zahhak

Power, more power is the only thing that quenches my thirst.

The power to guide the mighty herds of horses, the best that exists, the fastest, The power of leading Mardisgard the land of my father! The power of having my father’s power, the father who was the closest ally to Jamshid! Now, oh Mardas, Father, where are you to witness that your son, Zahhak the bastard whom you once looked condescendingly on, is now sitting on your master’s, Jamshid’s, throne! Jamshid, oh king of kings in this world… Ohhhh, I am fulfilled with power… and yet…
But to what avail when a pain fills my entire being! I am suffering… my shoulders ache, I feel another being within me; it stumbles and chews my flesh from within. Its slightest movement eats my marrow and burns me. I am in pain, pain…
At nights a familiar voice that is the master of these pains comes to my bedside and calls out to me. It roars, it moans, it talks, it commands and it leaves. At dawn, alone… when that voice, that very master of my pains, leaves I gulp down the concoction that it has prescribed. The pain in my shoulders calms, but to what end? My very being is aching, sleepless: it is the pain of solitude, solitude… It is the pain that knows no master and no cure…