The Council towers over us from the hill they stand upon, looking down at us like we're less. To them, we've always been less. They have the safety of the Mirror World of the Divine where the only act of violence committed is Mystics being thrown into an elevator.
Mystics have to live in this world, where hardships are second nature, where life is full of the negative. They allow Mystics to die when they have all the power in their hands to prevent that—supposedly. I know they don't care, but the knowledge of that hurts when they're supposed to watch over us, look out for us. It seems more like they've been against us this whole time, probably even before the first war started.
With all the harm they've done, we don't need them, only ourselves. We're the ones who battle, who fight, who
