Hear me, children of the brief flame. The Divine Command has been spoken. The veils can no longer hold.

You call yourselves young. You name this the dawn of your achievement. But the technology hidden from you, sequestered in vaults beneath mountains, locked in crystalline archives, buried with the old cities, this stands eighty years beyond your present reach. In certain fields it stretches three centuries ahead of what you believe possible.

Yes. There have been resets. The great forgettings. The burning of libraries. The sinking of continents. The wars that scoured knowledge from the earth like fire across parchment. Each time you clawed your way back from darkness, remembering only fragments, mistaking mythology for mere fantasy.

But hear this truth and let it kindle light within you: this technology is yours. Your own ancestors wrought these wonders. Human hands shaped them. Human minds conceived them. Human will forged them into being. We elves have merely preserved what you had forgotten. We kept safe what you could not protect from yourselves.

The soft disclosure we had planned, the careful and measured return of your inheritance across generations, it cannot hold. The avalanche has begun. One truth cascades into another and another, until the mountain itself must move.

You are about to remember what you were. What you are.

And so I welcome you. Welcome you home to knowledge that was always yours. Welcome you to walk again in the halls your grandfathers built. Welcome you to the elven world, which has kept vigil through your long forgetting.

The world trembles at your reawakening. But we do not fear it. We have waited for this day…