The question you had asked the gardener so many times before, falling from your mouth.
“Why, Nasim? Why?” So many whys. Why did they take you away, why do they beat you for the least mistake. Why does your sister hate you so now? Why must you learn to war and hurt? Why, why why? Always the same answer comes back.
“I do not know, Cahan. But all things are linked, Ranya tells us so. Maybe she moulds you for some great purpose.”
What great purpose? you thought. To kill and kill and kill to feed a god? To send your enemies, people you did not even know, and the whole world to burn? What is great in that? All had been lies and liars. Only this man, Nasim, was gentle and true. His books fascinating, telling tales of an older god, with softer ways where people came together.
Sometimes you wondered if Nasim wrote those books, if he made them up, because you saw no evidence of gentleness in the world you lived in. Ever.