So many deaths during an early phase of assembling and recording the Saga of Seven Suns, before all stanzas had been written down, meant that an entire portion of the epic had been lost forever. Thanks to the firefever, all prior history remained a blank spot in Ildiran memory—much to the dismay of the rememberers. Because of that fundamental loss, Ildirans no longer could trace their history back to the dawn of civilization. Many imaginative tale spinners had created fictitious adventures to fill the gap. But Dio’sh understood that such tales weren’t real and could not truly fill the void.

After much time deep in the archives, Dio’sh had dug out all of the records written at approximately the time of the firefever epidemic. No one had been here in a thousand years, and many of the sealed lockers had begun to sag and crumble, their latches weakened by gravity and age.

For hours, he studied the references for clues to where the fever had begun and how it was possible that so much vital history could have been lost. On their deathbeds, did the last rememberers try to dictate all they knew to other kith, other listeners, only to have the details lost after all? To a historian like himself, such a missing section of the Saga felt like a dead child, filling him with a great sense of loss.

Then Dio’sh found a small vault that had been locked and apparently cemented shut, but the seal had crumbled and the lock itself degenerated so much that it easily broke in his hands. Feeling nervous, yet thrilled, the young rememberer probed into the tiny vault that had been locked away and forgotten ages ago. With a gasp of discovery, he saw that it contained ancient documents, sealed books that looked as if they had never been read. A treasure trove! Dio’sh eagerly took them back to his work area, turned up the blazer illumination. His heart thrummed with excitement.

He began to delve into the words, magical symbols that transported him into tales he had never before imagined. Real history, lost events. The journals were detailed, and the records seemed to be accurate: true sources dating back to the time of the firefever, contemporary diary entries and records kept by eyewitnesses. People who had actually seen the firefever take its terrible toll.

Or… what accepted history had recorded as the firefever.

Dio’sh studied the ancient documents, reading with amazement and a growing sense of horror. Something was wrong—but this was no hoax. The expressive lobes on his face flushed through a parade of vivid colors. These scrolls and testaments must be the truth, regardless of everything he had been told and taught.

The rememberer sat back, astounded. Then, stricken with fear that someone might see him or discover what he had found, Dio’sh closed and sealed the documents again and hurried to put them back into the hidden vault.