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YOU'RE ALL THAT I SEE

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[attr="class","freiwanttmid"]CHARACTER FACTION league

[attr="class","freiwanttmid"]CHARACTER RANK civilian

[attr="class","freiwanttmid"]FACE CLAIM magnus bane from shadowhunters

[attr="class","freiwanttop"]ABOUT THE CHARACTER

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It always begins with burning.
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Nightly, for a month, I would wake up screaming because my dreams were on fire. Flame, lightning, smoke - nobody and nothing ever survived. My parents brought me to psychologists and Psychic-type healers but nobody could pin down the reason for such acute unexplained trauma. I was only six at the time.
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These weren't just dreams. I felt like I was literally there, flesh and bone. I'd wake up feeling like my body had passed through hell and back.
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Soon, I'd realise how apt that metaphor would become.
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According to the Tower Monks, who function as our keepers of ways, Ecruteak’s mediums are appointed by Ho-Oh, the city's patron deity who brought life back to Burned Tower. According to the city's scriptures, as long as our chain of mediums remains unbroken, Ho-Oh will hold back the inferno lurking beneath Ecruteak's soil.
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It is also believed that as the reign of each medium peters out, the next one is appointed in their dreams.
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My parents did not want this life for me. Standing in the middle of two realms brought immense suffering and grief to the person cursed with this destiny. All our mediums fall into sickness, madness - they get too close to death in their prime, and death comes too close to them at the end. That's the reason we're chosen young. We have more life to be squeezed.
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One night, my destiny came calling again.
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Looking out from my apartment window, I had a small glimpse of Ecruteak from across the woods. And, to my horror, I saw a vision of my city on fire. I pinched myself. I was awake. And still, I saw what I only saw in my sleep. My tarot cards kept throwing out The Tower. A building struck apart by lightning and set ablaze. Was that Ecruteak or was that me?
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To defend myself from these visions, I grew my own team of Ghosts. As our bond grew stronger, they began speaking to me, clearly and violently: “you need to get out.”
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And, whether it be by coincidence or something beyond the veil, I started to see why.
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There was no prophecy. There was no apocalyptic horror waiting to happen. What the Monks wanted was a cult leader to control their hypnotised masses.
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Some Monks were part of a secret cabal that trafficked drugs and Pokemon under the name of religion, and they needed a figurehead to lead their sheep. Through whatever heinous divination methods - or, perhaps, the selection of easily manipulated families - they decided that I would be their next medium king. They sent their Pokemon to terrorise me in my sleep; my training with my own team of spectral Pokemon created spiritual protection that warded off the strength of their attacks.
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But things had gotten too far in. They knew that their grip on me was loosening, and they knew that I knew. The only way out was out.
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One night, my family fled the city.
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In Hoenn, we’ve not heard much from them, and we’ve managed to lead a peaceful life. But sometimes, I think I’ve gone far too deep into the void. At the corner of my dreams, I can see the burning.
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