The Curse

"After these tortured souls were gathered and enclosed in rooms, surrounded by stones and wielders who kept a vigilant watch. But the watch was demanding, and as our kind dwindled, we soon lacked the personages we needed to keep all the Corrupt under careful surveillance. When those permitted to use the stones grew too few and too far spread to continue the vigil, the Corrupt broke free and fled to the Dark Lands. It is thought they crossed the dark continents from south to north, where they now head towards the light lands scouring for life sources to feed off. It will not be long until their kind reaches Ilinmor."

"Then how do we destroy them?" A burly man with a great red beard spoke. His brown eyes seemed ablaze in the low light. "We can't let them cause this- this wonton destruction--we have families, homes to protect. Blast it, it's not like we want the Cursed to go on in pain like that, either. Better to put the poor bastards out of their misery, I say! And sooner's the better! How do we start?" 

"You think in your own terms," Erani corrected him solemnly. "Our kind is immortal. We are not granted the gift of death, that blessing which eventually delivers your kind from the evil that pervades the living. To subject us to the cruelties that men have devised for us...is to demand our suffering for eternity. There is no release for the Corrupt, only a meek salve that taxes what little healing is left in us."

The room was silent. Heads hung low in every direction, furrowed brows and defeated sighs echoed silently across the room. Erani quietly scrutinized every despairing face before continuing. His voice was gentle despite the power it belied. 

"You are children," he said softly. "Children in our terms. There is much you do not know and cannot now understand. We do not hold against you the cruelties of your forefathers, but the curse of their choice still flows in you. We have tested you, and those of you who are left have shown yourselves to be both bold and of good intent despite this. But your kind is not bound to directive, as is ours. It is not in our power to hold you to oath. To you has been given the gift of free will. Will you help us? Or will you return home?" 

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Why are we terrified? He's been on our side this whole time. He's been fighting them, for our sake, all along. He's not suddenly going to be afraid because we just learned about them. He's been doing the impossible while our eyes were closed, and now he's teaching us how to fight giants too. This battle has always raged, and it has always been his.

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You were made in the image of God. Not the image of sin. His fingerprint is on you and in you, on your DNA, all throughout your soul. The good in you cannot be touched by the scourged, but they can make you choose to surrender it. They can make you choose to cut yourself off from it--that is the battle in each of us; the one that wages every day.