"Bring us three gifts of great worth,
That all have, but none can own.
One is seen but never heard,
Grows trees and pales bone.
One is the mother's to give,
Yet shared freely by all.
One is the reason we live,
Or why we choose to fall."
"What it means, you must figure out on your own," Kail'ithal said. "Though I am not certain it will still work now that the monument has been corrupted."
The druid grimaced, as if weighing a difficult decision.
"There is another who may be of more help. A drow... she lives alone near the hills to the south. Her magic is dark, so we keep our distance from one another. But if anyone knows about curses, it would be her."
When Kail'ithal had no more information to offer, Ren retrieved the poems from his inventory and handed them to her.
"Do you know this person?" he asked, hoping she did. The signature on the poems had sounded similar to her name.
