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“That’s not true,” said Farnese, “you’re a liar.”
“I am the only part of you that is honest,” said the Ghoul. “The lust you feel for misery, the burning want for pain. The raging self hatred that desires above all to make everything suffer like you do. This is why you kill. This is why you murder. Monster.” Farnese closed her eyes, pushed her face into the dirt and held the back of her head.
“No,” she screamed.
“You’re pathetic, you’re weak,” said the ghoul.
She was weak, so weak. Yet in her weakness she found something weaker than herself. Someone who needed Farnese more than she needed her. She wanted Casca to live and get better even if that meant losing any chance she had with the Black Swordsman. And in that moment, as the darkness within her bared its horrible fangs dripping with blood, she had a revelation. Strength wasn’t physical prowess or destroying evil. It didn’t come from glory on the battlefield. She didn’t need to become a better storm to strip the world of its terror. Power didn’t flow from authority or fear or violence. Real power came from taking something fragile into your hands and protecting it from anything that would break it.Series
- Part 3 of Queens of the World
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