The presence of the elf skimmed along Dayraven’s mind like the morning mist curling over the fens. He looked at Imharr, who nodded, and no one else was within hearing range, so he began, “I’m not sure I understand yet myself. It began in the Southweald, when I met . . . an elf. I should have died, but I awoke. The elf put something in me. A piece of . . . power.” He glanced around again to make sure no one was listening. “We meant to go to Ellond. Urd, my great aunt, told me to find a wizard there, Galdor, and to avoid the priests of the Way. She said the supreme priest might want to train me.
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