Every wizard alone

"No man is an island,

Entire of itself;

Every man is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main."

--John Donne

"Give me a place to stand, and I will move the earth."

--Archimedes (apocryphal)

Everything I have, I earned. I am no man's beggar, no god's liar, neither servant or ruler. Freedom comes when you have no ties and make no chains.

True freedom is when you have the power to not listen to anyone. Society can go fuck itself. The gods can go fuck themselves, in exotic ways. This world? A stop on the road. A cage.

Dreams set us free, if we listen. A dark shape chased me, and I killed it, my hands like knives. The stars called me, and I followed them to a nebula, soaring through prismatic afterbirth. I was naked at school, and I hid in stone, warm in the sunlight, full of old secrets. Alone in a dark forest, I walked down the roots of willow trees, into the crystal sky of another dimension.

At night our minds flail at the cracks between universes.

For we don't fit. We don't fit this world, and we bend it just with our thoughts. We are giants. Saints and Legends dress it up, call it faith and belief, and Kings try to forget it, massive children nestling into the soft down of the world. Fools all, to ignore what dreams teach.

Wizards know that thoughts control the Real, that ideas span time and space. That the right words at the right time are everything. Congratulations, you have a daughter. I love you. This is your son. I am sorry, there's nothing more we can do. Thank you; I will love you always. Good bye.

To reality: I do not consent.

To be a wizard is to be infected by a great hunger, for while we know we are free to shape this place, finding the words is maddeningly hard work. And even once we find the words, using them in the world is like sculpting clay with a dull hatchet. So we seek great Teachers, the Names of godlings and spirits, the lost knowledge of foolish civilizations. We make unwise deals with Powers, dark and light. We spend our money on tomes, scrolls, artifacts, rumors, and endless experiments, on wizard towers and telescopes, monsters and astrolabes. I once found the word for Fire in the guts of a baby dragon, written on his intestines in a script only I could see.

For this is the promise, and danger, of wizardry: we bend the world, like we bend our dreams. The clouds bear portents for our eyes. Ravens caw wisdom. The eyes of our enemies flash darkness. The constellations speak. Is this real, or a dream? Yes. And like all dreams, it is a story we tell ourselves. Wizards can descend into lies, and be lost.

When a wizard starts lying to themselves, it is often subtle at first. They won't miss the puppy. I bet they enjoyed it. They meant me harm, they deserved it. My magic never deceives me. My life is more important than yours. My work is more important than everything. I don't want to die; I will not die.

When a wizard is fully lost in their dream, the land buckles under their feet and the air warps. People become objects, figments, unreal. Whatever they pursue, nothing will get in their way--nothing.

This is the sum total of my counsel to you, young Wizard: escape the madness. How, you ask? You are a wizard, work it out yourself. You don't owe me a damn thing: keep it that way, if you want to be free.

--Wizard Tenric, Archmage of Reyent, copied from his (now burned) Public Letter Collection

*For the previous entry in this collection, see 'Every master a king'.