Invisible Shallows

We have been tasked with eliminating the minions of Tirania, the Queen of Air and Darkness, and ruler of the Autumn Court—Titania’s sister. Her forces spread death and despair among the villagers of Rockwood. If we succeed, Titania will raise our fallen comrades. The risk is undeniable, and my body still aches from the torment of my recent ordeal, but we have little choice. We must prevail.
 
As for the Fey and this realm we now traverse—words fail me. They are mischievous, hyperactive, endlessly cheerful, and maddeningly frustrating. Ailwyn is no exception. After encountering some of these creatures, I better understand why he is the way he is.
 
This place is said to overflow with joy, yet it offers me nothing but anguish.
 
The Feywild and its inhabitants are, it seems, closer to Corellon, closer to what elves are meant to be in their primal state. Elves, I am told, are meant to be carefree, joyous, and untamed. “Not embroiled in wars and scheming.”
 
I should be like this too. And yet, none of it resides within me.
 
I believe in knowledge. In progress. I understand that war is a necessary tool, often an essential one. I know that study and reason are paramount. That strength is indispensable. That one must always be strong.
 
This is who I am. These are the truths I hold dear.
 
So why, then, do I weep?
 
Lady Vayra, who has seemed burdened with doubt until now, appears to have surrendered herself to the strange currents of the Feywild. She spoke of the visions our people receive of their paradise—a place she has never seen.
 
I cannot understand how she can believe in, hope for, or long for something she has never laid eyes upon.
 
She threw me into the river.
 
Perhaps, in the end, we are both still far too young.