'Prologue' (Part II)

"And, upon seeing the horror, they try their best to hide it."

- Pontus, the Prophet.

*

Harwhal stared at the dead planet, filled with scenes of desolation.

Everything had been destroyed. Once again, it was all his fault.

He clutched at his head, hammering his fists into its temples. Countless memories deepened his shame as he realized what he had done.

One was of Narpoon glaring at him, saying, "Harwhal, look at what you've done! It's your fault, all of it!"

The truth pierced his brain like a vengeful dagger. It was his fault, and there was nothing he could take back now, unless...

He stepped towards the Spring, the grand amplifier of power. It was the tool that had helped them to create the planet, albeit painstakingly. Every minute detail had to be scrutinized, and though the Spring assisted in this greatly, it made it all the more stressful. It was like a magnifying glass, only that it was much more powerful.

"Damn it all," he thought. "Damn order, damn balance, damn rules! I'll do what I want."

And, he realized with mad glee, that was exactly he could do now, without Narpoon.

This was exactly what he wanted.

He felt so foolish for crying, for feeling grief and shame. Narpoon deserved to die, the world he had envisioned was childish. Balance? Screw that. What this world needed was choice.

"Yes," he said out loud as he stepped closer to the Spring. "Yes, that's exactly what I want..."

And so he remade the world. It became one filled with strife, and desires reigned over reason.

When he was finished, Harwhal paid no attention to the civil wars, the disputes, or the fights. He sat back in his brother's throne, completely satisfied.