I woke with a jolt, the throbbing pain in my head a relentless reminder of the night's turmoil.
The remnants of a restless sleep clung to me as I struggled to shake off the discomfort. I sat up, wincing at the bright flashes of pain that accompanied each movement.
The room was dimly lit, but the sound of rain pounding against the windowpane grew louder with each passing moment, adding to the growing chill in the air.
Rising from my bed, I wrapped myself in a thick cloak and shuffled to the fireplace, seeking solace in its warmth.
The crackling fire was a welcome relief from the biting cold, and I hoped it would help dispel the lingering shadows of my dreams. Yet, as I approached, a sudden gust of wind howled through the room, rattling the windows and extinguishing the fire in an instant.
The warmth was replaced by an oppressive darkness, and I found myself enveloped in the cold silence of the night.
The darkness , it was suffocating, pressing in on me from all sides.
I stumbled back, my heart racing as the shadows seemed to stretch and twist, reflecting the fears I had long tried to bury.
The oppressive silence was only interrupted by the pounding of the rain against the walls, a harsh reminder of the outside world I had sought to escape.
It was in this darkness that I confronted the reflection of myself I most despised... The one who hoped
I had hoped, once.
I dared to dream of a better life, of escaping the relentless cycle of suffering and despair that defined my existence.
But hope had proven to be a sin, a cruel joke played by fate.
Everyone in the village mocked me yet I didn't stopped maybe I should had then
Those who dared to dream were the ones most brutally reminded of their place in the world. I had sinned by believing I deserved more, and now I was paying the price.
As the storm raged outside, the thunderclaps were deafening, and lightning briefly illuminated the room, casting eerie, fleeting shadows across the walls. In one such flash, I caught sight of something on the mantel—an old, weathered amulet that glinted faintly in the sporadic light.
The sight of it sent a sharp pang of recognition through me. It was my mother's amulet.
The amulet had been a gift from my mother, a symbol of her unwavering belief in me. Despite the harshness of our world, she had always encouraged me to dream, to aspire to something greater. Her words had been a beacon of hope in my darkest moments, a reminder that perhaps life could be better if I just believed.
Now, however, the amulet seemed like a cruel reminder of her sins—sins that had been passed down to me, sins that had led to my current state of despair.
My anger surged, a storm of emotions that matched the one outside. I grabbed the amulet with trembling hands and, in my fury, hurled it across the room.
The impact was a soft thud as it landed on a pile of old clothes, but the act of throwing it felt like a cathartic release.
Yes it wasn't me why why , maybe u wanted me to fail
In raw state i shouted "You gave me poison lethal than swords "
"Why did you make me hope? Why did you teach me to dream?" I shouted, my voice breaking with the weight of my emotions. "You were wrong! You were a fool! Your hope only led to this—this darkness, this despair!"
But as I continued to shout, tears streamed down my face, each one mingling with the anger and sorrow I felt. I was angry at my mother, at the false hope she had instilled in me, and at myself for ever believing in it. Yet, beneath the rage, there was a deep, aching sadness.
I missed her more than I could ever articulate, and in the silence that followed my outburst, the grief became unbearable.
I sank to the floor, the cold creeping through my cloak and seeping into my bones.
My sobs were quiet now, a stark contrast to the earlier fury. The rain continued its relentless assault on the window, and the storm outside seemed to reflect the turmoil within me. I missed her
In the fleeting moments of respite between the thunderclaps, my thoughts drifted to the memories of my mother. I remembered her gentle voice, the warmth of her embrace, and the way she had always encouraged me to strive for more, even when the world seemed determined to crush my dreams. Her belief in me had been a light in the darkness, a source of strength when I felt weak.
As the storm continued its fury, I sat in the darkness, grappling with the duality of my emotions.
The amulet, a symbol of everything I had lost—my mother, my hope, and the life I had once aspired to.
I knew that my anger, though intense, was rooted in a deeper sense of loss.
I was angry at the world for not living up to the dreams my mother had nurtured, and I was angry at myself for allowing those dreams to be shattered.
The storm outside began to subside, the rain turning from a torrential downpour to a gentle drizzle.
The thunder's roar faded, leaving only the occasional rumble in the distance. In the relative quiet, my sobs gradually slowed, and I found myself staring at the dim glow of the embers in the cold fireplace.
The darkness around me seemed less oppressive, and I felt a strange, weary calm settle over me.
As I sat there, the realization dawned on me that the amulet, though now a symbol of my grief, was also a reminder of her faith
I slowly rose from the floor and moved toward the pile where the amulet lay.
I picked it up gently, feeling its familiar weight in my hand. It was a small, simple object, but it carried with it a profound significance for me
The fire in the hearth was out, but the storm had passed, and the first light of dawn began to filter through the rain-slicked windows. I stood there in the quiet aftermath of the storm, holding the amulet close. The darkness had not vanished, but it no longer felt as suffocating. There was a glimmer of hope
I will strive..
I will become Wizard