And hadn’t he completed the steps with dedication? Hadn’t he relayed the teachings with fervour? Wasn’t he the one who had written upon the walls the ways of the few for the education of the many? Wasn’t he the one who had calmed the strange beasts under the city with his vast and complete knowledge of the Few Words?

So why? Why had the iron fist fallen on him as he had flung an arm on to the grass and pulled himself from the clifface? Surely there was not another who had taken such care to tread so dilligently on the bright path, on the way of his forefathers?

Minal lay twisted in the honest mud at the foot of her house.
“Fanatic.”
“Lunatic.”
“Cultist.”
“Maniac.”
“Menace.”
It stings, he thought, feeling down to his stomach.

To Be Continued…

Written by: Zach.
Tags: waste of time, writing.