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"Let Us Burn"

To my esteemed master Fillrider, whose intelligence challenges that of Filli Herself, I offer this humble message. A treatise between human and elf. A race who wishes for nothing but freedom and a race who wishes for nothing but safety.

Before I begin, I want to assure you that not only do I understand your current decision to keep us as servants, but I treasure it. You see us not as children, but beings who simply have much to learn and no time to learn it. You once described me as a "glorious flame, but one close to the waterline." I held this deeply, for it opened my eyes to how you see us, and how you see yourself. Your love for us is almost physical. It is breathtaking.

And we wish to breathe again.

As a being of such longevity, you believe our age is a weakness, a betrayal of the facts of life, and yet it is our strength. We do not grow old because nature is cruel to us. We grow old because it is our time to move on. Its this life that means we must act, we must create. Our limits are in place to force us to move.

But this is not the goal of the elves. For you, my master, age is a liability. It is placed far in the future, but it is always present. You consider age as your children grow in size. You ponder life as you watch your Crawler Monkey grow slow and decrepit. You shiver in fear as I grow a beard and my hair grays.

I do not mean to place any undo burdens onto you. I do not believe you shiver out of fear of your own mortality, as that is a concept that does not behoove you. No, I think you believe that when a human dies, it is gone forever.

Forgive me, my master, but you are mistaken.

I do not believe it is standard for Elves to tell their children stories. If you do, then you have successfully implanted yourself in the next generation. Allow me to explain. When I tell my child a story, I am suffusing them with my creativity, my emotions, my passions, my ideas, my fears, and my thoughts. Over time, as my child grows, they will have their own stories to tell. But, those stories are mine in a sense. For instance, suppose that my eldest daughter hates me. When she tells her children stories, my stories will ebb in her mind. Perhaps she will agree with something I've said, and so her story will have me in them. Perhaps she will disagree so vehemently that she ensures her children never make what she assumes is my mistake. And so, her story will have me in them.

And these stories are simply a piece of the puzzle. We humans, as we cross generations, are not individualistic. We complain to our friends. We show our children our art. We tell our grandparents about our day. We express, we share, we listen.

And I know it is not different with you. Deep down, elves and humans share together. You tell stories to your children, but your children grow wise quickly and you think to stop. You keep in touch with your elders, but rarely in an emotional manner. When you make a piece of art, it is a lesson for your child rather than a connection to them. That is your legacy; making your child their own.

But at the same time, is that not continuing your legacy? Of course, your people have had only a single generation, while mine are rounding close to their tenth. But when you pass on, will your child not have your lessons with you? Will your friends not mourn your intelligence and inventive mindset? Will your ancestors not smile as they watch you take their lessons, passed on from generation to generation, and modify it to make life as good as possible?

So, if it will help you let us go, we ask you to consider not the individual human as a glorious flame. We ask you to consider the human race as an unstoppable blaze. It is constantly shifting, constantly moving. The singular licks of flame that the blaze has might be different the next day. But, the flare is still there, and it is still as beautiful and real as it was before. Growing, adapting, glowing brand new colors that the previous flames could never have become.

I speak for my race, as poor form as that may be. But do not snuff out our flame. No matter your intentions, the human race – this blaze that you have – cannot grow or blossom without leaving your hands. Let us burn.

Written by Kiy Fersowyn, Human Diplomat, in 1951 PW. This was given as a gift to his master, Fillrider, who presented it to his friends on the Elven Council as definitive proof that humans possess the wisdom to fend for themselves. While humans remained in servitude for nearly 600 years, Kiy and Fillrider's other human servants were released. Kiy was not the first human to be released from Elven protection, but was among one of the earliest.

After his release, Kiy designed a new note, 'The Flame Separated'. Less famous among Elves, 'The Flame Separated' focuses more on the problem with humans separating into tribes. This was a minor issue before the Elf-Human war, since the very small human tribes that formed from released humans would have significant difficulties surviving. Kiy's group was an exception; the Blaze human tribe is one of the oldest that has survived to 3000 PW.


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