Nihal felt his words sink into the depths of her soul, and in their wake rose the haunting ghosts of her past, each and every one of them, all that she thought she’d buried in her heart. In furious droves, they came alive. It was true. She’d delighted at the blood of others; she’d killed for the joy of killing. “You’re no better than me!” she howled, her nerves frayed.
“Of course not. But then what are you doing here? Do you think you have the right to judge me? To punish me? Nihal, we live in a world of unpardonable sinners. We are all monsters,” Aster said calmly, “each and every one of us.”
Nihal was seething with rage. Why wouldn’t he snap, why wouldn’t he lose his temper, why wouldn’t he flare with hate? How could hate not be at the bottom of such evil? Could it come from such cold rationality? His metal indifference, his childish eyes, so insistently pure—no matter how hard she strained, Nihal couldn’t bring herself to understand, to hate this being in front of her deep down.
Aster began pacing up and down the room, and Nihal followed his movements as if enchanted. The sun, behind the window, had settled in to its final descent.
“I’ve seen dozens of these so-called heroes of the Free Lands, and they all say the same thing: ‘We fight for the freedom of this world, to bring hope.’” I don’t doubt that you all believe in what you say, but it’s nothing other than a pathetic attempt to excuse your vile actions.”
“A life of peace and liberty is the highest aim a living being can aspire to,” said Nihal.
Aster burst into laughter. “Oh, what poetry! I’d never have expected it from someone whose only gift in writing couplets is with the blade of her sword.” He went on pacing up and down the room, only to snap his head around suddenly. “A reassuring excuse, nothing else. Vain illusions, fancies that blow away in the lightest breeze. And yet you fools cling to them as if they were eternal truths, as if there were nothing more certain in this world than the instinctive good will of all creatures. No. I’m afraid the only certainty is hatred. An evil wind stirs this world, poisoning souls and corrupting hearts. Wickedness breeds like a parasite in all things, infecting the earth. All is filled with hatred, with the desire to destroy. Hate alone is the world’s irrefutable truth.”
“I’ve known people with pure hearts,” Nihal cried in desperation. “People who helped me when I was alone. People who have dedicated their lives to doing good.”
“Only because they haven’t yet had the chance to behave otherwise. All cognizant creatures on this world are good and kind-hearted, until the hate buried within them finds its way to the surface.” He halted, riveting her in his gaze. “Even Laio, your dear squire, without an ounce of fight in his bones, found a way to kill in the end.”
“Don’t you dare stain his memory!” Nihal shouted.
“That’s not my intention,” Aster replied, his tone unshakably serene. “I’m only showing you that all good is ephemeral, all evil eternal. I suffered many years to come to grips with this truth, but in the end I accepted it.” Aster was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again it seemed to cost him a great effort. “Nihal, for so long I believed what you now believe. I’m not a pure half-elf. My mother was a half-elf, my father a man. In those years, mixed marriages were still thought to bring shame on a community, and the women who defiled themselves with such a choice were fated to lead miserable lives. My mother struggled for so long to keep her love for my father hidden, but when I was born, the truth could no longer be concealed. There are no half-elves with green ears, Nihal. By the order of our village leader, my father was sentenced to death and my mother branded with the symbol of a harlot. Before I reached the age of three, my talent for sorcery became clear. Perhaps it came as an effect of my mixed blood, but by then I was already reciting spells and speaking with animals, without ever having trained.
“In those days, sorcerers were despised in the Land of Days. The king had ordered that all be sent into exile, for fear of their power. And so I was condemned, immediately, and without trial. It was the perfect occasion for them to scrub away two stains on their precious society: a bastard and a whore. They banished us to the eternal dark of the Land of Night.
“We were poor and unwanted, no matter where we went—me for the way I looked and my abnormal gifts in magic, she for the mark on her forehead. Mine was a solitary childhood, and in that solitude the ideal crept into my mind and enflamed my soul. With everything in me, I believed this world could be made perfect, that all could live in peace and health, free of suffering, and I wanted to be a part of that transformation. My mother found a sorcerer willing to take me on as a student, and so began my training. In truth, there wasn’t much my master could teach me that I didn’t already know, but he served as a worthy guide. Two years later, my mother died, in one of the many battles between the warlords of the Land of Night.
“At fourteen years old, I became a sorcerer. No one before had ever been inducted at such a young age. I can still see the terror and astonishment on the faces of all those who examined me that day. They admired me and feared me at once. I then asked my teacher to place me in the apprenticeship of a councilor. My mother had spoken of them often, and in my imagination I saw them as stern, respectable men with long beards, closed up in a room to discuss the fate of the world. I wanted to be one of them. For two years, I studied without pause. Night and day, hunched over books, traveling to distant libraries, greedy for every speck of human knowledge. I slept only rarely, driving myself beyond exhaustion in the name of mastering spells. It was then, poring over one book after another, that I came across the obscure passages describing the history and government of the elves. I discovered that they’d succeeded in unifying the Overworld under one grand principality with one sovereign ruler.
“It was a revelation. Eight kingdoms were too many, eight kings superfluous. The world needed one ruler, one wise leader, to guide and mold the souls of men for the benefit of all. Sacrificing his own will, he would come to control the entire world, restoring justice to the lands. Don’t assume I saw myself as that man. I never felt myself wise enough. But the more I considered it, the more I was convinced that this was the sole solution, the sole possibility of bringing peace back to our world.
“I entered the Council at sixteen years of age—again, the youngest ever to do so. As soon as I began my work as councilor, I realized that the reality was far different than I’d imagined, though I’m assuming you know that already, as the Council has hardly changed since then. There were those who fought for the common good, but the majority of the councilors were petty men, clinging tooth and nail to their power, power they’d gained by deception in the first place. I was disappointed, but I didn’t give up. I revealed my idea of a sole, sovereign ruler, attracting the hate of nearly every member on the Council. They told me I was a fool, that what I desired was a tyrannical ruler who bent the wills of the people to his own, but what they really feared was losing their power.
“Around that time, I met Reis. She was the daughter of one of the most powerful members of the Council, Oren of the Land of Rocks. The moment I saw her, I knew I’d love her eternally. She was angelic, elegant. Before her, all other beauty paled. For me, Reis came as a reawakening to life. At first, we shared only our passion for sorcery, but soon we became lovers. Only with great patience did she eventually speak with her father. Oren’s immediate response was that never, never in his life would he grant his daughter to a self-important bastard child like me, to a half-blood with freakish powers and a head full of dangerous fantasies. He forbade Reis from seeing me, though his command wasn’t enough. Without his knowing, we continued our relationship, meeting in secret, in the most unlikely of places and at the strangest of times. Then it all came crashing down.
“Oren caught us red-handed and lost himself with rage. He dragged Reis away and sent her off to a remote location. He had me booted from the Council and locked in a filthy prison. One day, he arrived and dragged me to h
is palace from the box where he’d been keeping me. There, he threw me at the foot of a stairway. Reis stood at the top, in all her splendid beauty. For a moment, I thought Oren had reconsidered his decision, that she’d persuaded him to let us love each other. I called out to her, but as soon as she turned to look at me, her face was deformed by hate. ‘How dare you show yourself before me again, you worm? You tricked me. You used me for your sickening schemes. My father opened my eyes to your wickedness. I’ll never forgive you, as long as I live. Get away from me!’ she said.
“Emanating from her soul was a deep, inextinguishable hate, and it froze the blood in my veins. ‘Your father lied to you!’ I cried, though she’d already turned her back and walked away.
“Alone, I lay at the bottom of the stairs, pleading my innocence to her. But Reis would not turn back. I could feel all the hate that had built up within her coil itself around me, crushing me beneath its weight. It was then that I understood. Oren had manipulated his daughter. He’d convinced her that my love was nothing other than a ploy to gain power. But he’d only succeeded in convincing her because Reis hated herself. She loathed herself for her own weakness, for having given in to her emotions for me. But Oren didn’t merely want to see me die. He wanted to humiliate me, to erase me completely. He cursed me, locking me in this seal and reducing me to the state in which you now see me. At first, I couldn’t understand why he’d done it. I was a powerful sorcerer and would continue to be so in the body of a child. But then, in the loneliness of my cell, I realized he’d done it to ensure that no other woman would ever desire me, to deny me the possibility of ever being loved again. He then placed me on trial before the Council and I was condemned to execution. Though they could never carry out their punishment, for I escaped.” At that, Aster went silent.
“You lie,” said Nihal. “You tricked Reis, and I hate you for that. You tricked her and you held her prisoner in the Fortress, only to take advantage of her again.”
Aster turned toward Nihal, his face pained, his eyes watering over. “Don’t say things you don’t even believe yourself. Years ago, despite my appearance, I tried to see her again. I sent a knight out to retrieve her, and he brought her here to the Fortress. At first, Reis acted just as you did, searching for the Tyrant in everyone else but me. And when she realized at last, it was terrible. Her face shrunk with disgust. I tried to remind her of our love, I begged her to look beyond mere appearances, but it was futile. For a short while, I kept her here with me, in the hopes that I would someday convince her of the purity of my love. But Reis believed that all I saw in her was her beauty, and her hatred for me and for herself only grew. Plagued by this hatred, she deformed her own face, her own body, day after day. I knew then that she’d never again be the woman I once loved, that her hate was too powerful. I let her go. But first, I wanted to search in her mind for any last trace of love for me.” His words sent a chill down Nihal’s spine. “What I saw horrified me. Her mind had been completely warped by hate. In the end, I was able at least to wipe out the memory of my appearance, to keep the world outside from discovering the truth.”
“You’re lying,” Nihal accused him again.
“I’m not lying and you know it. I can feel it in your heart.”
It was true. Nihal felt he was being honest, that he’d never stopped loving Reis. It was she who had deformed what they once had with her hatred.
Aster paced toward a window and resumed his tale, his tiny figure framed by the last light of day. “Her second refusal was merely a confirmation of what I already knew. That day, on the top of the stairs, when Reis had turned her back on me and I understood the full measure of her cruel disdain, I rallied my courage and accepted it. The capacity to hate resides in every living creature on this earth. The gods created us to hate one another, to kill one another ruthlessly, and now they look down on us, laughing at our torment. We’re nothing but the playthings of the gods, puppets in their hands. Think, Sheireen, think hard, and you’ll see that many more men are ready to die for hate than for love. That is why hate is eternal and love ephemeral.”
“What you’re saying makes no sense,” Nihal replied. “If hate brings you such anguish, then why nourish it? Why, for the last forty years, have you smeared this earth in blood and barbarity?”
“Because, Sheireen, this will be the last reckoning,” said Aster, and his green eyes beamed with a renewed light. “Enough with the bloodshed, enough with vengeance and with grudges that drag on for years, for centuries, poisoning one generation after another. Peace does not come to this world because the creatures of this world were not made to live with it. We are cruel beings. We are the cancer of the earth. The only logical step is to wipe ourselves out, to start anew and give the Overworld another chance.” Aster was silent for a moment, and in his brief silence, Nihal began to tremble.
“Once all Eight Lands are united under my rule, I’ll invoke a spell that I’ve been mastering since my banishment from the Council. With it, I will destroy every living creature in the Overworld, without exception. My spirit, in performing the spell, will be consumed and disappear forever from the face of this earth, leaving no trace behind. Once and for all, the score will be settled.”
The terror that had gripped Nihal as soon as she’d entered the room seized her again in its frigid hands. “No one, no living being could ever want such a thing … not even you. …” she said, her voice threadbare.
“If you truly reflect, if you think it through as I have, you’ll understand that what I’m proposing is not an act of madness, but of mercy. What I propose is a revolt against the gods and against the heavens. Which is why you’ve been sent here, Sheireen, for the gods are incensed, enraged that such a miserable being as myself could rise up in rebellion. And yet I do so in the name of justice. Why go on living when generation after generation of children is slaughtered, and women like my mother impaled by the blade of a sword? Why survive just to sustain the massacre that began with our creation? So what if every last drop of blood is spilled in the end? From the blood-stained soil, a new generation will rise, one capable of bringing justice to this earth.”
Nihal stared at Aster, frozen with terror. She knew he was beyond help, trapped by his own logic, driven out of his mind by despair.
“Sheireen, you who’ve descended into the deepest wells of hate, can you give me even a single reason why this world should be salvaged?” Aster pleaded in earnest.
Nihal could find no words, no way to reply. She trembled, and not simply because she feared the Tyrant’s plans, but because she understood his reasoning—because perhaps, in some way, his intentions could be seen as justified. Aster turned to look out the window, and beyond his childish shoulders Nihal could see the sun, sinking rapidly toward the horizon. In another half hour, the sun would set.
“The true of heart exist, and they deserve to be saved,” Nihal said at last. “I can not allow you to murder the true-hearted of this world. There are too many that have earned the right to live, that continue to fight for peace.” She could feel their discussion drawing to its conclusion. Aster’s words were held up only by logic, but Nihal knew that the heart often trumped reason, and hope still pulsed in her blood, hope and a conviction that the world could still be saved.
Just then, the Tyrant cast her a strange, ambiguous smile, and the blood froze in her veins. “And yet you know beyond doubt that hate is stronger than love,” he said.
“That’s not true,” Nihal insisted.
“Then why did you leave Sennar wounded in enemy territory?”
“How do you know that?” she asked, her voice quavering.
“When you left him behind, you had a choice. To live with him in love, down in the cave, far from the world, or to trek all this way to my throne and carry out your revenge.”
“Where is Sennar?” Nihal asked, in a surge of anguish.
“And you made your choice. Hate was stronger.”
&
nbsp; “Where is Sennar?” she cried again.
“And yet you loved him; you’ve always loved him. All those years he stood by your side, a friend, longing to be closer. And what did you do? You went and fought a thousand battles, thirsting for blood, eager to send others to their deaths.”
“Bring me to him, please. …”
“In the end you gave yourself to him, and in doing so you granted him the greatest joy of his life. Believe me, I know, for I saw it in his heart.”
Nihal stared back at him in disbelief.
“But you only did it out of loneliness, because you needed someone to lean on and you knew he’d let you. That isn’t love, Sheireen. You used him.”
“Tell me he’s okay. …”
“He defended you until the very end. For days on end, he was tortured, but he wouldn’t speak. He screamed, no doubt, but he never once gave you away.”
Tears began to stream down Nihal’s cheeks.
“In the end, I was forced to intervene. I went to him and pried inside his mind. I didn’t want to harm him. I admired him. In so many ways we were alike. He, too, loved a woman who gave him nothing in return. With incredible strength, he fended off my attempts. But soon I prevailed. I broke through his defenses and saw into his soul. I made every feeling he’d ever felt my own. I crept into his heart and examined it piece by piece. That was how I came to know of you and your mission.”
Nihal went on crying, though she hated appearing weak before that monster. “Just tell me he’s okay. …”
“I took pity on him. He was doomed to suffer as I had, to surrender all clarity, to lose you and his dreams. My torment in life has been great, Sheireen, and I don’t wish that on anyone. It was only out of mercy that I killed him.”