Notes acquired from Academy of Mystic Arts, as requested. First instance of Dread presence in Faenar. No sign of target. No sign of master either. Woof. Bother. Signing off.

‍Report 101 – I can not believe what I’ve discovered. A new Atlantean, washed up on the shores near the Academy. For centuries, this mysterious technology has enthralled scholars, but this is something entirely different. The Atlantean’s materials are unremarkable: crustaceous exterior constructed using natural materials, crystal nodes aligning the inside to channel domain energy. But in its core, in its core resides something new. An inky energy that throbs, almost like a heartbeat… further study needed.

‍

Report 315 – The Atlantean replicates itself. You can imagine my shock when I found two remarkably similar Atlanteans inside my lab. I believe this is part of its intended function, yet the replication is covered in the very same inky substance found in the original’s crystal core. I have isolated the replication, but analysis of the initial core seems to show the substance expanding. I believe the substance in question is Elderytch in origin, of a time before mortal memory. It’s elating to think that after years of studying Elderytch mysteries I may finally have something tangible to work with.

‍

Report 624 – The crystal core communicates to me. I understand how this sounds, but I have no other way to interpret it. I’ve spent endless nights staring into its flawed form, trying to understand how it came to be, and in doing so I have experienced what can only be described as visions. Logically, they could be dreams, but I do not feel I have slept. For the first time, I feel very much awake. The visions speak of a great entity, a split of interest, and the lie of gods. They speak of The Dread. The Dread that are coming. Yes, even perhaps The Dread that is already here. I do not know what awaits me on the other side, but now that my foot is through the door, I know I cannot turn back.

Eiko, I have not experienced a darkness like this. Anubia is overrun, and these letters speak of people willingly giving themselves to the force. I can feel it reaching for me, I can feel their pain. -C

‍

Letter to Aya – Death-be, my love. Seeing the Mother Beholden was a true wonder! Is this the power of the Dread? To take such a frail form and make it such an image? Being reborn in a state of life and Death is a wonder… and yet, she felt Deathless. I could not feel the presence of our God around her. My love, are we wise to embrace this too? I feel doubt, but I see you do not. May She Who Is Death guide us on this new path, for many roads lead to her halls, and I wish to enter them by your side.

‍

Crumpled Letter – I write this letter with a fear I may never hand it to you. I have not the heart to speak my true thoughts. How can I when you are so certain? I love you, Aya, I have always loved you, and you have led us where we need to be. You led us to the arms of Malissus, and towards Death she steers us all. But I am concerned that we now look to move away. The priestess’ preach that Malissus herself wants us to embrace this force, this new Death, but I am not so sure. Tomorrow we take the pledge. I will follow you anywhere. Yet in truth, I am afraid.

‍

Torn Letter – Something writhes in me. Something writhes inside me. My Goddess, have you forsaken me? I can not feel you, but this is what you wanted. Is it not? My Goddess, where are you? Where is Aya? I see visions of halls below the sands. Of unthinkable beasts that live under there. Courting Death but never for it. Of a presence, nesting, eggs as far as the eye can see. Tell me. Tell me this is not my fate. My lady, my Goddess, where are you?

I’m safe, Young Wolf. Auros himself is aiding the clans to defend the Cracked Mountains. No surprise there, he stands by his own. Clans are holding out, but cracks are showing. No sign of target, sending some carvings. -R

‍

Carving I – Today is the day of forging. The Dread scum break against us, seeking the Blade in the Mountain, but in the fires of the Forgemaster we stand strong. I have stood at the forefront. Today I will be honed. One of each of the viking clans will be chosen by Auros himself to ascend and become Aether. The Nokkvi are strong, and as our Aether I will rule the skies and punish the Dread beasts below. My sister, always the strategist, cautions me to patience, but like all of them, she will come to learn that in Auros’ army strength prevails.

‍

Carving II – Ulrika. My sister. Chosen to become the Nokkvi ascendant. It makes no sense. How many times have I saved her in battle? How many foes have I gutted while she turned away? I will not accept it. Has Auros himself been twisted by Dread? All around me, those I thought friends have become addled. Did they plot this? What’s more, Ulrika refuses the Blade in the Mountain, saying it is evil and we must keep it hidden away. She is wrong. My sweet sister, you never had the heart to do what is needed, and the Dread twist you even now.

‍

Carving V – The Blade in the Mountain is mine. Addled Nokkvi tried to stop me, but the Dread twist even our own. They will be remembered as they were. Not as they fell. The blade is power, and should be wielded by one who is meant for greatness. If Auros has abandoned me, I will carve my own path. I can feel the blade’s power coursing through me already. I must be ascending, but unlike Ulrika, I am willing to do what must be done. The Nokkvi are weak. Compromised. The skies are mine, and my blade will devour any who stand in my way.

Hectic here, E. Arkmonian forests aren’t themselves. Some hide in sanctuaries, others see this as natural. Found some scrolls, see for yourself. Real messed up. - Divya (Gabrielle wants you to know she’s here too, still annoying as ever.)

‍

Field Notes: Dawn – The forest stirs. For so long we thought we knew the cycle of life. But things are changing. Just the other day I passed a flowerbed, and the flowers moved to follow my path. They are awake. They sense us more than they ever had. Some among us fear this. They hide in glades sealed by the Goddess, but you cannot build walls against the forest. That is a fool’s errand.

‍

Field Notes: Day – My fellows and I have gone deeper into the wood. The Goddess’ protection does not interest us, we are witnessing wonders. Nature is ever evolving, and thus do we revere its domain. When performing the daily rites, we sit together, we listen, and we observe as one. This is where we are most in tune with the forest. On one such moment I felt – then spied – a rabbit, its little head poking out of its burrow. Then another, then another. As I watched, I realized they were one in the same, a fungal network evolved to fuse with the rabbits of the wood, a new warren, all living in unity. Nature connects us all.

‍

Field Notes: Dusk – For so long we thought we were nature’s protectors. Those who would serve the forest’s needs, to ensure growth and longevity. Never did we dream of becoming them. Becoming whole. In my new form, I feel the forest, see through its eyes. If I am cut back, I grow stronger, and so too do my convictions. The walls of mortals must fall... the sanctuary of the Goddess must break... for the forest is everything… and we are all to be one.

No good berries. Everyone asleep. Some not asleep. Some kind of asleep but also not asleep. Here is a robot thing, like Giramonte would make, talks on repeat, but still no good berries. - Lord of (good) Berries

‍

Sleep Recording: Tape #1 – My, my, what a wonderful dream! The Guild has always operated in the corner of one’s eye; while society eats itself, we flourish. Eucos is swept by malevolence, and we sleep soundly. Our cups full, our coffers overflow, our Goddess deceiving the outside world to wrap us in a protective dream. Ronel will prosper when all other civilisations fall. When I wake, I wonder what I’ll find?

‍

Sleep Recording: Tape #4 – Another one went missing. Just vanished out of thin air. Pop! A new dream for them I suppose? But their eyes. Those black eyes. Surely, that is not part of the dream? Oh but it must be. To think otherwise would be a nightmare. Sometimes things take a turn and I see a Nether, sitting on a chair, laughing into a cup of souls, feasting on the dreamers. No, no. Nothing of it. The dream! The revel! I am the master of my own destiny! And I will remain the master! So why do I feel a cold creeping in? Could even Ludia’s plan fail?

‍

Sleep Recording: Tape #8 – The waking world is a lie. I believe we were always dreaming. How could a time of such sorrow exist? Of limited possibilities, of downtrodden sorrows? No. The dream is the thing. To dream is to make reality. The Goddess’ hand guides us, but so does the Dread. Both are as real and make believe as the waking world and the dream itself. All those I touch can see it. They wake up and march with me. Suffering and limitations are gone. Isn’t it wonderful? Together we will all laugh in the face of Dread and Deception! Together we will march towards our own destiny.

Seems a new religion is forming. They shine a strange light, not the Light itself, something else. Following my nose here, but I’d wager tonight’s dinner that the Lord of Luster is the one we’re after. - Argus

‍

Diary 1: We live in the Light, we always have. Mother and Father, Gilly and I. I was always taught that the brightest Light comes from hearts, the sheer radiance of being alive and loved fills us, so we can fill others. But lately I have felt a falsity inside me, like I am forcing that Light as opposed to truly embodying it. Then it all changed. While out in the fields, I had a premonition of sorts. A visitation. A great golden image with wings that covered the sky. It spoke to me in a voice like rays through clouds. “ShEd THy FeArS. FoR He HaS RetuRneD”.

‍

Diary 2: Every day the Light of Lysander feels weaker in my breast. The cracks of our god where the Light leaks through... if god allows for such imperfection, how can we mortals seek to be even remotely whole? I had another visitation. As I rose from the fields, the Light shifted – just as it had in days prior – becoming a sleek gold Luster, shining through as a respite from the searing Light of day. And in the distance I saw him. The Lord of Luster. Perfect. Impeccable. His resplendent armor unblemished; his crystal sword ready to strike down the falsities that bind us; his palm open, calling me home.

‍

Diary 3: I feel his greatness, but he is more than one being. We are more. With brilliant Luster comes darkness, and one must experience the dark to understand the truth of the Lustrous domain. Mortal forms are incomplete as we are, and the Dread is a part of us, a part of everything. Mother and Father, they don’t understand, but I can help them. I will be the crystal sword that strikes down falsehoods, and free them from the chains of a False God. All praise the Lord of Luster, may he lead us to rest in golden halls.

“Eucos is in grave danger. From across the seas, the Dread have come, corrupting all they touch… where once we were mercenaries, working to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves, we now must become hunters. For we must find this Thaeriel, the so called Lord of Luster, and stop the Dread at its source.”

______________________________________________________

Eiko stared at those gathered in front of her. The howl had gone out, and the response was overwhelming. Hundreds stood before them, hundreds who had seen their world begin to change. 

Her old comrades had returned: the original members of the Band of the Wolf, all except Giramonte who was still lost somewhere across the seas. Stretching beyond them were faces old and new, some who had fought with them in the past, others drawn to the cause. Many eyed Glinn suspiciously, a Draka foreigner who’d lost many of his people to the corrupting force before it had made its way to these shores.  

Eiko and her party had returned to Faenar on the backs of dragons, but Faenar had changed in their absence. The dark force unleashed across the seas had made its way to the Blessed Continent, and it had already begun to spread.

“Wolves!” shouted Reios, her years of authority garnering the attention of all gathered. “A dark force emerges! A force that threatens life as we know it. It seeks control, twisting minds, with a goal to corrupt. You’ve all seen it, but I’ve felt it… for it almost took me.”

Murmurs spread through the crowd. They had all seen strange things happening to the land. Friends change, landscapes shift. If the Old Wolf wasn’t safe, how could they be? She was the best of them.

“But I was wrenched free by the Young Wolf. She saw through it, past it, when I could not. For those who will follow: Eiko, the Young Wolf, will lead our pack.”

A hushed silence. Eiko felt all eyes turn to her. Some supportive, others questioning. This was her moment, she had to seize it. She stepped up next to Reios.

“Eucos is in grave danger. From across the seas, the Dread have come, corrupting all they touch.”

“There is one who is at the heart of all of this. The very same who was responsible for our hardships outside the gates of Raneko, the one who unleashed this darkness on the world, the one who brought it to these shores…”

“... our leads suggest he walks among us. A self-proclaimed savior in these dark times. Many flock to his banner. But we believe this is Thaeriel, the disgraced god. We believe he is the key to stopping this.”

A stunned silence. They were scared. She could see it. She was too, but she pressed on.

“I am not asking you to do this from the kindness of your own hearts. I am not asking you to do this for glory. This is about survival. Where once we were mercenaries, working to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves, we now must become hunters. For we must find this Thaeriel, the so called Lord of Luster, and stop the Dread at its source.”

“So I ask you, will you join the Band once more? Will you scour all of Faenar to hunt what hides in plain sight?”

A large roar erupted from the crowd and Eiko’s heart lifted. Her pack was ready. The hunt was on.

‍