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The seeds had been sown long ago, and when the last chosen was on the brink of destruction, he was called to choose a successor.
His lantern and staff his only aids, he stood on the edge of Tomorrow and weighed his options.
Each sac represented a world ready to be born, though he was not the Giver of Life.
The apples all looked alike, there was no telling which was ripe and flavourful from one that was rotten to the core.
Each was hand presented to him in the same manner, he was allowed to look but not touch, as once the outer skin was broken, the wheels of fate were put in motion by forces far greater than his.
His Magic was all a matter of balance, equally contained in the tools he carried which in turn would penetrate the Apple of his Eye to become the New World.
He had only got it wrong once, giving too much light and not enough of his staff to encourage growth. That barren uninhabitable world was known as The Red Planet.