What would come?
He needed to be there. In its midst. Such things were what kept him going, af-ter all. Such things were what made life worth living.
I am the High King of Failures, am I not? Who else deserves the Broken Throne? Who else personifies the misery of the Crippled God? No, it will be mine, and as for all the rest, ‘well, we’ll see, won’t we?
He walked on, alone once more. Satisfying, to be reminded-as he had been when travelling in the company of those pathetic Tiste Andii-that the world was crowded with idiots. Brainless, stumbling, clumsy with stupid certainties and convictions.
Perhaps, this time, he would dispense with empires. This time, yes, he would crush everything, until every wretched mortal scrabbled in the dirt, fighting over grubs and roots. Was that not the perfect realm for a broken throne?
Yes, and what better proof of my right to claim that throne? Kallor alone turns his back on civilization. Look on, Fallen One, and see me standing before you. Me and none other.
I vow to take it all down. Every brick. And the world can look on, awed, in wonder. The gods themselves will stare, dumbfounded, amazed, bereft and lost. Curse me to fall each and every time, will you? But I will make a place where no fall is possible. I will defeat that curse, finally defeat it.
Can you hear me, K’rull?
No matter. You will see what there is to see, soon enough.
xx
These were, he decided, glorious times indeed.
Push it on to the next moment
Don’t think now, save it
For later when thinking will show
Its useless face
When it’s too late and worry is wasted
In the rush for cover
Push it past into that pocket
So that it relents its gnawing presence
And nothing is worth doing
In pointless grace
When all the valid suppositions
Smother your cries
Push it over into the deep hole
You don’t want to know
In case it breaks and makes you feel
Cruel reminders
When all you could have done is now past
No don’t bother
Push it well into the corner
It’s no use, so spare me the grief.
You didn’t like the cost so bright, so high
The bloodiest cut
When all you sought was sweet pleasure
To the end of your days
Push it on until it pushes back
Shout your shock, shout it
You never imagined you never knew what
Turning away would do
Now wail out your dread in waves of disbelief
It’s done it’s dead