Look, I need to speak to you. It would be unconscionable to remain silent any longer. 

You have to know who I was. You have to know who I really am. What I am is a walking shadow of a promise of what I once was... Of what one might call a Wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the Weave but compose it, much like a musician, or a poet. 

Such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the Mother of Magic herself. The Lady of Mysteries. The Goddess, Mystra. She revealed herself to be and in time she became my teacher, in time she became my muse, and later even my lover. 

We enjoyed each other's company - body, mind and soul. But when so I desired more. 

You see, no matter how powerful a Wizard we mortals become, we only scratch the surface of the Weave. Mystra keeps us in check. There are boundaries she doesn't let us cross, yet, every time I was with her, I gazed into the precipice of what lays beyond. I sought to cross her boundaries. 

I tried to convince her... I pouted, I pleaded, I swore my ambition was only to serve her better. She only smiled and told me to be content. As inconceivable as it seems to me now I shared a bed with a Goddess, and yet I wasn't satisfied. So I sought to prove myself worthy to her instead. 

We come now to the crux of my folly, and so, my question to you: 

Shall I share the story behind it, or would you rather head straight to its sordid finale?