Chapter Text
Stories tell of a peculiar mage that lives in a peculiar castle. Often told to misbehaving children, the mage is said to be a fearsome practitioner of magic with behavior so sinister that it's sure to send a chill down the spines of those who listen.
"They'll turn you into a ghost and lock you into their castle forever." some say.
"Your magic will be taken from you and you'll be eaten whole." says others.
Countless stories exist of their misdeeds and cruelty and most do well in straightening up ill mannered children. However, braver souls might scoff in disbelief over the existence of such a mage.
To you, well, you can only really laugh at such individuals.
That's right, you sit at the center of so many young children's nightmares. What a flattering position.
Being a centuries old mage as the very last of your long lineage, you do indeed find yourself with plentiful power and a hunger to obtain more. It's only natural for you. Where most would find a stopping point and live with satisfaction, you were not and continue to never be satisfied. You always want more. More books, more knowledge, more power. It's a hunger that most would deem mad, but you've long since accepted the madness as a part of yourself. To you, there is an ocean's worth of wisdom waiting for you to lap it all up.
You live only with ghosts, the companions that share space with you in the decrepit looking castle you call home. They're cheeky things that can often grate on your nerves, but you've never seen a reason to get rid of them. They can be awfully amusing when they want to be, thus you entertain them.
Everything aside, your presence in the world, aside from being a warning to children, is rather subdued. You attend few banquets, you disguise yourself on humble excursions, and you tend not to announce when you come or when you go. Free as a bird so they say. After all, why waste time terrorizing others when you have more books to read? Knowledge waits for no one.
In truth, you don't strike down entire villages because it suits you. You also don't eat children. . or steal their magic. Yet you never do anything to halt the rumors about you. Why? They're funny! Seeing parents try to spook their children into behaving amuses you! Such harmless rumors do little to you besides ensuring that little to no foolish children try stomping up to your castle.
You live as the ghastly one, the mage of ghosts and shambles. The mage local villages warn visitors about. It's a title you wear proudly.
You saunter down the old worn hallways of your castle, tattered cloak billowing behind you like ashen wings. With at least one book forever clutched into your hand, you decide to search for a good reading spot. It gets terribly dull choosing your study over and over, so why not go for a change of pace?
You never know what you might find.