Azriel or the silence complex

Part Three: The Descent into Darkness

At the age of ten, Azriel strayed onto a darker path. The silence of his parents and the reactions of the man he believed to be his father—so contrary to his true nature—humiliated and intimidated him, extinguishing part of his potential. His teachers, who saw in him a lazy genius yet one capable of awakening the minds of his classmates, lamented the loss of his self-confidence. Becoming a wandering soul, Azriel was soon corrupted by a world that pushed him toward its shadowed side.

Little by little, it became harder to hold a conversation with him. He had grown quick to anger and rejected with vehemence whatever others tried to teach him. Moment by moment, year by year, his disappointment deepened. It seemed to him that the world was hiding something. He felt certain of it, though the revelation never came. His friends constantly urged him to be more attentive to the present. And so it went from the age of ten to fourteen.

One day, more inclined than ever to flee the responsibilities of a prince—and feeling a growing aversion toward his stepfather, who never involved him in the political life of the kingdom—he sought refuge with one of the realm's scholars. The man was wise and calm, patient in gathering a vast treasury of knowledge.

When Azriel crossed the threshold of his door, the sage, whose name was Harmenar, exclaimed:

"Is it our merry prince once again who comes to visit me?"

Azriel said nothing and let himself fall into the armchair standing in the corner of the room, surrounded by books.

The old scholar was amused, though somewhat puzzled.

"Well now, what manners! Would you like a footstool and a glass of fruit juice as well? Or perhaps you would rather wait for the books to begin speaking to you like enchanted objects?"

He then began imitating the books talking, with the air of a cheerful fool who did not take himself too seriously. Azriel burst into laughter, bending over with mirth. The scholar continued his little performance for a while longer, then stopped. Azriel calmed himself and looked at him with a mixture of sadness and longing to understand.

"Do you think the world will know my name one day?"

The scholar, surprised by this desire for recognition—something he had never before noticed in his young prince—answered with a teasing remark.

"And for what purpose do you need the recognition of the world? I would be curious to know."

"I don't know... That isn't exactly what I meant... well, not really. I'm just trying to find some great deed to accomplish in my life. My father does not speak to me. My mother always seems on the verge of confessing something she never says. My friends seem to laugh at me without even trying to hide it. Once, people were kind to me, and they said I brought them great joy. I only want to understand why... why people have changed these past years. Can you tell me?"

The scholar adopted a serious expression, though one suited to the young prince's age.

"I will give you a piece of advice. The people who most hunger for recognition in life are often those who feel nothing within themselves, neither in their inner life nor in their relations with others. You must learn to nourish your mind, your body, and your faculties—for yourself and with others. Give yourself time that will help you grow, help you learn to love yourself, and perhaps even discover your own feelings and sensations."

Azriel, in turn, grew serious.

"But what if it feels as though something is missing? Like... answers to questions that refuse to reveal themselves to me?"

The scholar knew of the oracle's prophecy. Yet his intellectual clarity guided him to do what he believed must be done.

"Azriel, you will soon be fifteen. You must become aware of your potential. Be more attentive to those close to you. Observe your family and the people who love you. Certain truths are often hidden from our eyes—but not from our hearts. The time will surely come when the answers will reveal themselves. What do you think?"

"I hope so... with all my heart."

Then the two companions shared a few cakes and some good wine and continued their meeting in cheerful conversation.

Azriel applied this advice with diligence. Yet the ideas remained vague to him. He could not grasp the hidden meaning behind the words he had been given. And the more he tried, the darker his mind became. Thus it was that, at fifteen, he fell into the vices of alcohol and drugs—an excess that led to his expulsion from the kingdom by his father, who sent him away to a disreputable place among "people of his kind," as he was told.