I saw our world burn. I watched, apalled, dumbfounded, as billions of the Allmother’s children faded into ash and dust; our brothers and sisters: the plants, the animals, those Alvait who remained behind, refusing to leave the rocky bosom that birthed our kind - all burning in the crucible our world had become, as we drifted away into the Void. I thought then, as we all did, that the Demons were responsible for the cold-blooded destruction of our world. It was not until much later that we learned the terrible truth, but by then it was far too late to do anything. Ancient history; a dark blot on our people’s long and checkered past. But, bitter as we may be at the betrayal and the cowardice in the planning and execution of the Exodus, I know that it was necessary. Were it not for our sacrifice, and those of our brothers and sisters and the soul of Arisgar, there would be no Alvait today, and there would be no force in place to challenge the Eshroth, or prevent its demon plague from spreading across the stars. Even knowing all this, however, I cannot help but wonder… Could it have happened differently? Would we have left as we did, had we known the truth? Would the Drayali, or the Nomta’uk, who remained behind, have done so if they had had full disclosure? Would the Demons have conquered our beloved Arisgar if we had not burned it as they swarmed our lands and consumed all we held sacred? I cannot know the answer, for the time of my generation is long past. The Vampur blood that has sustained me these three centuries, four decades and seven years has begun to cloud my mind. Even now, my scant memories of Arisgar are the bulk of what is left of my mind. And so I leave these words to my son and Second, Qaþrien of Denjjuriqal, Zefir Iluryen Jauðyen Ansridalyen. Visiil i-sanw l’ju twden fa-iig, vayenyar.

It is said that we Alvait did not always live in our qals, drifting through the Void. It is even said we were not the only people we knew, nor ours the only language we spoke. Once, our people lived in proud city-states and mighty nations, spanning from horizon to horizon on a world, a huge ball of rock not unlike the one over which our Vampurait now keep vigil. The world’s name is lost in time, but now we call it Arisgar, the Old World. But why are we here? Why would we give up our homes, our lives, our world, and come here to live in these cramped, dark cities where there is no day-star to light and warm us? Where the unforgiving Void arcs menacingly overhead, its constant turmoil invisible in its lightless infinity? How did we become what we are now, we Alvait? Well, my child, that is quite the story, one fraught with peril and adventure both. So sit, little one, and get comfortable, and I will tell you the tale of the Demons’ attack on Arisgar.