Reclining into an armchair of ivory and bone, Astarael the fiend searched through his memories. A forest of thoughts, images and dreams greeted his mind's eye. A forest of violence, desecration and pain. Memories of days, dark days when Nodd, the land of night went to war with the Isles of Thyunen, the land of the elves. The most blood ever was spilled during those years of chaos, save the legendary wars of ancient times. Astarael dipped into those memories, searching for what went wrong. Was it his fault that hundreds of thousands were put to the sword? Was it his fate that several clans of elves embraced hate and undeath instead of the light? Falling away from his chair, Astarael entered the archives of his ancient memory...
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