From the pages of a wizards journal. The pages were found buried in the ground and year stained.
Today I am drunk. Today I am wondering what my life has become. I used to be great. I used to make a difference but now? I answer the call of people who have barely half my skill. Or the skill I used to have.
This world has robbed me. The people here vex me. I can feel that chunks are missing. When I try to think on the events the people mention, I can feel my brain skip, my words stutter. I tried to find where they buried you, ya know?
I couldn’t find it.
I couldn’t find your grave. What did they do with you? Were you even ever here? I sometimes think I catch glimpses of you in my arms, clutching berries willing you to come back to me.
So today I am drunk, sitting in a random graveyard.
***
It’s spring now, your favorite time. You always said it was the time for new beginnings. For healing. For growth. I always laughed and shook my head when you would say that, death and decay cling to me like a second skin. What new growth could there be for me?
I’m lost and in pieces. I’ve been scattered to the winds. Gods, I miss you. I could use your positive look on things. You’d tell me it’s a fresh start, there is a reason I forgot, to make the best of it. I just want to pick myself apart and find the missing pieces.
I want to know why I hear war drums and orc chants in my dreams. I want to know why I understand them. I want to know why my magic is entwined with a fey. Why it changed his being. Why I feel like I have a foot in the grave.