As the Elven City Guard exclaimed behind him, Lynn lost every trace of his usual composure. He stared at Old School Striking King, practically slack-jawed.
Was this how she taught her White Dragons?
Hill had said these Terrasil Elves would stay in Toril for a century or two at most, hadn't he?
And then they'd leave behind White Dragons steeped in a century of strange ideas?
He silently watched the little girl slide down from the dragon's head, tearing railings loose and throwing them down while cursing up a storm. He had serious doubts about Faerûn's future. Compared to this, the world ending because Mystra died would almost be a good outcome. At least Ao could still save it.
But if White Dragons sank Faerûn, they'd become the biggest joke in the Multiverse!
Lynn glanced back at the whispering Elven City Guard. They had grown up hearing things like "an elf's will needs no one's approval." It seemed the Undead had opened up a whole new world to them.
Lynn fell silent for a few seconds. If elves became like the Undead, perhaps he could... live with that.
He shook his head hard. Wait! He'd have to be insane to think that!
He couldn't keep telling himself it was someone else who would die. If someone blew up the world, the elves would suffer too!
The Undead could run wild because Toril wasn't their world. Blowing it up wouldn't affect them.
Elves couldn't do that!
Lynn looked up, wanting to stop Old School Striking King from teaching her White Dragon friends such strange things, but the words caught in his throat. There was no point saying any of it to the Undead. The more they were told not to do something, the harder they would try to do it.
Still,