The Prince of Nothing - Part One

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The one who is cursed.The Necromancer.The Devil.The Marquis of Neuschwanstëin Castle.There have been many names for him, but none echoed more in his ears than the name he was frequently called."The Prince of Nothing."Fitting for someone who lost it all in one fell swoop. Burnt to a crisp, the smell of blood and ashes withered away his senses. Hiding away in the charred walls of the estate while his soul wept, and ached, and was once again adorned only to be stripped bare.Tormented and alone, he delved into the unstable nature of alchemy. Experimenting on his body-- and the dead-- torturing his psyche, yearning for an existence that even he could not elucidate until his untimely death. Or so they say.If transcending life was his true purpose, why was he brought back to a more meaningless living? Suffering might have been his best friend while craving to be awakened from the depths of the spiteful slumber corrupting him slowly.Was it his curse? Perpetual life and death for feasting on his misery? For devouring his own mind and flesh in pursuit of the unknown oblivion.After many lifetimes, to the different worlds and universes, and countless love affairs which ended in tragedy, here he was standing anew. Beseeching for the current to be the last he endures.
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Grand Master of the Magic Tower - Part Four

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"You have been staring out that window all day. Is something happening?"A few seconds passed and the lady across the room heard nary a sound. She took that as him always himself. Quiet and distrustful. But soon enough, his gaze landed on her and by extension, the mess. His office room wasn't big nor was it small. It was enough for him, he had all he needed. A table, a chair, shelves, and of course a fire pit to keep warm during the nights and burn letters-- and perhaps even the structure he was in if he wanted."There are a lot of things happening outside, yes. But none of them requires your worry." Smiling at her with his head tilted a bit, eyes full of mischief. Not many knew it, but the brooding master of the research tower was all but uninviting. He was a child at heart."Goodness!" He walked over to her, just on the side of his table, and snatched the pieces of paper and envelopes on top of the many books she held. Not even one bit surprised they were just boring reports of the latest accomplishments of the tower, and an invitation from the Emperor himself. He could not help but roll his eyes, not caring about such things. They are trivial to him."That had the royal seal..." He heard her say in a whisper. "Yes, so?" More papers he was reading flew to the floor. He was extremely unexcited while falling back on his chair.
"An invitation from the Emperor? And You're throwing it away? They could have your head for that! Or worse, they would have my head!"

"Yes, so?" He repeated himself while slouching in his chair.Mouth agape, speechless from his way of talking, yet again. She let out a defeated sigh, rolling her eyes at him."We might as well burn this whole towe—" She was murmuring, thinking he would not hear it, or at the very least, make out her words."A good suggestion. It is duly noted, Aster." He cut off, not even looking at her but she was watching him closely.And when he saw the contents of the last piece of paper in his hand, it did not even take a second for him to go back to his grim self. His feet on the table quickly moved downwards as he planted himself firmly on the ground.
"Why? What's wrong?"No answer."What's it about?" The lady stepped closer.Again, no answer. The lad stood up from his chair and walked towards the fire. Standing tall, reaching towards the orange flame, the piece of paper in his hand slowly turned dark and into ash.

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The Forgotten Supplanter - Part Five

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PRELUDE

It was unusually humid on that one November night. Curtains and windows wide open but the room of the comatose little boy seemed more suffocating than ever. He was caught in the middle of a burglary, a bullet to the head. He survived the surgery but no one knew if he would survive the aftermath.The doctors often whispered that he wouldn’t last the night. And they all expected the worst. Nearly a month has passed and yet no further sign of recovery.Alack, just when they thought the night would no longer surprise them, the once lifeless eyes of the small six-year-old boy opened wide. His body jolted upwards. Rapid breathing— gasping for air as his hands searched frantically for a solid object to cling to.It was a miracle, they said. Albeit, the way he woke up was different from most comatose patients. But it was not the only difference they would soon notice.The jolly little boy who befriended anyone and everyone was suddenly reserved, solemn. His actions, for a while, were a bit cruel for some, while others found it amusing. How he would try to twist and smash anything he could find, touch the bright orange flame of an open stove, or even stare blankly outside for hours on end as if contemplating— or planning. They often reasoned that it was part of childhood.But who could have blamed him? He had a brush with death.It would not be for long as their worries were quickly replaced with delight when he started showing signs of his old self. Although a bit more broken and at times, he’d revert back to the same state. Nevertheless, he was again just a jolly and curious little child.

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Past Lives Profiles

The Prince of Nothing - Part One The Scheming Jester - Part Two The Tortured Majesty - Part Three Grand Master of the Magic Tower - Part Four

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