FEAST OF LIGHTS

   I, Baal-yick called Stormraven do write this at the nearing of my life’s end in remembrances of our new beginning.  Seems as the end draws near so many things come into clearer focus, and the once strongly held are now viewed as youthful foolishness.  But for me, Celavacess, The Feat of Lights and Water, it was always dear to me.  It was first among our customs.

   However, tragically so, we had become like the lesser men of whom we so desired to remain among and yet saw ourselves different from.  We wished to pass on our wisdoms yet they in turned showed us in clarity first-hand the depth and courage in facing their mortal doom.

   Sadly to admit with one another unto ourselves who were called the remnant or Watchers; staying behind after that exodus and great departure, we came to be men.  Walking through that mortal valley just as them for the grace of elven kind departed as well and we became shadows.  Now, only I remain to share the last new light before I too pass from this realm of life.

   THE new moon of Yethaywe, October, marked the very day we remained.  It became our New Year’s Day.  On handcrafted paper swans we placed lit candles and set them adrift, toward the twin mountain peaks of the Bay of Luhun.  In hopes of following those Eldar fleets unto the Undying Lands beyond the rim of the world; that they would know we would forever remember them.  Upon the deaths of those founders their created remains were kept in a holy Urn, being treasured as a holy relic.  Yet, on the eve of Celavacess each remaining one of us would take an ever so small pinch of ash from the Urn and scatter after the paper swans.  Alas am I all who remain, and soon shall I sail unto them who went before me.  We read the requiems of hearts; soon I shall read from the Grey Book of books no more.