"And you could have saved them." He turns to him, eye to eye. His, that pool of light-darkness, more misty than black. Odd that this was the first ti he had noticed it. Yet, his words break the perception.
"I saved them," rrin says, confused.
"So of them." Moeash scoffs. "You were slow."
"What?"
He sighs… "For so long, I looked away from it. Gave it a na to mask it, but… It just keeps glaring at . Like the very darkness of Eastos. I lived with it, and I think it slowly began living with . Always, always standing beside as I watched you fumble with the lives of those people. My people."
"They are also my people."
"No, they are not." Moeash snaps. "You are not theirs. You use them like things. For pride. For desire. For want? That is all they are to you. Just ans to boost so plan of yours. They are not that. They are the purest of humanity. Unlike the BrightCrowns. Never like them. But you? You are exactly like that filth."
"I don't understand—"
"I thought your kind were intelligent."
"My kind?"
Moeash stands abruptly. "I think you have perfected your mask now. Look at those eyes of yours, so sincere, so ready to cry as my people turn to bloody paste. Do you know how many humans I have seen like that, just today? Roughly the sa number as a normal brightCrown kills in a day. You know sothing interesting? My father was killed by casters." He turns to him. "He once said darkCrowns should never learn of the power they truly have. With numbers alone, they would beat any army. Caster, Excubitors, Venomtitans. Doesn't matter. But look at you culling their numbers." He chuckles. "I prefer them to the brightCrowns."
"I'm not a brightCrown."
"No." He says. "You're a caster." A step closer. "Worse, you have learned that tactic, haven't you?"
rrin is stunned into speechlessness, mumbling sounds.
"You make the darkCrowns into weapons. A tool for your ans. Why not simply kill them all? Why not butcher them instead of making them slaughter themselves in your na? You make them dangerous. You made dangerous. Maybe that's what you want. To mock them with their ignorance. To flash about power and watch the insect squabble. To take their children, mothers, and fathers away. That's what you want!"
That's a lie!
Is it?
This is a dream world; such things should not exist, yet before him, Moeash sweats. Fluid dripping over sunken features. Is he aware in this place—his dream? The likely explanation.
Moeash roars, "That is what you do! You use their naivety to make miracles. Spilling force as a show of so Divinity. All lies. You are just another caster, doing what casters do best."
rrin wants to plead. Please stop. That's not true. That's not what I want. A need. A desire for consolation that battered within. Screaming. He feels like a lowly thing. A heretical criminal. Please stop, Moeash.
Moeash spits to the ground, but it doesn't sizzle. "How dare you?" His shoulders tremble. Like a child, urging a need to hold him. "How dare you co here even after what your kind has done to ?"
"I'm not like them," rrin says weakly. "You saw it, didn't you, the mont I beca a caster?"
"The mont you snapped," Moeash interjected. "The instant I decided to accept the lie. To want a savior, but you're not it. You're a lie. A fraud. Just another distraction before I inevitably learn my lesson. You know, when I cleaned you up, I wondered about the possibility. The coincidence that in the sa mine where I was taken, so power was born in it. But it wasn't, was it? You were sent by the fool's clan. Maybe so Acolyte caster brought to torture . To make a fool out of . To kill all my people before my very eyes. That is why I did it. Broke the floor. Fool unto you. But then you did it again."
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"But I kept them… kept you safe?"
"THAT'S NOT ALL YOU SHOULD BE!" The world quivers. "YOU'RE ANT TO SAVE THEM ALL. NOT SO. NOT A FEW. ALL OF THEM."
"I try…" rrin looks down, noting his hands within this world. How strangely weak, dry they looked to him. How ineffective… Am I really this? Am I what Moeash thinks of ?
The man-child casts a shadow over him, looming. "The sunBringer… An exaggerated caster." He says slowly, "You are a liar. A fool sent to hunt . But no. I damn you, before you damn ."
"No."
"You are nothing but the sa rot that festers in the world of man. The mutant. The caster."
"Please stop," rrin mutters. "I'm not part of the fools or anything. I just want to—"
"I damn you. Liar. Blaspher. Heretic!"
It is enough to break him, and rrin screams, and the world turns white, pushed away by the sudden self-radiance. A swift hue drowning. All is gone, burned by the abrupt luminance. Alone, he kneels within the whiteness, pale-faced, liquid streaming down his cheeks.
Moeash has damned ?
It feels like a dream, but it was not. Moeash had damned him!
Almighty, please, make this a dream! Not Moeash. Never Moeash. Please…
And it cos, the mories. He stands in a cave, Ron and Moeash at the mouth, the shorter one carrying a bowl of food. The man-child is timid, muttering half-words in intervals. But he is sweet, pure—and then the darkness sinks into the image, twisting. Moeash curls a spiteful smile, says, "They died because of you!"
rrin trembles, and the mory shatters. Another ensues from the rubble. A chaos of flesh; n battling against themselves. The witnesses and the mine slaves. Centered is him, Moeash, blade in hand, a man screaming, armless. And it is corroded by the veiling darkness, morphed. Moeash turns, rage-filled. "You made into this!"
It is terrifying to see this. Dread, like cold fingers, grips his heart. How damning. Is this really what I do? Is this what I make people into? Am I this person?
"What an annoying thing you are!" The voice struck awareness like thunder, shattering the screaming mories. A revolution of sensations. The world is replaced by the stark whiteness, a monster looming high above him. A dark thing, like a human, clothed in a dark iron-plated robe, each segnt a piece fitted into a harmonious structure. A dark fabric, headed by a beaked creature. Eyes, round orbs of crystalline clear hues.
"You?" rrin stutters the words.
"Yes, ." The bird says, its wings glistening around the fragnt edges. "I suppose it is impressive that you can achieve sothing like this."
"What?"
"Pushing away every symbol around you." It responds, "What force you have… It's almost ironic that this relates."
rrin cares little for its words. "Moeash has left ."
He hears sothing akin to a sigh—a soft blow of breeze. "Over and over. The wheel continues. But…" It shrinks, pressing compactly into a smaller creature. The familiar bird form. "This state of yours is not sothing I greatly want. No, not it. So I suppose I should give you sothing for that. A symbol that follows humans like a pet of sorts."
Tears blur rrin's vision, the bird, a simple dot floating in a watery white world. What was it talking about? Did it matter? Why should I care about what it says? Not once has the damned creature truly helped . If it did, maybe I would have had the strength to save them all. Knowledge to grow as a caster. Not this. Not resorting to highBorns for information about the caster.
He hates it.
He hates himself.
He despises the weakness.
What a curse it was. To be boasted as a being of imnse power; an El'shadie of prevalent futures. Yet this, this failure of an existence made itself the outco. What God could not save less than 50 people? What was he? What bravado he had to claim godhead!
The myth deepens… The lie he had told himself.
rrin wants to go back. To the Ash mountains, swinging across the sky, wind whistling past his ears. That seed a universe away. A lie stolen from him. He could have had it. Not this… Moeash hates him. Ron would too. Soday, when the consequence of the change rears, he would damn him. Catelyn already does.
Is there anyone close who hasn't been lost?
The bird does sothing he doesn't care to observe. What was needed was the silent, painful contemplation. Just him and the internal hate. Like how it was in the beginning of the mines, days before he t his sunWitnesses.
A cycle, he recalls the bird's words. It moves back into a circle. His life. A wheel of endless repetition.
To break out of it—that was the creature's advice… How? How could he forgive himself for weakness? How could he make Moeash see his words wrong? Never once did he mock the ignorance of the darkCrowns. Never did he believe himself greater than them. Never.
But I used them… Regardless of the reasons, I used them… But what could I do? Sothing needed to be done, so I did. Without , they would have all died. Can't he understand that? Can't he see not as the enemy?
Please…
I'm weak, yes… But, can't he see I try?
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