Damon blinked. "Just a deal?"
"Master…" Xira smiled. "No one refuses the Umbra's Hand. Not kings. Not clans. Not beasts. If they set their eyes on something, they take it. Suppose someone says no, that person dies. Entire civilizations have vanished over a single disagreement."
Damon stared at her, silent.
"Do you know what exactly that artifact was?"
Xira shook her head. "I am sorry, Master. I only know the rumors. I do not have any concrete information on the artifact itself. All I know is… ever since then, the Umbra's hand had always hunted the elves. The elves have been hiding, holed up somewhere in the Great Western Desert, protected only by the remnants of their old mana wells and what was left of their high-born's strength."
