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I ask your forgiveness, for there is much to speak of the wizard, and I am the only one who can tell all there is of her story. This is my burden, as is what awaits after. The ending is no great mystery. It is written in the shattered stones and broken walls that surround us, and whispered in the rumors that tumble from every mouth.
But on the subject of magic, nothing is so simple, and be certain that what you may have seen and heard is not the whole tale.
While I convalesced here in my bed, assured by the physicians that I would live, I had little else but to sift through the fading recollections of days past, searching for the pattern that portended this great catastrophe. I know her better than anyone, better than she knows herself, though she would never admit to the truth of that. She may be the most powerful mage of our time. She is pure of heart and wants nothing but to do good, but she is possessed with the foolishness and invincibility that come of youth and brilliance. There is no rule she would not break, and she has never understood the words cannot and should not. That has been so ever since the first time we met years ago.
A day much like this.