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- Birthday
- 03/31
About
I grew up knowing that I would go insane. My mother spared no chance to tell me so; I was, on regular occasions, walked up the road to the small, windowless shack with its padlocked door, and introduced to my dirty, filthy, rag-clad father, who scratched at the walls of his prison until his fingers bled, and whimpered like a child in the harsh glare of daylight.When I was ten, the visits stopped, but only because on that last occasion the door swung open to reveal my father dead in the corner of the hut, curled into a ball.
After the burial, she took me aside and looked at me fiercely. We shared many things, my mother and I, but her eyes were brown, and mine were very dark, black in most light. That, I had from my father. “Myrnin,” she said. “I’ve had an offer to apprentice you. I’m going to take it, it’s one fewer mouth to feed. You’ll be on your way in the morning. Say goodbye to your sisters.”
So began my apprenticeship to Gwion, lord of the place in which I was taken to learn my trade of alchemy, and wizardry, and what men today would call science. Gwion, you will not be surprised to hear, was no man at all, but a vampire, one older than any others alive at that time. His age surpassed even Bishop’s, who ruled the vampires in France with an iron hand until his daughter Amelie cleverly upended his rule.
But that’s tales for another day, and enough of this gazing into the mirror.
I am Myrnin, son of a madman, apprentice to Gwion, and master of nothing.
And content I am to be that.
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