CHAPTER 2
"The satyrs are perhaps the most blatantly evil of all races originated from Thorax's embrace. It is impossible to decipher their contents, still, when I see one, a darker shade, a veil, lingers on their faces. Like the origination of their thoughts is to forever finalize at the conception of a new grave."
You walk upon the path. "Is it true, then, that our will has a deeper sense? A character?"
"Perhaps our very will originates in the womb of the earth, and as all things, like creatures, they live and die. Perhaps they are people like us, with a sense of desire deeper still." "Spirits? Then all things are alive?" "If barely"
"Then, what is the motivation of this war? Does it live only to kill and maim, like a plague of locusts?"
"How are we to know?"
"Are you saying some kind of God is willing this?"
"Maybe. It is just something we cannot decipher, with our vision."
"Then, how can we see?"
"Is that not what the piper told you? That he has 'eyes'? Don't you feel that you will be rewarded at the end of this?"
"It just feel to me like this is a part of a sick plan. What am I, then? A piece? To move, without choice, only to end in a place ordained by a creature from another world?"
"I feel like you are describing the passage of time; and all the forces in the universe that are bound to that."
"There must be another world beyond this"
You stumble.
"Watch it! Didn't you see that?"
A carriage? Or just a piece of splintered wood?
"What a revelation! A giant, almost killed by a broken piece of wood...Bah!" a voice says, from your left. "It is my brother there. Crucifixion! The worst kind of punishment...But I have done nothing! Yet they still punish me all the same..."