Once upon a time, there was a young sorcerer, and his magic was the most powerful in his kingdom and all the land beyond. But he saw the impurity and corruption in the human soul, and he left his people behind, his heart bitter towards all men.

He made his home in a forest, and grew to know its animals and spirits. There, he did his secret work, combining technology with magic.

Eventually, it became clear to the sorcerer that he needed an assistant to aid him in his tinkerings, one who was nimble and small.

A nest of deer mice lived in his walls, and one night, he caught a particularly small one, and enchanted her so that she might have the intelligence to help him.

Life continued this way, the sorcerer’s work progressing quickly. But the sorcerer’s body grew ill in the cold of the forests that winter, and he soon lay on the brink of death.

The sorcerer needed his work continued, but the only living thing dear or close to him was the Mouse. Thus, he knew what he had to do.