“Why would he take her to the Sunglade?” Courynn inquired, eyeing Talice intensely. After his confrontation with his father, he and Nymara had returned to the sanctuary of his room at the boarding house. But as evening fell, he knew Faelar would’ve returned home to his family having spent the day ‘hunting’… downing nothing but pints as usual. So, they ventured back out to the Taproot, hoping to meet up with the beautiful druidess and that she would reveal any secrets held by the Masters that might shed light on why the Ancient seemed to be heading for the Yuirwood landmark with Nymara’s sister. “The menhir there is the only one that can open a portal to any other circle,” she advised, but then took a long pause before continuing more fervently; “I heard once that there’s a vast network of tunnels under the Sunglade which can only be reached through that circle. According to the tale… no one knows what lies there. I can take you there when we return the others to their campsite… but I’ll have to come back right away. Based on what you’ve told me, you should get there just before they do.” Courynn and Nymara exchanged concerns looks as they pondered Talice’s revelation; the implications deeply disturbing them both. But before they could question her further, their attention was diverted to a well-dressed star elf who approached their table. “Forgive my interruption… but you’re the bard who sang here last night are you not?” he addressed Nymara cordially, sliding into the empty seat next to her when she nodded affirmatively he continued; “I’m Jhered Truesilver, a humble merchant. We heard about your performance and came out in the hope that you’d provide an encore tonight. I take it you’ve recently arrived from Sildeyuir.” “A few weeks ago,” she replied, more than a little surprised that word of her impromptu recital had attracted anyone’s attention. When they arrived, she’d noticed a small contingent of star elves congregated in one corner but being unfamiliar with Relkath’s Foot she hadn’t known it was unusual. Seizing the opportunity she went on; “I’m here to find my sister. She came through the menhir after hearing me talk about the wonders I saw here… but failed to return. We’ve since learned she’s been seen with a star elf known as the Ancient.” Jhered recoiled as if slapped at the name, a dire look falling over his face, then said solemnly; “I’m sorry my lady, but if she is with him then she’s lost. Surrender your pursuit… return home… and mourn her.” “I can’t do that,” she shot back emphatically, demanded coldly; “Tell me what you know of him.” “All I know is rumor and myth,” he began with a heavy sigh. “But it is said he’s a baelnorn… left behind when we migrated to Sildeyuir to watch over something so dangerous and powerful that couldn’t remain unguarded. But the centuries haven’t been kind to him and now he’s quite mad. If he has your sister she is gone. You must give her up… or you will be lost as well.” This time it was Nymara who was taken aback. Since she first heard that the Ancient has supposedly stalked the woodlands for two thousand years she suspected that he must be a baelnorn, an elven lich, and the thought of what such a being would want with her sister has weighed heavily on her heart. But steeling her resolve she announced; “I can’t do that… I won’t leave Calastra in his clutches… not while I live!”