the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Can he hear how childish he sounds, she wonders, defending a false idol whose promises have only ever been met with broken defense? "Then why didn't she tell anyone? The other Ascended, even- you? If she knew that you going into the forest was killing it, why didn't she tell you?"
Or maybe she did. Maybe she told him about the Blight, and maybe he knew all along what he was doing. Maybe he killed the forest on purpose.
Maybe he truly did not care.
Shaking her head, she chokes a laugh. "The Voice didn't do anything to stop it. That was Vi and Rae - the gods you claim don't love us. The ones who could have destroyed her, but didn't, because it would have meant us dying, too."
The idea that the Voice is a grieving mother feels like a slap to the face, leaving Amalia wide-eyed a moment, her anger giving way to blatant disbelief. "Do you even know?" she whispers, hushed, pained, her voice cracking with agony at the memory of what she has seen. "Do you even know what happened to them? I watched the Spire Monster turn from something alive to something rotten as the Blight ate it alive. Have you met the Prince? He lives in fear and loneliness, and hates himself so much it hurts him just to be looked at." Her voice quivers; her claws tear into her palms, leaving spots of blood upon the snow, and she takes another step toward the man. "If she's such a merciful mother, why hasn't she helped them, Sam? You think I'm a villain, but at least I try. I tried to heal the Prince. I tried to help the Greatwood. I'm trying to protect the world from a monster who doesn't give her children a second thought!"
Or maybe she did. Maybe she told him about the Blight, and maybe he knew all along what he was doing. Maybe he killed the forest on purpose.
Maybe he truly did not care.
Shaking her head, she chokes a laugh. "The Voice didn't do anything to stop it. That was Vi and Rae - the gods you claim don't love us. The ones who could have destroyed her, but didn't, because it would have meant us dying, too."
The idea that the Voice is a grieving mother feels like a slap to the face, leaving Amalia wide-eyed a moment, her anger giving way to blatant disbelief. "Do you even know?" she whispers, hushed, pained, her voice cracking with agony at the memory of what she has seen. "Do you even know what happened to them? I watched the Spire Monster turn from something alive to something rotten as the Blight ate it alive. Have you met the Prince? He lives in fear and loneliness, and hates himself so much it hurts him just to be looked at." Her voice quivers; her claws tear into her palms, leaving spots of blood upon the snow, and she takes another step toward the man. "If she's such a merciful mother, why hasn't she helped them, Sam? You think I'm a villain, but at least I try. I tried to heal the Prince. I tried to help the Greatwood. I'm trying to protect the world from a monster who doesn't give her children a second thought!"
