The Elven Ancestor Who Came to Explain Things

The sky-blue flames flickering overhead vanished in a fury as Mystra called out again and again.

That was the form Corellon manifested only when he was angry. When he was calm, he usually appeared in a sky-blue cloak.

The elves gathered to discuss what they should do next.

They had only just sworn to give up Evermeet, and now this had happened. If they truly went to war with Mystra, they would have to swallow their disgust and work with those old fools on the island.

The members of the Elven Crusade were at a loss.

Hill was not worried about that. He suddenly understood why Corellon had taken such a hard line with the elves of Evermeet.

If those people insisted on living with the same incompetence and shamelessness, Corellon would rather foster a new generation of passionate young elves.

He had other ways to get through the coming years. There was no need to make the young elves fight for their lives.

Hill did not know what to make of Corellon.

But setting aside his chaotic love life, the Father of Elves truly cared for his people.

Few Gods would make a major decision and still spare a thought for whether a funeral could proceed in peace.

And despite his deep dissatisfaction with the elves of Evermeet, Corellon had only increased his favor toward the Elven Queen. He had not forced them to change.

Hill glanced at the elves, who were beside themselves with emotion, and felt that Mystra had brought this on herself.

The elves were on the verge of breaking after the destruction of Myth Drannor, yet she had chosen this moment to resurrect Khelben the Blackstaff, the man who had offended them so deeply.

Hill doubted even Corellon had expected it.

They had all assumed