For your whole life your world has been a self-contained two mile diameter Sphere, filled with part of a seaside port town and a bit of coastline with what amounts to a small lake of stale seawater. Your parents died when you were still a child, and since then your only companion has been The Optimumist, an old man who has instructed you in the arcane arts and is responsible for keeping the Sphere in existence. Whether for good or ill, his time is coming to an end, and so too your home's.
The Optimumist rests in his study, an immaculate and ordered room filled with scrolls and parchments of his own writing on a multitude of topics: your primers and textbooks for his tutelage. These past few months he has become increasingly withdrawn and vague, seemingly able to focus on the present only with effort; he speaks to you now, but his attention seems directed elsewhere, his mind wandering paths unknown.
"The prophecy foretold that the elements would break their bonds in the foundation of the world and wreak vengeance upon the gods, the firmament would shatter, and a darkness would swallow all of creation - and that was what happened. There were signs, indications of what was to come, but we haughty few of the Octad thought we could manipulate them, manipulate fate itself, to attain an outcome we desired. We were wrong.
"T'was the Beckoner that saved me and your ancestors. When she called to summon me to the Spire, as the world crumbled beneath a falling sky filled with warring gods, I sensed the darkness bloom behind her and consume our brethren. I warned her, and in that instant she chose not to save herself, but to save me. She conjured forth the Sphere, locking me and the entire town away from the world, safe from anything outside. Perhaps the founders of this place had some inkling of it's fate when they named it Bastion.
"I have used my own power - indeed, my very soul - to make this place more hospitable and to extend it's existence. For every day that has passed for us here, a hundred have gone by outside - if Time even still exists outside of this place. I have tried to make life meaningful and enjoyable for you and your ancestors; preparing for the day, this day, when I am spent and the Sphere ceases to protect us. But I must admit to you, the last of Bastion - it may have all been for naught. Not even I can see beyond the Sphere, and all my predictions and foretellings end with it.
"I have tried to best teach you the foundations of my skill and trade, Wizardry, and you have taken to it like no other I've seen. While the things you know may seem simple compared to the powers I wield, they are the tools with which all greater feats are made. And remember this: it is the simplest things which are the strongest.
"In the end my time runs short, seemingly all the more so for my efforts at extending it. I have always endeavored to achieve the greatest amount of good for the largest number of people possible; my life's work, all life's work, now rests with you. You must prepare yourself as you see fit, for shortly I and the Sphere will perish."
The old man looks about the room, obviously confused, then meets your eye and smiles, relaxed. "Is there any last question you would ask of me, Vernalis?"
You have the time to ask a single question of your mentor.
