Ashmedai Sh'olmayim

While known as a Duskwight combatant of fearsome renown, Ashmedai is the name of a being of the void that has taken the form among the Spoken, to further his intentions for some plan that was left incomplete years ago. He spares no one in his ruthlessness

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Learning a living

Following the strongest pull, I rode to a hidden oasis in the middle of the vast expanse of endless sands. The place was thick with the cloying moisture from the flowing spring, and I could smell - nay, feel - the air from the plants surrounding the body of water. Here we dismounted and began to feed. The life energy of this area was burdensome, as unaccustomed to such large amounts of it I am. And then I remembered. At least I feel that's what I can call it. I saw an image of my older home, nothing but the bare figments of light that danced around the endless colorless blur. And yet, I remember seeing every color, all colliding with each other in bright ribbons. It was a sort of brightness that muted itself with the inconsistence, playing in vibrations in the image I could see. And then I looked past the image and saw the oasis as if that single design was pulling in just enough quantities of light to survive. Blues and warm oranges with just a touch of green and violet, winding itself into smaller and smaller lines from the infinite flood it originated from and weaving itself into every grain of sand below it. My face felt wet. I suppose the vessel remembers something I do not. But a word I had seen in one of the mage's books flashed before me. "Beauty." And I could not disagree. I shook just slightly as the realization took hold. I was learning as I attuned further to this land. I was getting closer to earning my place here. I took a deep breath of the smell once more, allowing the senses to witness the experience. I had to take it in slowly, so much of it at once felt like submerging rather than immersing. What I felt will be a treasured memory.

Waning Emergence

The issue with the aether of the land, as most may take for granted, is how finite it is. Every request to twist the natural method of the world, every wish uttered in aid or defense. Every redirection made costs somewhere. The price can be minuscule, quickly restored with rest, food, and hydration. Sometimes the cost can be too much. This balancing act is always the mage's greatest challenge. There's nothing free in aetherial manipulation. This cost is one I immediately considered in my in-depth research, and due to my desire to retain my hiding, I spent too much of it for answers. The settlement nearby had become aware of the strange occurrences of dying vegetation and parched, lifeless soil that snaked its way up to my place of hiding. I was stripping the land there to feed my lesser allies so I could research in private. The aether was all but non-existent in the hole I had covered myself in, and it was only a matter of time that I would end up discovered. No matter, I had what I needed. To ensure none could follow a trace, I set the cave ablaze with a bit of my own accumulated energy, watching as all the mage's research turned to ash. It was time to leave. I merged with the approaching crowd as they all sought for answers among each other. They looked around for clues. They wouldn't find it. And like that, I disappeared, stepping away finally from the desert settlement, back into the vast sands, this time with an ally who responded to my call, allowing me to travel effortlessly. And no one was the wiser. The story of the mage whose home fell ransacked of all his magical research and the mysterious fire that lit the cave in the middle of the night would be the stories of mystery that would remain among the people. Simple rumors and gossip lead nowhere. I would be far gone before it would reach any of those mortals who were far too curious for their excellent. It was then a mere moment in the past, my start towards retaining my hold in this world. The settlement began to disappear beneath the horizon as a rode away, an undistinguished beginning for such a desire that I hold. But I've no complaints. Indeed, having the opportunity even to have wishes again was worth the effort, despite how unknown and unimportant it might be. For that, I would continue my fight against anyone willing to steal once again my chance at being.

Solitude Ascension

The commotion outside my place of hiding has died down, I believe they've come to assume that I have long since fled. This will give me time to probe the findings of that self-assured mage, as I had little opportunity to seek anything from his studies afore the raid on his home began. I dare not take my chances though. These people are well equipped and may even have the means to send me back to the abyss if I am not careful. I muster up a simple flame of pure potential. Within minutes there is movement, and the more simpler forms of those from my realm begin to gather, their miniscule shapes dancing in the flickering light. "Go. Bring me the writings of the mage in the settlement below. And I shall guide you to more places where you may find aether to feed." Their flitting and cackling assured me they understood. As the night approached they returned, their glamours successfully keeping the general public unaware. Tomes in hand they laid them out in front of me. I teased forth a tendril of existence and gave them their rewards. Stone cracked around me as their aether fled. I must be quick with my work or the signs of my tampering will soon regain the people's suspicions. Alas, the speed at which I wanted to obtain would be beyond me. The mage's writings were heavily detailed, full of the same self-assured speech and dictation of one who felt they knew more about the world than they really did. As tedious as it was, there had to be something of use. Time continued according to the reckoning of this world. And after what felt almost as if I had returned to the still as the endless night I was sealed within, I found an answer.

Extant memories

When I was first beckoned to this world, I relished in the freedom from that blighted prison. I shared no portion of time to think, truly engage in my restoration, and then I lost it. Bound back into the endless night that torments with its caustic presence. But I held onto an single memory, fighting to retain myself in the submersion. A feeble glimmer in the wake of cacophonous reality. The people of this world call it hope. A monster like me? Bound to the raging cyclone of constant need, my aetherial energies askew with no access to any chance to be free, did I have a reason to hope? I once lived. I know that much. I know there was once a time I had mortal whims and follies and had a chance at joy. And ignorance of the greater powers tore it all away. Even now I can't truly tell if what I feel is real. I see the young of the people in their laughter and their excitement and I hurt. Ever so slightly I sense a tug within the deepest part of myself. It's not easy holding onto this tiny shred among the waves of violence that rises from my need to tap into the aether to avoid risking the madness that entraps so many of my fellows. In fact, I often wonder if there's any worth to keeping it at all, holding onto something that causes me pain when I could ignore it and answer the call of the hunger. For now, I seem to be curious to maintain it. Perhaps the more I remember the easier it will be to stay in this world and not be forced back to the chains of that infinite expanse of doom. It continues to hurt though. Will I ever find out why?

A tune of intention

Several days, according to the reckoning of this world, have passed since alert after the incident. I am no stranger to periods of inaction, but being surrounded by so much movement and quickness aggressively tests the fortitude of what I managed to grow back in the shadows of my former home. Every length of my awareness wants to access the energy and restore the balance lost, but I know if I were to do so, I would lose consciousness and become no better than the rank-and-file beasts of my lesser allies who give in to such impulses. I left that life behind, and I have no intent on returning. Considering the means with how I can weave the course of the energy that tempts me, I have the means to supply to a veritable army should the occasion require it. A first step then is to try and extend my reach. I can start small for now, a bit of trouble for the people that harry me, draw a few of those content to be commanded by their hunger for aether. Like a moth to a flame, according to this world's vernacular. I am establishing a regency in this land though it is from the hidden corners where I may plan in peace. Those who hunger serve, but I seek a means by which more like me can regain their sense of self. I left the shadows behind, and I'm not going back.

Shielding in the shadows

Perhaps a remnant of the previous occupant of this vessel induced my recklessness. I assumed I could have removed this irritant and take what I needed to be on my way. Little did I know the unfortunate mage had debt collectors on his tail. And recently, having caused said mage to lose his sense of self meant I had to deal with this crowd on my own. They forced themselves into the mage's home quite suddenly, and there wasn't much I could do except take the advance and stun them with what feeble aether I could acquire at the time. I'm in hiding now, as the incident alerted the local authorities, and with as weak as I remain, I'd soon be bereft of this form if I sought to engage them with the fact they know what I am. This feeling, being at the constant awareness for survival, was something I haven't experienced in so long it almost felt new, even as aware as I was about it. I'm waiting till the time they sleep to find a better place to prepare what I need. I might acquire the use of some of the smaller inhabitants of the void further along in their transformations that allow them to serve as worthwhile servants. It's been too long since I've dabbled in mortal affairs. Their whims and fury delay me.

The cost of narrow view

After wandering the winding sands for a time I cannot count, I never thought feeling the heat drain my aether would be preferable to the experience I was dealing with right now. Some novice mage, having "sought the answers of the ancients," had recovered me and brought me to a small desert hut of residence eager to talk about rather simple-minded schemes. How little the mage knew about the methods aimed for, the worst of it was that the mage seemed to desire to instruct me out of anyone in the matters of aetherial manipulation. There was no understanding of the fact I came from a place where understanding aether was essential to function. We feast on it, having little to no access to a natural source due to an ancient disaster that removed all of it from us. So, seeing how it's kept me sustained for the countless years, I reigned over the shapeless shadows, seeking a chance to be free. And so I was. This mage seemed not to grasp any indication of that, attempting to tell me how aether worked and what he needed for his craft. The explanations of his magecraft slowly tested my exhaustion. I knew all of this already. I've been quite aware of these processes for the countless lives of these mortals. The irritation was continually making me feel there was a much better way to get myself integrated among these people, but I didn't want to risk my chances. Staying in this world is not as easy as it seems, the people always find themselves a champion to force us back to the darkness. I needed to stay here longer than before. The mage went through magical theory and magical doctrine, missing plenty of points that were rather crucial to his motivations, but he seemed to be the type who wouldn't listen to actual instruction. I flexed my senses and tapped my fingers on the seating arrangement, testing the strands of energy I could gather at the points of my fingertips. A simple method, really, something I used to get the attention of those when I needed them. I then hit each end of my finger to a simple beat, sending the gathered energy out in waves. The mage stopped moving, shivering to the sudden shift of atmosphere I caused. He turned slowly to look at me in horror. He's finished. Now I can get to work.

Namedays in Darkness

The first thing one always starts with is a name. One that usually is a gift from parents to child, from generation to generation, a marker by which memory and activity can serve as a symbol. Me? I didn't experience this. One might say I can't describe myself of having experienced much of anything until I was forcefully ripped from my hellish territory back in the shadows I reigned. Ashmedai, they called me. I could move again, at least in a way that felt like I had control. I could breathe air again. I could interact. Though I couldn't enjoy any of these things, for the dominating thought I had at the time that supplanted all the others? I was hungry. So I decided to eat. The bodies of slain mages surrounded me. I made my way to the surface up the stairs that led into a covered tomb. I shielded my eyes from the harsh sunlight from the surface world, realizing brightness for the first time in what I could even say was a measurement of time for me. I still hungered. This ever-present starving always drove me at the back of my observations. This hunger was so intense, the fact that so much had changed, different than the murk I dwelled in seemed minor than my need to feast on the aether. So I suppose with this new body given to me I should eat. Indeed in this land near pulsing with life, I could find sufficient means to curb this gnawing obsession with consuming the aether. I would begin a new reign here and drink freely to my heart's content, using the power that this vessel held to anchor myself and make sure I dare not to return to a place that had nothing for anyone there.