Part IV The God of Balance
THE WEIGHT OF DREAD WAS something the god of balance had never anticipated. It sat like a millstone around his neck, leaving him with leaden limbs and an ache in his chest he could never quite soothe. It was constant dissonance in his restless mind, threatening the harmony he was made for.
This was the price of being tied to fate.
He was as powerless against it as any mortal, yet burdened with the knowledge of it.
Alone to wait for the inevitable, surrounded by ticking clocks that grew more maddening with every second they inched closer to the dreadful conclusion that fate had concocted.
He wanted to be free of it.
He was a god, but he was a servant of fate above all, a ruler of nothing, not even his own nature. He was tired of feeling so caught between duty and desire. He wanted to carve out a fresh start, paint a better outcome, even if it went against everything he had ever stood for. What he was made for.
Balance was meant to keep him impartial, neither good nor evil. Defying fate would tip the scales in favor of the latter, but perhaps villainy would be a lighter burden to bear than the gravity of inaction.
At least then he would be free of this forced equilibrium, and fate would no longer be his concern.