Fan Fiction ❯ Once Again ❯ Chapter 1

Notes: This is set in Telenia, an RPG I created. You shouldn't need to know the game to get the gist of it, though those who do know the game will better understand the full relevance of some of the things mentioned in it. (It may help to know that this is the cat mentioned in "Truths".) All characters featured are mine, or were originally created by me.

Backdating: This was written in February 2005.

A spirit waited in the Great Vault of the Heavens, tail wrapped neatly around his haunches and small cat's body in a very feline pose of utter attention. What kind of cat he might be was uncertain, and in fact, identifying him as a cat was not as much an obvious conclusion made from the shape of his form as a leap of intuition. He did not look like a cat; he merely projected such a strong impression of cat-ness that it was impossible to envision him as anything else.

He had no name. What were names but mere labels, given by others? He had worn many names in many lifetimes, and sometimes had never been named at all. The Powers that ruled here had no need of names, and neither did the spirits. Names were things of the mortal world.

It was those Powers that the spirit's impression of slit-pupiled eyes seemed to rest upon, and his suggestion of pointed ears seemed swiveled towards. They wound together, god and goddess so intertwined that they seemed to be one being. Or perhaps they truly were one being, and only appeared to be separate. Such distinctions were no longer important to the spirit.

For the benefit of the spirit, who had once been mortal and would never lose some mortal affectations, They spoke in something that might be considered a voice. "You have long ago repaid any damage you may have done to the fabric of the world. Your sentence has been served many times over. Will you not move on to the Garden, and be in peace there? We know you are not clinging to life for love of the mortal world, or We would have dealt with you long ago."

Over time, the spirit had learned to speak without need for a throat or tongue. It wasn't quite thought that answered Their question. "You know why I do it. Why do you ask, every time?"

"Free will," murmured the Powers. "We cannot assume you will choose to serve again. It would violate free will. Is it not torture, to leave the Heavens for the mortal world? Someday, the pain will be too much for you."

"But that day is not today," the spirit nearly sighed. It was formula by now, this exchange of question and answer. A sort of ritual. Had he been capable of possessing such illusions, despite the clear sight of a spirit, he might have imagined that it had some kind of importance. But the only importance it had was the comfort of routine. "What child of mine is entering life, that has the soul of a cat?"

"See for yourself," the Powers breathed. The soft, barely formed mind opened up before him.

"A Channel," he observed. "You are cruel to my children." There was no censure in his words. The Powers did as they would, and no mortal - or former mortal - could understand their purposes.

"Your own Great Mages are cruel," They corrected him. "His power has been set into your bloodline for a thousand years. We did not give it to him."

The spirit seemed to hiss. "So, Kalenbar has come again?" he whispered. "So many forces to act upon my child. He is wary, and will be wise. Very much a cat. So many Channels are so.... I begin to think that magic, or its absence, influences the mind." The Powers did not answer; they rarely replied to such speculations. "He will need me."

It was all the confirmation needed. Streaming closer in a way that both was and was not movement, the Powers surrounded him. Their power wove itself around him, preparing him for the painful re-entry into the mortal world. His memories faded into dim shadows in the back of his mind, to be called upon only when he needed the wisdom of past lives. With a limited mortal mind, his extensive memory would only muddle him, and any recollection of the glory of the Heavens would cripple him beyond all recovery.

Undeniably feline in his movements, the spirit gathered himself, and seemed to leap. His bright aura faded from the Great Vault, and the Powers rustled with the exertion of matching him to a mortal body. The last sign of his presence in the Heavens was a lingering scream of agony and bottomless sorrow.

In a box on the floor of a great, bustling kitchen, a tiny grey-and-black kitten voiced his first cry.