CHAPTER TWO: CONFESSOR'S BURDEN

"He doesn't like me very much, does he?" I ask Zedd as he heals my arm.

"Who?" the wizard asks as he stares intently at my wrist, rotating it ever so slightly.

"Vincent."

My great-grandfather stares at me. "Nonsense! That man feels nothing but love for you, Aaron."

"Then why does treat me so harshly? Why does he treat me like a child?"

"You are a child."

"You know what I mean."

Great-grandfather sighs, and I know he is preparing himself for one of his long-winded speeches.

"Vincent sees himself in you-"

"Come again?"

"Vincent was born a Confessor. More, he was born a Wizard, much like you. You and he are the only ones of your kind. Because of this, Vincent led a hard life. As a male Confessor, he was hunted from the day he was born. This power, along with his Gift, positioned him to become one of the most dangerous, and quite possibly evil, men alive. For this also, he was hunted.

"He lives today only through the grace of your mother's mercy, and the machinations of Shota. She rescued him from the massacre on Valeria, and raised him as her own."

"Shota?" I interrupted. "The witch he confessed? That one?"

He nods.

"But why confess the woman who raised him?"

"Because of the reason she raised him. Shota did not love Vincent. She raised him so she could shape him, use him to fulfill her own ends."

"I still don't see what this has to do with me."

"Did you know that Shota foretold your birth?"

That was news to me. "She did?" Grandfather nods.

"Yes, she did. And she swore to your parents that the moment you were born, she would kill you; she would not allow a male Confessor, let alone one who also possessed the Gift, to live. That was why she raised Vincent: Shota raised him to kill you."

I said nothing. How was I supposed to respond to that? I jumped as he twisted my arm past my point of tolerance. Zedd continues speaking, oblivious.

"When Vincent learned of Shota's deception, he left Agaden Reach, and made his way to Aydindril. There he hoped to rid himself of his demons."

"Demons?"

"He left behind him a false mother who raised him to become a murderer. Vincent never had a true family, his mother died on Valeria, and his father… well, you already know about that. On top of his feelings of abandonment, he was repulsed by himself. When he was young, he accidentally confessed his best friend. You are familiar with the concept of Confession. He had stripped his friend of her free will, made her a slave to his. From that day forward, he considered himself a monster."

I nod, that was a story I knew well. I stare at my gloved hands. The same power that resides in me, also resides in my cousin. The ability to subvert the wills of men. To make them completely and utterly mine. Confessors are supposed to be pillars of justice, champions of truth.

But I have seen what Confession does to the confessed. How can we pretend to be defenders of justice, when we are in the practice of destroying people's souls? It is a question I have often asked myself.

Mother is no help. I asked her once, how could she stand to do what she does, day in and day out. She told me, "Without the Mother Confessor, and Confessors in general, there would be no justice, no hope. It is a hard job, but one we must do." I told myself that I would ask Vincent one day, but I have never been able to sum up the courage to do it.

"Vincent has fought for you, Aaron," Great-grandfather told me. "Fought for your right to live, to give you the chance to prove the world wrong, to learn what he has learned: that confessors are not monsters, that you are not a monster. Never doubt that he loves you."

And with that and a flair of healing magic, he exits, leaving me to my thoughts.

I notice that Vincent sneaks away about once week. So one day, as any concerned family member might, I decided I would follow him.

He enters the Gardens of Life. I'm disappointed. I figured he'd be going somewhere more interesting, but whatever. After a few twists and turns, he stops. He crouches and lays a rose on the ground. But why would he do that unless…oh.

My hands begin to tremble. It can't be her, it just can't be! She died in Aydindril, why would she be buried in D'Hara, and here, of all places?

"You can show yourself, you know," Vincent said suddenly.

I step out from behind the bush, blushing from embarassment. "How did you -"

"Know?" Vincent smiled. "Stealth is not your strength. I knew you were following me from the beginning."

"Then why-"

"Let you?" Another smile. "To give you practice."

I walk over to him, and neither of us says anything for a moment. Then finally, I ask in a soft voice, "Is this her?" Vincent nods.

This was Emily, this was the woman I killed.

"I'm sorry, I said as tears stung my eyes. "I'm sorry she's gone because of me."

"Don't," Vincent told me firmly. "Don't do that to yourself. This was not your fault."

"She died because she thought she would never be allowed near me again. If I hadn't confessed her-"

"She had just tried to kill you; you were under heightened emotional stress."

"But-"

"The moment Zedd combined my gift with my confessor power, Emily was freed from my confession. Shota could no longer say that she would please me by killing you. Emily chose to follow Shota. She chose to go through with the act."

My cousin grips my arm: "This was not you."

I nod, and ask, "How do you do it? How do you live with yourself, knowing what you are?"

"Confessors are supposed to be the ultimate authority, the iron rod: impartial and impassive. We are the judges, and we judge swiftly and harshly, as all judges do.

"But we are also human. We feel. This then is our perpetual burden: reconciling our duty with our humanity. Be glad you feel this pain, Aaron, because the day you stop feeling it is the day you are no longer human."

"But how can I look past it? How can I learn to tolerate the pain?"

My cousin smiles a sad smile. "With time." He hugs me then, and I feel safe in his embrace, sheltered. It was then I knew he loved me.