Once upon a time, a lonely and sad wizard settled into their new, humble home on the backside of a hill. The young wizard was weary and sad, tearing up everyday at the smallest things. They were a tired and war-hardened creature, but they were always kind to the villagers only a day's travel away, and they never spited the gods spectating the land. Everyone relied on them for help with unknown plagues and unexpected famines. One of the peasants who had one day gone to visit the kind wizard for magical medicine returned with stories of the wizard's past.
This wizard had truly endured decades of pain and grief; all of their brothers and sisters had been killed long ago, and so they had no one left to trust or converse with. They said that they cried every day because everything they saw reminded them of cold, pale faces; ones with bled-out and sickened expressions. They said that they helped everyone who came across their home because those kind travelers reminded them of the visitors to their now deserted and barren homeland.
Shortly after the story of the wizard's past was told, a cruel and sick man from the village decided to visit the sad creature, and spat words of violence, threatened the life of them, and almost destroyed their home. The wizard had no choice but to revolt against the monster who claimed to speak for gods never seen or talked to by mortals. They threw the man out of their humble, now destroyed home and strangled him with unflinching, stiff hands. The color drained from the man quickly and, without remorse, the wizard threw the man into the river.
Even weeks and months after the awful display of cruelty, the wizard sobbed guiltily. They couldn't believe their violent actions towards even a truly mad mortal, and despised themselves, hardly bothering to rebuild their once warm house.
The gods, unheard of and unseen by mortal creatures until now, visited the wizard to comfort and take great care of them. The creature never accepted their actions, and ignored the holy beings, who were only trying to assist. The house remained unrepaired and in a state of decay, the nature around slowly decaying with it. The flowers wilted slowly and painfully, the grass died, and trees quickly lost their leaves, being drained of all necessary ingredients to survive.
Villagers would invade the land of the young wizard, throwing stones, and rotten meat, and anything fowl they could get their hands on. "This creature of the darkness shall pay!" They would chant angrily, denying the wizard any form of personhood.
One day, they grew tired of the world's treatment, and shut everything out. The gods, the villagers, the memories of their past, reality. One by one, they each slipped from the hands of the creature. Sanity was the last to follow, according to the rumors of the townspeople. No one could enter within twenty paces of the wizard's territory. It was impossible. Even the gods found it difficult to trespass, and so did not attempt more than once. The wizard grew crueler and crueler each day, even disgusting themselves, but never resisted their delve into insanity and solitary confinement.
That's What They Say, at least. Most of that is absolutely absurd, in my opinion. I would know.
YOU ARE READING
The Tower in the Distance (A Minecraft Fanfiction)
FanfictionAli is an isolated wizard. They've lived alone for centuries, never moving home from their one spot. The decades passed, solitary and depressing. They've seen many humans make their mark on history. Despite all this, nothing could have prepared them...
