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For my crimes they chained me here. Tethered to the shattered Earth, locked into a body left to wither and rot. They used magics upon my mind, magics to force me to remain conscious and sane as my body died and then rose again as an abomination. They spared no power to ensure that I would endure an endless torment with the full facilities of my most capable mind. Oh, how I wish that I could simply slip into madness and be done with it all.
Worse still they ensured that my prison of stone and air was within full sight of the glory of my one time home. The shining towers that pierced the sky and glowed with refracted sunlight. The mighty beacon, resting atop the highest tower, spreading peace to all. All except me.
For me it is nothing. They ensured that. Instead of a source of peace it is just an orb, wrought with sorcery, fueled by primal magics, and as uncaring and unforgiving as its masters. Chained as I am I cannot help but see it. I cannot help but be reminded of my so called crime. I cannot help but be reminded of all that I have lost.
Of my station. Of my power. Of my life. Of peace.
I can think of no punishment worse than this. Except the punishment of knowing that it is just and fair and deserved.