I don't know why, but my memories of my last life remain. I remember it all, in vivid detail. Even the last ones, of my first and only human kill. For a while I didn't dream, not even as a babe. I felt empty inside in this new land, and for the longest time it seemed the urges would come back as soon as I was capable of acting upon them.
But then the strangest thing happened when my new mother was taking me for a stroll through my new hometown of Asylum, a fitting name if I ever heard it, since it unknowingly gave a second chance to a monster. As we were walking through market stalls, I saw a man with canine ears and fur covering his otherwise human body. It was a beastkin, one of the three races other than humans in this world. But it wasn't his appearance or the fact we were different species that saved me.
No, what gave me an opportunity to keep my mind from my violent urges destined to return was what I saw him do.
He was an adventurer, B-rank, and he was stopping a pickpocket. He used magic, a Mentor level Orange spell as I later learned, to command the earth itself to form a hand and grab him by the thief by his ankle.
It was simple, subtle, and captivating to see. It was what set me on my course. By age three I was moving around, and I found my father's dusty old beginners spell time, a gift from a party member of old as a teasing joke, since my father was utterly magicless, as was my mother.
That worried me for a while, especially when I realized I couldn't read the language of Elysia. English was actually common, and though the words were the same to my ears, the letters were far different. So I spent a year teaching myself to read, a feat which started making my parents act weird.
They began watching me, as if gauging what I was. It was something very similar to my last life, the constant gazes, the whispers of freak and weirdo.
The day came, however, when I attempted my first spell while reading from the time. It was quite clear on the process of casting.
Step one: feel your magic flow from you. A person's magic isn't determined from birth, and like any muscle grows with use. However, your potential is. Someone with little to no talent might sport a small ember of magic, but for the prodigious, it is more akin to a raging bonfire.
Step two: shape the magic with your intent. So long as you can clearly imagine what you want to do, and you have enough willpower to manifest it, anything seemed to be possible, a fact I would push to its limits as life went on.
Step three: apply your school. There were eight schools of magic in this world - Red, Blue, Green, Purple, White, Orange, Silver, and Gold - representing the different forms the magic can work and manifest.
Red for pyromancy. Blue for hydromancy. Green for arbormancy. Purple for electromancy. Orange for geomancy. Silver was umbramancy. Gold for photomancy. White was weird, as it could only heal, and was hard to shape into anything substantial.
I meant to cast a simple, or Student level, Silver spell, to try and conjure a simple shadow and make it dance or the like. What I actually ended up unleashing was a Master level caliber shadow that sucked everything into it within a fifteen foot radius, save for myself.
I watched in awe as our modest townhouse was destroyed, ripped apart brick by brick, splinter by splinter. I went wide-eyed as I watched the shadows collapse in on themselves, then go pop as the spell imploded.
My parents ran in, checking me for injuries and looking around for signs of the attacker/potential terrorist. They then saw the book, which I had flung behind me with a start upon seeing I had messed up royally, and then forgotten about in my morbid fascination.
The questions had come instantly, the accusations and blame and... Wait, that's not what's happening, I remember thinking. It was the first time I had felt the feeling. It wasn't like I was an outsider, some freak stuck here because of a cruel fate. No, they were praising me. They were smiling, hugging me, laughing with pride.
I felt like I belonged for the first time in two lifetimes.
It was a feeling that got ripped away two days later. My mother and father woke me up that morning and rushed to get me bathed and dressed in my finest, which was just a still white sleeved tunic and some pantaloons my mother got from an old friend for my latest birthday. They fed me a simple breakfast of eggs and bread, and then put me in a carriage waiting for me outside.
My mother cried, and my father held her as she tried to tell me how they had sold me to the Lord of the region, Lord Henry Hera II. They said I would have a better life with him and his family, but they never asked me what I wanted. I finally found my people, didn't I?
So why had they sold me into slavery?
I never said goodbye, they were just another couple of strangers that had abandoned me. I was silent the whole way during the two week journey, ignoring the two men escorting me from minute one.
They still introduced themselves, with the carriage driver, a cat beastkin, being named Sylvie Mitsuri and the man in charge, a human Gold mage radiating a magic power that I felt small next to, being called Gauss Lumos. Sylvie was quite attractive, but the grey cat ears and flickering tail was less so, to me. I noted also that females of the race seemed to have no excess hair in exchange for the tail of the animal they resemble.
Gauss was attractive, to, in a twink sort of way. He had golden, short hair and baby blue eyes, and based on Sylvie's actions when addressed by him, I was certain he was a lady killer. In the romantic sense, not the monstrous sense, I should say.
They seemed to respect my silence, and were content to keep their conversations between themselves.
Eventually we reached the city of Vatica, riding through the large, medieval style city walls and entering a large marketplace bustling with activity. I noticed all the races here, beastkin, humans, elfkin, and demonkin. They comingled and enjoyed their days, friendly and peaceful. It was very much unlike the fantasy RPGs I played in the relentless solitude of my old life.
After the market we passed what I could only call a church, and I realized I didn't know the religious beliefs of this world. Was there just one religion, a melting pot of different religions, a monotheistic or polytheistic society? Something in the back of my head rang, and I wondered if I should find God in this life.
Eventually we reached the Lord's manor, with a large yard consisting of two separate training areas on either side, one for mages and the other for warriors. Outside stood five people, apparently having been waiting for our arrival.
The first man was a typical butler, notably an elf with pointed ears making him a full head taller and looking both younger and wiser than the man next to him. He was a human, and I could tell by his fancy silk clothes and audacious jewelry he and the lady next to him wore that they must be the Lord and Lady Hera. That left the two young girls at the end of the line.
One looked about my age, and shared her mother's platinum blonde, nearly white hair. Her eyes, just like her hair, were just as stunning. They were pink, like she was wearing rose colored contacts. She was going to make a man very happy one day.
Her companion was likely her older sister by only a few years, and she took more after her father, with her dark hair and hazel eyes.
Had the whole family and butler come to greet their new slave?
I exited the carriage behind Gauss, and was shocked to see the Lord bow before me, complete with a curtsy.
"Welcome, young master Blackguard. I am Lord Henry Hera, a friend of your father's. I welcome you to your new home."