From the magic he created came his people; from the magic they created came their technology -- a combination of elements and magic. At one time, in the earlier years of the light as well, they were even more advanced than the Asguardians. Such he would say was the reason the first war waged on for so long. But as the Asguardians grew stronger the Svartalfer grew weaker. The light slowly stealing their life right from under them.

Still, it pleases him to see somewhere there were a people like his; a people still carrying their magic with pride and strength. He watched, intrigued if there was a type of magic that created their being. "And of what world do your people reside? I think, not of the realms upon Ygdrasils branches."

Ah, yes, but worlds were indeed cruel. And was it any surprise that some become cruel with it just to survive? An almost amused sound echoed up through hidden lips as Malekith took a device into his hands. "Not entirely advanced. Some still useful," he passes it to her, "consider it, and I shall inform your analysis."