You Reap What You Sow

Nothing was more miserable than spending a lifetime of effort, time, energy, and wealth pursuing a goal, only for someone else to destroy it with ease.

If, along the way, you also witnessed one of your sons betray you and the rest die horribly, that misery became a tragedy.

And Telamont was unquestionably the central figure in this tragedy.

Before Owo's overwhelming magical power, he could not even kill himself. Like a fish laid on a chopping block, all he could do was wait for the other man to decide how to prepare him.

Worse still, he could clearly see the City of Shade falling to constructs, undead creatures, and summoned beings led by a vast force of wizards.

The once-proud wizards of the City of Shade now bowed their heads and surrendered to survive rather than resist to the last for glory.

Everything Telamont had spent his life creating was vanishing like a sandcastle washed away by the tide.

His dreams, his ambitions, his desire to lead Netheril—all had dissolved with the defeat in the Shadow War.

The archwizard also realized that his efforts over thousands of years amounted to nothing before those who were truly powerful or gifted.

From Black Prince Greya, who had been born only recently, to Owo the Undying, who had already been famous when Telamont was still an apprentice, every one of them looked down on him.

The surviving archwizards of Netheril's era, such as Ioulaum and Larloch, probably regarded him much the same way.

And Shar, the goddess of night he had spent his life guarding against, had treated the City of Shade as nothing more than disposable trash.

What a failed life!

What a ridiculous life!

The more Telamont thought about it, the more he felt like a clown. Owo was right: