A rather simple reason

A strange predicament to be sure.

The Dark Rangers are assassins that seemed only like wife tales to pass around the house to keep the children in line. Shadowy figures in the night that don't make a noise and people disappear men, women, and children alike if they didn't act right. A truly frightening myth, to be honest, but you never assumed them to hold any valid merit, until now it seems.

The elf in front of you though stares up at you with a pained but hopeful expression, hopeful of what though? Looking back you focus on her eyes, even with the hazy view that peering into the beyond has given you the glow and beauty are unmistakable, one green and one purple, their vibrancy is unlike you have ever seen. Drifting your view to her face you look it over with much appreciation as she lightly turns her head, as if knowing what you're looking at. Her jaw is square and sharp with a pointed chin, her cheekbones are high and her nose is like a button, small and cute which accentuates her pouty lips that are formed in almost a knowing smirk right now.

Confused with the predicament you've been given you reach out to the beauty before you. Your hand to not much surprise passes through her but energy runs into your hand viciously with haste. A series of emotions overtake you, pride, loyalty, joy, confusion, anger and then regret, so much regret wells up within you though you know none of it is yours.

The elf sheds a tear, something unexpected from such supposed remorseless killers. As a spirit she can not speak to you and gods above know you haven't the faintest clue on how to cross her over with you into the living plane but you can try.

Welling up your mana you search with your core, your own source of life, and feel for the push and pull of her soul. The room is still silent and unmoving, frozen in time whether by magic or perception you can not tell. But it matters not as the elf lets out a gasp of surprise, the first sound she has made so far, it seems you have a grip on her soul.

"You've been a hard one to find my Lord" her words flowed with a sharp grace but her voice was almost angelic at its melody and energy. Though you been to have a slight panic set in, being called lord when one is not is always to bring strange news. "I'm glad you're able to speak but what do you mean of Lord?"

"Your lordship title is of your family's heritage my Lord".

A creeping panic and painful curiosity rises quickly in your stomach bring close a wave of nausea. "What do you know about my family?"

She stands up with poise and grace just like with her approaching, she gives a salute of her fist across he chest with a head bow. "Apologies my lord, forgive me, I assumed you knew your family's blood. Do not know to whom you are related to?"

"Who?"