Appolonius

Chapter 2

Curiosity, a driving and stimulating factor in any and all that live. Live to work, live to fight, live to eat, live to smoke, live to read.

And I will definitely frown upon anyone who lies about not being curious. In this case, my Eye is a very good example. It is made of an actual eyeball, the texture, the weight, the colour. All natural.

The iris is a most powerful shade of green. When looking at it, I can feel it exuding power, magic power, of course. The nature of that magic? Well, allow me to tell you how I discovered it.

At first, when the Old Man helped me attach the artefact, the chain on its own moved, as if knowing where it was meant to settle itself. The stinging pain was an arduous experience, to say the least. For the Eye took its time to connect itself to its bearer. A full day and night, to be exact. I’ll spare the gruesome details of the installing pain it offered.

The Eye helped me see. Without a doubt, it serves the wearer well in sight and perception. With time, however, we both noticed a most impressive second feature.

It was 6 months later, during which the Old Man was training me to use a variety of weapons. And by training, I mean turning me into a pincushion. But I guess, being millennia old has the distinct advantage over one so young as myself. During the countless, frustrating attempts to win against him, the eye at first twinkled, only for it to shine, momentarily catching us both off guard. The next moment, we found ourselves in the middle of the sea, a great storm raging around us, we were set apart, standing upon cruel jagged rocks that faced the harsh winds, enduring the onslaught of waves that splashed hard against our vantage points.

We both were at a loss, for it felt so real. There was even rain and thunder in the distance. We were astonished. The Old Man looked around him, clearly trying his best to assess the magnitude of our predicament. Only a few minutes later did he reach me and understood. The eye was creating the illusion. It felt my frustration. It worked to aid me in fighting against him. So for the rest of the evening, Old Man guided me in the way of honing the Eye’s magical potential. To say it was a challenge was not enough.

Dealing in magic arts is no mere feat for me, it’s actually a massive hurdle since I lack both the knowledge and potential. Eventually, we both realised magic was not my forte. But he made it clear that I would be put through rigorous training to master the Eye’s power of illusions.

Several weeks later, I find myself now with the ability to use these illusions. Nothing would be able to stand against me, not if their mind is easily affected by the illusions. So from now, a Childe of Invictus, ready to instil fear in all who dare face me. At least those are the words of my sire. And yet, I received countless warnings from the Old Man. “Never use the Eye unless truly necessary. For what is worst for a practitioner is to lose himself in the practice, never to realise he lost his own being and self due to excessive practice and application. It’s no different to an addiction. And addiction has been and is the downfall of many.”

I would have said that his warning sounded strange, if not for the weary look in his eyes. Clearly, he was not forthcoming with a great deal more, but I was not going to persist on the matter. I took his warning seriously and used it only when I deemed it necessary. But make no mistake, I would be forever curious of the origin of this Eye, why was it in my possession and who I was?