With Haste and Shame the Defeated Returns to the Walls Which He Shunned in Pride

There was no excuse.
There was only weakness.
There was only false promises made by gurus and quacks.
And now look.
Now look at me.
Middle Aged and as fat and gross as when I first started this journey.
Because I strayed from the path.
Strayed too far to the enemies camp.
Became the enemy.

But, now.
But now I am here. I have returned.
Will they let me in?
Will they allow me to stay?
Will I still be blessed with the wisdom ov the ancient shadowed libraries?
Or will I be cursed to walk through blackened alleys of the city.

One of the masters of this place, a bearded man on an eight-legged white horse sees me. Recognizes me. Calls me over. His eyes are silver. Burning silver. They bore into me, and I fall to my knees.

I weep then. Weep and sob and moan.

He gets off his horse and lifts me by the throat with one hand. He then slams me into a wall, holds me there. His breath smells of almonds and butter.

"You have failed," he snarls. "Again."

All I can do is nod.

"You have one chance more. Now set thy goals."

He releases me and I fall to the ground, wheezing. And then I rise. "I will not fail again," I spit.

"Good. Prove it to me. Prove it to yourself."

I nod again. It's time. It's time to go from an abomination into the warrior I am destined to be. But now it is up to me. I have all the resources I need. Access to the Ancient Works. To the Forbidden Lore. But it is up to me to DO IT.