Mirages-Prologue

Prologue:1

My race has always been disdained by those that know of us merely because of the fact that we strive so hard to save them. They are a proud, foolish race, man is, and even the elves have a certain stubborn streak that will inevitably be their death. For centuries we have protected them against unseen dangers, against the darkness gathering in their own lands, and from time to time we emerge to them with new faces asking them to fulfill new tasks, and other times our forms are made of pure air, something that is not quite tangible but real nonetheless. Our very existence seems to have no real meaning to the fools that we protect, so often I wonder why I, as the leader in these current ages, even continue to want to save those fools. Survival without them would be so much easier and enjoyable, but I fear that I would be letting my forefathers down by ignoring the task that is rightfully mine. But still...why not let the darkness beckon the stubborn, foolish races that could not even protect their land without the slightest assistance from us? But alas these times are only when the situation becomes more hopeless and meaningless. 2

These are ages of chaos and darkness that we live in, and even the lesser of the races inhabiting our world have begun to notice the slightest difference in the way the shadows dance across paths and streets that were once lit but bright lamps. Alas I fear that She has come again from the realm where once she was banished, that it was not an eternal slumber in which she slept, and I cannot help but think that maybe the worse will become reality before this year has been completed. If so, then where is the Light Wielder? 3

In past ages of chaos and war, there has always been one to take up the Sword of Justice and the Heart of All against Evil, but I find myself wondering that in these darkest hours if any Light Wielder thrives. How can the fate of one single life so affect the balance of nature that has gone undisturbed? I fear for the worst and know that in but a short course of time I shall see the Wielder of Light unmasked...as a Shadow Dark. If this is so, then was my old, foolish, and half-crazy father telling the truth when he predicts what will become of the world in the future, with or without the help of us?4

I so hope that such is not true, that my imaginings are those of an overactive imagination, but somehow I know that to say this is to lie about whom I am.5

Crynsha 6

Pale limbs were woven together to create a ceiling, the soft, gentle wind brushing lightly against the canopy, rustling it silently. A deep silence enfolded the calm night, the darkness broken only by the dim rays of starlight and moonlight pointing the way. Shadows danced across the ground in a myriad of patterns, confusing and constant, twisting together to create an intriguing and intricate and crisscrossing pattern. Shimmering softly in the deep silence of the glade, the wind brushed across the depthless surface of the arching dome, patterns of shadows intertwining with the illusion of flames sparking across it surface and the gentle waves crashing and rolling, streaked with the white-hot glare of lightning.7

The air seemed to pulse with a gentle life, soft and comforting.8

But something was amiss, and beneath the serene surface was a deep evil, pulsating restlessly.9

The eyes ripped from the shadows, gauging the weakness of the life that lived there, how easy it could be manipulated, how fragile and beautiful it looked under the gentle glimmer of starlight. Restless and anxious, the deep red eyes held a certain amount of victory as the being detached itself from the shadows, darkness seeming to flee from it as it stepped into the moonlight.10

At that moment, the land seemed to freeze in fear, uncertain of how to protect itself. Silence reined, at the brief shriek of a hawk’s hunting call seemed out of place. Breathing in the fresh fragrance of the breeze, it finally rested at the foot of the dome, pushing its hands against the faintly illuminated surface. From her fingers, the dark magic rushed in a swirl of startlingly black inkiness that pervaded the brilliant blue, iridescent sheen. 11

Moonlight and starlight twirled in a confused glare in a desperate but futile attempt to thwart the apparent evil coming into the night. The wind lapped against the branches of the trees, picking up dust, swirling it about to create a hazy shroud. A shrieking crescendo of wind and laughs echoed up into the night sky, filling the silence and serenity with an uneasy doubt and dread that fogged the beauty there, marred it up permanently.12

Insignificant and insubstantial, the pale life forms seemed to grope through the darkness of their own minds, which were fragile and breaking without them having any knowledge of it. The centuries behind them faded into a dull blur; past, present, and future seemed to have no relevance with the way they lived, and indeed fantasy and reality blended together becoming one whole thing.13

If the pale life forms had known this, their sanity would have cracked fully, and while living without this knowledge presented them a certain amount of safety and sanity, it was also to their disadvantage that the secret that had kept their ancestors going through the years of hardship was to be hidden from them. It was unfair that the actions of the past would influence the life of the present, but no one could do anything about it.14

And then she came, with her promises of a better life, and they eagerly rushed to accept her offer, but what had once been willingness faded to fear and uncertainty as she registered her power over them, and the laughter echoing among their ears was cruel and merciless. When they called her “Dark Lady” she only grinned darkly at them from beneath the hood, blood-colored eyes full of cruelty and pitiless laughter.15

They were blind things once again, groping through the shadows without sight or vision, instinct leading them blindly to follow their last hope for safety while sanity drifted from their reach, farther and farther with each passing day. Without them having any knowledge or memory of her doing so, she had turned them against their brothers, creating warfare and strife through their blindness that their tired minds had no opportunity nor will to sort out.16