Chapter Twelve
Idle Musings
From a distant plane, I watched the mortal's fury surge. How could someone with the privilege of being raised by masters of intellect and stratagems, be so imprudent? Granted, many mortals have ignored my blatant warnings. And many more of them have suffered for it.
So what will it take, to finally get the mortal to understand what is at stake?
I don't particularly enjoy tormenting people. Many would find that hard to believe. Yet, what mortals commonly misunderstand about me is that I simply no longer care about the trappings of good and evil. My interest is in individuals, who have a particular drive to affect an outcome. Perhaps it would be better said that they wish to rectify what they perceive as a miscarriage of justice.
Why shouldn't they interest me? After all, was I not a once a victim of an unjust crime? That act, long ago, was neither good nor evil. It was…grey. It was an evil act, done in the name of good. Have I suffered from it? Do I suffer now? I endure, yet they are naught but dust.
Neither good, nor evil…Just dust.
Their ashes have blown away, and they are now forgotten by the world they once inhabited and sought to save. Just as my own true name has been lost to Time.
I would have thought by now, more of those living on the mortal plane would have taken a greater interest in what is seen as mere footnotes in history. Perhaps one day, someone more befitting of this knowledge will know how to apply it. Perhaps not.
They don't seem to comprehend my benevolence. Why should I bear the blame for those who misuse my gifts? This is the fault of the constant preaching of the Overseers, about my corrupting influence…The irony is staggering.
There are so many days, where I wish I could walk upon the mortal plane, and strangle the life out of each and every zealot. Alas, it is not my place to do so. That is a mission, meant for someone not yet born…
Why, mortal? I find myself asking. Why is it so hard for you to heed my warnings? If you remain blind, as I did, to the intensity of her zeal, Delilah will destroy you. Can you not see that your woeful inattentiveness endangers all those deserving of your care?
I teleported back to Delilah's prison. The mortal was lying on the ground, the stain of tears on their cheeks.
I cross my arms, staring down disapprovingly at the mortal. Have you calmed yourself from your little fit, child?
"I want to go home…" the mortal said, broken. "Please. I can't take this anymore."
I lean down to the mortal, and offer my hand.
The mortal looked up at me, perplexed.
You said you wanted to go home. I'm going to send you there. No strings attached, this time.
The mortal took my hand, and I helped them to stand. With a slash of my hand through the air, I banished the mortal from the Void, sending them back to their world.
From the sanctity of my Shrine, I watch the mortal turn and walk away.
An observer watches and waits. They see opportunities, and they seize them before it's too late. What could I possibly do to the mortal, to scare them most?
They know that I am fascinated by them. They also know that I am disappointed in them. Time has a tendency to heal all wounds. They will soon realize that power beyond their imagination was within their grasp. And they forsook the opportunity to possess it.
In time, the mortal will return.
It's inevitable.
It is human nature.