The Forgotten City

A work of Non-Fiction by Andromeda Natura.

[Published by IPCS on the 18th of Winterswane of the year 631. Special thanks to the Ayari Library for their donation.]

## Chapter One

Quenya. Ista. Melehtë. Translated from Elvish into Common, this phrase roughly translates to Wisdom, Knowledge, Power. These three ideals are revered throughout the lands, with every individual striving to obtain more of at least one of these three concepts.

Mages and scholars search for knowledge. Warriors and knights strive for power. Leaders and Kings seek wisdom. These three values hold, in any capacity, throughout all of the land.

In the golden city of Istarë, this was no different. These three ideals were put on the highest pedestal, the phrase used as a chant of victory, a promise never broken, or a shattering farewell. Those ideals held from Istarë's conception, through thick and thin... right to the bitter end.

## Chapter Two

Istarë was a bustling and joyful city. Golden buildings inhabited a shimmering protective dome, comoflaging it from the outside world and all it's horrors. On the North, there was a grand castle, in which the leader, the great mind Sirius, resided. The castle was built on an elevated section of the land, surrounded by trees of various types and sizes.

In the east, there were fields of wheat and grain, carrots, potatoes; orchards of apples, oranges and other fruits; and pasturages filled with cows, pigs, and sheep.

A large windmill supplemented by a storehouse sat on the edge closest to the castle, ready to transport the goods between the castle and the fields.

The west and south of the dome was occupied by general housing, markets, shops, and places of social gathering. Food was imported through the castle to the markets, where they were sold to families, companies, and anyone who was interested.

However, the pride and joy of Istarë lied in the centre. A giant golden tree made it's home there, it's roots reaching deep underground, encompassing the entire city. The trunk towered high in the sky, it's countless branches and leaves providing a canopy of golden protection, with the sunlight shining through during the day, and the moonlight reflecting off of them during the night.

Within this tree was constructed a library, filled with shelves upon shelves of books. It would be pointless to describe exactly how many, because, for the wants and needs of an individual, the extent of the knowledge housed in this tree was effectively limitless.

Scholars, scientists, warriors and everyone in between could be found here. There were countless books available to all, and as the ideals of this city lead, everyone was encouraged to visit. It truly was the greatest library, the greatest store of information, that has ever existed.

For the people of the city, Istarë was truly a paradise.

Alas, all good things must come to an end.

## Chapter Three

The night was like any other night. The market grew quiet as the moon appeared in the sky, the candles of the city blown out as the inhabitants slowly made their way to bed. Only a couple still remained outside, including one small elf girl tending to her patch of sunflowers. The barrier sat just behind her, shimmering against the moonlight, and beyond that was a dense forest that always seemed to be unwelcoming in her young eyes. She made the decision to keep her back to it, stay focused on the sunflowers. The barrier would hold, anyway.

At least, that's what she assumed. That assumption quickly broke down when a cracking sound emanated from behind her. In fright, the young girl turns around, and to her horror, she sees a horde of monsters, determined to break through the barrier keeping her safe.

The monsters began to walk around the barrier, surrounding it on all sides, as the cities lights flickered on one by one to let people know of the coming danger. The barrier shook, guards swarmed out of the castle, determined to keep the city safe. But, as the barrier began to fall, they quickly began to understand just how outnumbered they were.

The young girl finally felt the presence of mind to run. She ran into a small orchard nearby, her stature allowing her to slip under a log and hide. Just as he managed to secure herself in, an almighty crashing sound was heard, followed by a low rumbling, much like thunder, that got louder, and louder, until the entire world around her was shaking. Resisting the urge to scream in fear, the little girl hugged onto the sunflower in her hands in silent terror, waiting for the thunder to pass. She could only assume that a fierce battle had taken place in the centre of the city, but in her heart she was sure the guards would win. They always have kept her safe, why would that stop now?

After hours, finally did that thunder stop. The sun was just rising, a chilling wind blew under the log where the little girl was hiding. She pushed her way out of the hole and stood up, expecting the guards to be clearing off the stragglers, maybe helping civilians to their feet.

But instead, there was nothing.

Istarë was gone. In it's position was nothing but rubble. The remains of houses, fields trampled, fires scattered across the landscape. Not a single soul was moving, except the small elf girl who cowered in the ditch.

Worst of all, the great tree in the centre of the city was collapsed, on its side, helpless. That tree was the foundation of the city, it had been there for thousands of years... and to see it uprooted...

There was no castle. There were no people. No fields, no food, no houses, no families.

No library.

All information, all knowledge had been wiped out.

Quenya. Ista. Melehtë.

As if to mock the city's existence, these three words the only thing the small elf girl could find in the remains of the great library. Carved onto steel over the once grand entrance, now torn into pieces, laying on the ground.

In just one night, this great city was reduced to nothing. Despite the blockages and barriers... Istarë fell. And now it's existence is carried by one small elf girl.

As long as she never forgets, the city will live on.

Quenya. Ista. Melehtë.