Editing Idranel (section)

==Dear 'Farseer' Part One==
I am an avid reader of this column, but even so, I never thought something would happen to me, to inspire me to write a letter of my own.
But, here I am, writing. So, let me tell you of my encounter with the mon-keigh I now call my own.

It started, as these things often do, with a vision. You have likely already heard of the Tyranid fleet that was scheduled to intercept my Craftworld,
so I shall spare you the details of it - but I found myself engaged in a battle against these humans on one of their worlds, and things were going
splendidly, and just as planned, until those unforgivable brutes the mon-keigh call their space marines involved themselves rather than gracefully
accepting their fate. Again, sparing the details, I found myself defeated in battle at every turn - not just once, but twice did they get in my way,
and after the second encounter, I found myself facing what I believed to be certain death! However, the strands of fate are fickle, and a mere coincidence
left me with nothing more than a chainsword wound to the gut, and a few dozen broken bones - and those space marines left, without noticing my continued survival!
At the time, I believed it a brief respite before my wounds would do me in, and it was not long before I lost consciousness.

But that was not to be. Apparently, I was found by a clean-up crew, and brought in secret to the newly established planetary governor, a female human going by the name of Derosa.
Rather than interrogate me in ways most terrible, or turn me over to their foolish zealots, she - and this, she told me later - proceeded to have me brought in secret to her own quarters,
and as again I opened my eyes, straining against the unexpected light, it was to her face. She had, with her own hands, set my broken bones and patched my wounds, cleaned me
and watched by my side - I was, as I am certain any other readers would be, obviously shocked. Why would a mon-keigh do something like this? These are the apes, brutes, primitives
that foil our plans whenever they can, that worship the corpse of their past leader - why would one of them take it upon themselves to cure and hide *me*?

I still remember her answer to my first question with perfect clarity, as were it yesterday, and I believe I always will. As I lay, my body still broken, and never one to inspire anyone to anything,
she smiled - that smile, how could a mere mon-keigh have such a brilliant smile? - and spoke.

"Because you were beautiful."

Signed, Farseer Idranel.

(Editor's Note: Due to the unusual length of this letter, we will publish the remainder in our next issue. Stay tuned!)