'Blackwings' - That's what we call them where I come from. The little harbingers of doom, circling around you in the deep of the night. As you lay down to prepare to sleep, the little monsters flit by nonchalantly, singing their song of death in your ears. At first we were deceived by the allure of their voices. It took a while, and several fallen comrades, to learn to associate that hypnotic sound with impending disaster. They whisper false assurances in your ear while they inject you with hell-fire itself. The next day, as their bitterness takes its course in your blood, you start to feel like your insides are on fire, and yet for some strange reason, you seek the warmth of the sun, if only to burn the wickedness out of you.
It affects people differently, this poison. For some, it's little more than dizziness. For the most, it involves long days and nights in the infirmary. Our physicians did all they could to restore the health of the afflicted, but there was only so much they could do. The Darkwings just kept coming. We did not know from whence they came, or where they went after spreading their death. All we knew is that we were fighting a battle we could not win. We needed a chance against these monsters, so they sent me. They sent me to travel the world and find a lasting solution. to find their one weakness and use it against them. It is those travels that have led me here.
I'm wearied. I have traveled far. I have traveled long. But my resolve to end our suffering is greater than my physical limits. I come to a land that was once afflicted, but they found a way to beat the Darkwings. In this land, they even tell jokes about the critters. I wish my people would get to this point. I am not a man of science. Nor am I a sorcerer of any calibre. But thankfully, in this land, they understand the language of death and suffering at the hands of the Darkwings. In this fight against them, we are united as brothers. It is my hope that these brothers will share the secret, and teach our people how to win this fight. It is my silent prayer that having come this far, I shall not go back empty-handed. A failure in my own society's eyes.
I go to the chief. I go and narrate my ordeal to him, as he listens with curious intrigue. It's been a while since this land had fatal cases of this curse. I tell him we are but a humble lot, unlearned in the ways of the future. But we are willing to embrace the new, if only to save our comrades. We have suffered enough to see that being firmly set in our ways will not bring out the best in us. The change is scary, but the curse has forced us out of apathy. The chief smiles, and pledges to offer his assistance. An unfamiliar warmth reaches my heart. A smile sneaks onto my lips. I realise that I can now rest easy. I give them a map. it is obvious that I'm weak and spent from my journey. I was not going to rest until I had an answer. Now, my baggage is taken from me. As I faint from the exhaustion, and take my ease in the promise of rescue, the chief leans down to my face and says, "After we're done rescuing your land, you will tell stories about how the Darkwings were stripped of their power, not by science or sorcery, but an unfailing hope in a greater power. When that time comes, you shall no longer call them demons. Like we do here, you shall call them a pedestrian name, 'mosquitoes'."