The Hate Inside

Hatred was a familiar thing, perhaps the only one left these days. Maybe that was why it felt good. Rivan knew that the priests said Miyar had commanded everyone not to hate, but he couldn't stop. How could he not hate those who had taken everything from him, dooming him to wander forever like a restless ghost?

An inaudible voice whispered that maybe it didn't matter anymore. They were all long dead. Wasn't that punishment enough? Did he really have to seek revenge forever?

He brushed the thought away. Of course he did, even though it might not be possible. It wasn't revenge anyway, but justice. He was sworn to bring justice to those in need of it; this was only a fulfillment of that vow.

But was this justice or revenge? The voice reappeared. Rivan shook his head fiercely and rose, blinking as he looked into the night. Staring into the fire, however small, never helped night vision. He smothered the blaze; it was warm enough tonight for him to sleep without one. Perhaps the darkness would grant him rest.