By the time he reached the castle and came through the front gate, he felt a little disappointed, but at the same time he laughed at himself.
Did I really expect them to be any different? They don't even know what happened. How foolish of me...
He looked like a beggar. His head was all over the place, and he had the eyes of a lunatic. His face was dirty, and the once red robe, was now charred and torn apart. People started staring at him, drawn by this strange sight.
"You are looking at your savior. I have killed the beast in the mountains, and therefore freed you all!"
The look on their faces changed, but not as he had hoped. Some of them shook their head in disbelief, while others laughed at him. A pebble flew by his head, and he found himself shocked. The man in charge of the repairs was clearly mad at him, for some reason, because he started throwing one rock after the other. He really had no strength to move, and one of them eventually hit him. He knelt, holding to his stomach, clearly in pain.
The man started yelling: "Fool! Don't you get it?! We are sick and tired of your false prophecies and fairy tales. Stop messing with these people. Your black magic did nothing to help repair the castle, you are just wasting our time. You might as well go back to that hole and die; You'll be of much more use that way."
The mob agreed, and a dozen more showed their anger at the wizards, as more and more stones collided with his flesh. He fell down, bleeding massively from his head. A tear slipped away from the corner of his eyes, but froze before it could reach his cheek. He could have never imagined this to be the last image his eyes would see, before they close forever. His face buried in the sand, as he shut his eyelids for the very last time...
A few moments later, he opened them again, only to find himself in the room inside the tower, sitting in a wooden chair beside the table, still holding his hands on the ball. He was breathing heavily, tears flowing down his cheeks. Then, he realized that all of it was the vision, but he hadn't had the strength, nor the will to do anything about it.
He just leaned back in his chair, awaiting the tragic destiny of his people, and himself.