Hello. It’s me again, the Fairelander. If by some small miracle you are reading this message, then perhaps you will understand my plight.
Perhaps you, too, still set your Scroll of Teleportation for Junction, only to see a blinking cursor above a nameless ocean. Perhaps you, too, still wake up giddy to greet the morning at Midas, only to rub the sleep out of your eyes and realize that Ishtar’s Gate has drifted away with the Mists. Perhaps you, too, adjust the pieces of your complete Her Highness’s Treasures gacha set, only to feel a profound emptiness—a void where something should be.
In my case, that void is the blank page I now hold in my hand, one page among many that I found washed up on the steps of Midas minutes before the Great Bongs of Doom sounded and the Fairelands vanished into the aether.
As if some god had whispered a prophecy in my ear, I knew that these pages were to contain stories: accounts of the Faire, as I learned earlier, that would be continue to be written long after the Faire had gone. Surely there would be stories about the winged lady, the crazy naked Elf, and maybe even Adair, whom I had not yet seen but saw mentioned time and time again. Imagine my joy at that prospect: a feast of stories to tide me over until the next Faire!
And yet these pages remain barren.
I’ve tried it all: sunlight, moonlight, black light, no light. In a fit of frustration, I even held a page over a flame. But no matter how I treat the pages, they stay the same.
Here, you take a look. Empty, you see?
…Huh? What’s that? A picture, you said?
OH! OH MY! Their faces are a bit distorted, but sweet wootberry juice, that’s them all right! And are those the beginnings of words I see?!
Oh, oh, I could kiss you! Look what you’ve done! Perhaps if you stay with me, the stories will come…?