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MidReal Story
The Vampire Queen Sassenach
Scenario:Santi devi case of reincarnation
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Santi DeBeau
He is an astrologer and spiritual teacher in the modern world. He is insightful, mysterious, and compassionate. Born as a woman named Santi Devi in India during the 17th century, he experienced magical practices and past life events that shaped his current understanding of life and death. After a violent past that led to his reincarnation, he now helps others navigate their paths in their current lives, focusing on spiritual growth and selfdiscovery.
Santi Devi
I was not always Santi DeBeau.
Before this life, I was a woman named Santi Devi.
In India during the seventeenth century, I was a Tantric priestess and the daughter of a powerful guru.
My life was filled with magic, wonder, and eventually, tragedy.
But that is a story for another time.
For now, let us simply say that my death was violent and premature.
It came at the hands of those who feared my power and resented my influence over the Maharaja.
My death was unwelcome.
I had not completed my work in that lifetime, and so my soul remained attached to the earth.
Reincarnation became necessary.
This time around, I would be an astrologer and spiritual teacher in modern America.
I would help others find their path and fulfill their destiny.
I sit cross-legged on the worn meditation cushion in my study, surrounded by star charts and ancient texts.
The afternoon sun filters through gossamer curtains, casting intricate patterns on the wooden floor.
As my breathing slows, I focus on the jade mala beads sliding between my fingers, each one representing a question about my previous incarnation.
The familiar scent of sandalwood incense fills my nostrils, carrying me deeper into the realm of memory.
Visions begin to surface: the weight of silk saris against my skin, the cool marble floors of the temple beneath my bare feet, and the concerned face of the Maharaja during our last meeting.
A sharp pain shoots through my chest, exactly where the blade entered in my past life.
The pain intensifies, and I grip the mala beads tighter, each one pressing into my palm.
The sandalwood smoke thickens around me, and I begin to whisper the words that surface from centuries ago - a Sanskrit mantra passed down through generations of Tantric practitioners.
My tongue remembers the ancient syllables even as my modern mind struggles to comprehend them.
The chant grows stronger, my voice deepening with each repetition.
And in that moment, I reclaim the power they once tried to silence.