Zahhāk had never known peace—of body, mind or soul. He was in constant war with himself. The duality of what he wanted to be and what he actually was pushed and pulled on him like the moon pulled the tides in and out each day and night. He wanted nothing more than to break the cycle, to smash the wheel that rolled on and on without any regard for the consequences if it meant he didn’t have to feel this way anymore. He just had no idea how. He was utterly alone. He had no friends, only enemies or phantasms of unknown origins.
And then a call broke through the impossibly still air. Feminine. Yine değil, he thought to himself as he broke his focus from the pool of snowmelt at his feet to meet the gaze of a lone, blue mare who approached him. She kept her distance, but respectably so, and when she politely inquired if he would like company, the smoky black stallion could only stare back at her with incredulous disbelief.
“Do you mean me?” He asked, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining this. It seemed probable that somehow he had fallen into another restless slumber, and this entire circumstance was just his mind being deceitful once more. He simply couldn’t fathom that anyone would pay him any attention, especially in his present condition. Yet here was this slim and strikingly beautiful mare who did not recoil in fear and disgust at the sight of him. He needed to be sure she was real.
Zahhāk
There was madness in any direction, at any hour.
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