Damnation

    "Life before War..."

    What foolishness. People waste their time reminiscing of what their world was, lamenting what it has become. But they are all fools... before the War the World was no better, the taint was still there, just underground. Trust me, I know...

    And the world knows now, as well - knows of the members of city councils who were Friends of the Dark, knows now of the vaunted Aes Sedai who had been twisting their service with their own demonic passions. For an entire century the world was plagued with the machinations of the Being We Dare Not Name.

    But then, even before Collapse of Civilization, the world suffered others mistreatments: the need for self-empowerment through “social-graces” was a poison of it’s own, one that led humanity straight to the realm of the Dark Lord... and enticed the Aes Sedai to Bore a hole into the Prison.

    If one wishes to go even further back, one will discover that war has always been a problem - this struggle between humanity and evil has been ongoing, and will continue to be until the Dark Lord breaks free and smashes the Wheel, or the Creator intervenes on the Light’s behalf. Sadly, it seems that the first one is most likely - who has heard of the Creator doing anything beyond Creating?

    Well, I believe I have made my point, and if not, go read some of Elan Morin Tedronai’s works... he is quite in-depth and analytical on the subject.

    I know that I have digressed far more than necessary, and I would apologize, but I cannot help being the way that I am... and if you have a problem with it, take it up with Aginor, Semirhage, and Mesaana - they have had the greatest influence on my upbringing.

    Three of those known as Forsaken raised me?

    Yes, indeed. Mesaana tainted my world since I was a child, Aginor created the body I wear, and Semirhage created my mind. All three of them made me the Light-scorned apparition that I am, and I would gladly return the favor.

    I do not know exactly when Mesaana first touched my life, and I doubt I ever will: when Aginor and Semirhage teamed up to make me what I am, they had little care for retaining my memories. My memories of my life are a blur, with few moments of clarity... all of which are of the last few weeks of the Light in my home city of Devaille. There are times when I scorn them for having damaged my memory, and at other times I embrace those holes, so as to forget what happened during those last few weeks. I cannot expect you to understand the upheaval of my soul during those last treacherous hours without some background on my life...

    I fell in with the Dark Lord’s own cadre of children - the fraternity of hate known as Mesaana’s Children. She never visited Devaille while I lived, but she left charismatic students whom gladly took in the young son of a passionate city council member. They saw much use for me in their syndicate, and I was glad. At that time, I was happy to be of use to the Shadow, and I would remain so ecstatic up until I realized the sacrifice I had given up, and how the Shadow pays it’s devotees.

    Regardless, I became a follower of the Shadow, hoping to eventually take a place on the city council and defend the Shadow through politics. My father had been teaching me politics for quite some time, but if he knew how I intended to use my learnings, he would have had me exiled in a heartbeat. He was a very passionate man, with a deep seated hatred of the Shadow and all it stood for. He was also a very influential man in Devaille, having been on the city council since the time of my birth, gaining his third name through accurate representation of the people of our district, and always prepared in case the Shadow took up arms. Obviously, he wasn’t prepared enough, for he fell to an agent of the Shadow...

    Once more, I digress... I studied up on the Great thinkers of the Shadow - Elan Morin being the highest - and followed the group of Mesaana’s Brats like a doxy. And things went well... up until the last two months of Devaille’s free life. That was when my father declared in the city council that some kind of defense should be made in case the Shadow turned physically hostile. I am not sure what made him think that such an event was going to occur, but I had known it for some time - it was common knowledge amongst the Brats that the Shadow Army would “free” Devaille in a matter of months, and it was also common knowledge that if anyone would be able to talk my father out of fighting it would be me.

    I was too scared to speak out against my father - reading the Disassembly of Reason in the comfort of my room was quite different from arguing against the most passionate Shadow-hater short of Aes Sedai. So, I did nothing, and the debates continued in the Council. My father held caucus meetings at our home, and he invited me to watch and see “politicking in action”. I, with a notepad in hand, joined the meetings as a spy for the Shadow.

    Over the next month, more and more people came to these meetings; council members and constituents, Aes Sedai and civilians, all types of poeple showed up. I watched them all and I despised them - especially the Aes Sedai, for they were the feared enemy of all Shadow Friends. I tried to distance myself from them as much as possible - I even gave up green tea because one of them liked to drink it! And I rejoiced when they were all killed when the Shadow stormed the city.

    Well, that’s not true, one lived, and mistakenly became a Dreadlord after being dealt a severe head wound. I do not remember her name, but I remember her face enough to be able to remedy her error.

    So, I came to these meetings, and sat quietly until the day where, in front of a simple majority, he declared that anyone affiliated with the Shadow should be hunted down and exiled. I was aghast, and in my fury at such a proclamation, I spoke out.; I told him I was a Friend of the Dark. Needless to say, he was angry and embarrassed, but mostly angry. He told everyone that the meeting was over, and they all left.

    We fought bitterly with rhetoric, but I was not nearly as skilled as my father, and I retreated to my room. Sadly enough, I remember very little of what occurred that night, but that was the night my father, and any hope of Devaille’s defense, was slain by a despicable agent of the Shadow.

    I love my father more now than I ever did as a child. He only had my best interests in mind; everyone else used me for their own gain: Mesaana’a Brats, the Forsaken, even the Aes Sedai have tried to make me lose control of my life. But my father tried to help me better myself. Oh, how I hate the man that killed my father! I despise the fool that killed Wil Noram Tennek in a fit of rage! I loathe the Shadow that possessed the blade that pierced my father’s heart...

    And how I cannot sleep each night without envisioning my father’s face when I thrusted the kitchen knife into his chest.

    One week later, Murad Cairaldazar Rosmani appeared leading the Shadow Army. One week later, the City Council realized my father had been right the whole time. One week later, it was too late. One week later, Devaille was mercilessly captured by the Shadow Army with little resistance. One week later, banners were flown. One week later, the World began to arm. One week later, the War began for the World.

    But not for me.

    For me, the War had started long before the Shadow had set foot on the lands of the Light. It had been waged in my soul for years, and I lost. I lost so completely that my own free will was torn away by the hands of Aginor two years after Devaille fell and I became a construct of the Shadow. It would be years before I regained control and repented, and by then, the weight of the blood on my soul had forced me to wall off my conscience along with the Taint that Aginor bestowed so thoughtfully upon me.

    "Life before War..."

    Foolishness. For me there was no life before War... My life was War, and it will be until the life flows out of my body.