[1] PROLOGUE

Don't fly too close to the sun.

An idiom, that beseeched you to not grow too ambitious. To plead you to not grow reckless, or defiant. As well as being a fabled tale, that ultimately expressed the singular difference between a Fool; and a King:

Emotion.

The Fool simply acts on emotion, ignorant of the consequences. Naive, towards the repercussions it will reap. To accept the world as it is.

The King remains rational. Logical, cautious. Careful of his actions, to keep himself, or his people safe. To question, if whatever he commits is true to his cause. For he who bears the crown, must bear it weight.

Emrys had always thought himself to be the latter. Insightful, and cold-headed. A man who commits no mistake, aware of his actions. Not afraid to have a Plan B, at the slightest chance Plan A may fail.

To call him a genius would be undeniable, as well as an understatement.

Pragmatic. Realistic. Maybe even pessimistic. To say the least, Emrys would never create a mistake. A flawless figure. Crafted to perfection. However, that is all the reason as to why he found other to be so enviable. Finding beauty in imperfections. To pursue after the truth in a trance, realising the grim reality with every touch.

That is why It wasn't surprising that he would fall at the ripe age of seventeen. Not for him at least. In a world, of mice and men that pray for one another's downfall, he had no objections. He readily knew his judgement day would arrive, just not this quickly.

Perhaps, that is why he acted on impulse at his final breath. An unreasonable decision. Unlike him. Being a half a knee at death's door, all whilst it loomed over his shoulder patiently.

Waiting, to collect the Fool who had believed himself to be a King.

Perhaps, that is why he grasped at his final straws. Demanding that the holographic screen in front of him was reality, instead of fantasy. Being an actuality, rather than a fabrication. A hallucination, at his bated breath. To experience having no worries.

It was absurd. Idiotic, to think a message would suddenly appear before him. An atheist, that concluded God to be a lie. A sinner, that played around as a saint.

However, at that moment he had nothing to think about. No reason, to ponder any longer. For the first time, he let go and accepted. Acknowledged.

At the sign that periodically blinked, offering an option of [Yes] or [No], the boy chose the former. Whereas any sane person would undoubtedly choose the latter, having emotional connections at the chance it may be real, Emrys went against what was expected.

A choice, where only a man tired of life, or someone who desperately sought for a way out would only pick [Yes]. He became a Fool. The very beings he unreasonably despised, unironically.

Unsurprisingly, that may have been the reason as to why he survived. Why he continued to walk. To tread. For only a Fool could escape the imminent clutches of death. To go against all odds.

His story should've ended, but it did not. Where his final chapter should've been weaved, closed, the pages lived on. Words, continued to write. To sing.

The tale of Emrys, ended. But yet, a new one began. His life was a Fool ended, and yet the fable of a Wise Man began. It was simply the beginning after the end. Nothing more, nor nothing less.

The fool thinks of himself to be wise; but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.

It was the Ballad of a man who had been gifted a chance. To see how insignificant he previously was.

A dance, to see how long he can move before he joins death's embrace, or truly escapes it.

To find the truth, he had been desperately searching for, he will merely accept any opportunities given.

...In another world of course.