“Really, really.” Magolor replied in the affirmative. He may have been scared, but that fear did not have to override his reason. That and, deep down, there was understanding.
The both of them had made mistakes. Grievous ones. And yet, somehow, the universe had decided to give them their second chances. Whether it was mere coincidence, or the universe itself somehow saw potential in them, nothing would change if the past was brought to the forefront of everything.
He, too, felt his nerves settle. It was hard to believe their little exchange reached this point, as the other stated, though he was wholly willing to accept it. Being on edge for what seemed like an eternity was too tiring. His psyche was frayed as it was, considering what he was going through.
Which, of course, led them back around to that again.
“I don’t know,” was his honest answer. “Lots of folks don’t like it. I don’t either. If I could turn it off, I would.” Magolor threw his hands in the air, defeated. “All it does is remind me of the worst decision I’d ever made. Of the weakness in my heart that was taken advantage of.”
Fingers delicately curling, he hesitated to speak further. If he uttered his truth, unveiled the foul deeds which had been done, would that break this? While he was aware of the former hero’s history, and he did not allow that to cloud his judgment – what of his own? Was he even deserving of forgiveness, in the eyes of someone who had exacted justice upon the wicked many a millennia ago?
“The Master Crown, one of Halcandra’s most sacred relics… manipulated me into pursuing its power.”
His proclamation was decisive. Bringing his sins forward was the path he chose to take.
“It stole my body. Locked away my soul. Only death could set me free.” Closing his eyes, he scrunched, recalling the final blow as the beast he became was slain. “But I persisted beyond that, and it still remained. In an ironic twist of fate, I utilized the abilities it bestowed upon me to destroy it. Permanently.”
With a squeeze, his fists clenched, then gradually opened. At the same time, orange crescents cracked, shining dimly. Morose.
“That should have been it. The end of its terror. I’d fought tooth and nail to accomplish that, and still, it came back, just to taunt me.” Half of his face was gripped, pressing deep into the gold latched up top. “I don’t want this any more than anyone else. But it won’t. Go. Away.”
Slumping, he went quiet. What else was there to say or do? The verdict was not his to make.
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