He regretted going down to the basement. He’d loved the fresh air, the sunshine. The hope that maybe he could talk to the people above. Maybe even join in their community, become a part of it.
He’d been wrong. This world wasn’t ready for him, or his ideals. They weren’t ready for the magic he had to offer them, or the responsibility that came with it.
These people were too busy blaming others for their problems to take responsibility for anything. They’d rather choose a scapegoat and blame everything on him than accept the depth, the wisdom, and the power which came with what he carried.
In short, these people weren’t ready for him, or his love yet.
He went back into the basement, back into the darkness. To sleep for yet another century.
Maybe they’d finally be ready for him, when he woke up.