The Wizard – The Beach

A sandy beach, deep underground, presented an oddity that seemed to mock the senses—the tranquility of a beach nestled within darkness. He couldn’t perceive it, nor anything else for that matter. Even the feeble light that had once seeped through now failed to reach him.

“Light? What light? All the light you need is within me,” a feminine voice echoed in his mind, yet again going unnoticed.

With the chill seeping from his body into his drenched robes, he knew he had to act. Slowly, he shed the garments, ensuring to keep his trusty wooden staff close. Then, he laid upon the sand, devoid of any sense of direction or location.

“You keep saying that, but I am here! Me, your constant companion,” the voice persisted, now adopting a seductive tone, as if drawing near. “Rest for a moment. Preserve your energy, especially for what lies ahead.”

Though the voice urged him to comply, he couldn’t. Fumbling in the darkness, he reached for his discarded robes, now too saturated to serve any purpose. Reluctantly, he retrieved his staff, relying on touch alone in the absence of sight, and began tearing the fabric.

“What are you doing? Do you realize how expensive that was? It’s adorned with gold thread, for goodness sake! Stop!” The voice shrieked, attempting to halt his actions, but only succeeded in pulling him back a few steps. Ignoring its protests, he fashioned makeshift clothing and set aside the remaining shreds for later use, finding solace in their potential utility.

Oddly, the voice fell silent for a time. As he sat on the sand, allowing his clothes to dry slightly, it resumed its tirade, more offended than fearful of their predicament. Ignoring its insults, he focused on recalling the terrain he had once known, searching for familiarity amidst the darkness.

There had been rivers, he recalled, but whether this was one of them remained uncertain. Nevertheless, he had a point of reference—the river. Despite the voice’s admonitions against hope, he crawled towards the water, quenching his thirst and orienting himself by its flow. Donning his makeshift attire and gathering his staff, he fastened the remnants of his once-regal robe, still damp but now a necessary burden.

With determination, he set off, guided by his staff and the faint sound of the river. Despite the voice’s protests echoing in his mind, he pressed forward, determined to defy the darkness and find a way out.