The Lore of Arcanist Luther of the Circle and then the Flame

In his youth Luther was a curious and attentive student. He was lauded with great promise and hope to follow the proper path of a young wizard destined for prestige. He came from a strong family and developed many friendships with both wizard and man alike. It was often said of Luther that to finds him all one needed was to follow the sound of the deep laughter of man and the banging of wizards’ staffs – for he would never be too far with a story (maybe a bit stretched and over the top) and a pint of ale.

The arcanist was rather successful at first as would be expected to make it into this prestigious Book of Lore, but as time would have it he would be tested like not many wizards were brought to challenge before. It was shortly after the Great Cataclysm at the Circle where Luther’s luck would change. His powers began to fail him, he lacked focus and began to fall away from both the worlds of wizard and man.

At first, they wondered and worried for Luther but eventually, as goes life Luther was left to his wife alone to care for him. He would try desperately to regain control and precision over his powers once again. Wizards came from far and wide to try to spark his power, but as one wizard would say, “I can do not for Luther, for Luther must do for himself.” Eventually, the wizards stopped coming.

One morning during his walk, Luther saw an old wagon drawn by two black Clydesdales. As he approached, he saw his reflection in their dark eyes and it memorized him, for he was not a man of thirty-five no longer but instead he was his younger self as he was during his time studying at the Western Library. And just as he leaned in further to see this boy of himself their eyes began to burst into flame causing Luther to lurch back and fall to the ground.

“What have you seen there Archanist? Some memory? Some future?” said a young woman in a tall red hat.

“Oh nothing, I just lost my feet that is all. Will be on my way now. Good eve young lady!”

“Stop, Luther do not flee. I am here for you need me now. I do not bring supreme news nor treasure. However, I might be able to give you fame and a new start to this life that has lost you so.”

“But how do you know…”

“My child, I might look young to you but I remember when you great-grandfa was knee high and spell-less. I am a forgotten pyromancer, of the old ways, and we don’t have much time. Now close your mouth and listen to thes’ words of mine.

The time grows near to start again, to grab your own future in your hand. For when this Hallow’s Eve doth come, by flame your future shant be undone.”

As Luther tried to speak, his words were lost and his throat tightened. His eyes stared at the woman and then he turned toward her wagon towards her horses. When his eyes finally traveled down the side of her wagon to the horses they were gone. His head snapped around to the young pyromancer. Yet when he reached where she once stood all that was left was a black spot on the grey dirt with two boot prints. He spun around three times looking for both her and the horses, but there was no trace. Just the old wooden wagon, that now Luther realized was broken, stripped of two wheels and overrun by weeds and roots cracking through the boards.

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Luther arrived home to his wife but could not share this story for fear she might think him mad. She made them both a pot of tea which they enjoyed by the fire before bed. Luther looked at his wife, her stomach showed that the baby would soon come and the raspberry tea should bring it sooner.

The next day was much like the ones before. Tending to the garden and studying. It all must have been in his head from fatigue. There was no pyromancer. Luther returned home with a basket of carrots and turnips from the garden to find his wife on the floor – their baby was coming.

After three hours of toil the young babe finally arrived and joy fell over both Luther and his wife. Looking at their young daughter was a dream and new start perhaps – she will be Sophia Diane. That evening they shared a simple meal of roasted carrots and hard loaf and nursed their new born until they all fell asleep in bed for a peaceful rest. The Arcanist of the Circle was now a father.

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A low drumming noise woke Luther in the middle of the night and got him out of bed. He shuffled across the stone floor to the door. Looking back at his wife and daughter that lay peacefully, he slowly opened the door to the main chamber where the drumming grew louder. He opened the front door and looked around for its source… there in the distance was the Secret Tower glowing ablaze. Flames reflected in Luther’s eyes as he walked out the door. He could hear other footsteps in the woods around him but could not see another soul. The footsteps were heading toward the tower. The footsteps continued to grow louder until Luther realized it was his own feet crunching on the leaves and sticks below.

He felt comfort that he was choosing himself for them, for Sophia, but Luther did not realize this was never his choice.

Entered by: 0x1Fb8…90B9 and preserved on chain (see transaction)