This is the legend of the origin of the elves, of how they came to be on Kyral in the crystal sphere of Cy’Pren Space. It is not recorded in written form anywhere; the story was personally recounted by a 12,000 year-old baelnorn (elf lich) who guarded the Sanctuary of the First Generation. It was passed along by the baelnorn in the form of a vision, a powerful illusion that conveyed not only the images of the events but the emotions and knowledge of the participants as well. It is told in the narrative perspective of first person, as it must be experienced to be fully understood…

There is deep, black emptiness… then brilliantly glittering points of light appear, spreading out across the endless horizon. They become the night sky, filling the vastness with thousands of twinkling stars. The utter serenity of the Void is awesome, humbling.

Three planets spin majestically through these heavens, planets green with thick robust forests covering their surfaces. Multiple moons of brilliant colors circle each planet lazily. One planet is wrapped in sparkling ribbons of fluorescent colors, streamers of mist thousands of miles long in the atmosphere that cast perpetual rainbows along the skylines. Fresh water seas dot the planets’ surfaces as well. All is peaceful.

There comes laughter and music from the planets, merriment and the common goings-on of elven life from the millions of inhabitants of these planets. From your omnipotent vantage point in the heavens, you see space-borne craft. Vessels of green foliage in the shape of butterflies, wings spread wide to reflect the light from the orange sun of this solar system. They glide gracefully from planet to planet, moon to moon. The space among the planets is filled with life and commerce.

Then, on the edge of your consciousness, you become aware of a shadow against the void. From all around you in sinister silence come other spacecraft; large, looming, ugly vessels in the form of wolves and insects and nightmares. The invaders carry malice openly, and drive at the elven worlds and people. They strike the moons, the worlds, the ships, destroying and enslaving. Fire and pain now fill the void about you instead of music and merriment, and you can feel these things in your heart. The hatred from the invaders burns across your senses, and the shock and fear from the elves pounds in your chest.

And then the elves strike back, and their ships fill the sky, and battle erupts brutally on all sides. No corner of the sphere is safe from lurking dark ships or vengeful elven vessels. Magic and weapons explode across the heavens, and blood stains the void. Elven warships rage through space, crushing the enemy, driving them back to the edges of the stars. Your sense of time swirls with the perspective of near-immortality, and years pass in heartbeats. The warfare burns on… the planets wither, the elves and the invaders die.

Time moves, and the elves no longer sing or laugh, but they weep and shout battle-cries. Harps and ploughs have been dropped for swords and battle standards. But more darkness comes, a second wave of spiteful humanoids; powerful orcs and goblinoids, and more savage beings. The remaining elven fleets are pummeled, their resources diminished, their homeworlds blasted, their people dying. The elves will be consumed in the encroaching blackness.

Then, with your world-spanning vision, you see one last massive elven warship, a mammoth living vessel known as an “armada”, gather to it all those others who can flee, and begin a reckless retreat deep into the stars. Many, many spacecraft follow, scores of crafts, pursued by the dark ships of the enemy. The elves fly on, through oceans of stars, through oceans of light, through oceans of time. Always, the enemy seeks them, and always the armada, named the Shining Sun, valiantly engages and defeats them. Magical energy hurtles through space, ballistae bolts and catapult debris rain across the hulls of the opponents, elven and orc and other beastial blood spills across worlds in a dozen galaxies, weapons ring and ships explode. Many die in the hot clash of combat, many die in the cold of space.

Across the galaxy the elven vessels fly. At last, the elves enter one last sphere, their fleet in ruins, their warriors exhausted and weak. They pray to Corellon Larethian to watch over them and aid them…as the dark ships seek them, hunt them tirelessly from somewhere in the chaotic flow of deepest space.

Upon one of the twin orbiting planets of this sphere, the elves find a being named Cy’Pren, the Faerie Mother, and her consort Ye’Cind, the First Bard. Cy’Pren recognizes the elves as faerie blood, distant members of her spiritual family, and offers succor to the surviving fleet upon the planet she calls Kyral. In the protective forests of her home, the elves tell Queen Cy’Pren of their plight, and of their exodus, and of the enemy’s dark ships, and of the War.

Time means little to your near-omnipotent vision of the universe, but with its passage a shadow looms again in your consciousness… you sense the enemy approaching the sphere where the elves hide. Now Ye’Cind, the First Bard, the Blade Singer, is angered, and he prays to Corellon, and leads the elven people once more against the intruders. The elves’ ships advance through the Rainbow Flow to meet the enemy. Outnumbered, wounded, lost, the elves are unsure. You feel the press of their hopelessness, the pain of their peoples’ loss. Yet Ye’Cind commands them, and his songs and his prowess inspire them, and he shows the elves that there is hope. The enemy falls before Ye’Cind, dies before the Blade Singer in his fury, and is driven back into the void. Time and again the enemy attacks, and time and again the elves are victorious.

But not without cost. The elves have but a handful of ships left to stand against the evil, and the enemy has allies…

Taking pity on their plight, Cy’Pren the Faerie Queen gives sacrifice and honor to the heavenly Seelie Court of the Faeries, and to the goddess Ki. She offers her own soul in exchange for the elves’ safety. She asks this of Corellon Larethian. And she is heard.

From your all-seeing perspective, you sense the vibrations, the spreading power of a force greater than any you have ever known. The very fabric of the universe pulses, ripples with the will of the divine.

As the wave of dark ships approaches the indescribably vast space of this crystal sphere, the mighty Shining Sun prepares to fight its last battle.

And then Cy’Pren cloaks the sphere in magic, and hides it from view.

Cy’Pren seals the sphere. The dark ships pass on.