

On Kalush’s 21st birthday something changed within herself. She began to take longer walks in the woods and stand in the wind for hours. There was longing there, but for what she did not know. She began to dream of leaping off mountains and soaring all the way down. The rush of wind and cold was exhilarating and she would find herself waking up still caught in the dream. Her dreams were discussed among the village, and whispers began to start.

In the summer of her 21st year the pain started. She would notice faint lines carved into her back in twin slashes, almost meeting at a V down her back. The twinge would go away and the lines would fade, only to be renewed later on.


One night as she stood under the light of the moon, the ache returned. But this time it was a throbbing pain, as if something were trying to tear its way out of her back. She screamed and fell on her side, twisting with its pain. Blood ran in rivers across her back, staining her green dress to a deep crimson hue. Some of the villagers heard her and ran towards her screams. What they saw horrified them. There, lying on the ground was their Kalush. But this was not their Kalush. This was a creature birthed in black magics with startling secrets. There, growing from her back, were two blood-soaked black wings, stretching towards the sky to touch the wind and dry.

That was the beginning of her damnation.

Her screams eventually died, but her wings ached with need. Opening her eyes, she saw their stares. Those horrified, fearful stares. No one helped her as she stood, but instead backed a few paces in order to keep their distance, as if unsure of this new creature in front of them. She looked back, fear reflected in gold orbs that were stretched wide. Her wings twitched and the others gasped. After what felt like eternity, she closed her eyes and searched inward. There. There was the source of her longing, of desire, of her need. Without thinking, her wings spread to their full span and shook themselves free of the blood still clinging to the dark feathers. Her eyes slowly opened and she looked at them with no regret, no guilt, and no recognition. “This is who I am,” Kalush spoke with soft thunder. Her voice rolled over the people as they shuddered and turned away. Yet one of them remained.

The Elder.

[Letho]

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