Dove

  Dove knows nothing of his provenance. All he's ever been told is that he was found as a baby, fresh stock for the ever-dwindling population of half-feral warlocks that prowl the wilds and terrorize every isolated homestead. One could dream up many grim uses for a child such people might have; but in truth, there's nothing more valuable than a vessel for your gathered knowledge, and Dove turned out to be a talented receptacle as he grew up running after his newfound kin. The adults around him filled his head with stories of untamed earth and the grit of the natural world more than they ever filled his belly, but despite the poor ideas of parenting he was subjected to, Dove found himself keen to follow in their footsteps.

  Above all, those outsider mages believe in one thing: self preservation at any expense. This concept would be drilled into Dove as he learned to fend for himself and feast on what scraps were at hand; but while it made him tough, it left him wanting, and perhaps a bit stunted. This too-small creature would catch the eye of a primeval beast early on--the crimson-skinned winding worm that feasted on the dead, a beast whose name could never be spoken by those still walking the waking world, whose many hands would pluck a half-gone Dove from the snow on a cruel winter's night. The boy didn't have much to say as he hovered on the cusp of death that night, but when he responded to waking in the warm coils of a much-feared beast with only sleepy curiosity, the beast was intrigued.

  To hear the name of such a creature spoken is a terrible thing, but Dove would weather it, and when he scraped himself off of the floor he bluntly asked if he could shorten it to 'Pagi'. The beast agreed--but only if it could name the boy in return. From there, Dove and Pagi struck up a strange relationship, largely made of coveted mentorship in necromancy and astral work from a beast's ancient knowledge, something power-hungry Dove was keen to get his hands on. Other times, however, the beast would simply linger, talking into the night and leaving its student with a gift or a wise word. Pagi could hardly spend all its time with its new apprentice, but when they did convene it was a taste of kindness and indulgence that Dove didn't know he'd ever needed; and perhaps the experience that kept him from sliding down the classical wild mage's path into full derangement.

  As refreshing as it was for Pagi to have a friend, however, its tutelage and services couldn't come without cost. The more Dove sacrificed, the more his mentor had to offer, and while he's too wise now to mention the human incidents, he doesn't regret raising his blade. So it came as no surprise when Pagi approached him with a new facet to its grand mentorship experiment--learning to see beyond the veil and into the realms of the dead and beyond was quite the trial, after all, but if Dove wanted an edge over his fellow mages, then this ability would be invaluable. All it would ask for was one teensy little exchange. One sight for another, an eye for an eye. Dove didn't think twice about it.

  The world went black for four years. The material world, anyway--Dove's hazy eyes saw nothing of his hidden little hut or the looming trees, but he saw the spirits and beings that moved among them, silvery traces with so much to teach him. Living with a foot in both worlds is a difficult experience to describe. There was a great and terrible fear, of course; there is only so much the human mind can comprehend, especially when still struggling to stay anchored and oriented where the body lies. But when Pagi finally decided it had had enough, it generously restored its student's sight (although that hazy look would never go away), and Dove resurfaced a changed man. Layers of meaning had washed away, a storm of otherworldly insights laying waste to all he'd thought true. Suddenly the power squabbles amongst even the most powerful and connected of his peers seemed like little more than crows fighting for a morsel. Cycles of life and death loomed large over him, dwarfing everything he'd ever thought he'd accomplished.

Of course, being himself, he didn't think too much of it after a good meal and a nap.

  Those mountains and forests he raised himself in hold little for Dove now. Although his rolling nature has kept him afloat, the desire for strength and power he once held has all but evaporated. He turns now to the outside world instead, hitting the road to explore everything he hasn't seen with a consistent ease, taking even the most dire of consequences in stride as he sits comfortably in the lap of Death. Although his living sight is restored, he still sees many facets of the other world overlaid on top (and has bumped into countless walls and objects while his eyes fixed on the unseen, tragically). Spirits both human and inhuman come and go, but among them one message rings in his ears in the words of many:

Go out, and live in this world, while you still can.