A-1 Assignments

Wizard 1

It was the knowledge I’d sought throughout my entire life that drove me insane. I’m not sure, however, when exactly I started to go mad. I can recall events that led me up to the body in the emerald field, but at no point did insanity crash down around my ears.

Life was not easy, particularly for a young man who may be considered a “skirt-chaser”. I was diligent, however, and soon my only fulfillment came in the form of knowledge, particularly that of reality itself. The problem is, when you learn the physics of reality, learn how to tame and control the fabric of space and time itself…reality reveals that you are a pawn and know nothing. Then it bleeds your mind, taking but always giving.

I can remember writing unknown arcane spells on my chamber walls…no, I remember waking up to find spells written on my walls in my own handwriting, but I don’t recall actually writing them. I can recollect staring into random spaces in which the fabric of reality ripped, watching the things beyond twist and unfurl. I can even think back to when I first caught a glimpse of the black, writhing shadows above young Prince Benjamin’s five-year-old head. Even now, I remember other wizards in my guild shunning me, canceling appointments, avoiding my gaze…

I, Aristopholes Mendatcles Thades III, High Wizard of the kingdom of Sojourn, have been a magic-user since age twenty. Despite what those outside the guild may imagine, wizards are more akin to monks than soldiers or the like. We are forbidden from many things, most of which are in relation to the opposite gender, and can never speak the secrets we learn inside the cloistered halls.

One morning, when I’d had a principally stressful week, I set out for a walk to clear my thoughts. It was a gorgeous day. The birds sang sweetly and didn’t scream as they watched me with lidless, soulless eyes as per usual. The clouds floated above, their vicious grins completely gone. Had my luck finally changed? Would reality leave my mind alone?

The field I happened to stroll into was even more beautiful. Dew, not blood, covered the grass and each blade looked like it was carved from emeralds. I was so elated by the change of events, that when I saw real blood, I doubted myself. After all, if the rest of the ground was crimson-free, why would only one small patch be red?

I headed towards it reluctantly. If reality had torn again, I had to make sure nothing bad came through.

When I saw Prince Benjamin’s body, I was relieved. Reality was safely tucked away and I would not go crazy that day. I laughed aloud at my good fortune. I had books to tend to; I didn’t have time to guard a tear in reality for hours. I cut my laughter short, however, when I saw that the boy’s blood was changing into dew.

“Dew?” I muttered aloud.

As I watched, his dew-blood slithered into the emerald grass, each blade thrumming like a guitar string as it passed. I thought it marvelously clever and tossed some of the dew-blood onto the grass myself, listening as the blades tinkled like glass bells with each droplet.

A hand clapped me on the shoulder—a hand belonging to the head of the Royal Guard. He said something I couldn’t hear through the sound of drilling bone. I turned and watched patiently as a centipede as long as the castle doors slithered out of the boy’s ear, chattered viciously at me, and then scurried away through a tear in reality. The Royal Guard tried to slice at the creature, but he missed, his momentum carrying him towards the tear. I tried to reach for him, but he slid through, toppling head over heels into the Great Abyss.

Now I wait, my old hands scratching my message on my prison wall. They think I’m the one who killed the heir, but I know I didn’t. They think I’m crazy, but I know I am.