Never Forgotten; Yllithia

No future plans to finish.

My name? My name is not as important as what one remembers. In years after my passing, my name will change. It will be forgotten, construed, confused with the names of those much greater than myself. Perhaps my race will be all that is remembered, and it’s likely that it will only be my race that remembers me. Time touches us much slower than that of the rest of our world… Our world, another name that will change. As Draenor changed and was forgotten, so shall Azeroth. It is the workings of the legends. The tales that continue through time. A slip of the tongue and it will now be something new, yet the same as it always was, and nothing more than a story of what once was. My name carries no value in the story, whatever weight it may currently hold to whom ever remembers the actions under my name, the story is still the same.

I am a Loreweaver. As my father before me was, his father, and his before him. It is a name that is dying along with all else that carries a spark of life. It is a name that I have changed, and may not stand for what it once did. Until then, it is one I shall carry, as the last survivor. I am a Loreweaver, yet my tale hasn’t been told. The name continues, for the time being, but who this being is is unknown. Who I was, is unrevealed. Who I will become is still uncertain.

My name? It is Yllithia Loreweaver. My story has still to be told. It is a long and pragmatic tale. The life of a young girl that suffered loss. I will not lose though. Defeat is not known for a Loreweaver. Defeat is only accepted when there is not a soul to remember what was. The end will never come, and thus, the Loreweaver’s of the world, and worlds yet to be discovered, know that defeat is never an option.

I am Yllithia Loreweaver. These are my words. Use them with great knowledge of what they can accomplish, if I have failed in my own attempts. Speak them to others as the story of one that loved. It is my wish that I shall not be forgotten, weather the name continues or not; allow my life to continue through the mouths of others, playing on the minds of more to come.

To start at the beginning would be hundreds of years before my time. My mother and father met through chance, and through dedication they stayed together. They were truly in love. Storybook.