We watched.
We always do.
From the deep forests and silver groves, from canopies older than human speech, we watched the younger races struggle to find their place in a world already ancient when they first opened their eyes.
The demons were there before memory.
So were we.
They were loud where we were quiet, bound to flame and stone while we bound ourselves to leaf and root. They shaped the world openly; we shaped it gently. There was tension, yes—but also understanding. Boundaries held. Seasons turned.
Then came the humans.
At first, they were pitiful things—short-lived, frightened, burning too brightly for their own good. We saw them welcomed, taught, and guided. We also saw them ignored, and in that neglect, they learned fear.
Fear grows faster than wisdom.
Their fires spread. Forests fell. Rivers were bent from their paths. They called it survival. Perhaps it was. We retreated deeper, letting borders blur rather than break.
The demons did not retreat.
When the first demon stronghold fell, the forest felt it like a wound. When the first human city burned in answer, the smoke reached even our highest boughs. Each side spoke of betrayal. Each spoke truth.
The war did not begin with a declaration.
It began with forgetting.
We saw demons defend what they had always guarded. We saw humans strike first—and strike again—because they believed they must. We saw gods take sides, and in doing so, unbalance the world.
The elves chose not to join.
That choice haunts us.
For as battlefields spread, the old balance shattered. Ancient magics frayed. Creatures of neither side fled into our woods, hunted and hungry. Neutrality did not spare us; it only delayed our grief.
When the demons fell, the world grew quieter—but not healthier. When humans claimed victory, the forests did not rejoice. Something vital had been lost, and no songs were written for it.
Now we tend what remains.
Humans call us aloof.
Demons call us cowards.
Both are correct.
Both are wrong.
We remember the world as it was before the war—and we see what it has become. And we know this truth above all others:
The war never truly ended.
It merely learned to wait.