Upon a shining river in the deep desert, the wizard built his new city. A crowning jewel in a recently forged empire, it pulled trade from all corners of the world towards its heart. In it’s markets all kinds of good could be bought, while in the temples all faiths were given due respect, and in the schools old philosophies and new technologies were discussed.
It would outlast the wizard, a shining legacy. This inspired pride in him, at first, but when doubt about his own mortality slipped in, that pride turned to jealousy. And that jealousy became paranoia. The wizard asked himself, what if they remember the name of the city, but not the man that made it?
So he turned it all to led. The markets, the temples, the schools. The people. All of it. A great lead clod in the heart of the desert, poisoning the mighty river that ran through it. Now his name is remembered, his wish granted, though it exists in infamy. Kalash, not known as a wizard, or a founder, but as a monster.
Paddy Dobson
19th June 2023