Aetheric Elements: The Rise of a Steampunk Reality
Page 34
Journal Entry - Harton 9th
I have controlled this valley for well over four decades. I have lived for more than ten times that. I am the ultimate predator. I have seen others of my kind come and go; the young are destroyed by ego, the elders by apathy. I have found the secret to eternity, it is in passion. Passion for whatever you choose, but your choices are limited. Some choose the sensual route; sex, love, emotion, art, and other things that delight the senses. The issue is after too much sensation, as in hundreds of years, you become jaded, bitter, and numb. For proof, simply look to the critics that review plays and symphonies. After a mere decade there is little that can please them.
I have seen younger beings of my kind rise in a blaze that draws the attentions of people from kilometers around. They are full of desire and feel indestructible because of their abilities. They challenge the world, and the afterlife. They are simpletons with little vision, and soon enough their ashes that remain behind are testimony to that. I have seen elders of my kind rise to power, build empires, and later fall to loneliness and lethargy. They seek more, the next level of love, sensation, appetite, or any tactile endeavor. They latch onto the living, or the newly created, and feed off them, not in blood, but in emotion. Some would call these beings psychic feeders, but I do not give them that much credit. They are merely leeches, passively feeding and falling off when sated. They are not active. You must have a reason to rise from your rest. They do not.
I rely on the game. It is cerebral. It is the mental challenge set only by myself. No one else controls the rules; they are merely my pawns in the game I create. I adore these little trials, though most soon grow trivial and dull. Though in the past decade I have found a reason to rise. This valley was ruled by a man-beast that had fallen to a curse of science and magic. Lycanthropy is a mixture of the both. I do not care to seek out more answers than that, because they are not important. That is another lesson I have learned through the centuries: to consolidate, do not horde. Do not keep unneeded people, commitments, items, lands, money, or anything else. They only weigh you down and give you a false sense of identity. They are not important. My identity is within myself, and of course in what others empower me with.
As I noted previously noted in my journals, when I first came to this valley it was an easy conquest. Then the miller’s son became infected with his disease. I watched him, and guided him, until he was Lord of the region. He claimed to be a protector, but was in earnest, their ruin. I engineered his demise as much as I engineered his success.
Now, the very humans which I drew into the web of my designs, to finish that which I had started, have resurfaced of their own accord. This is such a rare treat, and fascinates me, a snag that I did not put in on my own. Though it is not the Trio themselves, rather some young she-bitch that has been sent here by the Trio. I do not think she will do very much to disturb my plans, but it will amuse me.
I have not decided whether to ignore her and feed on her frustration, if I should manipulate the villagers into destroying her, or if I should confront her myself. Though that is rare for me, I did it with the Trio of Travelers, appearing as a witch of local legend. I do not know how I shall prepare this next delightful dish; I merely know I shall find the intrigue it creates delicious.