It was a cold night, one undesirable to most but much warmer than the last.
A young man sat in the corner of the road looking across as the horses galloped and citizens traversed, most were noble to extremely well off clothing. Compared to his ragged, old robe.
A staff, its top something similar to sapphire laid, was held tightly to his right hand. Clenched so tightly it'd probably never move a single inch. It seemed as though a magician was homeless here.
His right eye was closed.
His eye darted around.
His face a plastered chilly smile.
His hands held a cup of silver.
And that cup of silver was for begging purposes. It didn't seem he'd get a single penny, he didn't dance, sing, or sell anything like the other homeless women and men who were all in all little to none.
The sky was dark and stitched with rain, an odd thing had been seen in the sky as all the other citizens beheld. It was large, and what seemed to be a star?
It glowed radiantly, the man looked up and all color drained from his face.
His other eye, which was closed, were a different color compared to his left eye which were black, his right eyes, the one he'd opened was red like blood.
A beam fell from the sky as his right eye glimmered, it encompassed the entire city and all its citizens like a storm, no–something that ate everything around it.
There was light.
Pure white light.
And then there was nothing.
It was a good run, time to restart once more, this for the #390th time.
He opened his eyes once more, now a younger and more vibrant form of himself. He seemed to be in a noble room, the desk covered in books numbering; 9. To be exact. The floors were paved in dark wood, and the windows slightly cracked open, letting the breeze and sunlight flow in.
He'd seen this place so many times, someone entered through the door.
"brother, a new tutor has arrived!" she said.
Again…, he thought.