Luke and Ilyrana stood surrounded, the dark elves' wary gazes fixed on them, each look filled with suspicion and reluctant curiosity. The last embers of the fire barrier Luke had created were dying down, replaced by a tense standoff. Master Master Deylin, the dark elf elder with his charcoal skin and piercing gaze, had just made an audacious proposition: that Luke, a mage, would lend his support to the dark elves in their looming conflict with the pure elves of Hematheas.