Insanity is a fantastic tool for everyday living. Whether or not I'm just a recluse with a screw loose or a poor bastard with magic powers in over his head is for somebody else to decide. I'm living this mess. Whether I like it or not this secret world I belong to is nearing another massive conflict, and I don't know if I'll walk out of this one.
So hey, why not write about it?
I've been told I'm not too bad at the whole writing thing, and considering that I don't know how much time I've got or how bad this will get I might as well get things off my chest. If I told someone walking down the street my story, they'd say I was a madman. They'd probably be right when they put me in the insane asylum and threw away the key. But if they're wrong, then locking me up is the worst possible option, so I can't allow it. So instead, I'm going to anonymously tell potentially millions of people with the potent and deadly Weapon of Mass Instruction known as the blog. And if anybody starts calling me on stuff, I could just say it's a fiction project. Yeah. That's the ticket.
Who am I? We'll call me Sage for now. It works, it sounds neat, and I'm just arrogant enough to enjoy the connotations to such a title. I'm either a rarely used spice or a dispenser of wisdom. Freaking sweet, eh? And what I do is maintain the balance of the world on a cosmic level. I astral project. I commune with spirits. I stare into the void and watch it blink. Stupid pansy void has to learn to keep up. I am good at what I do, and what I do is make certain that no one ever has to find out what I do. I am a Guardian, and me and mine keep the spiritual planes of this world intact. We go to work so that you don't have to worry about the phantom created by the vast hatred of dying spirits. I go to work so that you don't have to worry about that disappeared, dead bastard not getting his last rites. I go to work so that whatever happens in the next few years, there will be a world left to gripe about.
I've fought demons with my bare hands, saved the world a few times, and been told every day of the last eight years that "sorry Sage, your princess is in another castle." I'm tired, I'm bitter, and I want to call it quits. But I've got a job to do. And now before the year is out, I intend to tell you all the secret history of Planet Earth for the last eight years. No lies or exaggeration, all of my weakness and strength and glory and damnation will be put on display. It beats a confessional.
I don't have time to fuck around. This is your introduction, from here on out this is my story. Take it or leave it.