Albatross

“You trespass into our domain and call it unholy. You call us fae: wild, unforgiving, cruel.”

“But tell me— who carved borders into open land just to spill the blood of their kin? Who minted coins, then taught their children to starve without them? You take what was never earned, kill what never raised a weapon, then kneel at the altar of your own undoing to drink the cup of ignorance. You divide sinners from saints as if it were as simple as night and day— never pausing for the in-betweens of dusk and dawn.”

“You name yourselves founders of the world— gods, even. You trudge uphill in relentless pursuit, and when you finally look down, see the bodies beneath your feet, you say it was our savagery. Our ‘baser instincts’, you say. Yet what are they, if not simply instincts? Not desire. Not conquest. Not wrath.”

“It is simply nature. No sinners. No saints. Only a cycle of fear, will, and then acceptance. Call us monsters, if you must. But I say this:”

“It takes one to know one, mortal.”