Hey. Hey diary. I know I said I wouldn’t do this shit again after dad found that diary of all my weird dreams, but… this all has to be a dream. It’s all so fucked up.
I’m gonna start from the beginning.
I’m Kohra. Kohra Tou Avran. I’m a Kronospast, a pretty wealthy and formerly rather famous one. Things are a little bit up in the air for me right now. It’s… hard to explain.
Okay, so us Kronospasts, we’re a bunch of shape-shifting bastards that have our own little empire and worship a being known as the Whenvern, the Dragon God of Time. If you worship the Whenvern well, if you respect him, then he grants you… a lot of power. Follow his Divine Will and you can become an emperor. A bit like my dad.
Of course, the Whenvern is a fickle deity. So when he’s angered… things go bad. Something happened, my dad angered the Whenvern and I ended up paying the price. I was supposed to have been killed for my blasphemous ways. I don’t get why, all I remember saying is that we shouldn’t kill non-believers. I mean, why should we, when there’s a chance to convert them?
Either way, I’m supposed to be dead. But I’m not. Because there are other deities out there, and one of them decided to save me.
The Thantophor, the Lord of Death, it was always the Great Enemy of both the Kronospasts, the Whenvern and the Goddess of Life (who a lot of Kronospasts secretly worship because our fertility sucks). Yet for some reason, it saved me. Stopped me from being killed, dragged me away and dumped me on the neutral world of Portalia. A world far away from the Kronospast empire but right in the middle of a lot of other races’ homes.
I was basically an exile. A rich, shape-shifting one, but an exile. I knew that, the Thantophor knew that and, considering the fact that none of my numerous bank accounts and debit cards were shut down, my dad probably knows too. Because this son-being-exiled thing has happened to him twice. That’s like a whole different story.
The deal was simple. I was to stop worshipping the Whenvern, take up a new guise and use my wealth to make lives better for others. In exchange for all that, I’d be allowed to live a bit longer. How could I say no to that?
So I went and did as I was told. I got myself a nice, shiny apartment in the middle of the capital city of, uh, Portalia City and I started doing charity work, providing food for homeless shelters. I decided to use my badass shape-shifting powers to take the form of a Rethavok, simply because I wouldn’t have to change my name. Turns out ‘Kohra’ is pretty close to Torak, which is like one of the most common Rethan names around. Sure I had to hide my beautiful, white, silk-like skin underneath heavy, plastic-like organic armour and a plate on my head, but it was worth it just to keep my name.
I kinda had to. My first day on Portalia, someone asked what my name was and I automatically blurted out “Kohra”. I’d be an awful spy.
But yeah, things were fine. Smooth. Calm. I genuinely felt good helping poor people. I started donating to some medical charities. I made a few friends. Also got in touch with my older brother Tahnahos, who’s also exiled and disguised as a Rethavok, which was nice.
I was fine with it all. I was happy.
Until this morning. When the Thantophor turned up on my doorstep.
I had no idea what to do. I mean of course I opened the door. The alternative was it smashing my door down and claiming my life. I thought that was what it was going to do anyway.
It. I keep on calling the Thantophor it. It’s a he. Or a she. I really don’t know. I’ve never really known.
Anyway, I let him in. He’s carrying a suitcase. Apologises for knocking on my door at eight in the morning and sighs. Then he asks me something.
“Kohra, do you mind if I stay with you for a bit?”
I kinda just looked at him blankly. So he continued.
“Just for a bit. I won’t get in your way. I just need some time away from the others. Is it okay if I stay here?”
Of course I told him it was fine. Except now he’s in the kitchen making me a sandwich.
What the fuck do I do?