Shar's reminder had come at just the right time, something even Hill himself had not considered.
Although the hundreds of millions of Elves who had perished in the Dawn Cataclysm were famous, they had basically existed only as background scenery, making people overlook the fact that they had been living beings too.
But there was nothing to be done about that... the way they had died was truly unprecedented.
Most of the time, it felt like the opening backstory displayed before a movie began.
You watched it and moved on, heard it and forgot it. Few people would dig any deeper.
Besides, unlike other races whose nations had been destroyed by accidents, they had not left behind desolate ruins filled with Underworld resentment or lingering Undead Spirits.
They had even brought the dogs they kept at home into Lathander's Divine Kingdom with them. They had not left behind a trace of grievance.
Most tragic, mournful stories were laments sung by survivors after a disaster... remembering the good old days and mourning pitiful friends, neighbors, and relatives.
But these Elves definitely had no immediate family left stranded outside.
And the Dawn Cataclysm felt more like a horrifying lesson, yet it was hard to evoke any sense of helpless pain.
Even when outsiders mentioned the matter, amid their complicated emotions, all their attention would still fall on Lathander, the one who had caused it all.
As for those Elves... no one could really say anything about them.
If one said they had lived well, there were indeed ways in which they had not.
They had once been among the most powerful forces on the continent of Faerûn, only to lose everything overnight.
Once they reached Lathander's Divine Kingdom, they had nowhere to direct their competitive spirit.
But if one said they had