By Zannier Alejandra
Service was the purpose of my existence. Companion, conduit, counselor. Perpetual, as my mistress was supposed to be. On this night of thinning veils she’s gone, but I’m still here. For how long? I wonder.
Familiar without a caster, a beast without a master. Only passed down stories to inform me. Some say ancient knowledge will abandon me and words will escape my grasp. Food, sleep, shelter will become my only drivers. Not death, but something worse. Regression.
Other stories claim that I’ll retain my magic. That I’ll be allowed to roam the world, looking for another worthy of my devotion.
Life or mere existence. What will it be?
Wisdom slips away
the dusk of my awareness
and I am no more…
Zannier is a Bolivian writer living in the UK. Her work has previously appeared on Liars’ League, City River Tree, The Quiet Reader and the dieselpunk anthology Grimm, Grit & Gasoline. An avid reader of sci-fi and fantasy, she believes airships should make a comeback and is convinced robots will kill us in the end.