Power.
What does it mean? Is it the ability to take anything you want? Is it the ability to destroy anything you don't like?
No. That isn't right.
The one and only time a being experiences true power is when they make the person who made their life absolute shit—
Grovel. Beg. Cry.
"P-please spare me, Cairith. Please I—I beg you."
Darion's voice cracked as he knelt before me, his once-smirking face twisted in terror. His hands clawed at the dirt, as if there were something there to hold onto, something that could save him.
I smiled.
Not because I forgave him. Not because I pitied him. But because, for the first time in two years, I understood something. Something the Fool had whispered to me when I took his hand.
"True power is fear," I muttered under my breath. A twisted smile creeping on my face.
Darion flinched as if the words themselves were a blow. He didn't know it yet, but he was already mine.
.........…
The first thing I felt when I took his hand wasn't power. It was cold.
Not the kind of cold that pricks your skin and makes you shiver. No, this cold sank into my bones, slithering through my veins like poison, tearing me apart from the inside.
I screamed, my voice echoing in the void, but The Fool only laughed.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic, little godling," he said, his mismatched eyes glinting with amusement. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? Power."
"W-what did you do to me?" I gasped, clutching my chest as the pain began to fade, replaced by something… different. Something intoxicating.
The Fool leaned forward, his grin widening. "I gave you a gift. A way to make them scream. To make them feel what you felt all these years. But power, Cairith, isn't about flashy weapons or brute strength. It's about knowing how to make others fear you."
He snapped his fingers, and the void around us shifted, twisting into shapes. Shadows danced and leapt, forming snarling beasts with glowing eyes.
"I call it the Art of Illusion," The Fool said, gesturing to the shadows. "You see, every god has their divine essence—the force that makes them who they are. Yours may not have manifested yet, but with my help, you'll learn to twist that essence into something… useful. Something terrifying."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Imagine showing your enemies their worst fears. Their darkest regrets. Their hidden truths. With illusions, you can break their minds long before you break their bodies. All it takes is a little creativity. And I do love creativity."
I stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. This wasn't just a power. It was a weapon. A tool to dismantle everything and everyone who had ever wronged me.
"But…" The Fool's grin faltered for a moment, his tone turning sharp. "Every gift has a price, little godling. And yours is simple."
"What is it?" I asked, though I already felt the answer clawing at the edges of my mind.
"Your sanity," he said, his grin returning. "Every time you use this power, you'll lose a piece of yourself. A memory. A feeling. A sliver of who you were. But don't worry." He laughed, the sound echoing in the void. "You won't miss it. Not when you feel what it's like to be truly powerful."
"Now close your eyes and try too see. Try hard. Try till you see The World Behind Closed Eyes."
I smiled a little thinking he was joking, after all how can one see with shut eyes? Him on the other hand? He was serious, staring at me with his gold and black pearls in anticipation.
I was confused and scared but complied none the less.
"Yes that's right, now tell me when you see it."
At first there was nothing, but then a small ball of purple light, then another, another… they kept appearing till the time all I could see were the tiny glimmers.
"Those tiny sparks you see? They are world essence." The Fool spoke out, reading the tiny hint of smile on my face, his voice dragging. Etched with amusement.
"I am pretty sure you know this but essence is the building blocks of the entire traverse. Every single universe, multiverse. Dimension? They are all made of essence. Now I won't bore you with the lecture you can ask you dad for that, Oh wait…" he laughed.
Anger furled within me but I let go. It wasn't the first time someone said that and it wouldn't be the last. I was more interested in his explanation anyways.
"Now gather those balls together." He continued his voice unusually serious.
"Most use essence to enhance their physical ability like Demi gods, some use it to conjure weapons or armour like low gods. Those are idiots. Brutes. To think they would use the power to bend reality itself for stuff like physical enhancement?"
"Now the truly useful bits require days, months, even years of practice but in your case you have me. All you have to do is gather the essence and THINK. Think of the most cruel, awful things you can show them. To destroy them from within."
"Now let's try it shall we? Hehehe"
The Fool snapped his fingers disappearing within the shadows of some random tree, his laughter still echoing as the time slowly went back to normal.
In front of me was Darion, his punch ready to tear through me. I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing to take the hit, bad memories flew in like usual. My dad torn up body, my mothers desperate eyes. Medius' frozen body. They were there every time something bad happened to me.
Every time someone hurt me.
A few seconds passed but there was no pain, no pressure. Slowly Dorian let my neck go stepping back, his breath jiggered.
"W—what is THAT. WHERE THE FUCK DID THESE BODIES COME FROM." He shouted, his voice piercing through my ears as he collapsed to the ground. Whimpering, panting, crawling. As if he had seen something dreadful.
"You… you are even worse than I had expected." The Fools voice ringed in my ears, he sounded surprised.
That's when it clicked, Dorian was seeing an illusion. The illusion of my worst memories. He was going through a culmination of what I went through.
A smile crept onto my face, a creepy one. One that didn't feel my own.
"You were right Dorian. This is so damn fun." I whispered.
He screeched, his voice cracking. Tears flooding his eyes as he grovelled. His head down on the ground.
"Please whoever it is s—spare me. Please I'll do anything."
The power and control I felt in that moment overwhelmed me. I grinded my foot against his skull, shoving it deeper into the ground.
"Spare you? After everything you did to me? You wanted to see how much it took to make me beg right? Now I wanna see how much it takes to kill you."
His face went pale, as his teeth chattered.
"C—Cairith? Is that you? H— AAAGHH" he shouted, as I shoved a near by branch into his arm piercing his skin.
"H—how does that feel huh? Does it feel good? Are you having fun? Cause I am having a blast." I laughed, manically.
"It hurts, IT FUCKING HURTS. Just fucking kill me." He sobbed.
"That's it? Pathetic. Even I could take more." I said with disappointment.
"I am so sorry dad. I am sorry I wasn't a good son. Sorry that I embarrassed you." He started crying.
"I promise I'll be a good ki—"
I shoved the branch into his throat, the only thought circling in my mind was 'he is so damn annoying' that alone filled me, my hands acting before I could think.
He gagged for a while, choking. Unable to breathe. Till he stopped.
He was dead…
I killed him.
It took a while for the feeling to set in. At first it wasn't any different than usual, as if the fact that I had killed someone had not registered in my head. I was casually walking back to the slums, feeling victorious. With a half crooked smile plastered over me.
That's when I started having visions of his face. His bloodied face, his rough hands scraping into the dirt. I… I killed a person. Someone who would have had a nice life. Someone who could have changed his path. Be a good person, maybe even save others. Yet I robbed him of that chance.
Doesn't this directly go against dad's ideals?
I tried to console myself, thinking he deserved it. It was either him or me, but the truth is, their were an endless number of times I could have spared him. Made it impossible for him to fight back, heck even scaring him would have worked. Yet. I killed him.
"How did it feel little Golding?" A voice filled my tired, lost mind. Followed by his usual unsettling laugh.
"I—I don't know." I replied, hesitation etched into my every word.
He smiled, appearing from the shadows behind me.
"That's good. That's good for now." He laughed before disappearing again.
Is that all he came to say?
I stumbled in the forest clinging to random branches as my eyes shut from a culmination of dizziness, nausea and lack of breath, the rough texture digging into my skin. I sat down for a few minutes, falling asleep.
By the time I woke up it was evening. My mind was finally clear, and for the first time in my life. I had a goal in mind.
I will rule the slums.
.........
"Huh? What do you mean I barely got to live my dream for a mere three days?"
The clanking of the armoured force in front of me filled my ears. Their bodies covered in essence, marching towards me.
"AFTER EVERYTHING I WENT THROUGH, MY IMMENSE SUFFERING. ALL I GET ARE THREE DAYS?"
"What do you wanna do little Golding? Kill them? It would be quite difficult even with my powers. Run? Your dad would be sad. Accept your fate? Dying would suck wouldn't it?"
I smirked.
"What do I want to do? Isn't it obvious?"