Yes, perhaps the blue mare was right. Perhaps he had survived, in the most literal fashion, but he wanted more than that. He wanted to be his own man, capable of making real decisions, commanding a certain amount of respect and even a modicum of power. Yes, he wanted out from under the shadow that Maslakhat had cast over him, but truthfully he wasn’t sure how he could get what we wanted without yielding to his birthright. He wanted to be enough without all the pomp and circumstance, but he had done very little with his life so far he felt he didn't deserve anything. This vicious circle of self-doubt was what led him here in the first place, and what had caused his horrid condition. In order to break free of it, something needed to change.
“I want others to look upon me without fear of illness… without the notion that they might somehow become wrapped up within the vortex of disarray that I am engulfed in.”
Zahhāk paused a moment, looking over the blue mare, amazed she was still here and listening to his incoherent ramblings. She must have come from a land of abundance, he thought to himself, where perhaps there was ample vegetation and companionship among the herd—maybe even joy.
“I cannot thank you enough for being here,” he finished, thinking it wise to show his appreciation for doing what no one else would do since he’d gone out on his own. “But might I ask only one last thing of you?” He paused again, his dark eyes hopeful that she had not grown tired of his depressive rambling. “I could really use a place to rest—to recover—ideally somewhere I don’t have to worry for my safety… I cannot do this alone.” Zahhāk’s eyes pleaded with her for an invitation to wherever she came from, hopeful for the first time in months that there might be a path for him that didn’t end in sickness or death.
Zahhāk
There was madness in any direction, at any hour.
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