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// Warden of the Stream 
// Story: Professor Search's Logbook 
// by Croswynd 
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	My first memory is that of a bright light, more brilliant than the sun that is said to be the most beautiful of jewels. More mesmerizing than the reflective surface of the moon, more inspiring than all the stars that pierce the night sky’s shroud. It was both comforting and warm as I bathed in its radiance, not totally aware of the new world around me - so different from the close darkness I understand now to be the embrace of my egg. 

This light I remember so well, so vividly, promised me so much. That I would see the breadth and length of the world, to share in its splendors and grieve with its tragedies. To know so many beings both large and small, forming friendships or enmities with each. It promised love and sorrow, envy and selflessness. But most of all, it promised me a release.

And it has yet to fulfill this last assurance.

You may think me bitter, regaling you with the million tales I experience between now and forever, wishing only for my story to end its unceasing flow. To shower you with words that have stood firm against the march of eons, while yearning toward the last time I must add a moment to my age.

Such is my curse, my blessing, and my life,

The Warden of the Stream.

P.S. The Professor must obtain this letter or the Blank One will not complete his quest.