He was tired. So, so tired.

Every day was the same, to give lectures, to answer questions, to tell everyone the same things over and over again. The cookies of Earthbread treated him like an all knowing prophet, like his word was all that mattered.

But nothing mattered, did it? He'd live ten, twenty, thirty times his students life spans. He's see the brightest minds flicker out and die in a blink of an eye.

Fount sat alone once more, staring blankly down at his soul jam. Tired eyes slowly closing at he let its endless whispers wash over him. Endless knowledge, things no one else could ever understand, drowning the world out once more.

How much longer could he truly hold out? How long till it broke him?