Now, were to begin...
In a world, or even universe, far different from your own, lived a family of highly skilled wizards. Each wizard was incredibly powerful. They could control and distort the universe itself if they so wanted, but never touched a twinkling star in the heaven as a sign of great kindness to the world that lived around them.
Each wizard lived for nearly forever; some were even considered older than time itself. They lived in peace and worked very hard to maintain such.
One day, a kingdom arose, though small, it was diligent to do its best to grow. One of the wizards in the family foretold of the greatness of such kingdom, but it would need deep protection. The wizard family decided then to make an agreement with the reigning monarch that they would dedicate their lives into protecting the people of kingdom. The monarch was very pleased with such an agreement and promised them a position in the royal court for all time.
This is how it was for centuries. Each wizard, once of age, would step up to become the next royal magician to let the former rest and live the rest of their near immortal life care free and happy.
Eventually, it became a young wizard's turn. His name, Albedo Aristotle V. He showed great potential, greater than all before him. He was kind, smart, and dedicated to his work, yet childish to a fault. His smile would brighten up the room by ten candles worth. Everyone loved him, and he loved all of them in return.
Eventually, there came a day when the reigning monarch asked Aristotle to venture out, to speak with another monarch of a distant country in their stead. With a flourished bow and a bright smile upon his lips, he accepted the request.
Oh how I wish I never made that mistake. If I could turn back the clock, but that would be against my families desire to never mess with the foreseen nature of things.
Whilst the young man was off, a Great Terror ravaged the kingdom. The wizards that remained within the kingdom were slaughtered first, bodies caste into the streets to show the power of this Great Terror. How could this have happened? Wizards wise and ancient, taken down by an unknown force? Impossible...
Soon, within the blink of an eye, the Terror destroyed the entire country, veiling everything in darkness and blight. Screams echo within the doubled shadows, despite no living soul still being within. The smell of molten flesh, melted and morphed together stain the cobbled streets. The once emerald grass became laden with bone fragments, threatening to pierced anyone who dared approach.
Oh, how young and naive the youngest of the wizards was once he began to skip home. His smile, brighter than ten candles was quickly snuffed out by the power of a monstrous breath.
Everything he knew and loved was gone, replaced by the sight of blight, a power and force even the wizards themselves must submit to.
Tears welled up in the young boy's eyes, and loudest and most heartbreaking wail escaped his lips. One word escaped his broken tone.
"MAMA!"
Everything had shattered around him. All the beauty and love and kindness was nothing more than dust in the wind.
He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. All he could do was curl up into a tight little ball, hugging his knees tight against his chest. Tears ran down his face, mixing this drool and snot as he could only cry.
After what felt like an eon, the young man opened up his eyes, a new sense of determination filling his soul, this one fueled by nothing but hatred and loathing. He had never felt such anger in his entire lifetime.
His fingers clenched the dirt beneath his fingers, soil digging underneath his nails and into his cuts. No more. No more would he sit and cry. No more would he just sit by and do nothing. He would protect everything beautiful, no matter the flaw it might have. He would cast out the darkness for good. He knew for years, as long as the wizards have been alive, that the blight has been growing and storing power, waiting for the day it might take over the entire world before it can spread its infection to the entire universe.
Albedo Aristotle V would not allow this to every happen.
Fueled by rage and anger, Aristotle transformed into his animal form, a great and mighty falcon. He was so large, he could blot out the sun easier than any storm cloud. His wings blew up mighty winds and tossed the seas of grass and water.
Never once as a wizard felt anger, or even frustration. They were always happy, smiling, cheering. Who knew such and dark and evil emotion could be so powerful.
With all his power; memory, happiness, sadness, depression, anger, loathing, hatred, and love, Aristotle formed a great ball of light within his chest, and began to soar. He flew faster than rushing rivers, faster then torrential winds, faster than his screaming cries. He flew around the world multiple times over, making sure every single crevice of his planet was purified by his light.
The blight had no were to hide, it grew smaller and smaller and smaller still, until it was cornered. And with one last ball of raw power, Aristotle eviscerated all the darkness. No longer would children fear the shadows in the corner of their room. No longer would the elderly fear the clutches of dark. No longer would the people fear, no longer.
Soon, after all his power was spent, Aristotle fell. He fell and hit the ground with a thunderous boom. Some feathers were broken, along with his bones, but his spirit had healed, if only a little. He still could no longer feel the embrace of his mother, or the gentle voice of his father, or any of the many friends he had made. They were now all whispers in the wind. With one last heavy sigh, Aristotle closed his eyes, and slept for a long time.
-----
When Aristotle had finally awoken, the sun had been gone and returned and vanished again about eight times. He had returned into his human form, some of his remaining feathers sticking out of his skin. His body ached all over. His legs and arms and ribs were broken. He felt a pain he had never one felt before, but he couldn't be happier. His smile was weak, but he was happy.
He began to laugh, tears rolling down his face from pain and misery. Both the pain of his life now crumbled into dust and the pain of a immovable body. He could heal all wounds as swift as flowers blooming, but he wanted to remember this pain, relish in it for a while. This was agony, but an agony he fought for.
After a while of sitting in sadness, he finally allowed himself to heal, allowing both his body and his heart. Though physical pain would eventually disappear, residual pain in his heart, in his soul, would remain. But he would smile. He would smile and laugh and joke like he used to, to help keep the memories of the happy times alive. Though he had lost his childishness, he would wear a mask of his old self, one that used to be so carefree.
We was near all powerful, near immortal, but he knew that he wasn't the only one. There is still planets and universes out there that are affected by blight. He didn't care how many times he would have to crash and burn, he would never let another universe, another world, another country, another person, have to suffer the pain of blight ever again.
And so, with his magic, Aristotle opened a beautiful portal, one radiating with rainbow light. He gazed into it and saw all the beautiful little worlds, all the beautiful little people. His heart was beating fast as he had to act quickly before choosing a little planet called "Earth." This planet was two universes over, one incredibly similar to his home world.
With one last glance at the beauty of his home, he leapt into the portal.
Now, sometimes, Aristotle returns home to reminisce in the beauty and memory, paying memorial to all those who died, but never lingered for long, for he had much work to do.
This is my story.
- Albedo Aristotle V
