--Prologue—
The oil lamp flared to life, lighting up the face of the holder. He was tall, with long, pointed ears, and he wore a dark robe; more than that could not be discerned in the near-blackness of this room.
He waited for a moment, then waited, and waited some more. He took a step forward and clapped his hands briskly. No response came from the pitch-black room, so, frowning, he strode over to something which, despite the blackness, was clearly there, had a clear presence. As he- and the lamp- drew closer, it showed itself to be a wooden tray with two narrower, shallower trays extending out from it, apparently infinitely, into the dark room, sticking out on either side. Drawing a long, thin wooden stick from his robe, he opened the little door on the side of his lamp and lit the stick, which he then pressed into the center of the box.
The room flared to life, fire spreading along the shallow trays into the other three boxes in the other three corners of the room. When the entire system was crackling warmly, he turned around. His large brown eyes widened and whitened and he gave a wordless, chocking cry of shock. He whirled and sprinted out. In his wake he left hundreds of broken jars of a glass-like material, with a faint yellow-tinted glow. In the middle of the wreckage was a sign with strange, lingual-looking marks, and at the bottom of the sign was an image of a round, blue planet.
