For all my life I have studied the occult and the supernatural. As a boy I walked in the wood and saw the elves hiding from my keen eyes. As a man, I talked with one once, a beautiful young ylph named Milellia. I saw her again when I was seventy, and she still looked the same. And now, a decade later, I fear that the elves are gone. I no longer see them peering through the glades, or hear their voices singing from their hidden halls.
Tomorrow, I will seek out Milellia again.
My eyes saw their hall today -- Elfhame, I believe they call it. A beautifully complex structure, half hidden in the trees, half hidden under the water of a large lake. After several hours of searching, I found a door. But the halls were empty and lifeless. Not a single ylph was to be seen or heard. Swords and spears lay on the floors of many a room, but there was not a drop of blood anywhere.
Somehow, I know that the elves have left us.
Horror! It is time for an old man to die. Today, while working the alchemical experiments I have worked for years, the magical formula I have used for decades refused to work. None of my formulas work! What kind of debacle has happened?
Vale tells me a lot of things. I met him in college. He came to my room one day and saw how I had scribbled hundreds of poems on my wall. He spent hours reading the poems, and asked where I had learned to do that. I told him that it was just something that I did. He told me that a long time ago, there were ancient people that scrawled millions of poems on the walls of their cities. Every wall, he said, was covered with a hundred different poems, some new, some centuries old. When I asked him who these people were, he just smiled and said he'd tell me some other time.
A few days later he did tell me who they were. They were the ssazanthi -- the dark elves. He told me that he was one of them, and so was I. I didn't know whether to believe him, but then he showed me how he could make lights dim, and make shadows on the wall move on their own. He said that I could do it, and I could. Both of us could. Both of us were dark elves.
That was several years ago. Now, I know more about my people than their poems. I know their culture, I know a few words of their ancient language, and I know that there are not many of us left. Vale told me that our race had been dead for almost two millennia. But through some powerful group known as the Incubans, we have been reborn. There are others that do not know who they really are. We must find them and tell them, just as I am telling you now.
Blades in the black night, crystal orbs who summon, intrigue, hallowed hope, geniuses buried in our minds like traps. are you ssazanth? do you want us to Find You? if you are truly ssazanthi then we shall never find you. Isn't that crazy?