Our clan histories tell us that the crèche-guardian has guarded the Arde clan’s eggs and crèche-children since the founding of the clan itself. As a crèche-child, I couldn’t really believe that. It was hard to imagine someone living for that inconceivable an amount of time, let alone that they would dedicate themselves to guarding the offspring of a species not their own. But then again, that’s humans for you.

Persistence exhaustion pack hunters on their Homeworld, apparently the pack bonding instinct is strong and flexible enough to allow the bond to form with just about anything. As I grew older and learned the tragic history of their species, it became even easier to accept. When there are so few left, scattered to the stars, the few isolated individuals are driven to form bonds with any nearby sentient.

Humanity apparently caused quite a stir when they emerged on the galactic scene. By far, they had the longest life-cycle of any species discovered. Many thought them immortal because of their long lives, and in truth that was their downfall. The Garthon saw them as abominations, an affront to their god, and quickly bombarded the human Homeworld with deadly neutron radiation. Even with their remarkable durability, the humans were decimated.

But it didn’t stop there. The Garthon systematically hunted any remaining humans, slaughtering any that they found before the humans fought back. A massive war was fought, and it only ended in stalemate when both sides were too depleted to continue. With their slow life-cycles, humans never really recovered.

They abandoned their planet, taking up nomadic jobs, wandering the stars looking for purpose. They even gave up their name, few people even knew them as human anymore, to most they were simply the Elders.

Still, a few Garthon extremists continued their crusade, which brings me to the most tragic sight I have ever seen.

Our crèche-ship was en route back to arath, when the Garthon attacked. I remember the guardian telling us to hide, before the hideous skittering sound grew into a horrible cacaphony. As he skittered in on his eight legs, tail held high and ready, claws clacking ominously, the guardian stood between him and us, an aged but mighty Krignar tree against a storm.

“Only god is immortal, infidel!” And then, quick as lightning, he struck. In the blink of an eye, the guardian caught the stinger, twisted it off, and in his pain, the Garthon stabbed the guardian through the abdomen. It was a mortal wound, but the Elder still managed to stab the Garthon with his own stinger, killing him before he himself collapsed.

I had once asked the Elder how old he was, in my youthful curiosity. His answer shocked me to the core: “one hundred and fifty dude. And still young!”

He didn’t look young. He was wrinkled and thin, his hair shock white, but 150? The oldest Arathin only lived two years! I remembered that as I watched him pass, as slowly as he did anything else. What must he have seen in a life so long? What wonders must he have witnessed? The death of an elder was so rare, so tragic. I could do nothing but bear witness.

————————————————————

I had done it. I had saved the hundreds of children in my care, but I knew I was not long for this plane. I saw the young male as he witnessed my passing, and I sorrowed. I had no Cloak of Remembrance to give him. I felt cold. But that’s when I saw her. Standing in the crowd of children, waiting for me. My Arde.

“Come, beloved friend. We have all eternity.”