Inner Stone

If good is bad, then what is good?

If bad is good, then what is bad?

If one kills the killer, does it make him a killer?

If revenge is but an eye for an eye?

How is life lived knowing good and bad?

The line between is too obscure.

If good considers wicked bad,

Then how does bad do good?

If bad considers good wicked,

Doesn’t bad think good of itself?

How are we to judge the point?

When passing the line from good to bad?

Or from bad to good?

How can we consider our judgment is just?

Wouldn’t the wicked consider theirs just?

Wouldn’t the good consider theirs just?

If so, who is right?

Who is wrong?

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               Around two decades ago in the year 3800, a stone was placed in the center of a mountain. This, of course was not any stone, but the stone of good and evil. It was sealed into the heart of the sturdy fortress, overlay within many miles of evergreen trees. The sun rose and set every dawn and evening. Birds fluttered and chirped. Days past, years past, centuries past. Soon, the stone lay forgotten in the dirt in which it had been buried. It became a blurred fairytale among the plain people of the day. Only the eldest spoke of the tale. Even to them, it was a myth placed out of reach. As the centuries went on, everything the people once knew were lost. Joy, happiness, love were the good sealed away along with the wickedness, horrific nightmares of the bad. Emotions became a thing of the past. No one spoke of the tale any longer. People gave up.

                Only hope existed. It was the one thing that motivated people to move on. The will to continue living. Without that one emotion, people would have ceased to exist. But it was still there, glimmering like a single sun ray on a cloudy day. Each morning it would break out from the hearts of the people and willed them to continue striving to live. Just one day at a time.

                Then that horrid day came to existence one hundred years ago. A young boy stumbled upon the mountain hiding the sacred stone. It was a mistake, a simple accident really. Being curious as he was, the foolish boy strolled right into the cave in the mountain. At the center, a glistening, lilac stone lay on top of a black marble surface. The boy reached his hand out to touch it. He laughed gleefully at its beautiful color. It must be very expensive, he thought. Imagine all the money he would be given if he sold this stone!

                That very selfish thought brought our destruction a single decade later. Pressing the stone with his middle finger, his thought had triggered the magic within. All the badness rippled from the stone like running water. All the wicked, horrific, nightmares escaped from the mountain and laced onto the unsuspecting earth. A thin line of good also escaped the ensnarling stone, covered by the pouring evil. The wickedness fluttered like black fumes around the boy. His eyes widened and slowly shut as they entered through his skin into his heart. They twisted the heart and the boy flailed in agony. Finally the pressure released. The young boy opened his eyes.

                They were a furious red. In the darkness of the cave they glowed with malicious delight. The boy cawed into the black. He began to laugh uncontrollably, starting low and getting increasingly higher. Soon it rebounded throughout the cave. High, loud, and filled with evil intent.

                This was the beginning of the end.

                His name was Izen Mandrele.

                You may know him better as King Mandrele.