The Choice

Prologue

Choice of four, each a hell unto its own

A crippled old woman bent over a dying fire, surrounded by a small band of young boys and girls, eagerly waiting for her to speak.

The future lies on the mind of child unknown

It had become a tradition in their parts for the ancient medicine woman to speak of the Choice of Suffering. They knew that her story was originally a warning, but after time and apparent peace, her story became merely a kind of entertainment.

To decide the fate of all mankind

The woman poked a dry stick to stir up the embers and watched the gathering crowd. She had given them a false sense of security. The warning was nearly useless now.

For to one of the four, the child must bind

The men and women of the crowd ceased talking as the woman raised withered and worn hand into the air to command silence. The woman began her story.

“When the world was still but a young babe, the gods sat trying to figure a way to manage it and all the creatures that called it home. One problem came up in the discussion repeatedly: balance. Balance is a force that even the gods cannot escape. After days, weeks, months of arguing a decision was made. In the name of balance, all the good must be even with all the bad.”

Everyone had heard this part of her tale. Balance was a force that governed everything. The scales always become even, no matter the efforts put against it.

“The message was passed onto Man, ‘One tear for one laugh, one pleasure for one pain, one good for every evil.’ Man accepted this and passed it on. But there were some who refused this statement, as they believed that power can only be achieved by destroying the balance. If they were alone, all would’ve gone well, but there was an evil behind them. A deep evil, the destructive force created to balance out the goodness of the world. Thus, a curse started to plague the world.”

Mothers began to hold their nervous children in their laps, and hug the babies on their arms a bit more tightly. It was well-known for the children to have nightmares about the curse.

“When evil has reached a peak, and fear run rampant in the souls of many, the choice must be made. This is the heart of the curse. The wrong choice causes the world to be thrown into chaos, the streets to run with blood. The evil is never truly gone from our mists, for that is the sacrifice for balance. The true choice shall end the curse. But alas, the true choice can never be made.”

The village people knew this part by heart. The medicine woman would leave the story hanging, an obvious question dangling in the air. One boy in the front urged her on, as tradition called for.

“Why can the choice never be made?” came the timid voice.

“Because all the choices are wrong.”