While the returning people knelt upon the grass and wept with joy, something else was happening within the passage behind them. It was faint, little more than a lingering trace of great power, but Elion felt his gaze drawn toward it.
The green hills faded, and once again he stood in that crowded chamber, watching the ancestor look upon the people gathered around him.
This time, Elion saw what he had missed.
The man had known what they intended before they ever laid their hands upon him. He had listened to their demands, watched their desperation become resentment, and understood that the little strength he had recovered was the last thing standing between them and their return.
He had not fought his own people. He would never do such a thing. Even when they approached him, he had remained still.
