Origins: The Priest

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                                                                        Location: Undisclosed

                                                                                Time: 3:00 a.m.

"Why is it that I'm still here?"  Dreamweaver thought to herself, sitting on a small chair that she had purchased for herself sometime in the past couple of days. The time just seemed to blend together now, her conscience delving into nothingness at the oddest of times.

She sighed and leaned back, resting her head against the headrest. She knew she had to complete the job and get the hell out of there the second she had the chance. She wasn't about to piss of her employer. That was just a deathwish, as she'd found out a while earlier.

She looked down and stared at the mat that lay on the floor.

"Just two more..." She thought as she moved to the small fabric rectangle and began...

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It had been a long time since he had dreamed.

Many things had happened; people, come and gone, experiences that changed his life, whether for the better or worse was yet to be seen.

It was like walking down a hallway of all his memories. A trail along his life. At the end of the corridor was the beginning. His birth.

In a brilliant flash of light, the memory began, just like his very existence had. He looked down at himself as a baby, carried in his mother's arms.

The priest who doubled as a doctor, Brother Artemeius, he remembered, began to do a few tests. Routine medical procedures and whatnot. Nothing too intensive. And then he turned and gave his parents the news.

"Your son is perfectly healthy. However, we did find... an abnormality with his brain." He pointed to screen that hung on a nearby wall.

"While his brain is fully functional... the physiology is akin to that of a seven year old boy."

His parents looked between each other uncertainly.

"What does this mean?" His father asked quietly.

Artemeius sighed. "He has a very rare disease. Completely irreversible. The brain matures much faster than the rest of his body, and ceases function once it has reached the end of its lifetime." He rubbed his eyes. "By the way it looks now... he will be dead by the time he is twenty-five."

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Now the boy was in his childhood. He didn't have any clue of his untimely fate yet. As they say, ignorance is bliss. He would go about his business every day: lessons from the other priests, combat training, literature, then he would be given some time off to himself before they would all eat together.

"Like one big happy family." The boy thought to himself.

The one time of day that he looked forward to were the lessons from his grandfather. He was the leader of the Artifice, the organization that he was a part of. Simeon Thraxxus was widely regarded as, while an extremely strong and patient man, a jokester. He would constantly pull little pranks on the other priests, despite constant scolding from his advisors. The man was in his late sixties and still fit as a fiddle.

The boy was walking through the garden; quiet and tranquil, until he saw his grandfather on a bench, working on something. The older man looked up as the boy approached and smiled toothily.

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