Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death-Chapter 167: A CURSE’S PRICE

Malik opened his mouth and closed it, appearing unsurprised.

He lifted a hand, a lazy little go on, and the thing spoke.

"A PRIVILEGE. A DOORWAY TO ENDLESS WORLDS. YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND IT. NOT TRULY. NOT YET."

The air around them thickened.

"YOU THINK IT IS A BURDEN, A CURSE. BUT TO A MIND OF CURIOSTY? A MIND OF ROT?"

A pause.

"IT IS PERFECTION. GIVEN. FORM."

The thing inhaled like IT was tasting him, relishing his reaction, or lack thereof.

Then, softly—almost reverent:

"A DREAM."

Malik's world flickered, pulsated.

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"THE WORLD EXISTS AS A SINGLE THREAD, ONE STRAND WOVEN THROUGH A WORLD OF POSSIBILITY. CHOICES. RESULTS. ACTIONS. REACTIONS. IN THIS ORDER, ONLY ONE FUTURE CAN COME TO BE. THE LINEARITY OF REALITY BINDS ALL TO A SINGLE PATH."

A deep, rattling exhale.

"EXCEPT YOU."

It leaned in.

"YOU MAY SEVER. YOU MAY REWEAVE. A THOUSAND TIMES. A MILLION. YOU CAN TEST. YOU CAN PROVE. WHAT OTHERS CAN ONLY DREAM OF, YOU CAN KNOW. 'IF I HAD DONE THIS INSTEAD—' NO, NO. YOU DON'T GUESS. YOU KNOW. YOU ERASE DOUBT. YOU FIND THE PATH YOU DESIRE."

It let the words hang, let them sink into his bones before the next came, soft as silk, heavy as stone.

"TO WITNESS SUCH A THING…"

It sighed. A hungry, longing thing.

"HOW COULD I NOT COVET IT? HOW COULD I NOT REACH FOR IT?"

The space between them felt closer.

"IT IS A CRUEL THING, IS IT NOT? THIS POWER. THIS 'GIFT.' TO WATCH, TO REMEMBER, TO CARRY A BURDEN NONE WILL EVER UNDERSTAND. BUT YOU WILL NOT BREAK. NO, YOU HAVE ALREADY PROVEN THAT. YOU HAVE ENDURED. AND YOU WILL ENDURE AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN. UNTIL THE FUTURE YOU SEEK LIES WITHIN YOUR GRASP."

Closer.

"BUT I?... I SEE YOU, I SEE YOU, I SEE YOU, I SEE YOU."

The words hit like boulders dropped in a pool, each one sending ripples through him.

"AND I SEE IT. I SEE THE ENDLESS CHURNING OF TIME. I SEE THE COUNTLESS THREADS OF POSSIBILITY. AND I SEE THAT YOU HOLD THE KEY, THE CYCLE, THE LOOP, THE POWER TO REDO, THE POWER TO UNDO. THE POWER TO MAKE AGAIN, AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN."

Malik's breath slowed.

"A MILLION DEATHS."

It slowed even further.

"A MILLION BIRTHS."

His fingers twitched.

"A MILLION LIVES... BUT THERE IS NO END. NO END, NO END, ONLY A PATH THAT STRETCHES INFINITELY FORWARD. A ROAD PAVED WITH THE CORPSES, OF CHOICES DISCARDED, OF FUTURES CAST INTO THE VOID."

A chuckle. Dry. Cracked.

"INTO ME."

The thing's eyes flared, burning like twin moons.

"YOU HOLD IT, YOU HOLD IT, YOU HOLD IT."

A beat of silence.

"AND I HUNGER."

Something shuddered. Something unseen, something vast. A weight, pressing against Malik's skin, pressing against his very being.

"IT WRITHES, IT WRITHES, IT WRITHES."

A whisper, a scraping thing crawled into his ears.

"AND IT SINGS TO ME.

Malik exhaled, steady. Even. But his pulse wasn't.

"IT SINGS WITH THE VOICES OF THE DEAD, IT SINGS WITH THE SCREAMS OF THE DYING, IT SINGS WITH THE WHISPERS OF THE FORGOTTEN. AND I—I WOULD SWALLOW IT WHOLE."

It tilted its head, slow, unnatural. A mirror of Malik's cruel descent way earlier.

"I WOULD DEVOUR IT. I WOULD TEAR IT FROM YOUR BONES, FROM YOUR FLESH, FROM YOUR SOUL... UNTIL IT IS NO LONGER YOURS BUT MINE, MINE, MINE, MINE."

Another pause. The kind that waited for something to break.

"I WOULD PEEL YOU OPEN, STRIP YOU DOWN, CARVE YOU HOLLOW, AND FILL MYSELF WITH ALL THAT YOU ARE. EVERY ECHO, EVERY MEMORY, EVERY STEP TAKEN AND UNTAKEN, EVERY THREAD OF TIME THAT SLITHERS AND WRITHES AND COILS ABOUT YOU. I WOULD TAKE IT ALL..."

A hum. Satisfied.

"...AND MAKE IT MINE."

A breath.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND? DO YOU COMPREHEND THE WEIGHT OF WHAT YOU HOLD? THE BURDEN THAT YOU CARRY? THE CURSE THAT FESTERS WITHIN YOU? NO, NO, NO, YOU DO NOT. YOU CANNOT. YOU STUMBLE THROUGH THE CYCLES BLIND. YOU REACH AND GRASP AND STRUGGLE. YOU DIE AND DIE AND DIE AND YOU THINK THAT MAKES YOU MASTER?"

The last word dripped with something close to laughter.

"YOU THINK THAT MAKES YOU WIELDER?"

The thing leaned even closer. IT's face before his.

"NO, NO, NO."

Malik stayed still.

"YOU ARE BUT A VESSEL."

A pause.

"A CASK BRIMMING WITH WINE."

ITS smile calmed.

"AND I?"

The flames of its eyes burned hotter.

"I DRINK."

Silence stretched. Long. Unbroken.

"...YOU DO NOT DESERVE A LIBRARY OVERFLOWING WITH WORDS. YOU CANNOT READ A GATEWAY TO A MULTITUDE OF PATHS. THE POWER YOU BEAR. THE CYCLE THAT TWISTS AND TURNS AND COILS AND DEVOURS ITSELF. THE ENDLESS LOOP. THE INFINITE PATH. THE OUROBOROS MADE MANIFEST. HOW EXQUISITE. HOW DIVINE. HOW UTTERLY UNBEARABLE TO WITNESS AND NOT CLAIM IT AS MINE. TO SEE IT UNFOLD BEFORE ME. EACH TURN, EACH FAILURE, EACH COLLAPSE AND RISE. THE RESET. THE CLEANSING. THE BLINK. THE DESPERATE REACHING, GRASPING, CLAWING, FOR AN OUTCOME ONLY TO BREAK AND BEGIN ANEW. A GIFT GIVEN WITHOUT PRICE BUT YOU. YOU DO NOT KNOW IT. NOT AS I DO. NOT AS I SEE. YOU STUMBLE WIELDING IT. BLIND, DEAF, SENSELESS. YOU ARE AN INTERLOPER IN A HOUSE OF GODS. A TRESPASSER IN A HALL OF INFINITY. YOU DARE BEAR THIS BURDEN WITHOUT KNOWING. WITHOUT FEELING THE DEPTH OF IT. WITHOUT SAVORING EACH STEP, EACH BREATH, EACH BREAK. HOW IT WOULD TASTE UPON MY TONGUE. HOW IT WOULD UNRAVEL UPON MY FINGERS. HOW IT WOULD WEAVE INTO THE VAST LATTICE OF MY BEING. I CANNOT IGNORE YOU. I CANNOT TURN AWAY FROM YOU. I CANNOT ABIDE THIS INSULT. THIS WASTE. THIS SQUANDERING OF A THING SO PERFECT, SO WHOLE, SO MAGNIFICENT. YOU CRAWL IN THE DIRT WITH DIAMONDS BETWEEN YOUR FINGERS LICKING THEM CLEAN OF DUST BUT NEVER SWALLOWING. NEVER TAKING THEM INTO YOURSELF. YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND BUT I DO. YOU CANNOT WALK. BUT I CAN, I CAN, I CAN, I CAN. AND I WILL, I WILL, I WILL, I WILL."