‘“Morlock, my brother . . . where is this evil thing you’ve fashioned?”
Evil? Morlock pondered, looking puzzled. Evil?
‘Bellandor simply nodded, watching his brother carefully.
‘Even then, Morlock could have turned away from his ill-chosen path. But he chose, rather, to turn his back on reason instead, and feigning affronted pride, said, “What you call evil, I choose to call control.”
‘“Ah. And who is to wield this control?” Bellandor asked him.
‘“I had thought to share this control with you,” hissed Morlock in a low voice. In this he spoke the truth, though they both knew how long such a sharing of Power would last.
‘“I do not want that sort of Power, as you should well know,” said Bellandor, “for there is naught in it but harm.”
‘More than any other words spoken, those went most to Morlock’s heart, for he had seen his works and his scheming as both mighty and complex. At that moment, he loosed his hold of all reason, and turned instead to all that he deemed that was left to him.
‘Power, for its own sake.
‘“Are you going to kill me, brother?” he asked Bellandor, watching him askance.