It has always been my curse to bear that they should forget but these aeons of memories... they would live immortally to torment me. No matter how many lives I lived or the years spread between them, their faces haunt my sleepless nights and plague my waking thoughts. It didn't matter what world, or what universe we inhabited. She would live and we guardians would inevitably die, but just as the spring flowers pierce through the cold coverlets of winter snow, we came back for her sake. Anything for our cosmic princess whose reach expanded beyond the stars.
I've known her as many names now. Wendreda. Asari. Persea. Citlali. Pandora. A plethora of faces each looking up at her guardians with confusion, then awe and in finality, a love that hurts more than any word could convey.
This soul mourns for those past lives so faithfully devoted to her protection. The devastation of Alistair's demise and the warmth found in Pandora's arms. Howling cries grew deafening as she pushed the babe from her womb in the back of that damned cave where we raised Alistair's brood alongside our sweet son. A child born from grief. A child whose life was taken by our jealous, corrupted kin.
Just like last time, that world's Feigndail used his magic to transport our souls away from the shadow of death and into yet another strange, war-torn world.
Despite being born into Klewyth between loving and doting parents, I retained those memories even in my infancy as I've been cursed to do. Mariette and Aymeric Pierrat - the pair who birthed me - were none the wiser to my true identity. I hid it well. To them, I was the genius progeny, Gwenaël Pierrat, that they would spoil with countless enrichments and a well-rounded education far beyond their humble means.
As with all of my past lives, it was no surprise that this one would also be well-versed in the ways of magic. With it, I excelled beyond expectation and began to make a name for myself in the arcanus crête. It was through them that the temptation of immortality first piqued my interest until, speaking frankly, curiosity killed the cat.
Sometimes I wondered if Mariette or Aymeric noticed the changes. The paling of my skin and the sudden decline in appetite. A sudden burst of strength in a boy who could hardly hold a stack of books without struggling. I wondered if - when on their deathbeds - they knew that I had changed when my face refused to age. Regardless of their knowledge or feigned ignorance, I still remember the haze in their eyes when they departed this world. I buried them with the utmost respect a son could and used the funds from my inheritance as a donation towards the women's education movement. A grand contribution signed by Feigndail Pierrat.
For years I continued my studies. I registered with universities, gaining employment in one of the more highly esteemed institutes. It was here that I made my wages, unbothered until I felt her presence once again accompanied by a familiar, painful reminder of my duties.