Could you imagine a thousand years? All those days, flowing into one another, each second ticking onto the next. I wonder, could you imagine what that much time would be like? What that much time would look like? Could you imagine, being as you are now, sitting there and watching your world boil over for a thousand years? I know I can't imagine it, but then... I don't really have to. I've lived it. I loved in it. I've lost in it.
I find the concept hard to articulate, even now as I write my words and pray they give some semblance of the understanding that I possess, I'm left wondering if these shall fall on blind eyes and deaf ears. I do not say this to lay dismay at the feet of those that follow, only to explain the concern that I possess over the natural course of events. It's impossible to state whether the feelings are genuine or just my own anxieties made manifest, yet still, my dear, I find myself filled with them.
You can imagine a single life, this much I know. We all can, Even as I am now, I still can imagine a whole life. The wonders of early youth, the mistakes of teenage years, the dismay and joy of adulthood. They flow like water ever towards the sea of the end. I can see them, If I focus I can almost touch them. Now imagine that, but again. Different. Take every experience you've ever encountered and place another spin on each one. Then do that again. And Again. Do that same thing a dozen times over. Each experience, each moment, the same yet so very, very different.
I worry some days that I have lost myself to the meanderings of fate, that all my years have just left me rambling and lost. Yet I feel that I must write these words, my dear, for if I do not, then they shall surely consume me. I do not know how I came to be trapped with the curse of longevity, but I do know that I wish it were not so. I would do anything to remove this trap from my body and mind. I have watched all that I love, turn to dust around me. Were that it, then surely I would be fine, but I have seen this happened so many times now. Nothing is forever, nothing stays, and all my work has fallen into the hands of those unwilling to see it finished. I made mistakes, but this is beyond any I could have feared.
So, then, you may ask yourself, what is this letter for. In truth? I do not know. I write this letter on the day of my supposed end. One thousand years past the day of my birth. I have stood as a Knight, a Soldier, a Burden, a Vagabond... a King. Yes, that was my first life. I was a King. I founded this that still stand around me, though I barely recognize the work I put in. Perhaps that is for the best. My memory states that I wasn't the best King, nor were my rulings always just. Perhaps that is why I am to be punished.
I'm to die today, that much I'm fairly certain of. They said so, the voice above me. I heard him calling my name, willing me to join him in the afterlife. I just wish I knew who he was. Still, I've been alone for so long now. It's impossible to connect with those whose life is barely a single grain of sand... I hope this truly is the end, I don't believe I have much more control over myself otherwise. The others like me, if you can even compare us at this point, have all turned to beasts. I alone remain the example of our experiment... I pray that this death, shall be that last death.
— Elysian the First
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