I drift here, in this place that is not a place, beyond time. At the end of all the wars, all the competition and struggle, I have found myself to be the vanquished. It seems that fortune was not on my side… nor, it seems, were other powers.
It did not escape my notice that the High Magic, which was supposed to be impartial to this struggle, has more than once aided the Light on its way, while it never did so for us. Then there were others who were supposed to be neutral or uninvolved: Herne the Huntsman, the craftsmen of the Lost Land. It's fascinating how many "neutral" parties invariably sided with our enemies.
So now here I am, consigned to oblivion, along with all my plans and ambitions. I'm not here alone. My lieutenant, the White Rider, is here as well—though she makes for poor company at the moment, foul as her mood is. I know what troubles her: she still fumes over the mortal she called husband, that he failed our purposes in the end. I could have told her that it would happen. That one was too noble, and too convinced that prices must be paid, to do other than what he did. Still, she thought their love would be worth more to him, in that moment, than his principles.
Oh, yes, I know she cared for him too, in her way. Her anger at him is great even now, and even if that weren't the case, I doubt she'd admit it to me. I know, however, that she attached more value to him than simply as a cover for her prolonged presence in that place and time. She could hardly have put up with him as a husband all those years were it otherwise.
Don't misunderstand, however. Whatever the form of her affections for him, they are not identical to the emotion that a human would recognize as true love. There are limits to the form such regard can take, for our kind. In any case, such things would always be superseded by devotion to our cause: defeat of our enemies and dominion over this world. The fleeting enjoyment of a companionship could never challenge that.
We can still see the world we were banished from, sometimes, if we care to look. I think, though, that she chooses not to watch him. Perhaps it is her anger that he failed her, or perhaps it is only the sullen refusal to gaze at what is lost. I've watched, to some extent. I've seen him, and the other mortals who aided in our defeat, and the single Old One who stayed behind.
Why is he still there, when the rest of his wretched kind have moved on? Is it simply because he still wishes to play at being human a little longer, or did they feel that the mortals still needed to be watched over, like the little children they see them as?
It's true; the Old Ones have no true respect for the people they dedicated themselves to protecting. I can see the proof of that even now: the very humans they called allies at the end, stripped of their memories like any other who wandered too close to their secrets, brainwashed into ignorance, because they, being merely human, aren't fit to know the truth of higher matters. That is how the Light sees the human masses.
We never held mortals in such contempt as that. Indeed, many of my followers were once mortals, until they chose to leave that behind them and become something greater by swearing allegiance to me. I always rewarded them for their loyalty, in longevity, in power, and I certainly never mistreated them. I will be the first to admit that it never bothered me when the random mortal population got caught in the crossfire, but only the Light throws away its own allies as pawns.
Oh, perhaps you're thinking of a certain man that I myself literally threw aside, one winter night. Yes, Hawkin was serving me at the time, and yes, I threw him off my horse as I prepared to flee the Wild Hunt. Do you wait for me to confirm my evil nature, and coldly dismiss him as no more than a fool tricked into serving my purpose, who was cast aside when his usefulness ended? Or are you expecting some attempt at casting a fairer image, however false, and spinning some tale of how I pushed him for his own safety, to spare him from the Hunt, and never realized just how fragile his human body really was?
You'd be disappointed either way. Do you want the truth? I threw him off the horse because I feared the Hunt's pursuit, and an extra passenger would have slowed me down. I didn't stop to think about it, and I certainly didn't weigh the likelihood of his well being under the circumstances. I am not practiced at dealing with the comparatively helpless.
Oh, yes, even I can be overcome in a moment of fear, and act on impulse. Does that really surprise you so much? That is what the Dark believed in: following your impulses, your desires, your ambitions. We sought a world were we could do what we wanted, and act on what we felt, without care for whether it was "right" in the eyes of some aloof authority.
You can call it anarchist or barbaric if you wish. However, ask yourself, how many of the people in this world seek to live like this, or even wish it, and how many truly believe in perfect law and morality in their hearts? I think you'll find that more lean towards my side in this. Furthermore, look at the world outside of the human race. Nature itself follows my principles. The universe was founded on chaos and self-service.
This is the world that I sought to shape and rule over. It may yet come to pass. Humanity, whatever lofty goals and principles it may claim, is usually selfish and morally weak at heart. In time, the very world I envisioned may come to exist, in all of its glory, at the hands of humanity itself.
Regrettably, I won't be there to enjoy it.