As I walk along A Quiet Beach, I stop and listen to the gulls flying
overhead
They chatter amongst themselves about a lost soul they see in the
distance.
With loathe in my eyes and boredom in my steps
I follow the gulls to the edge of the beach where I see a small child
playing in the sand
And I can tell from her clothes that she came from North of Hashan.
I look around and see no others so I know this child is mine.
I have a choice, do I keep her and raise her as my own?
I think not, that little brat has spoiled her nice clean clothes.
My staff is raised, I feel it burning in my palm as I quietly chant a
spell
To hell with the child! And now she burns as my staff and I embrace
I stand over this scum and stare at her with a hint of a smirk
And then dip my finger in her blood so I can taste my victim
Now I know this isn't your typical Sorcerer thought
But then again, who ever said I was your typical Sorcerer?

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Phaestian, in the year 377 AF.