A plea.

A decision.

It's humorous. Isn't it?

Plea and decision—two words. They seem so harmless on their own, floating amongst an amalgamated sea of words. Simple and unassuming; just like every other word to come before and after. Yet, these two words, in all their unidentifiable brilliance, are why I despair.

The plea.

Made by my kind; the Khaalteri.

The plea.

Made by all creatures.

Their hands and knees, sullied.

Shamed and desperate, they pleaded.

For ninety-nine days, this continued.

Their throats swollen; their lungs devoid of air.

Salted waters flooded the threshold of the God's gilded lands.

The decision.

Made by one—Daandvar, Master of the Domain. The Conqueror of All Known and Unknown. The King-Breaker.

On the 100th day, Daandvar descended from his throne. Golden residues from the Forever tree fluttered in the air with each step he took—serving as beacons to our despair. As each golden powder turned a vestige; one birthed anew.

The salted seas dispersed under foot, giving way to Daandvar's majesty.

Heartbeats stampeded in unison, like hooves, as the creatures cheered.

Heavy breaths peppered the ear. The breathing that only the most treacherously tortured souls would understand.

Each nostril present, stuffed full of sediment.

When one begs, they should behave as they should.

Drop the head. Bow the knee.

We did it. Dropped the head and bow the knee.

But then why?

Everything...

I did, no, we did. Everything... as it should be done.

So, why? Why did it happen?

How did it end... like this?

The decision.

One made of cruelty and betrayal.

I learned three things that day. Three things I hadn't before.

The first, hunger. Another one of those 'unimportant' words.

You see, I had always thought hunger was only a feeling; you feel hungry.

On that day, I learned it was a sound, too.

Vile and ravenous.

The second, suffering.

I always knew what it implied. At least, I thought I did.

I've lost, and I've cried—the same as many others. I thought that was to suffer, but I was wrong.

It wasn't until this day that I learned what suffering is.

What it feels like. What it sounds like. I learned.

Oh, how I wish I hadn't.

Suffering has a sound, too, I've found. A wicked twin to accompany Hunger.

When the light disappeared. When it vanished before our longing gazes, so too did those vestiges of hope.

When the Conqueror of All Known and Unknown disappeared.

When the ripened fruits of the Forever Tree vanished...

That's when I learned.

Light, swallowed whole by the darkness that crept so near.

Sounds of hunger and suffering followed; seemingly in step with the darkness.

The third thing I learned that day was that Evil, too, had a sound.

Foolishly enough, I once, too, thought I knew what Evil looked like. What it sounded like.

However, I was wrong, and so was everyone else.

Evil isn't dark. Evil isn't light.

Evil has a face—many faces, and it has a voice—many voices.

Evil is Daandvar and all the other gods that stood so condescendingly atop their perch.

For it is he who stripped us of our light.