Balance. Each world needs it.

If there exists a being who can do no evil, there must be an
equally powerful being incapable of doing good. The
Emperor didn't take sides. He sent his son to do good, and I
came to match him.

We countered each other, small skirmishes, minor battles.
Games. Neither of us took it harshly until I raised the
stakes. I have a tendency to break the rules when bored. I
injured and exiled, and he did not return for a hundred
years. A brief time, by our reckoning.

I ruled the land cruelly, according to my nature, waiting for
his return. He keeps the rules. When the children arrived
and the first part of the prophecy was fulfilled, he came to
answer the end of it.

I knew the children would bring my doom, and my other
half back to me.

There's not so much difference between hate and love. It's
a matter of intent. The passion is much the same between
the two, and so I call the emotion hate, while he knows it is
love. His nature would not allow him to bring me down
without love, but above all he would counter, and it was his
turn to conquer.

I held off as long as possible; I am malevolent, after all. I
tried to keep my country, delay the battle, detained him, ran
my fingers through his locks and shore them off, and then I
killed him, hating him all the while.

He loved me too much to stay dead. Where would I be
without my match? He crossed me on the field, took me
down, and I died, as I was meant to.

I sat on a rocky shore and eased my broken body. I saw him
while still a long way off and made him halt.

"You killed me," I said.

"You'll live," he said.

"Not yet," I answered.

"I'll wait."