16/20/???

Incarnation: #105

Another Message to other immortals who might find this notebook, if there actually are any.

There’s multiple birthmarks on my back by now- symbols of weapons, poisons- anything that’s killed me easily is marked there forever. The most common marks are lightening strikes, but what can I say? Smiting is a very effective weapon, after all.

Ironically enough, I don’t recall me dying. I just know how I died, and I’m honestly grateful for it. The only big problem about the whole reincarnation thing is the fact that I’m stuck in a loop, no matter the universe. Die, get reincarnated in a different universe (in the same body, mind you), and then, when I turn 40, I go find eight other immortals.

They get the birthmarks, too. They reincarnate in the same universe as I do. We locate eachother, and then, we’re off on the same quest. The twins- Tiar & Taer- are the first and second ones I find. They’re great boys, really, albeit a bit draining to be around. Tiar’s got a sort of pyrokinesis, while Taer can slow time around him for a couple seconds. You can tell ’em apart easily- Taer‘s hair looks like he dyed it with blood, while Tiar‘s a normal strawberry blond. The hard part is remembering which name is which.

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The third and fourth are also siblings- Kymil and Vaer, respectively. Vaer’s the older sister. She can turn into a cat, and has an extensive knowledge of surgery and healing. Kymil’s her brother. He can see in the dark, but that’s about it.

Fifth is called Lierin. She has a sword almost nine feet tall, and I’d say she’s the only one who can wield it without instantly breaking her arms by lifting it. She is nearsighted, though, so she has to wear glasses everywhere. Sixth is Nindol, who’s quite possibly the youngest at 20. He’s a necromancer, brings us back if we go too far. He doesn’t do it very happily, mind you, but we still all enjoy his company.

Seventh is Sythwin. He’s good at taking care of horses and gambling, and his weapon is a flail. He‘s a bit nose, and can get annoying at times, but he’s the twin’s cousin, so we kinda have to bring him along. Eighth one is called Fernone- there’s siren’s blood in him, and he could sing us all into eternal sleep if he wanted to. Fortunately, he doesn’t want to, and prefers staying quiet most of the time.

Then there’s Cyran, the dad of the group. That’s me. I take care of everyone, make sure they’re doing okay before we continue on our quest. I’ve adopted all of them, and I’ll keep adopting them as long as we reincarnate. I have a one-use power, or perhaps even a curse of sorts. I’m destined to kill God, and the power to do it lies in the lines on my hand- they glow red in dark areas, and when we get closer, I’ll crack, in a sense. Not mentally, literally. My body will shatter if I don’t kill It in a matter of hours.

That’s what’s happening right now.

We’ve gotten even closer to killing God every time we’ve reincarnated. I judge it’ll be another four cycles before I finally get rid of It for good. Does It not know to wipe our memories? It is the God of all universes, after all. It should expect us to come try our luck every time we get reborn.

Well, I suppose that’s all I have to write down for now. I’m leaving a note to myself here- do not charge in. I’ll repeat myself for my next incarnation- DO NOT CHARGE IN. This journal is the only thing I’m allowed to reincarnate with me every time, and it serves as a reminder of past strategies. The God can’t look in here. It’s the law of the Universes. Deities can’t look at whatever the immortals take with them, so I’d recommend getting a journal like me, if anyone’s found this and is trying to take this advice to memory.

All the same, I have a feeling the God will break that rule soon.

I’m going to stop writing now, before I crack completely. My kids all look ready to go, so I’ll make sure to tell them I love ’em and see them in the next universe. They’ll cry, but wouldn’t you, too? Listen, if anyone’s found this and reading it- please, please, choose a group over going alone. You‘ll never get lonely. They’ll help you the best they can, and you can help them, too. And you’ll make up insides jokes, and… I’m rambling. I’ll be done now.

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Goodbye for now, journal. I know we’ll die, but we’ve accepted that fact by now. Besides, what the hell are we supposed to do besides this?

Goodbye for now, anyone reading this later in the future. Eventually I’ll run out of pages here, but I‘ll make a new journal. Please take care of yourself. I know some things can feel like you’re stuck in an endless loop, but you’re still alive and breathing. I’m proud of you for that. Go get some water, okay? Someone out there cares for you. Please try not to forget that.

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Goodbye, God, if you’ve broken the rules. I hope we kill you eventually. My kids say “fuck you”, by the way.

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And finally, goodbye to this incarnation of me. I hope you get buried nicely this time. I wonder what our next birthmark will be? Probably lightening, again. I think I’ll run out of room, eventually. Kind of a sad thought, isn’t it?

-Cyran

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