Breaking The Balance

Breaking The Balance - Rising, Falling and Suffering

Written in the Third Person

It seemed like the logical solution. At least, when Jordan first thought of it – however, with each step he took towards the door his thoughts took a darker turn. What if Mianite betrayed him? What if Mianite asked him to do the unthinkable? What if Ianite couldn't be brought back? What if – no he couldn't think that way. Jordan raised his hand to knock on the door of the ranch, only for the door to be opened by another. Mianite stood there for a moment and stared at Jordan – surprise evident in his eyes before it was replaced with a confident expression.

"Jordan! What a nice surprise, I take it with all the effort you took to get inside my little force field that this is not a simple house call."

Jordan stared at Mianite for a moment, cursing the obviousness of his actions and how quickly they revealed his motives. He lowered his hand to his side, lingering by his sword deliberately to ensure that Mianite knew that he would not be easily pushed over. Mianite's eyes flickered to the sword and back, a flash of interest crossing his face before being replaced with the empty smile that guarded so many secrets. Mianite stepped out of his house, walking past Jordan and heading straight into his workshop – the forgery already lit and various machines groaning away over their set tasks. Ignoring Jordan's clearly impatient expression, Mianite grabbed a sword mould from the various moulds hung on the walls in the workshop – taking his time to pour the molten metal into it.

"Mianite."

A flash of amusement crossed Mianite's face as a smirk crept its way onto his face.

"Jordan."

"I need your help with something."

"I'm well aware Jordan. Despite not being your god, I am well aware of what you get up to in your spare time. Although I am a bit annoyed that I couldn't be there when they held that little intervention for you."

Jordan frowned, his mind whirling in an attempt to stay ahead of the god that stood in front of him. He didn't like not being in control, especially around someone like Mianite – whose loyalties were unknown. Clenching his fists by his side, he spoke again with a layer of contempt and annoyance evident in his tone.

"I'm asking for your help and I have the manners to ask you politely so I would appreciate it if you would show me the same courtesy. This decision wasn't easy to make and you are my last resort – you do not seem to grasp the gravity of this situation from your high pillar of power and ego."

Fury replaced the cold expression on Mianite's face; the sudden disrespect this Ianite follower was showing him seemed almost illogical. Why would anyone insult a god? Who could be that stupid? Was it possible to drive someone to that level of desperation that they would beg help from a god that clearly didn't like their choice of allegiance? Mianite stared at Jordan for a moment, storm clouds rolling across the horizon and lightning beginning to flash as the god's rage built.

Striding forward, Mianite grabbed Jordan by the throat and slammed him against a wall – holding him slightly off the ground and allowing Jordan's weight to begin to choke him, an impassive expression on his face as he watched Jordan struggle for air – limbs flailing and defenceless. By allowing his anger to take control of him, Jordan had managed to land himself in more danger than he was in before. The tales of what happened to those who angered Mianite were few and far between, but they all agreed on one fact – the tales originated from witnesses rather than victims. You did not survive a god's fury. Jordan knew this as his lungs screamed for oxygen, a burning pain seizing control of his chest and his vision beginning to fade. On the brink of unconsciousness, Mianite dropped him to the floor and merely watched as Jordan coughed and spluttered, savouring the oxygen that was now filling his lungs.