It has been a year since I last went to the Athar'rt Observatory, and yet I
cannot help but grieve when I think of it. Perhaps, my friend, you have not
read of it? Then I will tell you, and you may judge the worth of my words and
my deeds, and ease my mind of the burden my tale brought to me.

----------------------------

The Observatory was first mentioned to me by my friend Adushoc zi'Prouep, who
knew my liking for lovely places and strange sights. I was immediately
interested in it, for those of my guild study something of the stars, and she
reported it as one of the most interesting constructions her people had made,
though she herself had never been there. I resolved to visit it as soon as I
could.

The time came soon enough. On a bright morning, I mounted my broom and flew
eastwards. I loved flying, loved the feel of the wind in my hair and the sight
of the lush green forest spreading out below me, broken only by a white thread
that was the Alabaster Road. I followed the road, confident that I would find
what I sought, and indeed around noontime I saw the Athar'rt Observatory, like
a diamond fallen in the lap of the land.

I landed before the great doors, which stood open before me. The place was
absolutely silent, and I stepped into the Observatory with some apprehension,
wondering if some evil had befallen the place. My footsteps rang unnaturally
loud upon the seamless crystal floor, resounding through the high hall. Softly
glowing crystals were strewn throughout it, and the narrow, elegant windows
commanded a breathtaking view of the snowy mountains. It did not appear ruined
or deserted-- indeed, it seemed to be in a state of perfect beauty, save for a
reddish stain upon the floor. Blood? I bent to look.

"Stay where you are, elfen." The voice came from above me. "Your kind have much
to answer for." I looked up, into the glittering eyes of a lucidian woman. She
was beautiful in face and form, and there was an about her that spoke of pride
as she stood at the top of the crystal stairs at the end of the hall. I
hurriedly stood, barely concealing my surprise.

"I do not understand you, my lady," I faltered.

"I am Rak'ia Athar'rt. You may address me as Lady Rak'ia," said she coldly.
"One of your race barged in but hours past and slew all who served us. I trust
that he has learned the error of his ways, but the damage is done."

It was incomprehensible to me, that anyone would have the heart to do harm in
this lovely place. "I am sorry," I said. "I would never think to do such a
thing, lady Rak'ia. I had but come to see the wonder which is the Observatory,
which a friend of mine has told me of, and I will gladly aid you in restoring
what damage was done, if it is possible."

Something like a smile crossed the face of Rak'ia Athar'rt. "Well," she said in
that cool, detached voice, "I suppose you could help me with something. In the
Blasted Lands there are some wandering children. Bring them to me." She gave me
a small package. "Some treats will soothe them along the way should they become
restive."

"I do not understand," I repeated. "Why?"

She was silent for a while. Then she said slowly, "It is a dangerous place, and
not fit for children to play in. There are monsters there, tainted beings... I
trust you understand my meaning."

I nodded. A great kindness it seemed to me, that one such as she, mistress of
this beautiful place, should care about the fate of children who strayed into
the tainted lands. "I will do so," I said, much moved. And with that I ran out
of the hall, and mounted my broom once more.

My journey was a long one, and much less pleasant than it had been in the
morning. The lands over which I flew grew bare and grey and desolate, and I
could see below me hideous creatures. The Blasted Lands hold no fond memories
for me-- once I nearly lost my life there to an undead gravedigger, and only
prevailed over him by the merest chance. Caution forbade me from ever going
there again, but I dared it this time, to do the bidding of lady Athar'rt, whom
I thought to be a very noble and kind-hearted woman.

I skimmed across the tainted moor, until I espied a small form climbing among
the rubble. It was a little viscanti girl, who gazed at me with curious eyes.

"'Lo," she said to me offhandedly. "Who're you?"

"A friend," I said. "Will you not come with me? It is dangerous here."

She frowned. "No!" she said, and stomped her foot in the manner of children
everywhere when throwing tantrums. "Not going anywhere till I've had my
cookie!"

"Now, now," I began, but she sprang past me, lithe and quick. I followed her
upon my broom, and was just in time to hear her terrified shriek as she fell
into a deep pit. Gravediggers! I did not stop to think. I swooped down, grabbed
the hem of the little girl's dress, and dragged her away from the reaching hands
of the undead monstrosity that would have killed her. My trusty broom did not
balk at the added weight, but carried both of us high into the sky.

The little girl clung to me, still shaking and sobbing with terror. "There,
there," I said. "It's all right-- you're going to be safe now." She did not
appear to hear me, and I unwrapped the packet Rak'ia had given me, and handed
the girl a cookie. Numbly, she nibbled upon it. Then, with a little sigh, she
snuggled against me and closed her eyes.

I held her close as we flew through the deepening dusk, feeling a strange surge
of protection for this child of the race which had for so long been the enemies
of my people. But children everywhere share the same qualities-- a trusting
innocence, a carefree carelessness-- and viscanti children no less so. It was
well indeed that I was bringing her to the Athar'rt Observatory, where lady
Rak'ia would no doubt give her a home.

The night was dark before we approached the Observatory. Lit with many lamps,
it shone golden like a lighthouse, a beacon of safety and warmth. I descended
from my broom, the child in my arms, and entered. "We're there," I murmured.

The girl opened her eyes. "Ohh," she breathed. "Pretty."

I smiled. "Indeed," I said. "And now we must pay our respects to the lady
Rak'ia."

"Is she a crystal thing?" she asked curiously.

"Indeed, though you must not call her that. Why do you ask?"

"Because the other day a man-- a crystal thing-- came and took my friend
away--"

"Elfen. I see you have returned." That was the lady herself, tall and imposing,
her beautiful face glittering in the lamplight. She smiled at me, but the smile
was strange. It was triumphant, hungry, almost cruel. "You have done as I
asked." She raised a hand, and I sensed the terrible magic gathering in her. I
tried to speak, to find a spell to counter it, but it was of no avail.

The spell was not directed at me. Instead, crystal manacles appeared out of
thin air to seize upon the ankles and wrists of the child, whose face became
dull, blank, passive. "Go," said Rak'ia. "Get yourself some decent clothes,
child. I have some tasks for you." Obediently, the girl went.

It was some time before I could find my voice. "What," I stammered, "what have
you done to her? How could you?"

"How could I? You dare ask me that, girl? You should thank me." There was a
terrible passion in her look, a fanaticism before which I quailed. "Had it not
been for me, you would not have brought the girl to me to be our slave, as is
right and proper."

"Right and proper!" I echoed, my mind reeling.

"Of course! The viscanti, they are scum, tainted creatures of corruption, not
fit to converse with the higher races. We honour them by allowing them to serve
us, when by rights they should all die!"

"Had I known what you would do," I cried, "I never would have done your will!"

"Do you think that I do not know that? I know the weakness of your race,
elfen-- you are weak-willed and sentimental. Had I told you the truth, you
would not have done it. So I deceived you-- but it is of no matter. I but
guided you upon the right path."

At these words such a raging fury rose in me that I lashed out at Rak'ia with
the most potent magic that I knew. The next moment, I was flying through the
air, hurled upon my face by the force of her counter-spell. I heard the
contempt in her voice as she addressed me.

"That was not wise, girl. The last who tried to touch me walks the land
bodiless."

Shaking, I tried to pick myself up, but before I could move I was flung back
again, out of the Observatory, into the perpetual mountain snow. The crystal
doors closed behind me with a soft chime. I ran to it and pounded upon them, to
no avail. I found that I was crying, the tears flowing freely down my face.
"Rak'ia Athar'rt!" I shouted. "Rak'ia Athar'rt, I swear this to you: when I am
strong, I will return. And I will kill you!"

There was nothing. No answer, no sound at all. Bruised and bleeding, I flew
again through the night, letting my broom find its own way home.

----------------------------------

Now, even as I sit in my quiet study, the memory of that night fills me with
horror and grief. To think that I could have been so blind, not to see--! But
no. I had not seen because I had not wished to see, had not wished to believe
that something so fair could be so wrong. And as a result I had led a child
into the jaws of slavery. As I write those words, my hand shakes and my face
flushes with shame.

My hatred of Rak'ia Athar'rt has not faded with time. What greater ill is there
than those who do evil in the name of good? I promise myself that one day I will
return, and undo the harm I did. In the meantime, I write this: a confession,
and a warning to those who may come after.

Beauty blinds.