And now I, Abdiel, the last of the scribes, finish this
record and admonish all who read this account to
remember those who went before you. Remember that they
were once a prosperous and a happy people, living in
harmony with truth and united in purpose. Yet they fell,
because they chose to be right rather than the right, to have
more rather than be more, apathy over action, fear over
To satisfy their pride and selfishness, people became
tools to be used or obstacles to be removed, not the end but a means to an end. Disconnected, disunited, each walking in
his own way. On their own, they became lost, wandering in
their own world of lies and illusions, full of hungering and craving but never filled. One by one, they destroyed
O remember, remember, one can only achieve happiness
if one lives in accordance with the nature of happiness. Life
is not about finding your truth but finding the truth, and
then making it your own. Do this and you will be happy. You will be free.
Let men judge this record as they may. I do not write
for them. I do not write for myself. I write for the Gatekeeper.
Abdiel closed the book and leaned back with a sigh, running his long, deft fingers through his thick silvered black hair, then dragging his hand slowly down a tired but ageless face. It was done. Thousands of years of history condensed onto a thousand pages. The rise and fall of a great people, a people who had been blessed with power, freedom, a beautiful world. Abdiel shook his head and moved to stand next to the window of the towering alabaster library. He stood there, a tall, lean figure draped in a thick deep blue robe, and looked down at the streets below. And now look at them, he thought bitterly. This is what they did with what they had. The air was filled with smoke, the city only one burning corner of a world in ruins, the people—the few that remained—wandered the streets, driven only by greed and fear.
Abdiel’s heart ached for them and for what had been, what they had been. He had been there, hundreds of years ago, when the tide first began to change, when they gave their power to the Evil One. Abdiel had tried to warn them, but they would not listen. More Lights came, but they would not listen. So, the Gatekeeper had taken the Lights.
Soon, they would all be gone. Only three Lights, including himself, remained. Abdiel knew that now that he had finished the book, his time was drawing to a close. And after the last two Lights led the people to the place of refuge prepared for them and taught them the old ways, they would be taken as well.
Suddenly, the air around Abdiel began to shimmer and become increasingly brighter until there was only a brilliant light—everywhere.
When the light faded, Abdiel moved the book to the back corner of the library where it would be found centuries later. He walked to the front of the library, past the many rows of bookcases and the tall, imposing alabaster columns. He stopped under the entry arch and lovingly caressed the smooth granite doorway. This was his library. His place of refuge. His home. Ahh… but it was time to move on. It was time for everyone to move on. Abdiel did not look back as he stepped out into the bright sunlight. He sighed in pleasure as he drew a deep breath of fresh air. It had been a long time since he had breathed fresh, clean air. He surveyed the land about him. The library had been deposited on another mountain, clear blue skies above, untouched green meadows below. Abdiel looked across the expanse and watched as the last two Lights guided a small group of men, women, and children through an opening into the large, grassy hollow surrounded by mountains. The opening closed after the last person stepped into the enclosure. Abdiel smiled, grateful that the Gatekeeper let him see this before he was taken and just as he began to flicker, he couldn’t help but think that this would be the perfect place, the perfect place to start over, the perfect place for new beginnings…