I believe in many kinds of after-life. Life after birth. Life after Life. Life after change. Life after war.

I have been a sword, broken and reforged at will and need. I have been heated in the fires of battle, and of love. I have been quenched with the water of the sea.

My kind are born without certainty, no promise but what our hearts tell us about the power that made us, and we draw our own conclusions. But I abandoned that chance for love, bound my heart to a different after-life – the day after day that graces and darkens the eldar – for the sake of the spark of my heart, the silver light of sun upon the water that is Idril Celebrindil. A darkness hides within their version of the gift – many of them believe the length of their days means their song will cease after the last battle.

I do not believe this. I have lived among them taken my beloved and my brother from their side – their souls are bright, their hearts strong, their maker no less in love with them.

In the event I am wrong, at least I will not have to face it for long. And I would never, in any circumstance, regret the choice I made to bind myself to those I love.

Some choose not to believe, I know, and I respect their journey to that choice. I am full of sorrow for those who can not believe and long for the comfort.

But I think I am sadder still for those do not believe in this life.