A Calling

                             
4
         

A Calling

The testament of Letrek, an unbound eidolon soul: Forgive my absence dear brethren. It has been one hundred and seven years since my last resurrection. So long a wait with little more to do then haunt the other lonesome souls lingering about these sacred burial grounds. Over the years, the others come and go always returning here to the planet Tiben, legendary home of the Eidolons. Coming and going in a revolving door of life, death and eventual resurrection. When the dead do return, they all bring wondrous tales before departing again bonded with yet another alien, some new vessel not of our choosing.
So, this is the sad fate of my once proud people. Two centuries dead and still paying taxes. Instead of an eternal paradise, we are awarded this diminished afterlife. Players cast in a cheap roadside attraction version of purgatory. Each a disconnected soul, waiting patiently to play magical manservant to the biological imperatives of accidently evolved bipedal animals. This is truly some wretched karma handed down by the vengeful gods but then I think, I was only alive a single day. How much trouble could I possibly have caused? Besides all the killing I mean. Strictly speaking, I was not supposed to mention that last bit but no worries, these folk can keep a secret. They are all my friends and all my friends are dead.
But please, don't get me wrong. It's not the immortality that's the problem; rather the waiting around for someone to share it with. High overhead, the night sky is a calendar mocking my internment. But tonight a glimmer of hope races across the heavens. Gazing up, I spy this planet's lone sentinel; a moon split perfectly in two. Towards the damaged moon, or seemingly towards it from my ground level perspective, races a comet, its corona a brilliant blue glow against the starry backdrop. For the better part of two centuries this dwarf comet has followed it's gravitationally tethered path around the nearest star. A path that every one hundred and seven years superimposes the comet's brilliance dead center behind the ruptured moon's vertical split. Tonight marks the fifteenth anniversary of the heavenly eclipse and more importantly, the arrival of a new host candidate.
A few feet away it has begun. Just above Tiben's sandy surface, a pinpoint of ethereal light flickers to life from nothingness. The glimmer folds into itself, shutters, and then expands into a door of glowing light. From its glow steps a lone humanoid striding naked in the full moonlight. He inhales a cautious breath of unfamiliar night air no doubt testing the new atmosphere for biological compatibility. His attention is drawn towards the celestial spectacle unfolding overhead then his eyes shifts downward to another peculiarity. Oversized eyelids blink as if clearing spots from his vision and his expression of disbelief slowly morphs into wonderment. The glowing portal dissipates to darkness as the alien takes a seat beside the thing resting just beyond his eight toed feet. Overhead, the comet's glow rises up the lunar fissure like a blue mercury bead in a glass thermometer. A curious eight fingered hand reaches forward towards the impossible alien corpse that summonsed him here. His fingertips make first contact and with the subtlety of an archaeologist's brush he begins to remove years of dust, carefully excavating my hollow leathery remains. In response, I reach out and touch his consciousness with a well-rehearsed welcome.
"Fear not. At some point we are all children, afraid there is no magic."
Then I make my offer. An offer that promises firsthand experience of all that magic has to proffer. An offer more precious than the plunder of the wealthiest nation, or even the wealthiest worlds. An offer that can alter his live in ways he never dreamt possible. An offer to die for or... to kill for. A single word forms on his lips, but before the alien can say yes, he looks up suddenly. Reflexively, sixteen fingers rise in defensive of his suddenly fear etched face. Then, the fear is bashed from his face by a handheld rock. Mercury-like blood spills from the shattered remains of his skull as he lies broken and fading in the Tiben dirt. A final breath bubbles from his lungs and in the growing silvery pool that is his lifeblood, a macabre portrait of his executioner shimmers into soft focus. The reflection of a humanoid tosses the rocky murder weapon aside and utters three emotionless words, "Until next time."
Most times it's a rock; other times a stick or on occasion simple strangulation. Whatever the case, the outcome is always the same. My host murdered, my resurrection adjourned and the clock is reset to another hundred and seven year wait.