bittersweet symphony
(made of bitter dreams and sweet regrets)
11: savior
He felt...different. It was as though the weakness was not weakness, but simply...an absence of strength. The power, the absolute control and intoxicating mastery of others...that was still there, but buried deep.
He was going to drive himself over the edge...this was all he could do anymore, was think-think-think. He thought of plots, of plans, of nefarious deeds. He thought of ways to even the score with his enemies, thought of ways to persuade more to join his cause...he thought of regaining what he had lost. He thought of who he had been, once so long ago.
He had been a whole being, then, supremely created and powerful beyond all concious thought. He had been feared, revered...a wise and powerful ruler. He knew what was best for him, and what was best for him was the best for everyone, he knew. Why couldn't they understand that?
But no. They felt the need to usurp, to overthrow, to deceive...to tear, to destroy, to burn and mutilate until there was nothing left. He had watched through broken, fractured eyes as his kingdom had fallen to the ground, and he wondered what he had done wrong.
Threats he had eliminated. There was no sin, no anger, no malice in the hearts of those strange little man-creatures; they were innocent and stupid, unable to harm - unknowing of harm itself. What better state to exist in?
He had loved, had he not? He had a wife - but no, she was not satisfied with his love. She had, it seemed, to enjoy the love of children as well, despite his...his fear of the creatures. And so she had betrayed him, had helped to bring about the downfall of the greatest Age known to man.
That was how he had gained his most stalwart supporter; through that reasoning, that line of sight. What, he said, are you but a petty thief? Were I upon the throne, thieves would not exist; everyone would be equal; you would not have to stoop and steal and sneak anymore. You could stand tall...you could be your own man. Independant...unhampered by the will of a father - a god - who cares naught for you.
He wondered why there were those who stood faithful to his faithless children. He was much kinder to them then they were to their own brood of brats; he had spared them from neglect and pain by eliminating them from the world. Here, they left their children to fall in the dirt and see the blood of their friends and comrades, blood needlessly spilled on the whim of some uncaring immortal.
They would see; he would show them mercy, even in the end.
He would kill them all, every single one. Then they would be gone from this world; they would escape the pain and suffering inflicted upon them by their fathers and mothers, and they would be free. Then their parents would suffer as their children had suffered.
He was great, he was powerful. He was strong and mighty. He was divine. He was...
"My Lord?"
He was growing. Soon. Soon it will be time...soon I will arise.
Soon...
I will save this world from itself.
He was a savior.