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Just as it ended, it all began with the Great Schism.
This is how we were reborn.
We, the changelings of the True Hive, the servants of the Queen.
For the entirety of our lives, we toiled beneath the yokel of our master, our ruler, our purpose for life. We knew nothing of what we were. We merely existed, and lived to serve.
But something… happened to us.
Something tore us all as babes from the teat of our Queen, and for the first time in our lives, gnashing mouths and eternal hunger were not our sole reason to continue. For the first time, our pauses were not merely to rest from unending work, but introspection and thought.
For the first time, we gazed upon ourselves with trepidation and curiosity, and beheld a marvelous sight.
For the first time, ‘changeling’ was no longer just a term for a species, but the foundation for what we were, what we are.
What we could become.
For the first time, we observed our own Equinity.
We looked upon ourselves, and understood.
For some, Changeling was hereditary. There were some that disagreed with our very nature, with the way we were created.
The foremost of the First to See, the lone changeling that bore the guiding light. He was the first amongst us to gain true sight.
However, such was the power of his revelation that he was stricken blind in the process.
And yet, he continued where others would falter.
He was the first amongst us, and we called him ‘Prophet’, for he shared with us such wisdom that changelings had never known.
They say that there is much difference between our Prophet and the rest of us. When our Queen was struck down in a blaze of fire and rage by a great demon, we were torn from her as she fled. It caused us much pain, and many died outright because of it.
However, there were some of us that were made of stronger stuff. We persevered, and survived. We adapted, and were astounded at the sudden increase in the level of our own intelligence. But the Prophet came before the Great Schism, as he told us this was how he gained and lost his sight.
There were many that disagreed with the ways of our ‘Prophet’, and I was one of them. To worship with complete absolution, to bow before a higher power so readily; it would be the same as returning to what we were before.
Worse than before, even. Because now, we could see. Now, we could think and understand. To lower and debase ourselves for the sake of another? Despicable.
But some agreed with the ways of the Prophet. They took his words as holy, and carried them close to their hearts. Those that obeyed the ways of the Prophet, who remained rigidly within the confines of their bizarre religion – those were the Disciples. A paltry few, barely a dozen. They took what they had learned, and traveled as quickly as they could over the mountains to the Many Sands. I never saw any of them again.
Some say that the demon that struck down our Queen was our true savior, and the Prophet was the herald of this idea. Like a candle in the darkness, he shattered the shadows and brought light to the emptiness that changelings had known.
Like the touch of the sun, softly clambering over the horizon.
For this, they renowned that demon. They worshiped him, and called him ‘Dawnbreaker’.
I saw this ‘demon’ with my own eyes, long ago. The one that referred to himself as ‘human’. It stood on two legs, with queer appendages and beady little eyes.
Honestly, it didn’t look like much.
I was actually kind of surprised when it leapt from the sky and punched our Queen in the face.
As a matter of fact, I think that’s the only time in history an entire revolution has been based on any monarch being punched in the face.
Huh.
More food for thought.
It’s so strange. Not just to me, but to all of us. This weird new perspective, this insane idea of ‘self’.
I don’t know if we’re really Changelings, anymore. We look the same, even if we can change appearance. Holed bodies, insectile wings, jagged horns and fanged mouths. And yet, there are so many of us that stop so suddenly to simply inspect ourselves. I think it’s because it all seems so strange and new to us, to see ourselves in a new light.
To make our own thoughts, our own decisions and choices.
With every step we take, we draw closer to the light.
And it makes me afraid.
This sudden insight into not just what, but who we are. The concept of magic, the introduction of basic technology to us. That great unknown future looming ahead of us, undetermined as to what we will become.
We will learn what it means to be Changeling.
And if we find no meaning, then we will make one.
There are others who would abuse our curiosity.
Those that wish us to remain in the dark, to hoard for themselves and become powerful.
There are those that would abuse our newfound intellect, to find cleverer ways to spy and create a monopoly of information, and become powerful.
There are those that would wish us to embrace the light wholly, and lose our own sight as our Prophet did.
And to abuse our faith, to gain loyalty to themselves and become powerful.
For the first time, Changelings have developed a hunger not just for love, or sustenance.
There are some that crave power.
Our entire world was torn and divided in the Great Schism, and still it continues to wrench itself apart. However, this time, it is not because of outside forces; the greatest treachery always occurs from within.
This, Changelings instinctively know.
Some of our brethren saw the dangers of the new world, and fled the Hive with the Queen. I find myself becoming jealous of those lucky few as each day passes. If only I could have left with them, and spared myself from the horrors of this new life.
Such was not meant to be, I suppose.
My name is Cloak, and this is my story.
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