High above the smog-choked streets, in a place where the sun was nothing but a memory and the light was a manufactured lie, two voices echoed. They were the architects of this world's suffering, the silent witnesses to every fall and every rise.
"What sin do you think he relishes the most?" the first voice said, its tone a low, amused purr, a predator toying with its prey. It did not sound like it had a body, only a presence that held the entire City in its gaze.
Another voice, a cold, dry whisper that seemed to emanate from the very air, answered without hesitation. "Pride. A simple, yet potent, vintage. He has carved himself from stone, a statue of defiance in a world of dust. He bows to no one, not even to the very laws of reality."
"How noble. But even the most beautiful statue will crack. And when he falls, no one will catch him."
"Perhaps not. But his pride goes beyond simple vanity," the second voice countered. "It is not vainglory. It is a force that doesn't just inflate his own ego, but inspires others to stand taller. His pride is an ember that ignites a fire in the heart of all he meets. He is a fool, but a useful one." The voice did not pass judgment on the sin itself, only the overindulgence. Your wrath can be righteous. Your lust, tender. Your gluttony, a simple appreciation of flavor. The voice seemed to be thinking, but it was a thought without sound, a sentiment without a body. But do not let it consume you.
"Then what virtue has he pursued, to never stray from that balance?"
"Compassion. The most curious virtue to find in a world of such malice. It is a weakness in this place, a fatal flaw."
"How benevolent, so he's a fool and a simpleton, a man who will die for a cause that doesn't exist. He's a dead man walking."
"Perhaps, his light will hold people together, a spirit that will liberate all he gazes upon. He's a beacon in the dark, a fool who can't see the danger he's in."
"The darkness hates all that is light. The City despised him before; now it will be tenfold."
"But he will outshine all the things here. And there it will be," the second voice finished. "He will either burn to nothing or he will change the world, and there is no in between. His pride and compassion, a double helix, a paradox that can either be the most beautiful thing in the world or the most dangerous one."
"Then what sin does he abhor the most?" the first voice said, its tone a silken thing, the very sound of a viper coiled in a sunlit corner. "A man who embraces all, what could he possibly despise?"
"Indifference," the second voice answered, its tone cold, precise, a chisel striking stone. "The sin of those who stand on the sidelines, watching a fire burn and feeling no heat. The apathy that allows the suffering of another to be nothing more than a passing spectacle."
"How... compassionate," the first voice drawled, a hint of something that was almost-but not quite-disgust in its tone. "A man who would rather burn with a stranger than stand cold and watch."
"He believes that every life is worth saving, every spirit is a fire that deserves to burn brightly. To him, indifference is not a weakness, but a conscious choice to extinguish a light," the second voice said. "He abhors the man who watches from a distance, the one who does not care. He would rather be an enemy than a bystander."
"Forgiveness," the first voice murmured, a new note of fascination in its tone. "What of that? A virtue as rare as a warm day in the City."
"How innocent," the second voice said, its tone a low, somber hum. "He believes he can guide the darkness with his light. He doesn't seek to burn it with his wrath, but to give it a reason to follow him. To inspire a change in the heart of the monster."
"Shadows lurk even beyond the candlelight's reach," the first voice shot back, a cruel, undeniable truth in its words. "Not all will follow, and they will escape to consume another. That is the price of his naivety."
"Then there is the sin of Fraud," the second voice said, a bitter, contemptuous note in its voice. "He has no time for it. Not for the lies people tell themselves, nor the deceit they foist upon others. He is a man of honesty, in a City built on lies."
"And what of that? All are liars here. It's how we survive. It is a virtue of its own kind."
"Not to him. To him, a lie is a shackle, a cage that keeps a person from truly being free. He seeks not to trick, but to earn. His virtues are too simple for this place."
"Courage," the first voice said, a hint of a challenge in its tone. "What of that? A virtue he has in spades."
"Overwhelmingly so. His courage is a fire that cannot be contained. He is a fool, but his foolishness will inspire others to follow him."
"And what of that? He will find out soon enough that not everyone wants to be free. Not everyone wants to be saved. And for them... he is a fool who is begging to be put down."
"Perhaps. But a fool who is willing to die for something is more dangerous than a man who is willing to live for nothing. And for him... he will not die. He will either break the world, or the world will break him."
The two voices fell silent, the aural view of the City a silent canvas upon which the destiny of a single man was being painted in fire and blood.
"He is a fool. He will not make a difference. A monument to the seven sins had shone over this city. Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Wrath, Greed, and Sloth. His kind has come and gone, their spirits burning bright before being extinguished. His pride will not save him. His compassion will be his downfall. This is a system, a balance. And he is trying to upset it. The City will not allow it."
"Then you do not understand. He is not a hero of the City. He is a child who fell into a twisted fairy tale. He is not driven by the sins of the City, but by the virtue that he embodies. His motivations are not unlike the voices of the Distortions he so readily puts down. He is driven by a dream that will either illuminate this City or consume him entirely."
"Let him try. Let his kind of dreams illuminate the City. And may the City stay mesmerized in its sweet dream, no matter how brightly this Star may shine. Humans must weave their tales in this everlasting status quo. He is not an exception. He is the rule. He is a fleeting moment in a world that has no need for heroes."
"Perhaps. But a story with a hero, no matter how short, is better than a story with none."