The Hand of Fate: Passing of Power

The mysterious traveler stepped out of the shadows, his dark tunic and cloak billowing behind him. "You should have known better," he said to the previous wielder of the Hand of Fate. "You had something powerful in your possession, something that marked you as important. And yet you thought you could hide, that you could escape the attention of those who seek to control the Hand's power."
The previous wielder looked up at the traveler, fear and regret etched on their face. "I didn't know what I had," they said, their voice barely above a whisper. "I was grateful for the directions you gave me, for the chance to hide. I never meant to cause any harm."
The traveler shook his head. "Your hubris was your downfall. You thought you could hide from the Hand's power, but it was always with you. And now, it has led me to you."
The previous wielder closed their eyes and thanked the Hand for its protection, even as they knew it was too late. The traveler reached out a hand and touched their forehead, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, the previous wielder's body went limp.
The traveler stood up and looked down at the lifeless body. "May you find peace in the afterlife," he whispered, before disappearing into the night.
As the traveler disappeared, the Hand of Fate began to glow with a soft, pulsing light. For a moment, it seemed as though it might detach from the previous wielder's arm, but then the light faded, and the Hand remained attached.
The previous wielder's body lay still, and for a moment, it was unclear whether they were truly dead or simply unconscious. The Hand of Fate remained silent, its secrets and powers still shrouded in mystery.
But as the Hand pulsed with energy, it seemed to be calling out to someone, or something. A feeling of unease settled over the area, as if the Hand's power had awoken something long-dormant.
In the distance, a faint howling could be heard, carried on the wind. It was impossible to tell if it was the wind itself or the mournful wail of something otherworldly. As the sound grew louder, the Hand of Fate began to pulse more fiercely, as if in response.
The Hand's new wielder had arrived, drawn by the Hand's power and the promise of great things. The previous wielder's fate was sealed, their power consumed by the Hand, and their legacy passed on to another.
The traveler had been right; the Hand's power was too great for any one person to control. The Hand of Fate remained, a powerful force in a world of danger and magic, waiting for the next brave soul to take up its power and face the uncertain future.