At a certain impressionable age, Evron began developing his own language, particularly a way of writing, so that his thoughts could be recorded without the fear of prying eyes.
Every morning he practiced the language, reading and writing it, keeping journals just to make sure it did not leave him. His memories are in danger because every memory can become fuel for his magical ability, a power and kind of people called the Lawless.
It is because Evron and those like him are not bound by the law, at least not the law of the mind. Lawless can toy with the minds of others, as long as they are willing to pay the price.
Every lie, no matter if the victim accepts it, will cost the Lawless a memory or two, depending on the strength of the lie. Some Lawless feed a number of lies, all tied together into a big lie, one that is harder for the victim to resist. But that kind of power comes at a price.
After becoming dangerously good with his lies, Evron was put on a special mission from his master--breaking the Somilen Council. Evron slunk into shadows that night, making sure to keep out of sight, only using his lies when it was necessary. He had to save his strength for the Council.
He found each member, sleeping in their chambers. With each of the council members, he dug deep, producing powerful lies in each of their minds. Lies that would bring them into conflict with one another.
And, as his master wished, he took the one named Jyre, with the masterful mind that he had, and planted seeds of control. These thoughts would led him to rule of Somilen. Evron had no doubt that Jyre would seize the opportunity when he saw how conflicted the council had become. Somilen needed a leader, and Jyre would fill that role.
After returning, Evron found that he’d drained most of his adolescent memories. Like his younger childhood, there was little left he could recall. But this time he wasn’t worried. His master did not make any effort to help Evron keep those memories, but Evron had. He had recorded diligently into his journal, written in a language only he could understand, the events that had transpired.
With only a brief discussion with his master, Evron hurried up to his study and retrieved the first volume of his journals, excited to rediscover his memories. Ready to feel all the highs and lows he’d experienced all over again.
That night, he read through three entire volumes of his life. He didn’t sleep. He kept at it all night, diving through day after day of his lost memory.
By morning, he held a permanent scowl. Nothing felt right. Not one of the memories he’d read felt like his. All night went by, and nothing connected with him. Who was this imposter, who claimed to be Evron. Evron never found love, like the one written in the journal. Evron never cried and cried, like the Evron did so frequently on the pages he read.
Someone had taken his journals and changed them. Changed them to someone else…
It was then that Evron found that he was no one. The only memories he had left were things ingrained in him from the daily practices, and even those felt lacking of repetition.
Full of rage, Evron approached his master.
“Where are they?” Evron yelled. “Where are my memories?”
The master huffed. “You very well know what happens to memories. You’re a Lawless.”
“But I wrote them down. I have my life on paper. That should be enough--”
“Bah!” The master hacked out a few coughs. “Like writing down anything would work! It is the same as making up new memories, ones that never happened, and pretending they are yours. Someone else may read them and believe it, but you will always know that they are a lie.”
“But I know I wrote them as they happened! How can it feel like they didn’t? I know I wrote the truth, but somehow it feels like those memories don’t belong to me.”
“Don’t be naive boy.” The master walked to a low mantle, and lifted a book with a torn cover. “There is no escaping the cost of your power. No escaping it. Do you understand?”
Evron was left without words to say. All of his memories, everything that made him Evron, was gone.
Evron tightened his hands into fists. “You knew,” he said, taking a step forward. “You knew this would happen!”
The master turned, regarding Evron with some apprehension.
Evron felt the fire build within him. “You knew and you sent me anyway. You knew I would destroy all the memories I had, just like I’d done with my childhood!”
“Listen here, Evron.” The master trembled. “It was necessary.” He took a deep breath, collecting himself. “You think your the first Lawless to lose his memories, I once--”
“I don’t care what happened to you!”
The master stumbled, knocking against the mantle. Trinkets and books fell to the floor.
“You should’ve warned me! Those memories were precious to me! If I’d known…” Evron felt his body loose tension. “If I’d known what would happen…” Why… why did I do this?
“You wouldn’t have done what I’d asked,” the master finished. “You’d have run away, or done something else rash.”
Evron felt numb. If only he had known. What would I do? What would the old Evron do?
The master stepped away from the wall. “The Somilen Council will dissolve because of your sacrifice Evron. The entire nation was on the path to collapse. We've grown lazy, focused on riotous living instead of power. The wars we fight with the Trene are nothing to the Council. And now they throw parties even at a loss in battle. We need change. The Lawless live above all these things, we plant seeds for change for a future we can believe in.”
Evron gripped a chair. It was his master's chair, one of the few memories left in a small life Evron remembered. That chair felt precious to him now. It was something that he could remember. Something that he could hold onto.
He held it tightly for a moment. Taking a moment to be grateful that he had some memories left. Then he lifted the crudely crafted chair, and threw it against the wall, inches from his master.
I will make new memories.
His master shouted in dismay.
Evron smiled. It was a new smile, for a new Evron. And from the expression on his master’s face, one of pure terror, it was exactly the kind of smile Evron had hoped it would be.
“You may think that you know what is best for Somilen, master, but I know what is best for me.”
Evron reached into his cloak and retrieved a dagger. One thing he knew, and had ingrained so many times into his mind that he could never forget it, was that a Lawless has lost as soon as someone wants to kill them. No lie, however constructed, could get past the rage of a vengeful one.
The brightest memory in Evron’s mind of his master was his last.
