Today i have a confession to make: i'm a little bit of a minmaxer. And honestly, i think that's a pretty desirable trait in a DM. The minmaxer knows the rules, and exploits them to maximum efficiency.
"But wait, what does that have to do with spell use in society?" - someone, probably.
Well, the thing is that humans are absolutely all about minmaxing. There's a rule in the universe that reads "gas expands when hot", and suddenly we have steam engines (or something like that, i'm a political scientist not an engineer). A rule says 1+1 = 2, and suddenly we have calculus, computers and all kinds of digital stuff that runs on math. Sound is energy? Let's convert that shit into electricity, run it through a wire and turn it back into sound on the other side.
Bruh. Science is just minmaxing the laws of nature. Humanity in real life is just a big bunch of munchkins, and it should be no different in your setting.
And that is why minmaxing magic usage is something societies as a whole would do, specially with some notable spells. Today i will go in depth on how and why each of these notable mentions has a huge impact on a fantasy society.
We'll go from lowest level to highest, keeping in mind that the lower level a spell the more common it should be to find someone who has it, so often a level 2-3 spell will have more impact than a level 9 spell.

Mending (cantrip).
Repair anything in one minute. Your axe lost its edge? Tore your shirt? Just have someone Mend it.
Someone out there is crying "but wait! Not every village has a wizard!" and while that is true, keep in mind any High Elf knows a cantrip, as can any Variant Human.
A single "mender" could replace a lot of the work a smith, woodworker or seamstress does, freeing their time to only work on making new things rather than repair old ones.

Prestidigitation (cantrip).
Clean anything in six seconds. Committed axe murders until the axe got blunt, and now there's blood everywhere? Dog shit on your pillow out of spite? Someone walked all over the living room with muddy boots? Just Prestidigitate it away.
This may look like a small thing, but its actually huge when you apply it to laundry. Before washing machines were a thing housewives had to spend several hours a week washing them manually, and with Prestidigitation you can just hire someone to get it done in a few minutes.
A single "magic cleaner" can attend to several dozen homes, if not hundreds, thus freeing several hours of the time of dozens of women.
Fun fact: there's an interesting theory that says feminism only existed because of laundry machines and similar devices. Women found themselves having more free time, which they used to read and socialize. Educated women with more contacts made for easy organization of political movements, and the fact men were now able to do "the women's work" by pushing a button meant men were less opposed to losing their housewives' labor. Having specialized menders and magic cleaners could cause a comparable revolution in a fantasy setting, and help explain why women have a similar standing to men even in combat occupations such as adventuring.

Healing in general (1st-2nd level).
This one is fairly obvious. A commoner has 4 hit points, that means just about any spell is a full heal to the average person. That means most cuts, stab wounds, etc. can be solved by the resident cleric. Even broken bones that would leave you in bed for months can be solved in a matter of seconds as soon as the holy man arrives.
But that's nothing compared to the ability to cure diseases. While the only spell that can cure diseases is Lesser Restoration, which is second level, a paladin can do it much more easily with just a Lay on Hands. This means if one or two people catch a disease it can just be eradicated with a touch.
However doing that comes with a cost. If everyone is instantly expunged of illness, the populace does not build up their immune systems. Regular disease becomes less common, sure, but whenever it is reintroduced (by, say, immigrants or contact with less civilized humanoids) it can spread like wildfire, afflicting people so fast that no amount of healers will have the magic juice to deal with it.
Diseases become rare, plagues become common.

Continual Flame (2nd).
Ok, this one is a topic i love and could easily be its own post.
There's an article called "Why the Falling Cost of Light Matters", which goes in detail about how man went from chopping wood for fire, to using animal fat for candles, then other oils, whale oil, kerosene, then finally incandescent light bulbs, and more recently LED lights. Each of these leaps is orders of grandeur more efficient than the previous one, to the point that the cost of light today is about 500,000 times cheaper than it was for for a caveman. And until the early 1900s the only way mankind knew of making light was to set things on fire.
Continual Flame on the other hand allows you to turn 50gp worth of rubies and a 2nd level spell slot into a torch that burns forever. In a society that spends 60 hours of labor to be able to generate 140 minutes of light, this is a huge game changer.
This single spell, which i am 99% sure was just created as an excuse for why the dungeon is lit despite going for centuries without maintenance, allows you to have things like public lighting. Even if you only add a new "torchpost" every other week or month sooner or later you'll be left with a neatly lit city, specially if the city has had thousands of years in which to gather the rubies and light them up.
And because the demand of rubies becomes so important, consider how governments would react. Lighting the streets is a public service, if its strategically relevant to make the city safer at night, would that not warrant some restrictions on ruby sales? Perhaps even banning the use of rubies in jewelry?
Trivia: John D. Rockefeller, the richest man in history, gained his wealth selling kerosene. Kerosene at the time was used to light lamps. Gasoline was invented much later, when Rockefeller tasked a bunch of scientists to come up with a use for some byproducts of the kerosene production. This illustrates how much money is to be had in the lighting industry, and you could even have your own Rockefeller ruby baron in your game. I shall call him... Dohn J. Stonebreaker. Perfect name for a mining entrepreneur.
Whether the ruby trade ends up a monopoly under the direct supervision of the king or a free market, do keep in mind that Continual Flame is by far the most efficient way of creating light.

Gentle Repose (2nd).
Cast it on a corpse, and it stays preserved for 10 days.
This has many potential uses, from preserving foodstuffs (hey, some rare meats are expensive enough to warrant it) to keeping the bodies of old rulers preserved. Even if a ruler died of old age and cannot be resurrected, the body could be kept "fresh" out of respect/ceremony. Besides, it keeps the corpse from becoming undead.

Skywrite (2nd).
Ok, this one is mostly a gag. While the spell can be used by officials to make official announcements to the populace, such as new laws or important news, i like to just use it for spam. I mean, its a ritual spell that writes a message on the sky; what else would people use it for?
Imagine you show up in a city, and there's half a dozen clouds reading "buy at X, we have what you need", "get your farming supplies over at Joe's store" or "vote Y for the city council".
The possibilities are endless, and there's no way the players can expect it. Just keep in mind that by RAW the spell can only do words, meaning no images. No Patrick, "8===D" is not a word.

Zone of Truth (2nd).
This one is too obvious. Put all suspects of a crime into a ZoT, wait a couple minutes to make sure they fail the save, then ask each one if he did it. Sure its not a perfect system, things like the Ring of Mind Shielding still exist, but it's got a better chance of getting the right guy than most medieval justice systems. And probably more than a few contemporary ones. All while taking only a fraction of the time.
More importantly, with all the average crimes being handled instantly, the guards and investigators have more time to properly investigate the more unusual crimes that might actually involve a Thought Shield, Ring of Mind Shielding or a level 17 Mastermind.
There is a human rights argument against messing with people's minds in any way, which is why this may not be practiced in every kingdom. But there are definitely some more lawful societies that would use ZoT on just about every crime.
Why swear to speak the truth and nothing but the truth when you can just stand in a zone of truth?
Another interesting use for ZoT is oaths. When someone is appointed into an office, gets to a high rank in the military or a guild, just put them in a ZoT while they make their oath to stand for the organization's values and yadda yadda. Of course they can be corrupted later on, but at least you make sure they're honest when they are sworn in.

Sending (3rd).
Sending is busted in so many ways.
The more "vanilla" use of it is to just communicate over long distances. We all know that information is important, and that sometimes getting information a whole day ahead can lead to a 40% return on a massive two-year investment. Being able to know of invasions, monsters, disasters, etc. without waiting days or weeks for a courier can be vital for the survival of a nation. Another notable example is that one dude who ran super fast for a while to be the first to tell his side of a recent event.
But the real broken thing here is... Sending can Send to any creature, on any plane; the only restriction being "with which you are familiar". In D&D dead people just get sent to one of the afterlife planes, meaning that talking to your dead grandfather would be as simple as Sending to him. Settling inheritance disputes was never easier!
Before moving on to the next point let me ask you something: Is a cleric familiar with his god? Is a warlock familiar with his patron?

Speak With Dead (3rd).
Much like Sending, this lets you easily settle disputes. Is the senate/council arguing over a controversial topic? Just ask the beloved hero or ruler from 200 years ago what he thinks on the subject. As long his skeleton still has a jaw (or if he has been kept in Gentle Repose), he can answer.
This can also be used to ask people who killed them, except murderers also know this. Plan on killing someone? Accidentally killed someone? Make sure to inutilize the jaw. Its either that, being so stealthy the victim can't identify you, or being caught.

Note on spell availability.
Oh boy. No world-altering 4th level spells for some reason, and suddenly we're playing with the big boys now.
Spells up to 3rd level are what I'd consider "somewhat accessible", and can be arranged for a fee even for regular citizens. For instance the vanilla Priest statblock (MM348) is a 5th level cleric, and the standard vanilla Druid (MM346) a 4th level druid.
Spells of 5th level onward will be considered something only the top 1% is able to afford, or large organizations such as guilds, temples or government.

Dream (5th).
I was originally going to put Dream along with Sending and Telepathy as "long range communication", but decided against it due to each of them having unique uses.
And when it comes to Dream, it has the unique ability of allowing you to put your 8 hours of sleep to good use. A tutor could hire someone to cast Dream on him, thus allowing him to teach his student for 8 hours at any distance. This is a way you could even access hermits that live in the middle of nowhere or in secluded monasteries. Very wealthy families or rulers would be willing to pay a good amount of money to make sure their heirs get that extra bit of education.
Its like online classes, but while you sleep!
Another interesting use is for cheating. Know a princess or queen you like? She likes you back? Her dad put 400 trained soldiers between you? No problemo! Just find a 9th level Bard, Warlock or Wizard, but who am i kidding, of course it'll be a bard. And that bard is probably you. Now you have 8 hours to do whatever you want, and no physical evidence will be left.

Raise Dead (5th).
Few things matter more in life than death. And the ability to resurrect people has a huge impact on society. The impact is so huge that this topic needs topics of its own.
First, diamond monopoly. Remember what i said about how Continual Flame would lead to controlled ruby sales due to its strategic value? This is the same principle, but a hundred times stronger. Resurrection is a huge strategic resource. It makes assassinations harder, can be used to bring back your officials or highest level soldiers over and over during a war, etc. This means more authoritarian regimes would do everything within their power to control the supply and stock of diamonds. Which in turn means if anyone wants to have someone resurrected, even in times of peace, they'll need to call in a favor, do a quest, grease some hands...
Second, resurrection insurance. People hate risks. That's why insurance is such a huge industry, taking up about 15% of the US GDP. People insure their cars, houses... even their lives. Resurrection just means "life insurance" is taken more literally. This makes even more sense when you consider how expensive resurrection is: nobody can afford it in one go, but if you pay a little every month or year you can save up enough to have it done when the need arises.
This is generally incompatible with the idea of a State-run monopoly over diamonds, but that just means different countries within a setting can take different approaches.
To make things easier, i even used some microeconomics to make a sheet in my personal random generators to calculate the price of such a service. Just head to the "Insurance" tab and fill in the information relative to your setting.
With actual life insurance resurrection can cost as little as 5gp a year for humans or 8sp a year for elves, making resurrection way more affordable than it looks.
Also, do you know why pirates wore a single gold earring? It was so that if your body washes up on the shore whoever finds it can use the money to arrange a proper burial. Sure there's a risk of the finder taking it and walking away, but the pirates did it anyway. With resurrection in play, might as well just wear a diamond earring instead and hope the finder is nice enough to bring you back.
I got so carried away with the whole insurance thing i almost forgot: the possibility of resurrection also changes how murders are committed.
If you want someone dead but resurrection exists, you have to remove the vital organs. Decapitation would be far more common. Sure resurrection is still possible, but it requires higher level spells or Reincarnate, which has... quirks.
As a result it should be very obvious when someone was killed by accident or an overreaction, and when someone was specifically out to kill the victim.

Scrying (5th).
This one is somewhat obvious, in that everyone and their mother knows it helps finding people. But who needs finding? Well, that would be those who are hiding.
The main use i see for this spell, by far, is locating escaped criminals. Just collect a sample of hair or blood when arresting someone (or shipping them to hard labor which is way smarter), and if they escape you'll be almost guaranteed to successfully scry on them.
A similar concept to this is seen in the Dragon Age series. If you're a mage the paladins keep a sample of your blood in something called a phylactery, and that can be used to track you down. There's even a quest or two about mages trying to destroy their phylacteries before escaping.
Similarly, if you plan a jailbreak it would be highly beneficial to destroy the blood/hair sample first. As a matter of fact i can even see a thieves guild hiring a low level party to take out the sample while the professional infiltrators get the prisoner out. Keep in mind both events must be done at the same time, otherwise the guards will just collect a new sample or would have already taken it to the wizard.
But guards aren't the only ones with resources. A loan shark could keep blood samples of his debtors, a mobster can keep one of those who owe him favors, etc. And the blood is ceremoniously returned only when the debt is fully paid.

Teleportation Circle (5th), Transport Via Plants (6th).
In other words, long range teleportation. This is such a huge thing that it is hard to properly explain how important it is.
Teleportation Circle creates a 10ft. circle, and everyone has one round to get in and appear on the target location. Assuming 30ft. movement that means you can get 192 people through, which is a lot of potential merchants going across any distance. Or 672 people dashing.
Math note: A 30ft radius square around a 10ft. diameter square, minus the 4 original squares. Or [(6*2+2)^2]-4 squares of 5ft. each. Hence 192 people.
Getting hundreds of merchants, workers, soldiers, etc. across any distance is nothing to scoff at. In fact, it could help explain why PHB item prices are so standardized: Arbitrage is so easy and cheap that price differences across multiple markets become negligible. Unless of course countries start setting up tax collectors outside of the permanent teleportation circles in order to charge tariffs.
Transport Via Plants does something very similar but it requires 5ft of movement to go through, which means less people can be teleported. On the other hand it doesn't burn 50gp and can take you to any tree the druid is familiar with, making it nearly impossible for tax collectors to be waiting on the other side. Unfortunately druids tend to be a lot less willing to aid smugglers, so your best bet might be a bard using spells that don't belong to his list.
With these methods of long range teleportation not only does trade get easier, but it also becomes possible to colonize or inhabit far away places. For instance if someone finds a gold mine in the antarctic you could set up a mine and bring food and other supplies via teleportation.

Major Image (6th level slot).
Major Image is a 3rd level spell that creates an illusion over a 20ft cube, complete with image, sound, smell and temperature. When cast with a 6th level slot or higher, it lasts indefinitely.
That my friends, is a huge spell. Why get the world's best painter to decorate the ceiling of your cathedral when you can just get an illusion made in six seconds?
The uses for decorating large buildings is already good, but remember: we're not restricted to sight.
Cast this on a room and it'll always be cool and smell nice. Inns would love that, as would anyone who always sleeps or works in the same room. Desert cities have never been so chill.
You can even use an illusion to make the front of your shop seem flashier, while hollering on loop to bring customers in.
The only limit to this spell is your imagination, though I'm pretty sure it was originally made just to hide secret passages.
Trivia: the ki-rin (VGM163) can cast Major Image as a 6th level spell, at will. It's probably meant to give them fabulous lairs yet all it takes is someone doing the holy horsey a big favor, and it could enchant the whole city in a few hours. Shiniest city on the planet, always at a nice temperature and with a fragrance of lilac, gooseberries or whatever you want.

Simulacrum (7th).
Spend 12 hours and 1500gp worth of ruby dust, and get a clone of yourself. Notably, each caster can only have one simulacrum, regardless of who the person he cloned is.
How this changes the world? By allowing the rich and powerful to be in two places at once. Kings now have a perfect impersonator who thinks just like them. A wealthy banker can run two branches of his company. Etc.
This makes life much easier, but also competes with Continual Flame over resources.
It also gives "go fuck yourself" a whole new meaning, making the sentence a valid Suggestion.

Clone (8th).
If there's one spell i despise, its Clone.
Wizard-only preemptive resurrection. Touch spell, costs 1.000gp worth of diamonds each time, takes 120 days to come into effect, and creates a copy of the creature that the soul occupies if the original dies. Oh, and the copy can be made younger.
Why is it so despicable? Because it makes people effectively immortal. Accidents and assassinations just get you sent to the clone, and old age can be forever delayed because you keep going back to younger versions of yourself. Being a touch spell means the wizard can cast it on anyone he wants.
In other words: high level wizards, and only wizards, get to make anyone immortal.
That means wizards will inevitably rule any world in which this spell exists.
Think about it. Rulers want to live forever. Wizards can make you live forever. Wizards want other stuff, which you must give them if you want to continue being Cloned. Rulers who refuse this deal eventually die, rulers who accept stick around forever. Natural selection makes it so that eventually the only rulers left are those who sold their soul to wizards. Figuratively, i hope.
The fact that there are only a handful of wizards out there who are high enough level to cast the spell means its easier for them organize and/or form a cartel or union (cartels/unions are easier to maintain the fewer suppliers are involved).
This leads to a dystopian scenario where mages rule, kings are authoritarian pawns and nobody else has a say in anything. Honestly it would make for a fun campaign in and of itself, but unless that's specifically what you're going for it'll just derail everything else.
Oh, and Clone also means any and all liches are absolute idiots. Liches are people who turned themselves into undead abominations in order to gain eternal life at the cost of having to feed on souls. They're all able to cast 9th level wizard spells, so why not just cast an 8th level one and keep undeath away? Saves you the trouble of going after souls, and you keep the ability to enjoy food or a day in the sun.

Demiplane (8th).
Your own 30ft. room of nothingness. Perfect place for storage and a DM's nightmare given how once players have access to it they'll just start looting furniture and such. Oh the horror.
But alas, infinite storage is not the reason this is a broken spell. No sir.
Remember: you can access someone else's demiplane. That means a caster in city 1 can put things into a demiplane, and a caster in city 2 can pull them out of any surface.
But wait, there's more! There's nothing anywhere saying you can't have two doors to the same demiplane open at once. Now you're effectively opening a portal between two places, which stays open for a whole hour.
But wait, there's even more! Anyone from any plane can open a door to your neat little demiplane. Now we can get multiple casters from multiple planes connecting all of those places, for one hour. Sure this is a very expensive thing to do since you're having to coordinate multiple high level individuals in different planes, but the payoff is just as high. We're talking about potential integration between the most varied markets imaginable, few things in the multiverse are more valuable or profitable. Its a do-it-yourself Sigil.
One little plot hook i like about demiplanes is abandoned/inactive ones. Old wizard/warlock died, and nobody knows how to access his demiplanes. Because he's at least level 15 you just know there's some good stuff in there, but nobody can get to it. Now the players have to find a journal, diary, stored memory or any other way of knowing enough about the demiplane to access it.

True Polymorph (9th).
True Polymorph. The spell that can turn any race into any other race, or object. And vice-versa. You can go full fairy godmother and turn mice into horses. For a spell that can change anything about one's body it would not be an unusual ruling to say it can change one's sex. At the very least it can turn a man into a chair, and the chair into a woman (or vice-versa of course).
But honestly, that's just the tip of the True Polymorph iceberg. Just read this more carefully:
> You transform the creature into a different creature, the creature into a nonmagical object, or the object into a creature
This means you can turn a rock or twig into a human. A fully functional human with, as far as the rules go, a soul. You can create life.
But wait, there's more! Nothing there says you have to turn the target into a known creature on an existing creature. The narcissist bard wants to create a whole race of people who look like him? True Polymorph. A player wants to play a weird ass homebrew race and you have no idea how it would fit into the setting? True Polymorph. Wizard needs a way to quickly populate a kingdom and doesn't want to wait decades for the subjects to grow up? True Polymorph. Warlock must provide his patron 100 souls in order to free his own? True Polymorph. The sorcerer wants to do something cool? Fuck that guy, sorcerers don't get any of the fun high level spells; True Poly is available to literally every arcane caster but the sorcerer.
Note: what good is Twinned Spell if all the high level twinnable spells have been specifically made unavailable to sorcerers?
Do keep in mind however that this brings a whole new discussion on human rights. Does a table have rights? Does it have rights after being turned into a living thing? If it had an owner, is it now a slave? Your country will need so many new laws, just to deal with this one spell.
People often say that high level wizards are deities for all intents and purposes. This is the utmost proof of that. Clerics don't get to create life out of thin air, wizards do. The cleric worships a deity, the wizard is the deity.

Conclusion.
Intelligent creatures not only can game the system, but it is entirely in character for them to do so. I'll even argue that if humanoids don't use magic to improve their lives when it's available, you're pushing the suspension of disbelief.
With this post i hope to have helped you make more complex and realistic societies, as well as provide a few interesting and unusual plot hooks
Lastly, as much as i hate comment begging i must admit i am eager to see what spells other players think can completely change the world. Because at the end of the day we all know that extra d6 damage is not what causes empires to rise and fall, its the utility spells that make the best stories.

Edit: Added spell level to all spells, and would like to thank u/kaul_field for helping with finishing touches and being overall a great mod.

Husband opened my eyes to a pattern of conversation I fall into. Kinda rant/advice seeking/support seeking I guess.

A Ballad of Bedlam: Episode Three

Episode Three: Conspiracy

 Violet My heartbeat wildly in my chest every time I thought of Sauron fighting. It was the day of the fighting pits, and my stomach was doing somersaults at the idea of seeing people brutally murdered before my eyes. It was tradition, but it didn’t make swallowing that pill any easier. Twenty men had been chosen as contestants, and nineteen would never see the light of day after this week.

The last man standing was considered a lion among men, the fiercest of his generation. The winner would be respected and exalted to Sultan, but all that success won over the blood and bones of young men. I hated it, more so now that Sauron was one of the twenty! How could I watch him kill his fellow comrades in the name of glory and honor? I could, I know I could, if it was, he who was the last man standing. Over the past week I’d seen him wink at me while passing in the hall with my father, even giving me a toothy grin. Its like he knew what he did to me and enjoyed watching my face go beet red. We hadn’t talked about what happened in the forest, and for that I was glad, I didn’t want to talk about it…yet.
Since that day I’ve been a whirl wind of emotion and its been almost unbearable to control. One moment I’m overcome with lust for Sauron, absolute hatred for Jewel’s, especially since she practically threw herself at Sauron at the dances. Then moved to tears over the fighting and death to come, I feel this tight pressure in my chest, almost like I’m about to implode but then it recedes, and I go back to normal. I wish I knew what happened that day. The bear had been so high in the air, screaming in pain and horror before being split open like an overripe tomato. Popped, like I’d made it implode with my mind. I remember wishing it was obliterated, and few seconds later, it came to pass. I tried to recall the feelings that had come over me in those chaotic moments. I felt tethered to the earth, as if I was a malleable construct that could shift and change through the elements as if I had a say in how to use them. It felt silly to think such things, but how to explain what happened to me and why? I wanted to talk to Sauron about it, ask him what he saw, maybe I could get some answers. Until then I was fixing my hair and painting my face with a little blush and mascara. I wanted Sauron to see me, to know I supported him. It was customary for the women to give a ribbon from their hair to the contestant they support. My ribbon was tied sweetly around my head in a cute bow that could easily be pulled with one suggestive tug. It was a blue velvet material that matched his eyes, I’d even spritzed a little of my favorite lavender perfume onto it. I would love to give it to him in private if I had a chance. I looked out the window to enjoy the view, it was downcast today and already snowing. The snow fall was light and silent like secrets whispered in private. Each flake a unique design as it glides down to the cold hard earth and then immediately is melted into shapeless liquid. Beauty, for all its value has a short shelf life, I thought after finishing up my outfit and heading out the door to meet Marjorie. “Good Morning Princess Violet.” She smiled genuinely. She seemed to be in a chipper mood, odd I thought, for what was about to come. “Good morning Marjorie. How are you?” I asked, curious to know why she was so happy, but not wanting to pry. Hoping she would just reveal it for me freely. “Oh, the most wonderful thing has happened.” She confessed, and to my delight I smiled and urged her on. “Well go on then, tell me, I’m dying of suspense here.” We both linked arms in camaraderie as we glided down the hallway. Everyone was wrapped warmly for the descent once again down the mountain, and this time I was more than happy to join my mother and Marjorie on the hover train. The memory of bears, blood, and guts tainted my good mood before I willed them from my mind. I had new gore to absorb today, and none of it would involve me. Marjorie beamed at me as we passed people leisurely strolling alongside us. “Darren of the Spring family has already asked for my hand for the flower ceremony.” Her smiles were contagious, and I matched it. I was truly happy for Marjorie; I didn’t even know she was interested in anyone. I thought of Sauron then, how no one knew the friendship brewing between us, it was our little secret. Pot and kettle after all I smiled to myself, I suppose Marjorie felt the same way about her secrets that I did. “That is wonderful news!” I squeeze her arm in congratulations, not wanting to draw too much attention to ourselves, as we boarded the train with the rest of the crowd. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you of my infatuation, I just don’t want people to talk. And I’m so happy he didn’t sign up for the fighting pits, his brother Dax did, his mother is sad, but his father couldn’t be more pleased.” She whispered in my ear. We had found a seat in the royal courters, opposite my mother and Jewel who were conversing in sign language, ignoring Marjorie and me completely. The inside of the hover train was decorated with gold and pastels, making the gloom and doom of the day seem less dreary. Oh, I wished to see Sauron, but I’m sure he was already at the fighting pits warming up. As if Marjorie could read my mind, she bent low, whispering in my ear. “Jewels, I hear, has her eye on Sauron of the Summer family.” Marjorie gave a look like good luck to Jewels; it was obvious Sauron was warding off her advances. “Although half of the dragoons have met her in secret, or so I’ve heard them talk. Who knows if its true or not?” She gave an innocent shrug. “Do you have your eye on anyone in particular?” she asked, looking straight at my blue velvet bow. I blushed, what should I say? I cursed myself, I should have just tucked it up my red sleeves. Blood red was the color of the week. Male and Females were required to wear red in honor of the blood soon to be shed. It was a sign of unity, of respect, and acknowledging the sacrifice of the contestants. My dress was a deep red V neck that went all the way to my navel and flowed out from my hips and past my ankles. I was thankful for the pale red mesh like material that covered the extremely low neckline. Mother had chosen it for me, she waved her hands in the air explaining how important it was to be noticed, so being plucked right up at the flower ceremony won’t be an issue, this dress was designed specifically for me in mind. The shoulders of the dress were puffed up so high they grazed my earlobes, and the sleeves were contoured to my arm like a second skin, all the way down to my wrists. It was very ornate, like a sapphire diamond radiating with beauty. I felt clumsy and out of place in such a luxurious dress, but immensely enjoyed the sparkle of the jewels encrusted like flowers down my torso and faded into a light ombre towards the blowy hemline. My hair was down in waves, the ends curling around the curve of my breast, the light brown of my hair looked dull compared to the passionate red. I just hoped Sauron would notice me, I was desperate to give him my ribbon. Even if I’d misread all the signs, I wanted to throw my hat into the ring so to speak. Turning my thoughts back towards the conversation, I smiled and answered Marjorie, “I do have my eye on someone, and I think he likes me too, so I’ll let you know if it works out before telling you who it is.” I wanted my privacy, to be rejected without an audience would be ideal, I thought, but I wanted to be honest with Marjorie at the same time. Watching Jewel throw herself at the man I cared for put a rage in me like I’d never known. It had almost gotten the better of me, because on the way back to our chambers in black castle I’d made her trip by accident. It was the second time I’d released this weird mysterious power inside me, it manifested into a physical assault on the poor woman. I’d let my jealousy simmer the whole ride home and I’d heard her whispering to her friend Mary about how her and Sauron shared intimate kisses a few weeks prior the Ceremony. That had gotten my blood boiling with malice. So, I glared at her, and the next thing I knew she face planted hard on the ground, face first. She had suffered a bloody nose and a busted lip, but other than that she was going to be fine. Although, hearing her cry all the way to her chambers was quite satisfying indeed. It wasn’t intentional, but I wasn’t mad it happened. Maybe that makes me a person of questionable character but knowing that Sauron had fallen for Jewel’s siren call, I was more determined than ever to make him see me, and only me. Jewel’s nose had healed, although it was deeply bruised, as well as her lip, it was puffed up and purple. Oops. She glared at me as the train came to a halt, my mother was discussing bets on who would survive the end of the day with some of the other ladies in waiting. I might be a bad person for hurting Jewel, but I will never understand the obscenity of discussing people as if they were objects. My mother could be so oblivious to others pain and suffering. Might have to trip her next, I thought, dark humor hanging over me like grey clouds about to burst into billions of tiny raindrops. I felt scary powerful, it was brimming underneath the skin, ready to lash out. I was collecting energy, and when it became to hard to bear, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from releasing it. What terrified me the most was that, I don’t know if this power was a gift or a curse, and how did it happen to me? I wanted answers, but more importantly I wanted Sauron to survive the day. All things in due time, I reminded myself as we exited off the train. I followed Marjorie towards the booth that overlooked the makeshift arena the laborers of Rim City built over the week. I needed to see Sauron before the fighting started, I needed to give him my ribbon. I tapped Marjorie on the back and when she turned to face me, I said, “Hey, I need to use the lavatory, I’ll be right back.” She nodded and with that I was off to find Sauron. The chill clung in the air, so I was grateful for the long sleeves. I had to lift my dress slightly because the length was dragging on the cobble stoned roadway. There were signs directing everyone where to go to see the fights, get snacks during intermission and even pop up shops to barter with. There were hover gurneys prepared for the dead to be carried out of the arena quickly, black sheets to cover the mutilated bodies so as not to scar the onlookers. A chill shot through me like a bolt of lightning, seeing all these precautions, I didn’t know if I could stomach today. “Violet?” I heard my name and whipped around to find the source. My heart skipped a beat at seeing Sauron, he wore a burnt sapphire color, it made his stark blue eyes stand out and pierce the inside of my soul. “Sauron, I was looking for you.” I greeted him more jovially than I’d intended, which caused a blush to creep up my neck. “You were?” he smiled, closing the distance between us with his long stride. Before I could answer he looked me up and down, the traveling gaze so slow I felt as if he was undressing me with his mind. My knees could have buckled but I gathered my wits about me last minute. “Yes, I wanted to talk to you before the game started, or fights, not games, sorry.” I apologized, suddenly not knowing what to say so I just pulled the string to my blue velvet bow. But instead of it just slipping right out of the knot, it caught onto my hair and I unintentionally pulled my hair, like hard. “Ouch!” I hissed, cheeks burning from embarrassment. This was not going the way I’d imagined it….AT ALL! Sauron gave a knowing smile, “Let me help you with that.” His smile was genuine as his fingers worked in my hair, untangling the ribbon and pulling it gently from my hair. “I wonder what lucky guy this belongs to.” He grinned. The sparkle in his eyes told me he knew exactly who it was going to. I gave a nervous laugh as he studied the long piece of soft fabric, but before I could answer he brought it to his nose and inhaled the lavender perfume I’d spritzed on it earlier. “Its yours.” I blurted out dumbly. “I know.” He said, never taking his eyes off mine. “Lavender, it’s my favorite scent on you.” Sauron grabbed my hand and placed the ribbon in my palm so slowly as his fingers grazed mine. His touch sent a line of fire through my system, my knees felt like jelly. “Would you mind tying it around my arm?” his voice was low and seductive, making me forget all about his alone time with Jewel’s. We hadn’t even known each other then. How I could I blame him or hold that over his head? I thought as I tied the blue ribbon around his red sleeve. My heart was pounding, and fingers fumbled as I performed this simple task. Only Sauron could make me feel like a silly little girl. “Please be careful.” I stated. Anxiety had welled in my gut, simmering and festering like an old wound that wouldn’t heal, my heart would break if he perished in the pits. “You look stunning.” He said, completely ignoring my concern. “A ruby red, on pale cream skin, like a dedicant strawberry and crème dessert as the main course. I want nothing more than to take a bite out of you Violet.” I was stunned at the visuals his words inspired in my mind, my knees were wobbly, and breath short and ragged. Sauron ran his finger along the bottom of my jaw, cupping my chin in his giant hands gently. “I will be careful.” He stated, his voice still low and simmering with desire as he bent low towards my face. His lips landed softly on my cheek, where just the corners of our lips lightly touched like an apparition, questioning whether it was real or not. The burning carnal attraction was enough to make me delirious with need. I had no power around this man, he was the one in control and I was his slave. “I’ll be up in the booth, watching.” I whispered rather breathlessly. “Then I won’t disappoint.” He stated, grabbing one of my hands and placing a kiss on the inside of my palm. “Picking you at the flower ceremony is all the prize I require.” “Then I won’t disappoint.” I smiled like a goof, before wishing him well and hurrying off to the booth to join my family. I could barely breathe just recalling all the times he touched, looked at me like he wanted to eat me up greedily. I couldn’t wait for the flower ceremony! Sauron wanted me! Only me! Not Jewel! When I got back to the royal booth, my mother and father were seated next to each other on the thrones placed for them. I sat on the other side of the queen, she was tight lipped and quiet around me, so unlike the animated carefree woman she was with Jewel. Maybe I had more resentment towards Jewel than just her going after Sauron. It was painful not being close with my mother, she was always looking down at me, like if I had been born a boy, she would love me fully instead treating me like I was the thorn in her side. The resentment is a disease that is invisible and builds in silence. So insidious, it spreads like spider webs through the nervous system, rewiring the part where love used to dwell, replacing it with contempt. My parents didn’t have to voice their feelings, I read them loud and clear through the rigid tight body language, like I was a burden to be done away with. Feeling my mother’s irritation at our proximity, sent a low dull river of pure anger lazily riding my veins like lava tubes hidden beneath the earth. I willed myself to be calm and imagined ice cold rivers and lakes tucked neatly between the rolling hills and volcanoes. The chill of the breeze cooled my fiery cheeks as my thoughts returned to Sauron, and his seductive kisses. Jewel appeared in the booth, eyes puffier than I thought possible and red as if she’d been crying. She met my gaze, her green eyes full of hatred and jealousy. Crumpled in her hands was a blue ribbon, her knuckles were white, skin stretching thin across the bones. I was her enemy, that was clear, but it wasn’t until just recently I knew she hated me. As if the tension was too thick and oxygen sparse, Jewel made her way to the lady’s station, taking the aura of tension with her. I was relieved she removed herself from my presence. I could care less about her feelings; I’ve been nothing but kind to her, until she went after Sauron and blamed me for his lack of interest. Childish behavior, I scoffed inwardly. Out of sight out of mind, Jewel, as if she never existed, was wiped from my thoughts. The horns had been raised by the centuries and in unison they blew into the instruments, announcing the beginnings of the fights. My nerves were pulled tight like a wound coil ready to snap back into form. The gates were raised gladiator style into the arena as the men walked out single file. There were weapons in the center of the Arena, placed neatly on a long black hovering table. Swords, daggers, spears, shields, helmets, claymores, hatchets, and many more ways to dispose of precious life. Once everyone is in place, my father stood from his throne to greet the men about to die in his honor. “Today is a somber one,” he began, the hovering drone camera captured his image and it was displayed on a giant hologram screen, “the traditions of our ancestors are not easy ones to follow, but they are necessary. We’ve lived in peace for hundreds of years; the earth has grown prosperous and has healed from the wounds the ancients inflicted upon its soil. The cycle of war and greed, finally broken and a new wheel in its stead. The wheel we have all built together, each part matters, and is required to keep it moving. The next Sultan will know what it takes to survive, this week of hell will determine if you are righteous enough to lead and protect those who cannot protect themselves. Without further ado, let us proceed.” The Sultan bowed towards the contestants in a sign of respect. I stare at the man that is my father, the one who killed ten other men in this same makeshift arena, no wonder he has no love in his soul. The memories of his victims, men he grew up with, must haunt his dreams, I thought. The spoils of trauma etched deep into the marrow of his bones. I would think he would love that I was a girl, his offspring would be spared a part in the blood bath, but why wasn’t he? The dark thoughts raced through my mind but were halted by the baritone of the horns. The sound foreboding and ominous, crept over me like an overcast sky, that was the signal to begin. My heart pounded as the men slowly walked towards the hover table. They calmly picked two weapons each before falling back in line. It was if this dreadful tradition was a choreographed play, each man knowing what part they are to perform. Then the chime from the horns continued as the gates were lifted once more. An outpour of workers dressed in a standard red uniform set up sections in the arena into ten smaller sections. Then there was a man who held a bag, I didn’t know what was in it, but I knew his presence was important. Once the arena was divided, the man with the bag dug his hand into its mystery contents and pulled out a small hologram profile picture. The image was of one of the contestants. They must be drawing for the opponents, I thought as he silently pulled out the second image. The two men whose face had been on display walked shoulder to shoulder to the first section of the arena. And so, on and so forth, until the man pulled out Sauron’s image next to Dax Spring, and my heart plummeted into my feet. I knew Sauron and Darren were close, how could Sauron kill his friends’ brother, all in the name of tradition? My mind raced with panic and worry; this was going to be the worst week of my life. I watched Sauron keep straight ahead as he walked side by side with Dax. This was surreal, I thought, my breath coming out more like a pant. The man with the bag silently disappeared behind the gates and they were shut once again. The silence from the audience was deafening, nothing but the caws of birds and the whoosh of the chilly breeze to fill the senses as death loomed like a haunting predator towards grazing oblivious beasts. It was if time moved more slowly for me than everyone else at that moment. I felt the pulse in my veins, the beat of my heart like thunder booming relentlessly in my chest, and then that foreign fire growing in my gut that was day by day growing more familiar. My eyes hyper focused on Sauron as the fire in my core grew hotter and hotter, sweat forming as big as beads on my back and forehead. My eyes wouldn’t budge from him, his tall broad form, bright blonde hair and a smooth face, covered in pale creamy skin, he was a treat, and I wanted to take a bite out of him too. Suddenly he came into clear focus like my eyes were a telescope, his face was at the forefront of my vision. I gave a small gasp as I saw the pores in his skin clear as day, the freckles like peppered seasoning over his nose and underneath his eyes. I saw the distinct features of the blue pupil of his eyes. Each strand of the iris like a different hue of blue all strung together in imperfect lines and patterns, his pupil was breathtaking. I’d seen his eyes before in the color of crater lake and spring creek, lighter, darker, deeper, depending on the mood, the power of water hidden behind his eyes. His lips were curled in anticipation and I could even hear his ragged breathing. He was nervous, his heart pounding in accordance with mine. I couldn’t believe what I was able to see, how clearly despite the obvious distance. First it was the bear, then Jewel, and now this. What was happening to me? I asked as the final horn broke my concentration and my vision snapped like a rubber band that has been stretched beyond its limit. Then all bedlam broke loose as the contestants went from upstanding citizens of this peaceful kingdom, to blood thirsty savages. The arena, silent moments before, was an uproar of screams, and cheers. It didn’t take long before blood sprayed into the air, landing on the ground, staining the brown earth with the liquid of life. The essence of these men hopes and dreams scattered onto the ground like spilled milk. Tears began to well up in my eyes and blurred my vision. The embers burning in my soul began to smolder at the sights and sounds before me. I didn’t know how much more of this I could take. That’s when I felt a tender hand on my shoulder, it was Marjorie, there was concern in her eyes. “You look unwell, princess, would you like to go for a walk among the shops?” I could tell she wanted to desperately leave the booth as well, but I needed to make sure Sauron was okay. “No thank you.” I say absentmindedly, returning my gaze back to the pits. I blinked away the tears, and tunneled my vision on Sauron, no one else. I put the horror of the events unfolding in front of me on the back burner as I watched my love dance to the tune of survival. He moved with grace, strategically dodging every swing of the sword Dax threw his way. Sauron was avoiding landing a blow, I thought as he twisted and turned out of the trajectory of the sharpened metal. His brows were furrowed, his face strained, but his body moved with the grace of a predator. I was on the edge of my seat as others around them fell victim to the sweet sleep of death. There were a few that were wrestling on the ground after dislodging each opponents’ weapons, it was horrific to witness. Sauron quickly took the upper hand from Dax, was able to kick his sword from his grip and in one quick swing, he removed Dax’s head from his shoulders. Blood squirted from the hole like a water fountain. The headless body falling to its knees, then onto the front, dead. It was the most gruesome death out of all the ones I’d seen. Sauron was breathing heavy, shoulders heaving with each inhale of oxygen. Then he dropped his sword and went to his knees in sorrow. He let out a blood curdling scream then that rocked the stadium. The crowd fell silent once again as the dead’s blood cried out from the ground, returning to nourish the soil. He would be an amazing Sultan, I thought, he will do what must be done, even if its painful. My heart went out to him then, I wanted to wrap my arms around him and comfort him, cradle him on my chest. The pain in his voice was my undoing, I abruptly stood and ran from the booth. No one followed me, thank goodness, I just needed some time alone to process everything, and get myself under control. I felt the power boiling like the magma under a shallow surface, ready to roar to life in an explosive force that could possibly rip me apart if I’d let it. “Excuse me, are you alright?” a strange voice broke through the haze of my thoughts. I had stumbled obliviously into the stables of the valley. Sauron’s horse was there and so was Sugar, so it was a surprise to run into anyone else. I turned to see the face behind the voice and was shocked to see a strange man. He was tall, but not nearly as tall as Sauron, he wore all black, which was odd, especially on this sacred day. This mystery man was muscular, and had a very strong jaw, silver eyes that held a modicum of amusement. I felt something was wrong, my gut was firing off a warning like fireworks flying in the air sporadically, until finally exploding. I decided to will myself to be calm. Showing fear was nearly as fatal as acting on it in these mental games of chess that resulted in domination. “I’m quite alright. Just needed a minute from the fighting pits.” I confessed, letting my obvious distress become apparent. “You not like watching the fighting either?” I questioned innocently. The horses whinnied and stirred in agitation. Oh yeah, there was something wrong with this man. He gave me an affable smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Then just like earlier with Sauron, my vision exploded forward like a magnifying glass. I scanned his strange outer garments. He looked intimidating like a soldier almost. He wore this bulky body armor with several pockets lining his vest, all filled with mystery stuffing. Monogrammed on his left pectoral was a name that read “Space X”. I’d never heard that before, I thought, as the smoldering fire started to heat up with the whirlwind of fear that pierced me like a knife through butter. “I’m not here for the party.” His smile was like that of a snake, slimy and sneaky, but why? He took a tentative step towards me, I remained still, refusing to show any fear. “Honestly, I didn’t know there were going to be a big festive party today,” he sneered, “I’ve been tracking an energy signal, and when I saw the target heading for the stables alone, well,” he lightly chuckled, “it was a no brainer to meet it here.” “What energy signal?” I asked, breathless, the pressure inside of me rapidly growing unbearable. The heat breaking my skin out into a damp sweat. Then I heard a beep coming from his utility belt, a red blinking light followed the sound. The beeping grew more rapid, the closer the mystery man came to me. Yet again I was rooted to the ground. The invisible roots reaching deep into the earth to keep me stock still. “What the he-?” was all I heard him say before the pressure released. It wasn’t like the bear, this time it was an explosion, a targeted blast directed towards the man in black. The horses went wild, whinnying loud, and then kicking at the stable doors to escape. All the power I’d collected like a sponge, was violently expunged into this unsuspecting human being that had been beyond threatening. The aftermath of what I’d done, left me sickened to my core. The man’s head was gone, burnt to a crisp in one blast. The edges of skin sizzling, no blood because I’d unknowingly cauterized the wound. Then the smell of incontinence drifted into the air, burnt skin and excrement wafted up my nostrils. It was all too much, I needed to get out of there. As soon as the cool breeze blew my hair from my shoulders, I wretched. Exhaustion taking over with each breath, and a slow trail of blood sliding like a red glacier down from my nose. As my panic subsided, questions started forming in my brain. That had me back on my feet and into the stables. Despite the fact I’d taken it upon myself to rearrange his anatomy at my pleasure, I was angry at him. How dare he, subtly threaten me, and what did he mean he was tracking an energy source? He clearly was not from Rim City or Black Castle, that had me questioning a million things at once. I closed the distance between me and the mystery corpse, before poking around in his pockets, looking for clues as to his sudden presence. I found the “beeping” device, it was small and slender like a miniature chest box. The small noisy box had a blinking red button on the top, so naturally I pressed it. It opened like it had been a folded piece of paper, unraveling with ease, a screen blooming into focus. I was surprised by the information it held. The screen was split into two sections, one pinpointing this “energy sources” location, the other a list of precautions and instructions for extraction. What was going on? Who was he involved with? What was Space X? Was I the high energy source? All these questions raced through my mind as I reread the directions for kidnapping me. The instructions said “High energy source located in and around crater lake. The small village has a low population density of farmers that divulge in the occasional cult like practices. The extraction of Phoenix 01 must be covert and nonlethal. Exercise caution, for we are in the world of the unknown.” -Beatrice Max. I wasn’t safe. That was obvious, I was being hunted by an unknown enemy. One who clearly knew more about me than I did. The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention, as I heard voices approaching outside. They were too far to make out what they were saying but it sounded lighthearted. However, I didn’t want to be discovered with a decapitated corpse, so I quickly removed his armor and utility belt before running out of the side door and into a storage shed, where I blocked off the door so no one could sneak in on me. My breath was ragged, and my heart pounded, but I managed to find a light, dull as it was, it would do. The contents were like a hidden treasure, but instead of gold and rubies, I wanted answers and truth. There was a few communication devices, weapons, and snacks, but nothing of importance that would give me any clues as to the agenda around here. Because, I knew, if there was one agenda, there was more, and I was the one with the disadvantage, I thought. The jovial voices I’d heard earlier nearing the shed, had turned into horrified screams as they ran back towards the festival. That’s my window, I thought, before swiping the contractable screen, and the two communication devices. I decided to leave the rest there to be found by other unsuspecting victims. Couldn’t be worse than the headless guy in the stables.

By the time I’d made it back to the booth at the arena, I’d hidden the carnage I’d looted off the headless man. It was tucked safely in the pocket of the cloak I’d requested because the chill as dusk fell had become too much to bear. The small devices fit neatly in the pockets, and I’d stared straight ahead at the fighting pits.

I was surprised by the lack of empathy I felt for the “Space X” man, he appeared to enjoy the fear he’d instilled in me. I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I sure wasn’t going to take anything lying down. I was still Princess Violet Winters of Black Castle, even if it’s just for another three weeks. It was time to talk to Sauron about the bear and confess to him all the other things as well. I needed him, but he needed to survive the day first. While I had been hiding in the stables, the workers had started the fires, spreading the light and warmth throughout the cobble stone streets and the wide expanse of the arena. The embers floated to the sky like wild fairies, being whipped to and fro by the wind all the way into the night. I’d missed a few fights but was pleased to see Sauron uninjured and light on his feet. They were in intermission, and Sauron was wiping blood from his face and hydrating himself. I could see the direction of his face, eyeing the royal booth, scanning for me. I gave a visible nod and smiled despite myself. He could do this! I thought, he could win. It was almost done, there was only one more fight before the new Sultan was crowned. Out of nowhere a dragoon came rushing up the stairs to the booth, and went straight for my father. The man seemed breathless, and cheeks flamed from the exertion. He spoke in such a soft tone, I couldn’t make out what he was saying. The Sultan immediately stood to his feet, without a word he raced down the stairs. Oh, no, I thought, dread clawing at me like a needy kitten hungry for milk, they found the headless body in the stables. I wonder what would be done about that. I knew my worry was for naught because their was no evidence that I was even there with the “Space X” man. I could feign surprise, but the items I’d stolen from his corpse hung heavy in my cloak pocket, settling cozy on my thigh. I was shook from my troubled thoughts when Queen Lorelei tapped me on my shoulder and waved her hands in the air, asking me what was going on with father. I just shook my head and shrugged my shoulders in confusion, even though I had a good idea what the ruckus was all about. She just rolled her eyes the way she does when she is irritated then called Jewel’s over from the ladies station. I could care less if Jewel’s was my mothers favorite, all I wanted was Sauron. Then the horns began to blow signaling the final fight. My eyes went straight to my love, he was shaking hands with his final opponent, before bracing for a hug. I tried to concentrate closer, maybe use this new power to force my vision forward. It worked!! To my relief I was able to see as if in slow motion, watching the two men embrace. Sauron was exhausted, his lip busted, eye swollen, nose bloody, and there were a few slits in his clothes from insignificant knife wounds. My poor Sauron, inside my chest my heart bled for him. I wanted to comfort him and give him enough love to wipe away every memory from this evil tradition. My eyes widened at the silver glint protruding from the other mans sleeve. It was pointy and very small, not easily detected, unless you had my vision. I felt an immediate burning sensation in my gut as the man quickly jammed the knife into Sauron’s side. Sauron went stock still at the prick inside of his body, his breath started in faster and more shallow, and only barely winced when the man pulled it from the skin in such a slight of hand motion, nobody saw the crime but me. I was boiling with hatred for this cheater, this coward. Why else would he stab his opponent unless he knew death loomed in the shadows for him? The horns were still blowing as Sauron straightened his shoulders in determination to not show pain or distress. He was so brave, honor until the end, but it wouldn’t be his end today. With that thought, I stood to my feet and went to the edge of the booth and screamed. “He cheated!!!!” I needed to expose this murderous coward without exposing myself in an attempt to end him with my own power. The horns ceased the ominous hum at the sound of my voice so I continued. “Sauron was stabbed before the fight!!” I went on further. A thin trail of blood proved to be the evidence for my accusation as the workers came over to examine to see the truth of the matter. With my father out of the arena, there was a second in command, a white haired man who’d been my father’s predecessor. His frail frame examined the trail of red as he closed the distance between him and the fighters. My heart was pounding, beating into my chest in fear and excitement. The man who’d stabbed Sauron was pale as settling fog in the early mornings, he appeared to suffer no wounds, or at least none that were visible. Sauron was the best fighter and he’d been beaten up from dawn till dusk, how could this man go a whole day without a single scratch? Something was off. Then suddenly Sauron collapsed to his knees, blood trickling slowly from his mouth. Oh no! The voice panicked in my head as I raced towards the arena, ignoring the gasps and shocked expressions. Tears beginning to fill my eyes as my feet pounded on the stone. I saw the man who’d stabbed him in the arms of two dragoon officers being dragged towards the gate entrance. I didn’t even spare him a glance as I ran towards Sauron. Two medical aids were already there loading him on the gurney. I was about to reach him when a dragoon’s arm lifted me off the ground in one swoop. “There’s nothing to be done princess, I’m so sorry.” It was Darren Springs, Marjorie’s secret crush. His dark brown eyes looked somber with sadness, as if Sauron was already dead instead of wounded. Rage took over then and I went primal with the need to save him. “Leave me!” I wrenched myself from his grip, using a strength deep within my bones. I felt very strong, so strong in fact, Darren stumbled backwards in shock. I ignored the gasps from the crowds as the medics raced Sauron out of the arena. I followed without hesitation. Once I reached them I shoved them from Sauron with my mind. It was like I’d been using this power all of my life, as if it was second nature to just thrust people with an energy force invisible to the naked eye. They fell over into the wall, falling onto their knees as I reached over Sauron. I don’t know how but I knew I could save him. “I’m here my love.” I stupidly cry as my hand searches for the stab wound underneath the ribs. He was bleeding profusely, and his skin so pale, but when his eyes found mine, he smiled. “I would’ve won.” The blue of his eyes stood out from the dark purple bruises, but the light in them seemed to dull just a fraction. No! My body screamed with every fiber, molecule, breath, he must live. “You did win.” I cry, “I can save you.” Tears streamed down my face as my hand covered the deep fresh wound. “I will.” I promised as the fire seemed to move from deep within my core towards the limbs of my body. Felt as if there was a transfer of energy, my hand was glowing from the inside out. I could make out the bones, veins, see the pulse from the blood pounding, saw the network of nerves and the design of my skin, all lit up like a candle. No way, I thought, I was glowing. And just like that Sauron’s wound stopped bleeding and the bruises covering his face were gone. He jolted up on the gurney, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me in for a long hug. “I’m yours, Violet.” I felt his nose and mouth in my hair, sniffing at the lavender scent, and kissing the long sandy strands as if they were my cheeks. I felt weak at his touch and my knees gave out, a small line of blood dripping from one of my nostrils. “I don’t think I have much energy left.” I smiled weakly. I’d spent a lot of it on the “Space X” man and now healing Sauron. “I need to lie down.” Oh not again I thought as darkness crept in around the edges of my vision. But the promise of sleep was too great as my body gave in, the dark edges engulfed all of my senses. I went utterly limp in Sauron’s arms.

THE END OF CHAPTER THREE

Rereading the Frame, part 2

Kote was in the middle of it all, always moving, like a man tending a large, complex machine.
First of all, thanks to u/JezDynamite and u/BioLogIn for this incredibly helpful material. Use it and abuse it at your own leisure. Second, draw your Waystone Inn map and post it here.
Third, this is the last introductory episode: from Rereading 3 onwards we’ll find all the main characters set up and ready to go. Yet, despite being (or maybe exactly because it’s) extremely early in the series, Rothfuss throws a couple of oddballs. Maybe he hopes the reader will ignore them, but sure as hell we won’t.
You hear me Rothfuss? Do you hear me? I know you’re here waiting to read my posts, so check this out: last time we talked about setting being functional to KKC events and the Frame’s narrator shenanigans, this time we’ll talk about another staple of Rothfuss that shows up both in Frame and Painting.

Premise

I’ll use a strange analogy: imagine the act of reading a book as if it was a card game between reader and author.
Don’t let yourself be distracted by the fact that the goal in a card game is ‘to win’. Consider instead the purpose of a card game, which is ‘to spend time and possibly share something together’. In that sense, card games and reading books aren’t different.
I mean, there are people who play cards for money, but it’s not like you can’t read KKC for the same reason!

Back on the analogy: the average author likes to play with his cards very close, as hidden as possible, to hit you the moment it works best. Let’s say you’re playing Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone with JK Rowling, you can bet your ass you won’t see her hand until the very last moment, when you learn that surprise! Voldemort is in the back of Quirrell's head! Could have you imagined that?
Rothfuss doesn’t play like that. Like, at all.
Instead, he starts the game by showing you his whole hand. Then you both start playing, and you spend the rest of the whole damn game trying to figure out the card game’s own rules!

Did you like the analogy?

wow, much deep so meta. Like, whoa. How about some evidences, you fuckface?

Sure. All you need to do is reading the first Frame chapters: they spoil you the entire Painting. They do in an oversimplified way, but now you know that:

there’s going to be a woman

who btw will show up tens of chapters later,

Kvothe’s going to be betrayed

and insofar it still has to happen, so this is a book three spoiler,

we get mention of Felurian, the Adem,

the fact that Kvothe burned the city of Trebon, that he’s been with at least two women (he says my first lover), etc.
But maybe you want something deeper: cool, keep reading some other chapters. Now you know that Ambrose isn’t just a random asshole, but that he will manage to get Kvothe expelled before it actually happens. In WMF we learn that Ash is going to scar Denna permanently (another book three spoiler), and so on.
Or the fact that some (if not all) of Kvothe’s friends will end up badly? I mean, it’s not like Kvothe has that many, so it’s not even hard to find who. We know he “loved and lost”, so we can take Denna’s out of the equation. By Frame standards, he lost her already.
Who remains? Sim, Wil, Fela and Auri.
Wanna pick one? Don’t, because Kvothe talks about “friends” with the plural. It’s two at very least.
Meta considerations can actually help us narrow the field even more, but maybe this one is for another time.

Point is: this trend still works perfectly because as a writer, Rothfuss does not rely on shock value. Shock may still happen, but in that eventuality it’ll always be a byproduct, and never a goal of Rothfuss’ game. Surprises in KKC aren’t abrupt, but rather harmonious.
The author himself indirectly tells us how he does the business in NOTW 49, proving that his sneakyness-level is Cthaeh tier. Because in NOTW 49 he describes something he’s been doing already… since, for example, Denna was already present in NOTW 33.

Therefore, the third rule of thumb of this reread is the following one: Rothfuss hides the detail in plain sight and then justifies them retroactively. Sometimes, their meaning is slightly different from the evident one. It’s the usual “Rothfuss explains the adventures of the Princess and Mister Whiffle and gives you a warning”.
Pick up a random youtube link concerning that story, I think he’s been repeating that identical set list since years LOL. Yet his point stands, always relevant. Always valid.

We must keep this in mind when reading the Frame: all the elements are already there. Except maybe for the identity of X, whom we can still speculate about.
But enough with that: let’s start Rereading 2!

Summary

Chapters 2, 3 and 4
On his way to Treya, Chronicler finds himself robbed on the road. Kote receives a mounting board and the Waystone Inn unexpectedly finds some clients. One night Kote goes scrael-hunting, saving Chronicler in the process.

Narrator shenanigans

Chapter 2 strictly follows Chronicler, from start to finish. Zero insights on the bandits’ minds, all of them non-descript except for one, who’ll show up in a hundred chapters (like I said in Rereading 1, KKC’s descriptions are ruled by the principle of functionality).

Chapter 3 is where things start getting tricky: all of its six parts follow Kote, but for a little, we get Graham’s view! It’s when Kote is described as sickly.
The narrator may or may not turn into omniscient during the tinker’s segment, since we don’t know whether Kote’s looking at him from some window or not.
Part 2 and 3 of the chapter are strictly Kote’s, and in part 4 we get another little fuckery: the narrator follows Kote until Bast leaves his room, and then we get four lines following Bast, where Kote cannot look at him (since Bast just closed the door).
Also, these lines are Rothfuss playing another trick: “it is hard to say what troubled Bast so much” is clearly bullshit. By the end of the book, we know what troubles Bast. Reread those lines, I think it’s a necessary comment over Kote’s sickly state (exactly like with Graham)… still, the narrator is cheating a bit.
Part 5 and 6 follow Kote without any issues.

Narrator-wise, the most interesting is definitely chapter 4, because the narrator starts jumping. And none of those jumps are casual.
Part 1 is Chronicler through and through, then he loses consciousness and we get a time skip.
Part 2 is Chronicler once again, and once again he loses consciousness.
Part 3 is Kote, insofar unnamed in Chronicler’s eyes. HOWEVER, we’ll see in Rereading 3 that Chronicler noticed something.
These jumps commit a capital sin: they forbid us to see…

The hero in action

First of all, chapter 4 features an insight of Kote’s mind outside of the Inn for something more than just buying an iron cudgel. We find him going out to kill…in a moonless night, btw.
More importantly, he still thinks of himself as Kote. This isn’t just an act, but a mask becoming a person. Or a person becoming his mask, although I’m not sure it’s the same.
Point is: Kote IS Kote, both inside and outside of the Inn.
But inside of the Inn Kote can’t fight a kitten, while outside it’s “Kote wins: fatality”.
Why? How?
The battle doesn’t leave him unscathed, but as Bast will point out Kote should be dead.

“Kvothe is a Chandrian” theorists could rightfully say ‘Haliax cannot die, therefore maybe Kvothe can’t die as well.’ After all he’s waiting to die, probably because under certain condition he cannot.
If that’s correct, it doesn’t matter how much hard Kvothe gets minced, all he needs to do is wait for every scrael and then hit it until it’s dead. We’ll see that in the Frame Kvothe’s wounds always turn out to be less severe, the longer time goes by.
But there’s a counterpoint: ‘Haliax cannot sleep either, while Kote does, and more than once.’

Pure Folly

Kothe doesn’t bring Folly with himself, as

a sword wouldn’t do much good

Logic wants the scrael to be the kind of enemy where a mace is more useful than a blade. But this isn’t the only time Kote doesn’t care about using Folly. One thing is not being able to use the ketan, but a sword is a dangerous weapon even if you’re a random, normal, innkeeper: if you can swing a crowbar you can swing a sword as well…
It’s worth pointing out that in all the three instances where Kvothe should go for a sword, he never does it: not at the end of the book (where iron is definitely supposed to work), nor when the two ex-soldiers decide to play soccer with his face.
I can understand Kvothe not wanting to kill the soldiers, but scrael and the Bad Thing from the Mael are a different issue. If 1+1=2, Folly isn’t made of iron at all.
But in that case, why is Folly at the Waystone Inn? Does Kvothe actually plan to use it concretely, is it just a memento, or is it a bait?
But if it’s just a bait… while keeping it on display unsheated? More on Folly later in this episode and in the reread.

There's actually more sections before the details one, but... I surpassed the reddit character limit u_u
Click here before proceeding, or do whatever you want.

Details and things worth pointing out

• Continuity
Even in the Painting Kote keeps having his cloaks destroyed.

• The King’s army is paying for horses
Scarcity of horses in the realm? Many died? Or is it general procedure?

• Spiderweb The text wants to remind us about the existence of the spider-like scrael. I wonder, however, if webs are actually a scrael thing. After all it got no mouth, why should it have spinneret glands?

• Irony

the worst had happened, and it hadn’t been that bad.

Chronicler! No! …too late, he said it.
This is the equivalent of a movie cop showing a picture of his wife while telling it’s his last day before retiring.
The reread is just beginning so I’ll go by memory, afaik Chronicler goes from a harmless robbery to: 2 broken ribs, arms/head slashed, concussion, having to deal with Kote/Bast smugness all the time, having to deal with Old Cob smugness all the time, undead casting deathtouch on him, staying in the middle of another robbery and being main guest of two episodes of Temerant’s best TV series, “a night with the faen psycho”. Chances are I’m forgetting something, and even if I wasn’t there’s still book three in its depressing glory :(

• Wood and word
As embarrassing as it is, I managed to understand it only this week. The title of chapter three refers to Folly’s mounting board! Worth pointing out that Folly will show up in the title, but only about ~200 chapters later… and if there’s a connection between the two chapters, I’ve yet to find it.
Although non explicitly mentioned, the mounting board is made of Roah wood.
edit: correction here.
Does the wood really come from Aryen? I mean, thanks to other Frame chapters we’ll see that people from Newarre aren’t used to long travels, if we exclude maybe Carter (who still shouldn’t go beyond Baedn – a distance that Bast covered as well, btw). The “foreigner” Aaron comes from Rannish, about a day and a half away from Newarre, more or less.
How can Graham be sure that the wood’s from there? Because somebody told him.
Not that I’ve some groundbreaking theory here… just pointing out that in the previous chapter roah wood’s price was reputed as astronomical. Why should such a costly material come in Newarre, without some guards (I refuse to believe Newarre people wouldn’t mention it if it happened).
Regardless, it doesn’t seem that important. But let’s put it here anyways.

• Four months of work
Chances are, Kote is thinking of all the University methods Graham could have used…
Curiosity 1: more than once, in the Frame Kote displays the didactic behavior learnt from Abenthy/University. We see it with Graham, we’ll see it with Bast…
Curiosity 2: price wise, Graham is a honest man

• …the mounting board isn’t that important
At least, this is what logic tells me.
Otherwise Kote wouldn’t let a nobody like Graham work on it. Four months it took, and Kote had almost forgot about it!
This is just one of the many times we see Kote giving Newarre people something to work upon, in order to give them some money.
This may be different concerning Folly, but… I’m not so sure about that either. More about this later in a few paragraphs.

• Hollow

Not exactly unhealthy, but hollow. Wan Like a plant that’s been moved into the wrong sort of soil and, lacking something vital, has begun to wilt.

More often than not, Kvothe’s eyes feature nature-like comparisons, like grass or leaves. This time, instead, he’s a dying plant.
The Painting spends quite a deal of words concerning Kvothe’s green, changing eye color. This time they are like the bottom of a green glass bottle. The analogy is very rare if not unique (we lack book 3), and I find it telling on multiple levels.
Notice that Kote’s deprived of everything that makes Kvothe… Kvothe! No theater gestures, voice, eyes of hair. He “lacks the fire”, as WMF Kvothe himself would say.
Unless the Waystone is a stage, because it that case it would be the performance of a lifetime…
Curiosity: of all the things to compare Kote’s eyes, a glass bottle. Mh.

• Tinker (tanner?)
The tinker sells things from Tarbean and Aerueh, later in the reread we’ll find that Kote owns something from both cities (chocolate in Tarbean’s case, ink in Aerueh,’s one). Did he bought them from this tinker, just not on scene?
The tinker speaks in rhyme, something that faen creatures do, soon or later.
Does Kote sing tinker tanner in his honor? That may explain his defaillance concerning music…
Important: Kote actually likes music and rumor:

Best of all was the noise

So it’s not like the silence is something that lurks in the Waystone because the Innkeeper enjoys it. In chapter 3 the silence goes hiding, but doesn’t disappear.

• Folly colors
Relevant u/Jezer1 post, lot of cool infos. If you have more in the main subreddit please add, I found this one by pure chance.

• Classic old Kvothe

‘What sort of wood don’t burn?’ Graham waited a minute, but the innkeeper gave no signs of having heard.

Fucking Kvothe I swear… I thought we were past that reticency shit- oh wait, it’s Graham after all. I’m sure that with more trustworthy people like Bast Kvothe surely will-

‘What were you thinking?’ Bast said with an odd mixture of confusion and concern. Kote was a long while in answering. ‘I tend to think too much, Bast. (…)’

WHICH MEANS THAT ONCE AGAIN HE AIN’T ANSWERING! Fucking Kvothe I swear, the bastard may have changed house, identity and name but he’d rather lose Denna and his friends rather than losing his pointless secrecy bullshit, ffs
It’s stronger than him, period. And we’re just in chapter three. …boy, it’s going to be a long ride.

• Past experiences
Chronicler “had been robbed before, and knew when there was nothing to be gained by discussion”.
Could this be the wake-up call Chronicler will talk about with Kote, later in the series?

• Ring
Chronicler’s ring barely has silver in it. Nevertheless, it gets taken. No stone is mentioned, I don’t think it was particularly noteworthy.

• Chronicler’s belongings
Everything seems to point at Chronicler just travelling for work. A short travel, by the way. Notice that beside the food and papeink/pen, all he has are food, immediate necessities, dices and an unused, new shirt. (most likely he would have used it in Treya). No tent, no companions, no books and no weapons.
That’s not a Ruh. Nor someone who spends his life traveling.
I find it curious that the book starts with “times being what they were”, Bast talks about the world being on fire, the Waystone crowd is as pessimistic as myself on the workplace… and here we find a scribe travelling alone and unarmed.
Of course sometimes no weapon is better than with weapons, and there’s a gram involved… yet he’s travelling alone.
I’m 99% sure Chronicler’s travel was supposed to be short, to the point and over after his return to wherever he started.

• Mindset

Using both hands, Bast held it up to him, looking for a moment like a squire offering up a sword to some bright-armoured knight. But there was no knight there, just an innkeeper, just a man in an apron who called himself Kote.

This is coherent with chapter 1, when the narrator says “He called himself Kote, He had chosen the name carefully”.
Rothfuss plays it really smart: thanks to this comments we know that Kote is a fake name, but at the same time we can notice something’s off because in Kote’s own mind, he calls himself Kote. Chapter 4 being a good example.

• Bottles

Then there were things to be done. Bottles to be polished ( and put back in place. Lunch to be made.(…)

But you just spend every evening of your life polishing them, Kote! And the trend doesn’t stop even in special occasions:

He didn’t bother sweeping. The floor didn’t need it. He didn’t wash the tables or the bar, none had been used. He polished a bottle or two,, locked the door, and went to bed.

This is just a couple of hours before going demon-hunting in the night. After writing Bast a message that includes the possibility of dying. And what’s the last thing he does? Well, let me clean a couple of bottles of course.

• A pair for a pair
Chronicler asking for a couple of pennies isn’t just him being ballsy. The point is convincing the robbers he’s got no money left.

• That vintish fuckface
Am I alone, or can I find other irrational haters of the bandits leader here around? I hate that prick to no end.
Robbing people is enough already, why does he need to mock them? Chronicler isn’t even making resistance…
Calling him “sir scribe”, brandishing the pennies before putting them in Chronicler’s purse… fuck off, will ya?
The whole take one thing/leave another is as bullshit as it gets. People have to travel as unloaded as possible, as Kvothe’s Eld adventures will prove. They aren’t doing Chronicler any favor, it’s all about themselves. Same goes for the bullshit about religion, since he still checks Chronicler’s iron ring before leaving it to the scribe, clear hint he would have taken it had he suspected some form of value.
That brandishing the two pennies make me hate that fucker with an intensity I have only towards Wild Cards' updates on GRRM’s blog.
It’s gratuitous and cruel.

• Inconsistency
In chapter 2, Chronicler is robber by six men

a half-dozen ex-soldiers

The six men turned to look at Chronicler, as if they couldn’t quite believe what they had heard.

NotW 88, instead, only totals five (bandits leader included):

This fellow and four of his friends robbed me about five days ago

• New clients in the Waystone Inn
As if demon in the woods weren’t enough, here’s another sign that Temerant world is about to end: the Waystone Inn get ten new clients.
A tinker, a caravan + guards and two men who decided that travel in company is to be preferred, times beingwhat they are.
Curiosity: from time to time people come up with the bizarre idea that the two odd clients resemble Wil and Sim. There’s no chance in hell that’s true, because they would never call Kvothe Bloodless, given what memories that implies.

• First contact
Kote and Chronicler’s meeting is very hastened, due to the situation’s limits. But I find it funny that Chronicler’s first words are an interrupted “I saw your fire”, unwilling double-entendre given Kvothe’s association with fire. Same goes for Kote, since his first words are basically “The fuck are you and what are you doing here?”, which is doubly true given that apparently he didn’t want to be found, in more ways than one.
In fantasy first meetings are generally important, but with these two guys it’s as trivial as it gets. I like it a lot. We’ll see that with Bast it’s going to be way different…

• “There’s no such things as demons”
, says Chronicler, creating a recurring theme that will show up from time to time. Not only he’s wrong, as the scrael/Bast will prove… but if the “Chandrian Kvothe” theory is right, Kote’s reaction is even more interesting than what it already is.

• “What were you thinking?”
Bast asking this question while his Reshi looks at Folly’s mounting board is interesting, because we don’t really know what it underlines. Is it asking because Folly may trigger in Kote unhappy memories? Or is he hoping that the sword will ‘wake his Reshi up’? Or is he afraid that once Kote will hang up Folly he’ll call it forever?
It’s worth pointing out that Folly seems to generate more discomfort in Bast than in Kote. Yet, the sword was kept well away from Kote, since it was in Bast’s room.

• The place

I saw the place in Imre where you killed him. By the fountain. All the cobblestones are shattered.

The guest may be talking of a king or not. Point is, this murder must be pretty much famous! And it’s in Imre. Afaik the only fountain I recall is nearby the Eolian. The state of cobblestones may imply some naming was involved.

• Hands

He watched them intently, as if expecting them to do something on their own.

• Scars
“Old wounds and new, all smooth and silver except one”. Iirc that scar is on one of his hands.
Without real memory I’d say the left one, if only because it’s the most important for a lute player.

• Grey sky
In chapter 3 clouds are gathering. The weather situation will keep worsening to end with WMF epilogue.

• Depression, we’re over here

In autumn everything is tired and ready to die

Coherently with what the prologue says, given the Frame is set in autumn.

• Poor Folly, all alone
Interesting to notice that it was Bast keeping the sword under the bed, not Kote.
• Curious line
(when looking at Folly’s mounting board)

There was a long moment of silence like a tribute given to the dead

Isn’t it curious? I Folly is Cinder’s sword, for example, a line about tributing the dead makes no much sense. Reminiscing Cinder?
Or is the narrator talking about the victims of this sword?
Personally, I want to bring up a third interpretation: thing is, the event that triggers the silence and this sentence is Kote running his hands over wood and word. I find it important, given the chapter’s title.
His hands may be what he’s looking at.
Important: Kote will watch his hands once again in the night, the other moment he’s been feeling down. I still want to determine whether is Folly and the memories correlated that are making him feel this bad or his being recognized by the guest downstairs. I think the former, but would like to hear yours.

• Travel companions

Kote guessed the travellers had been together a month or so, long enough to become comfortable with each other, but not long enough to be squabbling over small things.

Something something Eld trip something.
Curiosity: they smell “of road dust and horses”, which is a Ruh smell. Of course Kote likers it.

• "As if he truly needed the money"
It’s official: the Waystone Inn wasn’t built for monetary profit. Whether because Kote’s rich or because money’s meaningless in Kote’s eyes is still to be determined.
I tend for the first theory and believe Kote to be rich as it gets, if anything because of the delicious irony of being poor all life to then finding himself surrounded by money. Only, when there’s no need to spend them anymore.

• The children game has variants
Everybody in a cirle, the one in the center must break out / the one in the center must touch someone without looking. Assuming these are actual rules, I asked myself if it’s something that has to do with sex (the boy must break through, the girl just needs to touch)… or if the goal of the child in the middle of the circle changes according to each stanza.

• Bast hates mutton
In general, he likes sugary things.

• Bast crushing walnuts with a book
Still to be determined whether it’s Celum Tinture or not.
The scene’s purpose is to be funny and a bit telling, but coincidentally it’s also a solid insight into Basts’s real mindset: so focus-oriented that to reach his goal he would use anything, regardless of its purpose.

• “Who else has your hair?”
This says the guest to Kote. It’s worth pointing out that in the Frame Kote keeps his hair short, most likely to hid himself a bit.

• Double standards

‘One of them knows who I am’ (…) ‘Which one?’ Bast asked with a mix of apprehension and anger

Says the text, and the morning after Bast will also offer some unpleasant solutions of recovery to the same guy he drugged himself, to add insult to injury.
This is the same guy who leaves hints around because he wants his Reshi back.

Kote’s lies

1 Kvothe hid a piece of the scrael to Bast.
2 The whole caravan guard story is bullshit from start to finish.
3 Chances are, Kote having an engraving of Kvothe in the back of the Waystone is another lie as well.
3b Technically Kote fools Bast as well since he tought his Reshi did fall for real.
4 Kote lies to Caleb, the smith.
5 As far as we know, Kvothe never met his grandfather so Kote talking about his granda is another lie.
Last time in the comments u/the_spurring_platty pointed out a thing that I copy/paste here below:

An interesting thing about Kvothe's lies is he isn't that great at it. (…) contrast this lie with the other one he tells. (…) In this lie Kvothe IS the caravan guard. If Cob and Co. heard this it might raise a question or two. And there's the lie within the lie. Cealdish men don't give away money.

And… he’s right. Thinking it calmly, if you take into account the usual Waystone Crowd Kote’s lies are dangerous.
What do you think?

I can only offer three solutions about why Rothfuss chose to do so.

Metanarrative reasons: Rothfuss wants to show us how quick Kote is to adapt and improvise.

Under this logic, nobody of the crowd hears them, or people ar quick to forget.

Narrative reasons: we still don’t know exactly what kind of lies Kote told to Newarre.

Who knows? Maybe he had something really convincing.

Extranarrative reasons: I have a Master in “how little towns do actually think”, and chances are Rothfuss does as well.

The thing about little towns is that secrets are secrets for nobody… except when the person involved is around. Don’t take this as just ‘correct’, take it as ‘sacred gospel’.
Kinda like when the mayor of Newarre will come to write down a testament: chances are everybody knows he has a loveother sons, except maybe his wife.
Little towns are like that: soon or later, you happen to know everything about everyone. It’s not like there’s much to do, so you chat. And those with nothing to do, chat thrice.
At the same time, nature bounds little towns to the Sacred Activity called “I’ll mind my own business”.

If you think Graham doesn’t know Kote is loaded you are mistaken. Btw he paid him two talents (35% of which are pure tip) plus unmentioned expedition costs.
If you think Caleb doesn’t know Kote is doing charity with the Orrisons you are mistaken.
Everyone knows Kote’s business goes like crap. Hell, the Waystone Crowd even jokes about it! And yet the innkeeper tips people left and right? Chocolate in his Inn, regardless of the traders’ prices, times being what they are?!
A less-than-thirty years old man who comes in the ass off nowhere to waste all of his money where he could open an inn anywhere else? Yeah, sure.
Guys: what kind of innkeeper reads books, for fuck’s sake?!?

I don’t know if Kote’s sloppy lies are a mistake indeed or just a narrative device by Rothfuss. But I’m sure that Newarre people won’t care the slightest anyways.
Maybe they don’t know he’s Kvothe, but they know he’s not just an innkeeper. Were I a guy from Newarre, I’d think he’s a bandit who hit jackpot for some reason: I mean, he’s young, has scars on his hands, displays a sword and he’s clearly money loaded. And he comes here, of all places? Instead of the Capital, or Baedn, or whatever? Hah, of course he does: he doesn’t want the King’s men on his ass.
Would I denounce him?
…are you crazy?!
That Inn sells real beer. Real alcohol, mind, not some shit hill wine. Best place in sixty miles (which is most likely all I’ll ever know of the world)! And the prices are honest. And that Kote ain’t a bad fellow either, I mean, you see that he helped those poor Orrisons?
That’s how Newarre reasons, I think.

X

We’ll call X whatever Kvothe is waiting for, be X a person, an event or a moment. For the purposes of Rereading 2, X is still the scrael.
The scrael don’t retreat, they are like wasps. Kote decides to fight them alone, which is a bit strange.
If you are exposing yourself to such risk to save everyone, should you give it your best shot and take Bast with yourself? After all, if Kote dies Newarre is doomed against the scrael anyways…
I’m pretty sure Kote has an ace up his sleeve. Four scrael going against him and he didn’t move a muscle until Chronicler stopped watching.

The Waystone Inn catalogue

The inn features:
• More than a book (not just Celum Tinture)
• Tables (a maze of)
• A new mounting board (three dark pegs)
• A handful of iron nails (courtesy of Graham) – will they be used?
• Sword with black scabbard (Folly)
• Bast’s bedroom features… well, a bed
• Bar decorated with glittering bottles
• Counter between two heavy oak barrels
• Wire (for the mounting board)
• Fruits
• To reach the stairs Bast and Kote pass through a doorway
• Stables (hay to feed the eventual horses)
• Drugs!
I wonder if Mhenka and Nighmane are self-produced or not, and if their production involves Alchemy or not.
• Large copper pot
• The fireplaces are operated by normal wood.
• The hearth is in the common room.
There are chairs nearby. The fireplace has a flue.
• [an engraving of Kvothe] – this is most likely a lie
When Bast comes to bring Kote some food he reassures him that everything’s well downstairs, to me this implies there’s only two floors in the inn.
About the Waystone: the kitchen should be right behind the bar. Graham navigates “through a maze of tables” to reach Kote, leaving the mounting board on the bar. And since Bast emerges from the kitchen and “looks over his teacher’s shoulders”, he was coming from behind. AKA the kitchen is right behind the bar.

Maps from the readers: the evaluation

Once upon a time there was a majestic oak. It stood proud and tall on the top of a hill, together with all of his tre-brothers, content in drinking the water from the ground and bathing in the sunlight. There stood the tree, asking for nothing but a polite nod of your head when passing by. The oak took great joy in providing help to whomever needed, like Mister Squirrel: you see, the little animal needed a home, and had found refuge into the mighty tree’s trunk!
One day, however, came a human armed with chainsaw: he ripped the oak and his tree-brothers to shreds, tossed their spoils in a truck and then went back home. All those vegetable remains were then minced, worked and glued together for industrial purposes.

Now Mister Squirrel is sad. Now he lives in the slums. And whenever he comes back home, his little squirrel-sons gather around him, tears in their eyes, a question on their mouths: “Father, thee we beg: why are we homeless? Why hast thine Oak been cut down, with malice and wrath? Why the suffering?
What the meaning, father? What the purpose?”

Mister Squirrel has no answer. All he can do is looking at his empty hands, because looking at his own sons’ dismay would be too much to bear.
However, if he knew the truth, he could look at his sons straight in their eyes, raise his tiny squirrel arms into the sky and proudly exclaim: 🌈🌈🌈“It’s because the Frame Rereaders need the paper to draw their version of The Waystone Inn map!”🌈🌈🌈

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen! See that notebook on your table? That sheet of paper on the sofa? That post-it in your kitchen? That unused toilet paper roll in the bathroom, looking at you with fear? They exist for you to draw the map!
Do it now! Now! Give Mister Squirrel’s new life a meaning: soon that oakblood-stained piece of paper will feature a wonderful map and his life will now make sense!
What are you waiting for: need someone touching that blackened soul of yours? This isn’t a Dickens’ story: step it up! You ain’t gonna convince me you don’t love nature in general or squirrels in particular. Draw the Waystone Inn map! Now!
Here are some people who actually display human decency:

-[Mysterious user], for this.
The fact that this map arrived via secret PM suggests me that this person works for the FBI or something. Ain’t gonna risk revealing his identity.
The first floor design is simplicistic yet functional. A single set of stairs solves many problems, I guess building them just once instead of multiple times is a better solution than having a separate set of stairs for the cellar?
Vote: 10/10

u/Talentpipes11, for this.
The map lies of a wooden support, clear hint the user went to an inn to draw the map.
He hid a sympathy powered chair inside the drawing: can you spot it?
Vote: 10/10

u/Upliv2, for this.
The possibility of multiple floors cannot be ignored, the user clearly sees the bigger picture. The Inn not being just a simple a parallelepiped seems more than reasonable.
Of all the variations of green, he easily picked the worst. Why pistachio? Why?!
Vote: 10/10

-u/Biologin, for this.
Given the program used, this map can’t be anything but… Excellent.
Taking into account WCs makes this user a pragmatic person.
For the first time we see someone drawing squared tables, instead of circular ones. I think it’s only because of the program used: my pet theory is that all KKC fans imagine rounded tables, no exceptions.
Vote: 10/10.

In front of such skill, gratefulness is mandatory. This episode’s reward consists in me finally finishing the Chandrian song in chapter 3. Make no mistake: like certain photographic devices, this song is canon.
The Chandrian song – complete version

What’s to read after Book Two?
I have no idea and got no clue
I ain’t got shit – how ‘bout you?

Hear the Rothfuss always pout:
“What’s the use in screams or shouts?
Kneel and pray: that’s the way!

Let me tell you what to do:
Follow Twitch and buy Tak too!
Worldbuilders also wants its due…

Book Three questions? No, fuck you.
Let me instead tease you, goon:
TV deals are coming soon!

What of DOS? Gee, man, look:
be surprised, grateful or shook
dare not ask about that book!

See that tome without pages?
That’s Book Three: now wait for ages!”
Readers utter: “that’s the plan?
For fuck’s sake” – signed: a fan

The legend says that Rothfuss’ plan was to include this song in DOS preface, but now that I’ve spoiled the surprise, I’m pretty sure he’ll change it. Sorry about the spoiler.

Personal comment

To err is human, and as Daniel Gildenlöw says, “we will always be / so much more human than / we wish to be”.

That’s why some people can’t stop burning down orphanages. Or why the New England Patriots can’t stop cheating. Or why people keep watching superhero movies.
It’s because to err is human, and I’m no exception. You see, I’m human too and that’s why I’m late with Rereading 2. Of course I have my excuses, all of them perfectly valid and perfectly acceptable. Yet I’m late guys. Because sadly, I’m human.
But this trend could change, click the spoilers below to understand how!
It’s simple, really: drawing your own version of the Waystone Inn map will give me the strength to carry on, as if this was a My Chemical Romance song! What are you waiting for? Draw it now, draw it loud!
W-wait a minute. Did you hear that? No? Come closer, listen: “Do me hard,” seems to whisper the empty page, “faster! Yes, yes, fill me with ink! I’ve been a bad empty page and I need to be punished! D-draw the kitchen, the main room, the bedrooms of the Waytone Inn! Yes, yes, yes!” What are you waiting for, dear reader?! Your virility is being questioned, you must answer the challenge!

“B-but I’m a girl and I don’t really car-”

That’s even worse! Did you just hear that page? That SLUT dares to whisper such things in your own domain, what if your sweetheart hears them by mistake? You know how males are: the farther away from the temptations, the better. Shit like that shouldn’t fly in your own territory. Punish that page right now: draw the map and establish yourself as the sole ruler once again.

Other relevant things: Rereading 2 was mostly done by hand in a parking lot. Recopying everything on the pc was a pain in the ass; edit - it even goes beyond the character limit, ffs. this episode was cursed, believe me; the comments in Rereading 1 feature some top tier material, I encourage you to check them all; Rereading 3 will come out sooner than expected, in a week! Trust me! Just in case, I’ve got some new excuses ready.
Thanks for reading and for your insights, past episodes can be found here: 1.

My story of being cheated on. ''why cant you get over it? its just sex''

This may be very triggering for abuse survivors and I apologize. Like many others, I too was also told to ''just get over it''. 9 days after finding out. I was in the kitchen making a coffee. Totally unprovoked, he see's me silent and asks if ''I'm still upset''. I say nothing because I'm shocked. He follows with ''its always something isn't it- why cant you just get over it? it's only sex''.
I have never been so taken aback and lost for words in my entire life, i felt nothing and everything all at once. My brain stalled and my lips traced words but i could find none. It started off nicely to begin with, i said ''I can't believe you just said that. Please don't tell me to get over it, it belittles my experience and makes me feel like garbage''. ''your experience?'' he said, ''you make it sound like you've gone to war and lost an arm or something, get a grip will you?''. I think i gasped, said ''what the fuck'' and ''how dare you'' at a whisper on loop a few times as I slowly processed that, yes, this conversation was real, and yes, it was in fact happening. I asked him to stop, progressively becoming more irate and upset, but he wouldn't stop. He laughed at me and looked at me like an adored child figuring out a puzzle. i spat back rather venomously that ''I am getting over it (lie or delusion i don't know), but that I'm doing it in my own time. That its been nine fucking days. Don't rush me, this will take a very long time and I'm willing to commit to that!''. He was smirking now- ''just get over it''. This as you can imagine divulged into an ugly situation. 2 hours later and hes sitting on the couch as relaxed as he can be, repeating ''get over it'' to a beat, whilst there I was, on the floor in front of him in the fetal position, inconsolable. Thoughts became sounds and colors, I have never been pushed to that extremity of my mind through pure torment. He kept saying it over and over and over again, "why do three little words trigger you so much? Look at you, you're like a child". He stood up, gave me a bro pat on the back whilst i was still curled into a ball, and went and played poker all day, losing his entire pay check two days after receiving it. Later, the next day, when i asked and got a non apology, he said tormenting me like this will make me stronger in the end, and that I'll see eventually. One day I'll understand. He's only trying to help me, he said. You'll see.
Whenever I'd get upset, he'd say it's my fault for being upset, because I and only I am responsible for my emotions alone. Therefore if I cry and can't control myself, then it's my fault I'm upset, not his. Not because of his actions. Not because he screwed prostitutes and told me he had no reason to do so other than "because I can". On that note, the actual act of infidelity, which was sex with multiple prostitutes and hand jobs- I begged him, trembling at his knees whilst he stared down at me with disdain, to know why he did what he did upon finding out. I felt so nauseated that i vomited down the toilet, my world was spinning and I felt like I wasn't even in my body. I did everything for him. I couldn't understand. I'm young and hot? I keep power-lifting fit 5 days a week. We have sex daily or every second day and I'm a performer in the sheets. I wanted to know what i did wrong to deserve this, and his answer was even more confusing than whatever i had expected. He said "Everything you do for me is perfect, your the perfect partner, your my best friend and i love you so much. I have no reason to look elsewhere... but I don't bow to anyone. I did it simply because I can, and you can stay or go, I don't care either way." - direct quote. To twist the knife even harder, he told me ''i feel no guilt. I have no remorse. It's nothing to feel guilt or remorse about in the first place. I wasn't thinking about you or us when i did it, it was purely for me. Its really no big deal when you think about it''. I asked for an apology. I Asked him. He said ''I'm sorry you feel upset''. He said everything wrong and I still wanted him. (I wanted who he used to be in hindsight).
Every few days I'd attempt to talk about what had happened, we all have our reasons, i had things i wanted to know and ask. He'd brush me off, show me the palm of his hand and say ''i don't really care to talk about relationships right now to be honest.'' or ''cant you think of a different subject? its always the same thing'' and his favorite, ''when will it end?''. Well okay, i know my place and it's beneath you.
After D day i think you guys call it- He'd leave me at home and go get happy endings at massage parlors weekly, then come home, see me distant, and have the audacity to call me childish for being upset. It was all in the open now, he could continue cheating on me and he knew I'd do nothing but cry. And I learned you can't guilt someone with your genuine pain and tears into being a better person when they have no empathy in the first place. He knew he had me, so he continued to cheat on me openly and tell me all about it afterwords as if he were describing a fancy meal, both with critiques and compliments. ''it really wasn't that great, she used oil which i didn't like. You give better ones''. as if that's supposed to soothe me. ''she was really tiny and her pussy was so tight, i was afraid id break her. But it wasn't really that enjoyable, you and I have better sex. Plus i hate wearing condoms''. ''i walked into the hotel and the receptionist was so hot, Filipino or something. I asked her to lunch and she said no i have a boyfriend, and I left it at that.''. Who are you, and what have you done with the man I fell in love with and grew up with? Just early last year you admonished cheaters, said you'll marry me one day, laughed at how people need multiple sex partners. What changed?
Of course i was not handling this well at all, i was controlled, and the victim of deep and systemic abuse for 8 years that only became as I'm describing within the last year. He really ramped it up severely once we started living together. Of course he gaslit me and manipulated me constantly. I'd spontaneously start crying all the time, and he'd look at me wide eyed and call me insane, then leave me. I'd be inconsolable at times, and he'd remind me in a soothing tone with a soothing touch that there's war, famine and sickness all over the world, why should I be upset over something so "trivial", it's "pathetic". "First world problems", he'd chuckle. ''no i didn't say you're pathetic, i called your actions pathetic''. ''its not a big deal, i don't know why you're making it into such a big deal''. Clearly i was being a drama queen, ''you need to pick your battles''. When repairing the relationship my emotions were all over the place, all i wanted to do was give him the silent treatment, or sock him in the eye, or just have him love me, like he used to. Sex felt like rape, but i thought to myself, if we don't have sex, he will go to the prostitutes. If we don't have sex he will turn it on me somehow. And if we don't have sex, how can we begin to move forward, move on with our relationship? I didn't see it, but at the time I was the only one making steps to move forward. He didn't have to change or do a thing. He stayed exactly the same.
Reconciliation was 100% on his terms and I was the one who instigated it, not him. But I was met with constant resistance which once again completely rocked me after the initial multiple betrayals- "no you can't look at my phone, no you can't see my bank statement, no I don't need to tell you where I'm going or where I've been. You just need to trust me. And if you can't trust me, that's your problem, not mine. What's a relationship without trust?" he'd ask me pointedly. This wasn't how this was supposed to work... Nothing changed, if anything, he just became more intolerable. No dates, i had to beg for months for flowers, no grand gestures, never did he ever go out of his way to make it up to me or make me feel special. He had successfully stripped me of my pride and dignity, I had lowered my personal standards to the dirt and was gladly accepting abuse and bread crumbs of artificial affection. If i were him, I would not have respected me either.
I didn't want to sleep with other men at all, all i wanted was him, but I proposed an open relationship regardless, i guess in order to keep him in some capacity. He first said i could sleep with other men. then 12hrs later he came to me crying, grabbing at my legs, his hands in a prayer position, saying he'd rather die then see me with other men. Being so so sweet to me, saying everything i needed to hear. But a few days later he said I cannot sleep with other men, and laughed and admitted that yes, I suppose it is a double standard. ''But you can leave whenever you want, you're totally free, i take back what i said about me being beat up about it. And I'll continue to do what i want.'' And he did. I have a lot of memory loss for a lot of these following moments in time because I've buried them, or I was so mentally run around in circles that it was the equivalent of being drunk.
Anyway- I finally had enough. I realized that as intelligent and strong as I was, that I too had fallen into the cycle of abuse, and given the type of personality I have, I was just surprised. Just... surprised, to be honest. I thought women like me aren't ever found in these situations. But it can be any woman. Even Beyonce, right? Even the prettiest, most intelligent, successful women. I looked these prostitutes up and no ill will towards them, but he's very clearly down grading. It's almost make sense if they were some 10/10 elite escort. No, none of it made any sense. I finally admitted to myself that I had been covering for him and making excuses for his bad behavior for years. I finally saw that I had been engaging in huge mental gymnastics for almost a decade. I had been deluding myself. Factor in the longevity of my exposure to his antics, that by now, the terrible things seemed like common place. Habitual. Normal.
I rent my home, I've lived here for 5 years current and its my sanctuary. I begged him to move in with me mid 2019, 7 years with no commitment at this point. December 2019, we had been living together 6 months. I said I've had enough, no woman on Earth has endured what you have put me through- I want to break up. He said ''Okay, you leave''. I said ''excuse me?'' ... He said, and i quote, ''this is my house, you leave.'' ... Tell me what kind of a monster cheats on someone then forces them to leave their own home of half a decade, when they themselves have only lived there for 6 months! I knew he wouldn't budge, i knew he was serious, he's on the lease and legally I can do nothing. He'd dangle it in my face to upset me. So I felt trapped and stayed. Afraid of change. Afraid because he was the only man I ever knew and I suppose he used to be so good to me. Afraid that I would lose my beautiful home because he wouldn't leave. So I stayed.
**And then a few weeks later he committed a Terroristic act in my city CBD which brought the city to a stand still (were both white and atheist) where he was subsequently arrested and imprisoned.** The shoot to kill order was issued, he terrified thousands. He's lucky he's still alive. He's currently still there, in prison. I think it's a brilliant plot twist myself but at the time i was destroyed. I didn't eat for days and had a break down, i couldn't stop vomiting. This was yet another thing, caused by him. I thought 'how many times will this man nauseate me so severely that i have no choice but to wretch into my toilet bowl?' nothing comes out, i wasn't eating. The Media were camping outside my house for days. Having the whole saga replayed on the news, on the radio. Hearing people talk about him in cafes. My entire personal life was shattered; everyone knew we were together, we were joint to the hip. I was exposed and metaphorically raped in front of the masses, everyone that knew me knew our business. I couldnt go back to my beloved gym or the cafes and places we would frequent because everyone knew. Yet not one person sent me a message asking after me. I was tasked with moving all his possessions out alone. Looking for new tenants. I was placed into thousands of dollars of debt, i had to pay his portion of rent and bills and everything else. And then covid-19 was just around the corner. Like millions others, I have lost my job, but I am secure, because I am secure in myself now.
I have my peace. I broke up with him in prison, after time and time again he would berate me on the phone and make demands. He sends me cryptic letters and poetry. Every conversation was like ''dance monkey. no, not like that. wow what a waste of a phone call, talk tomorrow bye''. I could never perform the right way or say the right things. In prison he has been ungrateful and disgusting towards his parents, myself, all those who want to help him. Tens of thousands of dollars spent on his defense, court, lawyers etc, and he says were idiots because ''I didn't ask you to help me'', essentially belittling our collective efforts and telling us to fuck off in the same breath. He claims he likes it in prison, he has 3 meals a day, a roof over his head, a gym. During a contact visit, to keep it light heated i said you have no privacy to masturbate. He said I do and have. I joked ''aww you've been thinking about me'', he said ''not you...'' and started laughing. Laughing so loud others turned to look. He was insinuating he was jacking it to his prostitutes instead of me. Something else he said during a contact visit that really upset me (and its so trivial but never the less), he said ''they feed me better than you in here myname''. And it just got to me- he knew it would. Because id cook him three meals a day. Id work a 12 hour shift, come home, and cook him lunch for work the next day. But you bet the prison food is much nicer (my entire family are trained chefs and have owned restaurants for years, my food is delicious). Again i digress a lot. If you're still with me, thank you.
So i'd finally had enough at this point; I listed in no uncertain terms all the horrific things he's done to me, both on the phone and in letters when i asked for a break up and for him to never contact me again. And yet he sends me letters and leaves voice messages saying he ''just doesn't understand''. He ''doesn't know why I hate him''. Why I want to get an RO. Why all of a sudden I don't love him anymore. He was ''so good to me'' he says. It nauseates me. I've written so clearly, its all so black and white, and yet he still doesnt understand. Or just pretends not to. His lack of accountability is astounding, and screams mental illness, yet I'm the one constantly critisised and told i need to see a psychologist because ''i need help''. Ive learned that abusers often tell their victims they're mentally unwell. It relinquishes control on my part and gives it to him. But ask anyone at work whom i have command over- I've handled this whole public affair with dignity and grace.
In other conversations when I said he fucked up my entire life publicly (because this shit was on the news), he just denied and said "I didn't fuck you up. You fucked yourself up. I haven't done shit to you." And that was our last conversation on the phone from prison. I was in my bathroom so my room mates couldn't hear, apologizing profusely, over and over, to appease him, to just end the conversation. I said we're no longer engaged or in a relationship. He said "yeah ok whatever I don't care-" and launched into his next point, about how I was incompitant? Pathetic? I can't quite remember.
Oh that too, the night before he did what he did in the city, he proposed to me, behind a McDonalds in the car. He had tears streaming down his face and seemed so sincere. I went numb and said yes. So i went to work saying I'm engaged, then hours later i had to say ''I've got to go, its my boyfriend in the city!''. My life was a ground hog day of humiliation. So many layers of betrayal, time and time over, from so many different areas of my life.
A chilling after thought; in all our time together, this man had never yelled at me. He has never sworn at me. Called me names. Or insulted me. He was so, so good. So slick. So strikingly intelligent and a linguist too. Semantic battles were his favorite thing. He would run me around in circles, with a circular narrative, like a horse in an exercise yard trying to exhaust me until i'd just concede and agree with whatever he wanted me to agree with. He convinced me that I was the sole source of all our problems. Not his infidelity, not his daily drug use, not his gambling addiction, not his lack of help around the house hold, not his blatant disrespect. Me, because I love to fight. In hind sight, when i did 'argue', all i was really asking for were basic human rights and the right to be afforded decency by my partner. But he would bulldoze me down and the conversation would go for 4 hours until i was delirious. And he'd say, ''wow, you have no mental stamina''.
So hopefully you guys can see that I deeply resonate with all your stories. The belittling of the act itself. The fact that you can't win either way. The fact that they're angry if you speak, angry if you stay silent. Although my x partner was a different beast, he had a quiet demeanor and was never angry. Everyone I know, family and therapists say hes a psychopath, but I argue sociopath. Then I'm really just splitting hairs at this point. The freedom I feel now is astounding. I don't need to have my identity rooted in a second person, or being a good girlfriend. It's a thankless job. I am free to do as I please. And I will find someone else! (However at this point I very happily say I'd love to be alone forever. I've experienced my big whirlwind romance, I honestly don't need another in this life time, and I'm at peace).
I am hopeful that if you are reading this, and are searching for the strength to leave, that you will find it, and you will triumph. The freedom is indescribable. I prey you have the strength to leave. My partner leaving was a forced event because he was arrested. And I've come to recognize that this is my blessing. I cannot personally say that I've ever found the same strength I'm asking you to find right now. Because had he not been arrested, I'd probably still be with him, afraid, controlled, and too much of a wimp to take the leap towards my now amazing freedom! Please please tell everyone you know about what's happening with your partner. That's the first step. Admitting it to your friends and family means you can't go back, no take backs. It's out in the open. Stop protecting him, set your voice free. Order yourself ''why does he do that'' like I did. I never spoke of my treatment to close ones because it was embarrassing but it was also to protect his image. I knew deep down his treatment of me was abhorrent, and that as soon as I told people, they'd scream leave. But I didn't know how to do that.
My therapist said "this type of deep, systemic abuse takes years to undo I'm afraid". And I said "well funny that. I'm already well ahead of the curve... I feel really, fucking good on my own."
I'm 23. I have found an incredible resilience through the trials i've endured with this man. None of those years were wasted. It is all ample amounts of deep experience that money can't buy. In some sick way, I'm thankful i went through this, it has made me a stronger person and I want to boast about it literally all the time. Its a cliche, but i feel like a warrior. I've told all my friends, that if you ever need someone to go to war with you, I'll be there, with my spear and shield. The world could end. All my family members could perish. I could lose everything (again). And it would be like water off a ducks back.
I know things are not over. He has to get out eventually, and I'll be ready for that in 2 weeks when his case is up for judgment. I'm so thankful this community exists. Ive been stalking it relentlessly for months now and i cant speak more highly of this community and the people within it, and how astronomical its been in my healing. He made it very easy to move on, he was forcibly removed from my life making distancing myself easier, but there is always thoughts of lingering inadequacy.
If you're reading this, you can get out and do better for yourself. Anything would be better.

A journal mentioned in the book "LEAVING ISLAM :: Apostates Speak Out" ( Part-2 )

Before coming to the United States, I made a tour of Medina, the holy city of Islam, with my near ones. There, when I saw people running around the Kaba (house of Allah), I thought these people are crazy. I saw the people doing umrah (a running ritual) and I ran (for the last time in my life), too, with them. Just to get the last hang of all this Islamic mentality and where it led us. What's all this running around and praying to God doing for the Muslims? Nothing! I looked at the global scene. Muslims are not doing well in the world. Their economy is in shambles, and their governments are corrupt. While I prayed I hurled abused to God and the Prophet and told them in my heart, This is my life. I'll do whatever I want to do. You can go away. I knew God would not mind my abuses to him, so I abused him, too. Why'? To get rid myself of religious fear, to take these stupid fears out of my mind. At times I would laugh at what I was doing and sometimes a thought would come to mind, Am I doing the right thing? My mind would answer my own question with the same basic argument: This is my life and I will definitely do what I want to do.
This was what gave me back my peace of mind. So when I came to the United States, I found the people over here were nice as well. Rather, much nicer. I saw the reason they are prospering. The reason was that they are not the losers the people of my country were. My country was Pakistan. Of course, there are all types of people everywhere, but there's a general personality level of every country and it is unique to that country. I knew that Pakistan's general level was way below the level of people in the United States. Does religion even matter? No, it does not. Consider the following reasoning:

A person keeps the religion he is born to; that is, he has the same religion his parents have. In more than 90 percent of the cases, he keeps the religion. Very few people change their religion.
I did not have control over where I was born. Thus, I did not control which religion I was going to be born into
So if the religion I have is only decided by where I was born, then is religion important?
Muslims say that it's important for everyone to be a Muslim, because according to Islam (XLVIII.13 and others), kaafirs (people who are not Muslims) will go to hell. Tell me, what credit is it of a Muslim to be a Muslim? What fault is it of a non-Muslim that he's not Muslim? None, right? You could say that non-Muslims can change their religions to Islam, after seeing the truth, but in fact the majority of people do not change their religion. Changing your faith brings you into difficulties, for example, opposition from your whole family and losing your links with your past. Bottom line: In the vast majority of cases, you keep the faith you are born in, and its difficult to change that faith.

Thus I deduced that religion does not matter. To every Muslim I ask this question: "Why are you Muslim? Because your parents were Muslims, right?" To this, some answer that it was God who chose them to be Muslims. Well, why on Earth is it someone's fault if God did not "choose" him to be a Muslim? Is it that guy's fault? Why will he punished for not being a Muslim, when in fact it was God who chose that guy to be a non-Muslim?
There were several things that made me see that Islam was very much flawed. A very common belief in Islam is that Allah controls the destiny of all things. My question is, then, Why is man punished for his bad deeds? Since it is already decided by God that he'll do bad deeds, then why will the poor guy be punished for something that is not under his control? Islam says do not eat haram things. Haram things are those forbidden in Islam. Again I thought, anything I eat affects me only. If I want to eat grass or garbage, is there any law in any country that says I should not do so`? By eating garbage I am harming myself only. Thus, whatever I eat is my choice only. I will eat what I want to eat. And it's not logical to punish me for something I should not have eaten. To people who are thinking that I must follow God's orders because I am his slave: Well I am not! This I my life and I did not ask him for it. I owe God nothing. God, if he exists, can have only one thing for his creation, and that is love. God cannot hate or become angry with human beings for small, petty things such as missing prayer or eating something not allowed. The hell I care! Everyone around the world eats pork and haram chicken and beef as well. And they are healthier than Muslims.
I discovered that Islam does not give women equal rights to men. This was very absurd. Here is one of the several ayahs in the Koran (holy book) that clearly says that women are inferior to men and they have fewer rights as well:
Men have authority over women because God has made the one superior to the other, and because they spend their wealth to maintain them. Good women are obedient. (IV.34)
It says, "Good women are obedient." Just like slaves are, right? This is unfair to women. After all, no one chooses before birth whether he or she is going to be born a man or a woman. In the same way, it does not matter if you're a man or a woman, and it does not matter what religion you have, because these things are not under your control. In most cases, we keep our sexes and we keep our religions, the same way we were born.
Islam says, "There shall be no compulsion in religion" (11.256). Then why will non-Muslims be punished? Also, if there is no compulsion in religion, why is it "mandatory" to say prayers? Forget my own reasoning, look at the following ayah, which completely contradicts the first one: "He that chooses a religion over Islam, it will not be accepted from him and in the world to come he will be one of the lost" (111.85).
When I came to the United States, I saw other nationalities and ethnic groups close up: nice Hindus, white people, Mexicans, Christians, Chinese, Buddhists, Indonesians, and so on. It is not possible that these nice people can burn in hell eternally. Take Mother Teresa or Princess Diana, for example. It's not possible for these nice women who had nice hearts to burn in fire forever. Muslims don't think about this. They take the burning in fire very lightly. Burn your little finger today, just the tip of it, and see how painful it is.
One other reasoning I had is that burning in hell forever is an infinite punishment. Now life is finite and a person can only commit a finite amount of sin. It is unfair to punish a finite amount of sin with an infinite amount of punishment. It doesn't make sense! You can always give more reward than he deserves to a person who does good, and no one will complain about this. But to give more punishment than what a sinner deserves is not justice. It is tyranny.
Islam is all about not paying attention to what really matters in life. That's why Muslim countries are generally pathetic losers. Look at their governments. What would happen to Saudi Arabia if the oil fields dried up? Pakistan, which doesn't have that much oil, is already dwindling. Poor economy, poor government, high corruption, inflation, and illiteracy. The thing is, after all this reasoning, it is virtually impossible to knock sense into Muslims. They will think I am the evil who is trying to lead them astray. Islam is very clever in trapping its believers.
Muhammad said:
Abu Huraira reported Allah's Messenger (may peace be upon him) as saying: No baby is born but upon Fitra. It is his parents who make him a Jew or a Christian or a Polytheist. A person said: Allah's Messenger, what is your opinion if they were to die before that (before reaching the age of adolescence when they can distinguish between right and wrong)? He said: It is Allah alone Who knows what they would be doing.'
Regarding the above hadith, common sense says that it's not possible for a baby to be a Muslim before it is born. This is just crazy and, again, it's a tool for Islam to show that God is so powerful that he makes infants Muslims before they are born and it is their parents who make them non-Muslim. Crazy indeed. We are born into whatever religions our parents have. If they are Christians, we are born into Christianity. If Muslims, we are Muslims, too. My current beliefs are agnostic, that is, there is a possibility of God's existence. If God exists, he can have only love for humans. He cannot hate or be angry with humans. Also, any religion that forces anything on people and any religion that says that it is the right religion and all the others are wrong is nonsense. A person has a right to live life his own way. He will not be punished for exercising his freedom of thought and action, except where he has harmed other humans in ways he would not like others to harm him.
At least the certain truth I know, that I have the freedom to live my life any way I want to, and Islam, the religion that does not recognize my freedom, can certainly go to hell.
I know it's difficult for Muslims to think of leaving Islam, which prescribes the death sentence to people who leave it. Notice that they are the ones most dangerous to Islam, because they have seen the dark valleys, and they know it inside out. At first when I read about Muhammad being a pedophile, I felt maybe the writer had overreacted a bit. After all, if Muhammad was really a pedophile, the evidence that supported this would have to be very light and hard to find. I thought, How could the leader of the fastest-growing religion be a pedophile? It sounded impossible! But I was wrong. I did my own research and will present here some hadith from al-Bukhari. The collection of hadith made by al-Bukhari is regarded as the most authentic hadith collection in Islam.
Narrated `A'isha: The Prophet and I used to take a bath from a single pot while we were Junub. During the menses, he used to order me to put on an Tzar (dress worn below the waist) and used to fondle me. While in Itikaf, he used to bring his head near me and I would wash it while I used to be in my periods (menses).5
Don't forget that the Prophet was more than fifty-four at that time, fondling a little girl who was only between nine and eighteen years old. Considering the worst case, nine years old is still considered very young. Muslims give all kinds of justifications when asked about this topic. Narrated `A'isha: that the Prophet married her when she was six years old and he consummated his marriage when she was nine years old, and then she remained with him for nine years (i.e., till his death).'
Narrated A'isha: I used to play with the dolls in the presence of the Prophet, and my girl friends also used to play with me. When Allah's Apostle used to enter (my dwelling place) they used to hide themselves, but the Prophet would call them to join and play with me. (The playing with the dolls and similar images is forbidden, but it was allowed forA'isha at that time, as she was a little girl, not yet reached the age of puberty.)'
I bet Wisha, the Prophet's wife, had a crash course in having sex. The girl hadn't even finished playing with her dolls and here comes a fifty-one-year-old man with a long beard, and he wants to marry her so that he can fondle her! Muslims would rather go deaf and dumb than be informed that the person they hold very dear and sacred in their hearts was actually a pedophile. Another hadith shows how obsessed our "dear" Prophet was:
Narrated Anas bin Malik: The Prophet used to pass by (have sexual relation with) all his wives in one night, and at that time he had nine wives. The Prophet had sex nine times every night. The Prophet paid much attention to his sexual desires, as the following hadith will reveal:
Narrated A'isha: Whenever Allah's Apostle finished hisAsr prayer, he would enter upon his wives and stay with one of them. One day he went to Hafsa and stayed with her longer than usual.'
Another hadith that shows how much Muhammad thought about sex is: Narrated Maimuna: "Whenever Allah's Apostle wanted to fondle any of his wives during the periods (menses), he used to ask her to wear an Izar."10
I don't need to say more. For the Prophet, fondling of his wives was a normal and routine thing, and that, too, during menstruation, which is a painful thing for many women.
Here is another hadith about the Prophet.
Narrated Zainab bint Abi Salama: Um-Salama said, "I got my menses while I was lying with the Prophet under a woolen sheet. So I slipped away, took the clothes for menses and put them on.
"Allah's Apostle said, Have you got your menses?' I replied,Yes.' Then he called me and took me with him under the woolen sheet." Um Salama further said, "The Prophet used to kiss me while he was fasting. The Prophet and I used to take the bath of Janaba from a single pot.""
Here are more hadith, describing 'A'isha, Muhammad's nine-year-old wife:
Narrated A'isha: Allah's Apostle said (to me), "You have been shown to me twice in (my) dreams. A man was carrying you in a silken cloth and said to me,This is your wife.' I uncovered it; and behold, it was you. I said to myself, `If this dream is from Allah, He will cause it to come true.' "12
Muhammad married her, because he dreamed of her. Imagine a fifty-oneyear-old guy dreaming of some six-year-old girl (the hadith says she was six when they got married, and at nine years the marriage was consummated). The amazing thing is that all of this is supported by authentic hadith.
Even though Muhammad liked to fondle and kiss woman and have sex with them nine times every night, in reality, he had a disgust for them and thought were inferior, lesser mortals. The only thing he saw as likeable in women was that they could fulfill his sexual desires. The following hadith is self-explanatory:
Narrated Abu Said Al-Khudri: Once Allah's Apostle went out to the Musalla (to offer the prayer) o `Id-al-Adha or Al-Fitr prayer. Then he passed by the women and said, "O women! Give alms, as I have seen that the majority of the dwellers of Hell-fire were you (women)." They asked, "Why is it so, 0 Allah's Apostle?" He replied, "You curse frequently and are ungrateful to your husbands. I have not seen anyone more deficient in intelligence and religion than you. A cautious sensible man could be led astray by some of you." The women asked, "0 Allah's Apostle! What is deficient in our intelligence and religion?" He said, "Is not the evidence of two women equal to the witness of one man?" They replied in the affirmative. He said, "This is the deficiency in her intelligence. Isn't it true that a woman can neither pray nor fast during her menses?" The women replied in the affirmative. He said, "This is the deficiency in her religion."13
So women, all over the world, take notice of how poorly the Prophet of Islam, Muhammad, thinks of you. Tell me, 0 women, is the menses your fault? No, it is a part of your feminine character and in no way does it make you inferior or less religious. If it did, like Muhammad said, more women will go to hell because they menstruate and in that time they cannot pray to God, then tell me, is it your fault? No, it is not!
O Muslim women, take heed from this! Islam is an evil religion. Do not teach your children to be Muslims; rather, teach them to think on their own, instead of blindly following this religion whose leader had a big sexual appetite and thought poorly of women. Not only this, but Islam has many other faults. 0 women, you are half the world, which is a big number! You can help to eradicate Islam, this evil lie. You are closer to your children than your husbands are. Do not teach the Koran to your children! If possible, keep them away from this hateful, oppressive manual as much as you can. In almost every Koranic ayah, the end is usually something like: "and Allah is Mighty, Wise." This is what brainwashes Muslims and stops them from doubting or having second thoughts about that particular ayah. The Koran wants its believers to believe all it says, without asking any questions or having doubts. If they doubt, they are threatened with "eternal hellfire." Here is a pseudo-ayah to illustrate:
And live life like losers and do not follow the transgressors. Verily, those who were not god-fearing, will have a painful end. And Allah is Mighty, Wise.
This is a bottom line of every Koranic ayah, for those who choose to see. Islam commands all to live life like losers. Those who don't follow Koran will suffer in the end. Anyone who feels a question coming to his mind: Live life like losers? Why? is hushed into silence by scaring him with God's might and wrath. Using your own head in Islam, to decide whether a certain ayah is valid or not, is not encouraged. The transgressor is he who thinks with his head. Here is a hadith that again, shows how much respect Muhammad had for woman, and how deep his thinking "really" was:
Narrated Sahl bin Sad As-Sa'idi: A woman came to Allah's Apostle and said, "0 Allah's Apostle! I have come to give you myself in marriage (without Mahr)." Allah's Apostle looked at her. He looked at her carefully and fixed his glance on her and then lowered his head. When the lady saw that he did not say anything, she sat down. A man from his companions got up and said, "0 Allah's Apostle! If you are not in need of her, then marry her to me." The Prophet said, "Have you got anything to offer?" The man said, "No, by Allah, 0 Allah's Apostle!" The Prophet said (to him), "Go to your family and see if you have something." The man went and returned, saying, "No, by Allah, I have not found anything." Allah's Apostle said, "(Go again) and look for something, even if it is an iron ring." He went again and returned, saying, "No, by Allah, 0 Allah's Apostle! I could not find even an iron ring, but this is my Izar (waist sheet) ." He had no rida. He added, "I give half of it to her." Allah's Apostle said, "What will she do with your Izar? If you wear it, she will be naked, and if she wears it, you will be naked." So that man sat down for a long while and then got up (to depart). When Allah's Apostle saw him going, he ordered that he be called back. When he came, the Prophet said, "How much of the Quran do you know?" He said, "I know such Sura and such Sura," counting them. The Prophet said, "Do you know them by heart?" He replied, "Yes." The Prophet said, "Go, I marry her to you for that much of the Quran which you have."14 In the hadith above, the woman was married to a certain man just because he knew a bit of the Koran. And she was never asked if she wanted to marry him or not. How degrading for a woman!
A hadith that shows Muhammad sees only four things in a woman: her wealth, her family status, her beauty and her religion. What about the goodness of heart, which matters the most?
Narrated Abu Huraira: The Prophet said, "A woman is married for four things, i.e., her wealth, her family status, her beauty and her religion. So you should marry the religious woman (otherwise) you will be a losers."15
Here are hadith where Muhammad says that women are evil omen:
Narrated Abdullah bin `Umar: Allah's Apostle said, "Evil omen is in the women, the house and the horse." 16
Narrated Usama bin Zaid: The Prophet said, "After me I have not left any affliction more harmful to men than women." 17
Even the Koran says that women are a degree lower than men, and men have authority over women. Also, the Koran wants women to be obedient to their spouses, just like slaves are to their masters (IV.34). Muhammad says that if a woman wants to be more religious, she cannot be so without the permission of her husband:
Narrated Abu Huraira: The Prophet said, "A woman should not fast (optional fasts) except with her husband's permission if he is at home (staying with her).""
On top of this, as we already know, Muhammad says the majority of women will be in hell. To anyone who wants to be a Muslim woman I say, 0 Muslim women of the world: wake up! Do not let your life go to waste anymore! See the truth! Do not accept a religion that thinks so poorly of you! Islam is the religion of the devil! Allah is all-knowing and wise (emulating the same brainwashing tool used by the Koran). A woman also has to fulfill the sexual desires of her husband. Man's desires are above her own and if she does not agree to fulfilling her husbands desires, then angels will curse her:
Narrated Abu Huraira: The Prophet said, "If a man Invites his wife to sleep with him and she refuses to come to him, then the angels send their curses on her till morning." 9
Can these words be coming from a prophet of God? No. He was not a prophet. He was a great, clever liar. Now I will give some Koranic ayahs here, which show what Islam thinks of women. I have quoted the full ayahs, to show the true context. These ayahs show clearly that women are thought of something lesser than man and they have fewer rights as well. And the divorced women should keep themselves in waiting for three courses; and it is not lawful for them that they should conceal what Allah has created in their wombs, if they believe in Allah and the last day; and their husbands have a better right to take them back in the meanwhile if they wish for reconciliation; and they have rights similar to those against them in a just manner, and the men are a degree above them, and Allah is Mighty, Wise. (11.228)
Here is an ayah that says the testimony of two women is equal to the testimony of one man: O you who believe! When you deal with each other in contracting a debt for a fixed time, then write it down: and let a scribe write it down between you with fairness; and the scribe should not refuse to write as Allah has taught him, so he should write; and let him who owes the debt dictate, and he should be careful of (his duty to) Allah, his Lord, and not diminish anything from it; but if he who owes the debt is unsound in understanding, or weak, or (it) he is not able to dictate himself, let his guardian dictate with fairness; and call in to witness from among your men two witnesses; but if there are not two men, then one man and two women from among those whom you choose to be witnesses, so that if one of the two errs, the second of the two may remind the other; and the witnesses should not refuse when they are summoned; and be not averse to writing it (whether it is) small or large, with the time of its falling due; this is more equitable in the sight of Allah and assures greater accuracy in testimony, and the nearest (way) that you may not entertain doubts (afterwards), except when it is ready merchandise which you give and take among yourselves from hand to hand, then there is no blame on you in not writing it down: and have witnesses when you barter with one another, and let no harm be done to the scribe or to the witness; and if you do (it) then surely it will be a transgression in you, and be careful of (your duty) to Allah, Allah teaches you, and Allah knows all things. (11.282)
Here is an ayah that allows this scene to happen: A man hates his wife so much that he wants to get rid of her. He can call four of his friends and everyone will testify that the woman was involved in sexual indecency. Then she can be confined in a place without food and water until she dies. Imagine the state of the woman's mind. Why is the same thing not provided for woman?
And as for those who are guilty of an indecency from among your women, call to witnesses against them ,four (witnesses) from among you; then if they bear witness confine them to the houses until death takes them away or Allah opens some way for them. (IV.15)
Wife battering is allowed in Islam:
Men are in charge of women, because Allah hath made the one of them to excel the other, and because they spend of their property (for the support of women). So good women are the obedient, guarding in secret that which Allah hath guarded. As for those from whom ye fear rebellion, admonish them and banish them to beds apart, and scourge them. Then if they obey you, seek not a way against them. Lo! Allah is ever High, Exalted, Great. (IV.34)
In Islam, inheritance for a woman is half the inheritance of a man:
Allah (thus) directs you as regards your Children's (Inheritance): to the male, a portion equal to that of two. females: if only daughters, two or more, their share is two-thirds of the inheritance; if only one, her share is a half. For parents, a sixth share of the inheritance to each, if the deceased left children; if no children, and the parents are the (only) heirs, the mother has a third; if the deceased Left brothers (or sisters) the mother has a sixth. The distribution in all cases(s) after the payment of legacies and debts. Ye know not whether your parents or your children are nearest to you in benefit. These are settled portions ordained by Allah; and Allah is All-knowing, Al-wise. (IV. 11)
In what your wives leave, your share is a half, if they leave no child; but if they leave a child, ye get a fourth; after payment of legacies and debts. In what ye leave, their share is a fourth, if ye leave no child; but if ye leave a child, they get an eighth; after payment of legacies and debts. If the man or woman whose inheritance is in question, has left neither ascendants nor descendants, but has left a brother or a sister, each one of the two gets a sixth; but if more than two, they share in a third; after payment of legacies and debts; so that no loss is caused (to any one). Thus is it ordained by Allah; and Allah is All-knowing, Most Forbearing. (IV 12)
THE UNIVERSAL DECLARATION OF HUMAN RIGHTS COMPARED TO ISLAM
The principles of Islam are against those promulgated by the United Nations (UN). The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948) says:
Article 1:
All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.
Article 18:
Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance.
But Allah and the Prophet say the opposite: Prophet, make war on the unbelievers and the hypocrites and deal rigorously with them. Hell shall be their home: an evil fire. They swear by God that they said nothing. Yet they uttered the word of unbelief and renounced Islam after embracing it. They sought to do what they could not attain. Yet they had no reason to be spiteful except perhaps because God and His apostle had enriched them through His bounty. If they repent, it will indeed be better for them, but if they give no heed, God will sternly punish them, both in this world and in the world to come. They shall have none on this earth to protect or help them. (IX.73,74)
Narrated Abu Bruda: Abu Musa said.... Behold there was a fettered man beside Abu Musa. Muadh asked, "Who is this (man)?" Abu Musa said, He was a Jew and became a Muslim and then reverted back to Judaism." Then Abu Musa requested Muadh to sit down but Muadh said, "I will not sit down till he has been killed. This is the judgment of Allah and his messenger," and repeated it thrice. Then Abu Musa ordered that the man be killed, and he was killed. Abu Musa added, "Then we discussed the night prayers."20
Narrated Ali: "Whenever I tell you a narration from Allah's messenger, by Allah, I would rather fall down from the sky, then ascribe a false statement to him, but if I tell you something between me and you, (not a Hadith), then it was indeed a trick (i.e., I may say things just to cheat my enemy). No doubt I heard Allah's messenger saying, "During the last days there will appear some young foolish people, who will say the best words, but their faith will not go beyond their throats (i.e., they will leave the faith) and will go out from their religion as an arrow goes out of the game. So, wherever you find them, kill them, firr whoever kills them shall have reward on the Day of Resurrection."-'
Almost all Muslim countries mention in their constitutions that they believe in Allah and that the principles and laws set up in the country shall follow what is in the Koran and sunnah. For example, the preamble to Pakistan's constitution says: Whereas sovereignty over the entire Universe belongs to Almighty Allah alone, and the authority to be exercised by the people of Pakistan within the limits prescribed by Him is a sacred trust; wherein the Muslims shall be enabled to order their lives in the individual and collective spheres in accordance with the teachings and requirements of Islam as set out in the Holy Quran and Sunnah.
Iran says in its constitution:

Continuous ijtihad of the fugaha' possessing necessary qualifications, exercised on the basis of the Qur'an and the Sunnah of the Ma'sumun, upon all of whom be peace.

The Saudi Arabian constitution says:
Article I : The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is a sovereign Arab Islamic state with Islam as its religion; God's Book and the Sunnah of His Prophet, God's prayers and peace be upon him, are its constitution, Arabic is its language and Riyadh is its capital. As you can see, the Muslim states profess their belief in the sunnah (hadith) and the Koran. The Koran and hadith also teach religious intolerance, as the above hadith and ayahs show. Thus, all these Muslim countries are abiding by constitutions that violate human rights and the principles of the UN. They have two options: (1) Change their constitutions and no longer involve the Koran or (2) change the Koran and declare that these verses are invalid from now on. Of course, that would not happen easily, but I'm just mentioning that it should. The changing of the Koran or the deletion of the Koran from the constitutions of the Muslim countries could begin the eventual, much-needed downfall of Islam.
Someone might think, If there is no Islam, then what is there? Christianity? No. All religions that command humans are wrong, because freedom is the basic right of every human being. The UN also says this in article I of its Universal Declaration of Human Rights. We are all human beings, born free to exercise our minds and bodies in ways that do not harm others. This is the only principle that humans are required to commit to, and it takes only common sense to deduce this. Do not do to another human what you would not want others to do to you. One does not need any religion to tell her this. We need to live simple lives. We need to love more and hate less. We need to be happy and satisfied and live in peace, like a loving family.
God or no God, there is certainly one truth: Islam is false. If there is God, then one possibility is that Islam was the tool of the devil, to lead men astray. The Koran says that Satan promised God that he would lead men astray. So, in the big picture, this is what is happening. Men are being turned into egotistic losers, while women are never given the chance to take advantage of opportunities, as the religion itself degrades woman and says that they are below man. Islam is the trap of the devil. It's the fastest-growing trap, too. If humankind needs to live in peace, all forceful religions, including Islam, must be eradicated from the earth. Islam is the religion whose believers hate the most, too, because believers of Islam in the extreme sense perform jihad, kill people in the name of religion and many other things. Of all the religions on Earth, Islam is the one that has the most hatred for nonbeleivers. The results are observed by seeing the disastrous effects of Islamic terrorism in the world. It's true that most Muslims are peaceful human beings, but any person who truly follows Islam is required to
• hate non-Muslims vehemently; or, in the peaceful form, have a dislike and disgust for non-Muslims;
• fear an invisible God;
• be unhappy with her life, because she is, in reality, a slave to Allah, the imaginary God;
• live his life in vain.
Islam makes the whole of humanity-Muslims and non-Muslims-suffer. Peaceful Muslims become victims of the oppressive psyche of Islam, which sucks all the life out of them, while non-Muslims are made to suffer at the hands of Islamic terrorists. This world cannot rest until Islam and all other oppressive religions have been eradicated. Please think deeply about Islam. Do not take things for granted. Do not assume that the Koran is from God. I know that you all want to believe in God, because it's a survival instinct that we don't want to die. We want to keep living after we die. And to support this life-after-death philosophy, Islam and many other religions were created, sometimes due to creativity of man and sometimes due to man's desire to subjugate others. God might exist, but no one knows, since there is no proof to support his existence or absence. But certainly, Allah is not and cannot be a God. I wish you peace and inner happiness.

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