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4500 years. Some had died in different ways, but most were the same. They say sadness breaks an elf, more than a sword's harsh steel or one's fingers around your neck.

Elves are creatures of light, read Valeria's book, that cannot bear darkness's treacherous grasp- it shatters what they are into a thousand fractured pieces... nearly impossible to put back together.

Because after all, the dark doesn't need to kill you- eventually you'll stumble and kill yourself

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Because after all, the dark doesn't need to kill you- eventually you'll stumble and kill yourself.

Valeria didn't believe that elves were creatures of light, but she'd read the book nevertheless. Afterward, she put it away and sat on the edge of her balcony, legs dangling over the thousand-foot drop. It didn't give her a thrill, sitting here on the brisk edge of death, but a mere numb sensation.

She wondered, not for the first time, what It might be like to let go and fall and fall and fall, until cool stone hit her, and it all ended. She'd done it too, spiraling out the window whenever things were especially horrible- but each time, unconsciously, she would find herself floating there, inches from the unkept marble beneath her.

She'd collapse, emotions roving, on that cool stone, and tell herself never again. But of course, there was always an again.

The first to die had been the crown prince, Venrie, Valeria's cousin, and the would-be king of the elves. He'd be fourteen and purely devastated by the loss of his parents, and his purpose. Her grandmother had told her about him, sitting in the ambient lighting of the Palace, a then five-year-old Valeria sitting pensively near the hem of Verdana's dress. The elf had never shied away from telling her the truth of things- Valeria supposed it was to foster a sort of resentment in her granddaughter's heart.

"Venrie was the most beautiful boy you'd ever see, bless him. He had hair that glinted more gold than brown and such lovely lilac eyes. It'd cause quite a fuss when he'd been born without the traditional purple, but I loved them- after all, they made him special. He was clever, talented, and brave beyond measure- but even courage can't beat sadness. I tried to help him heal when tragedy struck, but It must have been worse for him. After all, Venrie was a telepath.

Imagine trying to live when all you hear is the grieving minds of those around you, it'd make it nearly impossible. He couldn't block them because he was too weak himself... He stayed with us for four years, four years where I was forced to watch him wilt like a venerable rose. His heart might have beat, his blood still pumping- but he was gone. Dead. I shouldn't have been surprised... But it still hurt when he jumped out that tower."

Verdana had told the whole story without batting an eye as if she'd told it too many times to feel anything. Valeria, copying the lady, had wiped her watering eyes on the fabric of her sleeve, unsure how to feel about this long-gone boy.

"He might not have known it, but he opened a door that day. He showed people a way to escape, and by heavens, they took it."

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