Because You Love to Hate Me(39)
Thomas was waiting for Sigrid to follow in Alice Gray’s footsteps. To take the selfless path—to be brave. When Thomas said Sigrid could have it all, he meant until it cost him something. He wanted her to sacrifice herself, leaving Thomas to save magic and take all the glory.
But Thomas had said it himself: if Alice had been half as powerful as they were, things would have been different. Don’t trust the choice. In her final moments, Alice had been filled with terror and regret for her sacrifice.
All Sigrid felt was calm.
Sigrid watched herself advance on Thomas, arm raised. She witnessed the cold glaze in her own eyes as her hand arced down, burying the iron stake in his stomach. Sigrid grabbed Thomas and shoved him back, pushing the stake farther into his soft belly, dragging him to the cliff’s edge. Her hand was warm with his gushing blood. His body twitched, fighting the lightning-fast march to death.
“I didn’t come here to save magic,” she said, her ice-blue eyes calm and clear. “I came here to prove that I could.”
And when she blinked—release. Thomas’s head rolled up to the honeyed sky as his body fell backward to the shore.
In the next blink, Sigrid returned to herself, looking over the cliff’s edge into nothingness. There was no sound of body meeting rock. The fog was too thick to see where Thomas found his final rest. All was silent besides the persistent waves and the steady clunk-clunk of the dingy battering the rocky shore.
She turned back to the man, breathing hard, hair in her eyes.
“Is it resolved?” His dark stare was relentless.
Sigrid began to walk toward him when pain exploded in her belly. She passed a hand over her stomach. It came away wet with blood. In her shock, a partially chewed khat leaf fell from her mouth.
Sigrid blinked and saw the bright arc of sky. She blinked and saw her hand coated in gore. She shut her eyes, mind spinning.
“Is it resolved?” the man repeated. “Have you chosen?”
Daring to open her eyes, Sigrid saw one thing clearly: the magical flame dancing at the sorcerer’s feet. It cast no shadow, nor emitted any heat. It was nothing more than a trick—a figment of something real, created to give meaning to something abstract, subconscious. And on it would flicker, until the sorcerer had no more need of it.
Thomas’s body had made no sound, as insubstantial in death as it had been in life. Just a figment of Sigrid’s whim.
She drew up, the pain in her stomach melting away. The iron stake still lay in the crabgrass, but Sigrid splayed her fingers: no blood or markings remained. She stretched her neck and took a breath, feeling full, buoyed, whole.
“It is done.”
“Good,” the man said. He turned, beckoning her to follow. “Then we can begin.”
SOPHIA LEE’S VILLAIN CHALLENGE TO SARAH ENNI:
A Dark Sorcerer’s Motives for Seeking Immortality or Omnipotence
WILL THE REAL VILLAIN PLEASE STAND UP?
BY SOPHIA LEE
I don’t like villains.
Not because they’re evil or because they’re universally unpopular, but because they’re weak—and I don’t mean weak in terms of physical strength or magical power, but that they’re weak in their characterization. So I asked Sarah to create something—or someone—different.
MY VILLAIN GOALS FOR SARAH:
1)A villain so compelling, I would question rooting for the protagonist 2)A villain with comprehensive backstory 3)A villain with incredible power and a desire to use it 4)A villain whose moral code was debatable 5)A villain who would make me reconsider what it means to be a villain And so Sarah created Sigrid. Sigrid was a character that left me feeling both satisfied and conflicted.
HOW SIGRID DOES “VILLAIN” RIGHT: 1)She wanted to know the limits of her strength 2)She was focused and determined 3)She didn’t want to waste her potential 4)She discouraged complacence
5)She was talented and powerful
WAYS SIGRID SETS OFF ALL THE WRONG ALARMS:
1)Her interests were only for herself, not for the greater good 2)She was tempted by (and succumbed to her thirst for) power 3)She believed she murdered her best friend 4)And felt no remorse about it
5)And considered no other options Sigrid’s character resonated with me so much that I wondered what it revealed about my own character. (Yikes.) Although I could see telltale signs of evil in Sigrid’s actions, I could also easily see myself making similar decisions. It made me realize how much the line between hero and villain could be blurred.
I’ve always been the protagonist of my own story, but it’s interesting to think I could be a villain in somebody else’s. Somebody out there has tried to attain or achieve something, and I have stood in their way. To an extent, we’re each an encapsulation of both protagonist and antagonist, hero and villain. Sarah highlights the flexibility of these roles with Sigrid alone.
Sigrid was ambitious, yes, and the immensity of her power was virtually inarguable. But she was also intelligent and relatable and, most importantly, comprehensible in her motivation. She stood in a grey field of ambiguity, and upon finishing the story, I discovered with welcome surprise that I wasn’t entirely convinced that Sigrid was our villain.
I easily adopted the perception that she was solely a determined girl whose only crime—if even that—was that she wanted to see just how far she could push herself. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. I mean, I do it every day at school. Of course, she also mercilessly murdered someone who turned out to be unreal, and I, for one, don’t do that at school. At least, not every day. But even though Sigrid was cold and ruthless, she also felt reasonable to a degree that leaves me wondering. Who is the real villain in this story?