My name is Angela Childstar. By human time, I am now nineteen years old.

   I'm about to relate to you the adventures that were my life, which, although they ended four years ago, still ravage my mind.

   I suppose I should start at the beginning.

   My people are known to most as elves. They are an ancient race, dating back to a time before your kind existed. The truth is, the creation of humans is the cause of my existing.

   You see, my people didn't know what you call fear and anger. They didn't know what true pain was. At least, not in the beginning.

   Before humans were created, my people existed peacefully. The only time anyone ever fought was during tournaments and killing was unheard of. Murder resulted in exile, no matter what the provocation. Before humans were created, my people were happy.

  Yet, as all good things must come to an end, so did my peoples' joy.

  When the first of your kin were created, they were unable to control their emotions. From the excess of their emotions, many things were born, both beautiful and terrible.