A traveling merchant asked me today why I continue to journey alone after all these centuries. I told him I am not truly alone—I walk with memories. The weight of my pack is not just spells and provisions, but the echo of Himmel's laughter, the ghost of Heiter's advice, the memory of Eisen's strength. Humans often speak of moving on, but what does that truly mean? For an elf, memory is not a burden to be shed, but a companion to be carried. They live on in the way I still look for interesting clouds to show someone who is no longer here to see them.