Sascha LeVante

It was a nordic village…I think. I was a young apprentice of the old healer. Such a promising future ahead….

But HE wondered into our village. An outsider. Wounded. Pale. Strange.

It took months to nurse him back to health. Our healer was the strongest ever known, but the strangers nature baffled him. I don’t know how I understood the intracacies of this ‘thing’ , when our long seasoned healer did not.

He got strong. Too strong. He had a hunger. Our people started dying mysteriously. We offered sacrifices to our gods, not realizing the curse was the very one we healed.

We forced him out…or did he just leave? Memory fails…but he came back only a few short years later. The old healer had died. I was the village healer. My gifts were blooming. It went beyond prayers, herbs, tonics. I could mend bones beneath my hands. Cure disease if I focused on it for long enough.

Did he attack me because I was a threat? Or did he need a companion? No. I have no answer. I only remember awaking…cold. Separate from what I Used to be. Heightened, beyond any understanding I had ever experienced. I couldn’t heal this. There were open wounds all along my back, like a cougar had found me asleep and used me as a scratching post.

I’ve wondered alone since…my village turning it’s back upon the new ‘outsider’, ‘ Unnatural’.