There I lay.

  Dying once more, with nothing to stop it. Time is such a cruel existence. I thought it was unbeatable,

  up until towards the end of my first lifetime.

  See, my first life many saw me as evil or tyranical. The truth of the matter was I just didn't value

  life. Being the first wizard in existence had left me ostracized. Never feeling love growing up meant

  not being able to feel it for others. And so I allowed my new found gift to consume me. Striding to

  learn it's mysteries.

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  My first life isn't one I particularly want to get into to, but when it was coming to an end, I found

  it. The potion to avoid non-existence, not death, but rebirth. The magnificence of it all

  was intoxicating.

  My second life is where I really started. For the first time in my existence, I felt love. Love from

  parents. The feeling was so great I had no idea what to do with it, but it healed me. Allowed me to

  sympathize with others. Allowed me to feel like others.

  I never touched magic then, opting to become a healer of sorts, through traditional means.

  The society was definitely more advanced than my last. It allowed me to repent and seek absolution.

  So as I'm laying here, dying, I feel content. The guilt of my first life finally laid to rest.

  I finally shut my eyes.