Wizard’s Death

Marvelous, that green, those treetops, the taste of the mist on your tongue, the early rays of dawn coming over the hills; nothing could match it. It was all so beautiful. Leaning on an old branch, a splintering stave that was my only support, I rose a bent and crooked figure over that stony hilltop, the leftover foundation of a ruined castle, the moss covered remains of a great lord now forgotten.

My shadow stretched long behind me. I felt it fading, exhausted as it pulled away, striving to avoid the inexorable rising sun. But I would not run; we would face the light together.

The clouds rolled back, and the mists departed. Warmth spread over me, the years of my twisted craft disintegrating under that great power. My flesh dried, and my sinews pulled tight, contorting my body in mangled spasms. This was the evil I could destroy; this was how I set the world right.

And from the darkness I came to embrace the light, and behold the majesty of the sun.


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