A child was born. She was weak. She could scarcely eat anything without falling ill, she was prone to fainting, she often grew cold and jittery at the worst possible times. It was determined that she would die far before she grew into old age.
These things happen. The child's father grew resentful that he was saddled with such a fragile heir, but the child's mother, a respected mage, wished for her daughter to know her craft before she passed.
Against the odds stacked against her, she survived. She threw herself into work, struggling to put some dent in the world before her flame flickered out. She studied magical secrets, which grew to become her life's greatest joy and passion.
But all through her life, she could not escape her fate: that she was to die well before she grew old. She felt her life's glow slipping quickly away from her, and knew that before the year was over, it would finally fade to inky blackness.
She refused to accept it.
There was still so much she wanted to do. There was still so much she wanted to know. And she felt her soul resting at the top of an hourglass that was quickly running out, and thought about how it would feel to wake up in the morning and not be wracked with pain. What freedom it would be to not have to eat, or sleep, or do any of the other little things that took her away from the things and people she loved.
[ She's going somewhere with this, she promises. ]
private
Allow me to tell you a story.
A child was born. She was weak. She could scarcely eat anything without falling ill, she was prone to fainting, she often grew cold and jittery at the worst possible times. It was determined that she would die far before she grew into old age.
These things happen. The child's father grew resentful that he was saddled with such a fragile heir, but the child's mother, a respected mage, wished for her daughter to know her craft before she passed.
Against the odds stacked against her, she survived. She threw herself into work, struggling to put some dent in the world before her flame flickered out. She studied magical secrets, which grew to become her life's greatest joy and passion.
But all through her life, she could not escape her fate: that she was to die well before she grew old. She felt her life's glow slipping quickly away from her, and knew that before the year was over, it would finally fade to inky blackness.
She refused to accept it.
There was still so much she wanted to do. There was still so much she wanted to know. And she felt her soul resting at the top of an hourglass that was quickly running out, and thought about how it would feel to wake up in the morning and not be wracked with pain. What freedom it would be to not have to eat, or sleep, or do any of the other little things that took her away from the things and people she loved.
[ She's going somewhere with this, she promises. ]
Tell me what you think you know, now.