There are many people in this world who have interesting lives. I happen to be a Warlock. I can do crazy things like: make trees float, bend the elements and heal people.
I prefer to only help those who can pay. My fee is not as high as some others, but I am not cheap. My name is Aras Grunhilda Sven.
Mother Sven was from Sweden whereas Father was from who knows where. He was a talented Warlock that was highly respected. When he came to council meetings the red carpet was rolled out.
He was never one of formalities though. I can very clearly remember him taking me to Paris in 1889 for the World Fair.
We found a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that had the most amazing stews; it was there that I learned how to change my face.
The warlocks have some fancy word for changing shapes, but I was never one to learn their terms.
In order to even be a part of their council, you cannot help the humans; even though humans are the most wonderful out of all the creatures in this world.
I met a witch 138 years ago who gave up her immortality for a human. The human had guarded her after the death of her Caraebass. The human gave most of her life to the witch to keep her alive.
So once she finally woke up, the human was almost dead. She gave her life to thank the human. I still miss her, but the past is the past.
Many years before that I gave part of my life to a human. She later turned against me and used that energy to try and ruin me. Cara was her name and killing was her game.
She would go after each warlock and ask for some of their life; then she would overpower them and steal their power. I discovered this too late to stop her.
But she only took my 300th year of memories. But enough about that disappointment. I am here to tell you the story of Demari.
I can honestly say that I never thought I would that my diary entries would become important, but it is important for me to pass this story on to the next generation of Warlocks and humans.
Dear Diary, January 6th 1456
I know it is weird to write dear diary, but what else do you say? Hello friends? No that’s just crazy. Anyway back to my thought. Today was, in all honesty, a very interesting day.
Kina came to visit me today with her daughter. The child was very ill and needed medical attention, but I was the besting thing she could find.
I am sure those doctors in town would have charged her a crazy amount and do nothing. After looking the child over I discovered that she had been stung by some insect and it had gotten infected.
I tried to explain to Kina what an infection was, but I know she had no idea what I was saying. Humans don’t know about infections of this kind yet.
Poor Kina thought God was punishing her for her husband being gone for so long.
I told her that being a sailor meant that he would be gone for a very long time, or that he might not even come home.
I should have probably left out the last part. I rubbed on some ointment and sent her on her way. She thanked me and promised to bring me more rosemary from the hills.
I don’t see why I couldn’t go get it myself when the time, but she insisted. I sent her away after a cup of warm soup and some encouraging words.
I went to the stables and found Simon. He really is a beautiful stallion. A massive dappled sooty buckskin. His mother had been a champion racer and his father was a war horse like no other.
I cannot believe that women just gave my him for saving her son. It required little effort to get the demon out of him. Well, it wasn’t a daemon.
I took him to the barn and asked him why he was running away. He was reluctant to tell me, but after some encouragement, he told why he stuck out at night.
There was a boy who green eyes and a smile like an angel. He asked me if I was going to kill him for his confession. I stared at him for a few seconds then told him of Abdul.
The boy was surprised that I had a past of “holiness.” I hadn't thought about him for years. I hoped to never think of him. He was part of my life where I cared more about living that caring.
I never thought that he would care about me for who I was with, or what we were doing. I regret my mistakes every day. That’s enough moping.
I am going to see if I can get the boy away from his mother. I asked what the green-eyed boy was named and he piped up with a joy I wish I had and said, Simon.
His mother came to me a few days later to thank me for “saving” her son. He had found a job and moved to a different village. She gave me her best stallion with as many hugs as I could take.
Her son came to me a few weeks later with a boy with the greenest eyes I have ever seen. He thanked me again and told me he was leaving for America. I wished him well and told him to write.
I hope they are doing ok.
That is all for now,
Aras Grunhilda Sven