Story Journal/Secrets of the Obscure
The Story Journal entries for Guild Wars 2: Secrets of the Obscure serve as an effective story summary from the point of view of the Pact Commander, and are transcribed here.
Secrets of the Obscure: Act 1
- 1336
Prologue: Uncertain Times
Asura
Taimi, in one of her more... formal letters, asked me to travel to the Applied Development Lab to help check in on a dire situation. Given that I'm not especially busy, I'm on my way.
Ambushed. I was ambushed in the refuge on my own home laboratory.
"Taimi" — or someone pretending to be her — sent an urgent mail beckoning me to the Applied Development Lab. My personal oasis of thought and reflection. I should've suspected something was amiss when she claimed there was a "very important development" with no additional context. (Taimi — like all asura — will brag about the smallest accomplishments. The lack of significant boasting made my ears perk up.) But the urgency could not be ignored, so I ventured back to my refuge.
Shortly after my arrival, this mysterious "Taimi" was nowhere to be found. A reporter from New Kaineng named Mi-Rae — now revealed as the imposter — sprung from the shadows and ambushed me on the spot. She immediately launched an interview, but the whole thing was such a blur. She asked several very...pointed questions about the events that took place in Cantha, and — perhaps against my better judgement — I answered her as directly as I could. I got the sense she was less interested in the truth and the she was looking for something salacious. Thank goodness Taimi (the real one) just happened to send a message the moment things began to sour, allowing me to exit the encounter before thing really went awry. Mi-Rae said she got everything that she needed. We'll see how that turns out.
Charr
Rytlock - as blunt as always - wrote and asked me to meet him at the Hero's Canton to check in on an urgent situation. Given that I'm not especially busy, I'm on my way.
Ambushed. Burn me. I was ambushed in my home.
"Rytlock" - or rather, an impostor - sent an urgent mail calling me to Hero's Canton. I should've suspected subterfuge. Something felt off. But when a tribune calls, you answer.
I showed up, but this mysterious "Rytlock" was nowhere to be found. Instead, a reporter from Kaineng named Mi-Rae pounced. She launched into an interview, but the whole thing was a flaming wreck. She probed about the events in Cantha, and - against my better judgment - I answered. Got the sense she was digging for dirt. Before the situation went tail up, Taimi gave me an out by sending a perfectly timed message that I had to check. Mi-Rae took the hint, said she got everything she needed, and bailed. I don't like where this is going.
Human
Faren, writing on behalf of Queen Jennah (many questions to be answered), summoned me back to Salma. Given that I'm not especially busy, I'm on my way.
Ambushed in my hometown.
"Faren" — or someone pretending to be "Kryta's playboy" — sent an urgent mail calling me to the Salma District. I should've suspected something was amiss based on the phrasing — since when does Faren report to Jennah? (Not to mention the lack of the cologne that his letters are usually drenched in.) But the urgency could not be ignored, so I heeded the call.
Shortly after my arrival, this mysterious "Faren" was nowhere to be found. Instead, a reporter from New Kaineng named Mi-Rae — now revealed as the impostor — ambushed me on the spot. She went straight to an interview, but the whole thing was a blur. She asked very... pointed questions about the events in Cantha, and — against my better judgment — I answered. Unfortunately, I got the sense that she was less interested in the truth and that she was looking for spectacle or sensationalism. Thank goodness Taimi just happened to send a message right when things began to sour, giving me the chance to make a quick but polite exit. Mi-Rae said she got everything that she needed. We'll see how that turns out, but I'm not optimistic.
Norn
Braham—apparently fixated on overcrowding issues in Hoelbrak—asked me to come aid him in Hunter's Hearth. Given that I'm not especially busy, I'm on my way—although I'm questioning my helpfulness in managing overpopulation.
Ambushed in my home.
"Braham"—or someone masquerading as Eir's son—sent me an urgent mail calling me back to Hunter's Hearth. I should've suspected deception when he wrote something about "overcrowding." (Since when does Braham meddle in Knut Whitebear's civic affairs?) But I could not ignore the urgency, so I ventured forth.
This mysterious "Braham" was nowhere to be found. Instead, I was met by a reporter from New Kaineng named Mi-Rae was his impostor. She pounced on the spot and went straight into an interview. The whole thing was such a blur. She asked several very...pointed questions about the events in Cantha, and—against my better judgement— I shared my story. I got the sense she has some sort of agenda. Thank the Spirits Taimi sent a message right when things got bad, giving me a timely exit. Mi-Rae said she got everything that she needed. This doesn't fill me with confidence.
Sylvari
Caithe has beckoned me back to the Grove to help soothe rising tensions in my very home, Dreamer's Terrace. Given that I'm not especially busy, I'm on my way.
Ambushed. In my garden oasis.
"Caithe"—or rather, an impostor— sent an urgent mail beckoning me to Dreamer's Terrace. My sanctuary. I should've suspected ill intent when the author spoke of "rising tensions" in the Grove. (Since when does Caithe bother herself with homegrown politics?) But I could not ignore the urgency, so I ventured forth.
This mysterious "Caithe" was nowhere to be found. Instead, I was met by a reporter from New Kaineng named Mi-Rae—now revealed as the Caithe impostor— who pounced. She went straight into an interview, but the whole thing was such a blur. She asked several very...pointed questions about the events in Cantha, and—perhaps against my better judgement— I answered her as honestly as I could. Unfortunately, I got the sense she was less interested in the truth and more that she was looking for something salacious. Thank goodness Taimi just happened to send a message right when things began to sour, allowing me to take my leave to find out what she needed. Mi-Rae said she got everything that she needed. We'll see how that turns out.
Commander without a Cause
Taimi never ceases to amaze with her technological prowess, from the biggest Elder Dragon discoveries to the smallest advancements in golem engineering (especially now that she and Joon spend most of their days together, locked away in the Xunlai labs). This time she surprised me with a "comms answering system" that enables our friends to leave verbal messages if the recipient is unavailable. The times we live in...
She encouraged me to test out the device by calling some of our mutual friends.
***
It looks like the rest of Dragon's Watch got the memo; everyone seemed to have an answering message in place (except Braham), yet I was the last to be notified. I can't help feeling a bit like a rudderless ship these days. Since the Elder Dragon affair, Cantha, and then the mines... Well, everyone's recovering from a world-ending calamity by settling back into life. Everyone's taking a breather. But I haven't stopped running.
I was finally able to get ahold of Ivan, who told me about some strange events transpiring in the quiet hamlet of Garenhoff where that weird Wizard's Tower has been looming in the sky since. forever, it seems. Rama and Gorrik's Brim and Scarab Detective Agency was too busy to handle the case — which was pretty far outside their area of operation — so they offered it to me. It just so happens that I'm between crises right now, so perhaps doing something a little more hands-on would feel a bit cathartic
***
Scratch any note about catharsis. A massive floating tower doesn't up and disappear after generations without reason. The folk of Garenhoff-at least, the ones who didn't attack me for asking them questions — fear what the Wizard's Tower's disappearance means for their town. I don't blame them, but I have no answers to quiet their fears. I can feel the unease in my gut that manifests whenever we learn of another catastrophe, but while I fear for Garenhoff...I'm a little excited, too. That's not unhealthy, is it?
Following a few leads in Garenhoff, I learned that a group of "sketchy individuals" were snooping around town following the disappearance — headed northeast, apparently. It's not much of a lead, but it's all I've got. I'm off to follow their trail.
***
I was able to track the "sketchy individuals" to a camp in Cornucopian Fields. I tried a more direct approach at first but was met by a rather surly looking norn huntress. Her stern glare made one thing very clear: I wasn't welcome. The more discreet route it is. I'll wait until dark.
***
I waited until midnight at an abandoned lookout tower nearby before making my way toward the camp. Before I could get close, my attention was pulled to a group of farmers who were fleeing from some truly horrific creatures. I haven't seen anything like them before... They reminded me of chak-or the oni in Cantha. But...something about the beasts gave me pause.
After dispatching the creatures, it was easy to connect their abrupt arrival with this camp of equally mysterious hunters. I exercised caution in my approach, and after using the shadows to my advantage (as well as some well-placed bushes) I eavesdropped on them to gather information. They call themselves the "Astral Ward," and that grouchy norn's name is Arina - she must've been their leader. Then the norn blew a great horn that rallied the group to attention. This hunt was on.
I followed them as they marched out of camp, but watched in horror as a giant rift formed in the air. Fixed at the center was a massive, serpentine eye. Vile, fleshy creatures spilled out and attacked. The Astral Ward were now the prey: many were killed or forced to flee. Those who weren't met with claws and fangs were pulled straight into that rift. Then, an even larger beast emerged, hungry to finish off the hunters. I leapt into the fray and challenged the creature. But I was pulled straight into the rift myself.
Hell Breaks Loose
Collecting my bearings in that place was like fishing a clear marble out of a canteen full of water. My thoughts were cloudy. My brain ached. Breathing the air burned my lungs. I could hear Arina in the distance, rallying the other Astral Ward who were pulled into this mysterious realm.
As I navigated the unfamiliarity of that threatening space, I was assaulted by a booming voice. Before long, I stood before an enormous, vile monster. He circled me for a short while, clearly playing with his presumed food. He was curious about my arrival, noting that I had "traveled from Tyria" to get to...whatever this place is.
As the great beast danced around me, clearly unafraid, another voice prickled my ears. She called the thick-winged demon "Cerus." I am not especially fond of this Cerus.
I don't like to trust mysterious voices of unknown origin— especially after the events in Gyala Delve— but when this one urged me to run, I decided to follow that suggestion. I know when to admit defeat. Dying in that bloodied hall by Cerus's hands and...meat wings... was not an option. I ducked behind rubble and debris to escape my pursuer, but before I could ponder my impending death, somehow a comms call broke through the haze and chaos. It sounded like Taimi, but I couldn't quite tell. Then, another portal opened just ahead of me, and I dove right through it to escape that tragic hellhole.
When I emerged in Tyria, I was on the ground. Inside, I thought? Two figures stood before me, watching— Zojja, who I hadn't seen in...years, and him. A mursaat. Mabon. My blood felt cold.
Lazarus's voice boomed through my head. Another mursaat? Here, in Tyria? My instinct was to fight—or flee, maybe— but Zojja and another norn named Frode talked me down. They informed me that this Mabon is an ally, and, somehow, I feel like everything I know to be true is about to be flipped over.
Once the tunnel vision faded, I could hear the crackling of nearby fires and shouting. Wherever I landed, the fight was just outside. Mabon departed to search for the "other wizards," stirring an ever-brewing pot of questions in my mind. Zojja and Frode guided me forward. There was a fight to be had before we could catch up.
As we fought our way upstairs, we encountered even more of those creatures. Frode called them the Kryptis—a faction of demons from a place called Nayos (which seems to be another name for the demon realm). Even more rifts emerged, and Zojja handed me a peculiar device that she called the Heart of the Obscure. She told me that it had the ability to seal rifts. I picked it up without hesitation; there weren't any other options.
We pushed forward until we emerged from the fortress. Garenhoff—no, Elona... Fragments of places littered the horizon before me, lifting into the sky. Another unfamiliar voice broke my concentration. A living, breathing (not made of stone) dwarf named Lyhr—who I would soon learn was another of these wizards—shouted for aid from above. I took a skyscale and made my way up.
Rejoined by Mabon, we were able to bash the rest of the Kryptis threats. In a moment of reprieve, all attention was turned straight to me: the stranger. With a great deal of patience, Mabon attempted to guide me through their journey to date. ***
Mother of Stars
Without hesitation, my new "friends" in the Astral Ward put me to work in this strange, millennia-spanning war against the Kryptis. I'm still adjusting to the revelation of this information (just as I'm fighting the urge to call in a fleet of airships and get the whole ordeal resolved). But....I'm choosing to trust the ward. For now, at least. Got a lot of new faces to track, and Zojja seems tense in my presence. We haven't spoken since her injuries in Maguuma—I didn't know she'd left the confines of Rata Sum since returning there to heal—but I expect that'll be a heavy conversation. Plus, I suppose it might complicate things if Logan were to fly up with a bunch of Pact or Seraph.
Everyone was busy tracking down Dagda and Isgarren— the other two missing "wizards," the latter being the leader of this organization—so I met up with Frode at one of the Astral Ward's outposts to see how I could help. He informed me of one of their more hands-on divisions: the Rift Hunters. Led by a man named Rian, they've been tasked with tracking down and opening Kryptis rifts to challenge the demons hiding inside while the rest of the Astral Ward searches for their missing. Rian taught me how to use the Heart of the Obscure— the device that Zojja gave me in the battle prior that we used to close rifts at the Beacon of Ages. Apparently, it was crafted by a kodan wizard named Waiting Sorrow who has since left the Astral Ward (on somewhat precarious terms, I hear). Whenever I channel the device's power, strange waves of emotion seem to guide me forward. Though I can't describe why, I feel a strong connection to it already.
Frode also introduced me to one of his right-hand soldiers, a brassy asura named Uenno, who assisted me in my training. She sent me to one of that ward's medical tents, where I was tested for possession (spending any time in Nayos seems to arouse suspicion, and honestly, rightfully so). That...voice in my head urged me to keep my mouth shut, and given her aid in helping me escape Cerus, I did. Whoever she is, the motivations of Peitha escape me, but I am just as much a stranger to the Astral Ward as I am her. So long as I don't start clawing my eyes out or speaking in tongues, I'll keep her under my helm, as dangerous as she may turn out to be. After all, she's done nothing to harm me thus far (which further piques my curiosity as to her motives). My mind is a bit bronzed after everything I've endured over the years, and should I play the right hand, maybe I can gather more intel on Cerus and the Kryptis.
After attuning my comms device to the Astral Ward's local fluctuations (further separating me from contacting my allies at home), I aided Rian in quelling some of the Kryptis and sealing rifts before Zojja and Mabon called me back to camp; Dagda had been found, and things aren't looking good. I'm headed out to meet my new allies in the sprawling, fractured islands of the archipelago to find her.
***
These particular fractals, as they've been described to me, are a complete marvel; they've been used by Isgarren and the wizards for centuries to test the many possibilities that the future may contain in an attempt to predict future threats. When Isgarren's magic was fractured by the end of the dragon cycle, these tiny realities were ripped from the Mists and manifested here above Tyria. They're not entirely dissimilar from the fractals monitored by Dessa, from what I can tell—Dessa's naturally occurring in the Mists and these deliberately formed—but the inhabitants that live within these are flesh and bone. They're outside of the Mists. They're alive, and I can't imagine the fear they're experiencing. The Astral Ward are doing what they can to contain the local threats, but I'm not sure if anyone really knows what to do with the inhabitants. All I know is that their fear is potent to the Kryptis. They're being hunted, and keeping those inhabitants safe should be one of the ward's leading priorities.
Thankfully, though, Zojja and the others were able to pinpoint Dagda's location on one of these fractals—an abandoned observatory fixed inside one of the floating islands. Frode and Uenno guarded the entrance while Zojja and I ventured inside. A small group, so as not to overwhelm Dagda under the worst of circumstances. Before we reached the wizard, Ceri, one of Dagda's apprentices, ambushed us inside of the cave. She was...gone. The entirety of her being possessed by a Kryptis. With no hope of quelling the beast inside her, death was Ceri's mercy. Zojja took a moment to mourn before we pushed forward, clearly affected by the loss of "found family," as she called it. She has an entire life here: new friends, a mentor. I'm the stranger looking in.
***
We found Dagda, a jotun from another era of Tyrian history, inside of the observatory. Or as Zojja described her, the Wizard of the Celestial. My presence immediately put Dagda on the defensive. She snarled in far, claiming I was there to kill her as I had "so many others." Apparently my reputation as the champion of an Elder Dragon preceded me. To her, I was as unpredictable as Drakkar or Kralkatorrik's Branded. Hostile and unfeeling. That's all she saw, and I...I've never been met with that kind of hostility before.
Dagda was clearly struggling against something or someone, and my arrival exacerbated her rage. Zojja attempted to frame my involvement as benevolent, but talking things out clearly wasn't going to work as she fought back against whatever voice lingered in her own mind. Zojja cast a barrier over the arena to trap her inside, where I attempted to expel whichever threat was occupying Dagda's mind. She fought back with the power of the cosmos itself, summoning all manner of otherworldly entities throughout a drawn-out fight.
After a brutal fight against not one, but an entire hive of demons (led by someone named Vanda, Peitha teased in my ear), Dagda came to her senses. Despite being cleansed and my role in freeing her from possession, her disposition toward me was unchanged. Zojja tried to convince Dagda that I am an ally and not some unpredictable force of nature, to no avail. Not only does the ward need to earn my trust, but I need theirs.
Lyhr had mentioned that the Astral Ward had been watching me as they watched all magical anomalies. At best this was out of curiosity, but at worst it was out of fear. I suppose I'd be afraid of me, too, if I was a passive observer. I've helped kill dragons— a god. But all of this does raise the question: Why didn't they intervene? did they ever consider ending me for the greater good of Tyria?
Secrets of the Obscure: Act 2
- 1336
Voices beyond the Veil
While Dagda—who still bristles whenever I get near— focused on recovery, I helped Rian take down more Kryptis throughout the archipelago. With Dagda cleansed and almost battle ready, our next major goal is helping Lyhr track down his other half. Apparently— and I'm writing this out simply to make sure I understand the very concept— he can split his consciousness into two. A wild tactic that allows him to better protect himself from Kryptis possession. Even if one half is compromised and currently missing, at least the other is ready and able to help. Not only are they nearly immortal, but the wizards possess unique, magical abilities unlike anything I've encountered (and maybe I'm glad I haven't).
While I lingered at camp, Frode introduced me to two more members of the Astral Ward who would be aiding us in the days to come: R'tchikk, a shockingly eloquent skritt, and Gladium, a former member of the charr legions. R'tchikk possessed a deep admiration for my past accomplishments, giving me at least one proper ally in this mystical, unknown facet of the world. She and Glade were a welcome distraction, and maybe the warmest introductions I've had since arriving.
I headed back into the wizards' "fractals" to track down rifts and search for evidence of "Bad Lyhr" (aptly titled by R'tchikk to denote the dwarf's crankier half) whole the rest of the team made plans for us to push toward the Wizard's Tower— that march being our next objective. While I was navigating the islands however, a voice, which didn't belong to Peitha, rang in my head and froze me in place. It belonged to a Kryptis named Eparch, the "Midnight King," and he's on the hunt for Isgarren. The voice was so menacing that even Peitha stirred. Her words quickly overcame his and pushed him aside. She warned me of speaking his name too loudly for fear of attracting Eparch's gaze. Once again, and maybe against my better judgment, I think I'll listen to her.
***
R'tchikk beckoned me back to camp, where the entire group was steeling themselves for our march on the Wizard's Tower. "Bad Lyhr" had been located, but we had as hell of a fight ahead of us to retrieve him. " Good Lyhr" (his kinder half) and Mabon would need to forge a key to disable the tower's defense mechanisms.
Just as the group was preparing to depart, Frode turned to Dagda to inquire about a distress call that she and Zojja responded to in my absence. Another Astral Ward member had been possessed, and the result was dire— Dagda had to confine him to a prison cell to isolate the threat, but not before he'd managed to stab himself in the thigh. Peitha took the opportunity to remind me of my place in this world: a stranger in an unfamiliar place, with few friends. Should I reveal my...connection to Peitha, Dagda, with whom I'm already on dicey terms, may cut me down before I have a chance to explain. There is no rationalizing my predicament with a task force solely dedicated to fighting a demonic enemy.
At this point, I don't know what Peitha wants. But I'm fairly certain she doesn't want me dead, otherwise I wouldn't be alive to record my thoughts here.
The Missing Facet
After speaking with everyone back at camp, our next steps were clear: Mabon and Lyhr need to perform a ritual that will enable them to forge a key to enter the courtyard of the Wizards Tower. From there, Mabon will need to cast an enchantment to unlock the tower itself. Without Isgarren to calm it, however, more extreme measures are needed.
I can pursue one of two routes: help them forge that key, or gather essences from sources around the fractals. Anything, really, that enables us to collect a king's ransom of emotional, magical energies to power Isgarren's rituals. All I need to do is decide a route to take.
***
After gathering all the energies we needed, Zojja let me know that our preparations were complete. I guess I'm about to find out what all the fuss has been about.
***
As predicted, the missing facet of Lyhr's consciousness was beyond the gates of the Wizard's Tower—how he navigated those defenses while possessed and while we were trapped outside is another mystery I may never decipher. After clearing the inner courtyard of Kryptis and defending Mabon while he cast a powerful spell to bring the tower's defenses down, we were able to help Lyhr stabilize his other half. With Lyhr now rejoined and another wizard on our side, our chances for success have increased.
We are ready to make our way into this "feisty lump of bricks," as Lyhr affectionately calls the tower. While I'm intrigued at what lies on the other side of the portal, I know we'll meet even more difficult challenges the closer we get to the boundary between Tyria and beyond.
Tower of Secrets
The Wizard's Tower is unlike anywhere I've traveled to within the bounds of Tyria—it looked much smaller from below. To think this place floated just above the coast of Garenhoff all this time—silently watching us wage war against the Elder Dragons... I still wonder why they didn't intervene, but that's a question for Isgarren when all of this is said and done.
Just as "Bad Lyhr" managed to squeeze his way through the tower's defense mechanisms, so did the Kryptis. Mabon and Zojja took a small group to clear one wing, while Lyhr and Dagda led another. We regrouped outside the hall of Confluence—the heart of the Wizard's Tower—once the inner perimeter was secure. With the apex of the tower's magic functioning once again, we'll be able to travel to Amnytas and support the Astral Ward on the front line.
Mabon led the wizards in an archaic ritual to gain access to the Hall of Confluence, reciting an enchantment called the Unlit Moon. Lacking Isgarren's presence, they asked Zojja to step up and assist them in the ritual. She seemed hesitant at first, but Dagda and Mabon both encouraged her to step forward. I've never seen her out of her element or so unsure of herself; I'm used to the hypercompetent and defiantly confident golemancer of legend. This is an entirely new side. The more I witness her operate in this strange Astral Ward, the more I realize how much she's grown. She has completely new life here; a home. I'm starting to understand how much the Astral Ward means to her—and how much she means to them.
As soon as they began to unseal the chamber and breathe life back into the tower, Kryptis emerged like a swarm. We fended them off as Zojja and the wizards channeled the spell. Toward the end Zojja gasped in pain against the swell of magic, but after the Kryptis were cleared, it was done. The tower unfurled itself and let us inside the innermost chamber. Mabon turned to us in a moment of vulnerability, indicating that his ability to resist them was dwindling. I've been fighting of Peitha's voice inside my head since I got here, but I haven't been attacked in the same way as Dagda—or Mabon.
He looked to us and took on a foreboding tone, which seemed unlike the calculated mursaat I've gotten to know since aiding the Astral Ward. "When the time comes, do not hesitate." Even Lyhr remarked on the nature of his cryptic message. Before departing to Amnytas in search of Isgarren, Mabon made Frode promise that he'd watch over everyone in the meantime.
***
With Mabon headed to Amnytas and the tower secure, the Astral Ward flooded the halls and tended to restorations. I aided in various tasks, but most importantly I helped Dagda locate the bastion keys that would restabilize the tower's portal system and regain direct access to Amnytas. Even Peitha was impressed, expressing curiosity and mild surprise over Eparch's fascination with Isgarren's tower. I get the feeling there's some history between those two. Similarly, I shuddered to imagine what Aurene would think of this place, what with its grand pillars and celestial portals. Peitha asked of our bond as scion and champion, sensing the lingering emptiness in my gut evoked simply by mentioning her name. She was incredibly curious to learn of our relationship, and I might've detected a hint of jealousy in her tone.
I wonder if Aurene even knows what's up here. She must have some idea in serving as the filter for the entire magical ecosystem of the planet. Just as Soo-Won likely did before her. As the wizards supposedly connect to the ecosystem to siphon their magnitude of power. I like to think she'll meet the wizards one day, as part of her everlasting responsibility to protect Tyria. And with the threat of the Kryptis out of the way in the future, hopefully they could work together on that goal.
Once preparations were complete and the bastion keys were securely in Dagda's possession, portal transport to Amnytas was regained. Before I departed, Lyhr thanked me for all I've done to support them in their fight against the Kryptis, granting me a new title under the umbrella of the Astral Ward: Wayfinder. He says that it's bestowed upon individuals who have aided Isgarren and the Wizard's Court throughout time—an honorary title, so to say. It's been a while since I was a commander of anything, so Wayfinder feels like an apt title, at least while I'm here and helping the ward. Whatever happens to the world after this—the dragons, now the Kryptis— Tyria needs people like me to hold the torch and light the march forward.
But, back to the war at hand: I'm headed to Amnytas next. It's time to witness the bloody front lines with my own eyes. Isgarren is still missing, and after hearing Mabon's somber message, I have a feeling the worst is yet to come.
And hey, Dagda didn't toss me from a window after the title bestowal. I guess she doesn't think I'm a bloodthirsty dragon killer anymore.
Mabon's Fate
With the Wizard's Tower reoccupied and thriving once again, Zojja called on me to meet with her and Frode inside the war room before making my way into Amnytas. They introduced me to Zizel and Galrath, representatives from the Bastions of the Natural and Strength. Since his departure, Mabon has been sighted among the bastions and acting...differently. They suspect he may have been fighting off possession for some time to help us progress forward. He may be running out of time.
To help Zizel follow Mabon's trail, we needed to trace Kryptis energy spikes throughout the bastions. The best way to do this: opening and sealing rifts, and revealing clouds of consciousness that should help us track Mabon to wherever he's been hiding to spare us from his suffering.
***
Amnytas. This unbelievable place has loomed in the skies over Tyria, watching history unfold below. Each bastion represents a different magical school of thought, where the wizards share their ancient knowledge with the Astral Ward. Unfortunately, this place has been ravaged by the Kryptis. The ward is holding on by a thread, with demonic rifts opening all over the sanctuary while something...bigger stirs in the clouds above the World Spire.
Thankfully, my work opening and sealing rifts has helped Zizel track Mabon. By exposing the corrupted energies by taking down Kryptis, Zizel was able to latch on to Mabon's trail. When she told me he'd been found, I could hear in Zojja's voice that things weren't looking good. I'm headed straight to the Bastion of Strength to meet with the rest of the group—and rescue our friend.
***
I met with Frode, Dagda, Zojja, Galrath, and Zizel outside the bastion. The mood was somber and intense. Galrath led us inside, the severity of his tone evocative of what we would find.
We were ambushed by Kryptis—the whole thing was a trap. Zojja ran far ahead of us while we were distracted, desperate to reach Mabon. Dagda called out to her, but Zojja was out of sight. Unfortunately, the Kryptis kept us occupied and prevented us from pursuing her.
We fought our way through halls until we found them both. Mabon hovered in the air, dark energies pulsing through his flesh. Zojja called out to him, but as we approached, another Kryptis emerged from his body, as if it had latched on to his very spirit before manifesting itself before us. We fought and prevailed.
Zojja called out. Mabon directed his final words back: "You did not die in that place." We'd fended off the beast, but not without sacrificing our ally—their souls were tethered together, with one keeping the other alive. We did not hesitate, as our friend asked of us, as difficult as it was.
Zojja crumbled beneath the loss of another mentor. Her bonds with these people were formed long before my arrival in Amnytas. I could hear the anguish in her cries. She parted from the group. The rest of us gathered around his body. I knew him briefly, but in that short span of time he made an impact. He was clearly loved by these people.
Dagda approached Zojja in a small, quiet alcove. They sat together for a moment to grieve the loss of a friend. In that tender moment, I saw what lurked behind Zojja's emotion. Friendships ripped away too soon. Lessons cut short. Futures ended in the blink of an eye. First, Snaff. Now, Mabon.
Dagda assured her that Mabon's death would not disrupt her place in their world—in the Astral Ward. She even alluded to something...bigger. More permanent. A new beginning. They want her to join the Wizard's Court.
Even I was broadsided by Dagda's remarks. The implications... Would she see our friends again? Zojja clearly needed time to process—there was so much happening all at once. Dagda and I shared a quiet word, where she reiterated to me that Zojja's home is here. Now. Her past is behind her.
Zizel and Galrath returned to the Wizard's Tower to deliver the news to the others, while Frode and Dagda remained near Mabon's body out of respect for their friend. Before I departed, Peitha caught a whiff of something, or someone, in the air. She wouldn't tell me what she was thinking, but whatever presence lingered silenced her omnipresent guff. As we get closer to Isgarren, that tension will only rise. Even questioning Peitha's morals, I believe she is uncomfortable with the events that lie ahead.
Secrets of the Obscure: Act 3
- 1336
Into the Obscure
We've got one wizard left to find: Isgarren, a being of fable. Even I'd heard the rumors. The hamlet of Garrenhoff worshipped him, without even realizing who or what he was. But, as I now know, everything that the people of that small town imagined of him and his tower were convenient illusions. Isgarren isn't some fatherly wizard that protects their special little town. His concerns are global. And he's...complicated. I've yet to meet him for myself, but I have a lot of questions ready for when I finally do.
I regrouped with the Astral Ward, and the mood was still solemn following Mabon's death. Frode is encouraging us to push onwards, despite everyone's desperate need to mourn. I'm especially worried about Zojja. Though I only caught a glimpse into her life up here, I can tell that Mabon was a big part of it.
I didn't know him well, so the best thing I can do to honor his memory is trudge forward. But before we embark, I need to check on my friend.
***
I approached Zojja during a vulnerable moment. Years of persistent fighting and tragic loss all surfaced in a moment laid bare under the false illusion of privacy. Everything is in the open now—from Zojja's early days in Destiny's Edge through her time recovering in Rata Sum, to the present. All laid out. We've...never spoken like that. Not even before her injury at Maguuma.
She'd endured trauma and no longer had stature among the asura. She was sidelined—a scientist past her prime only mentioned in passing during history lectures. I'd occasionally thought of her all these years, and would've jumped at the opportunity to see her. I just...lost track of time. Dealt with larger problems. I simply didn't know what she needed...or wanted. None of us did. After the blighting pod, Zojja needed to isolate herself. She hid from Logan. From all of us. She wasn't ready to talk. Not until now. Healing takes time.
The Astral Ward is her home now; I know this. Neglect didn't drive her to them, but a search for a new beginning. She needed to find a new path with new people who didn't just see her for her past accolades or Destiny's Edge. People who could see her for who she is and what she offered. Mabon saw the spark in her, but his death threatened to extinguish it.
But the wizards see her potential. Mabon wasn't alone in those thoughts. And now she has a big decision to make.
Dagda offered her a place on the Wizard's Court. The group clearly wants her to stay. But...that choice comes with heavy consequences. When someone "ascends" to become a wizard, they lose memories from their past lives—not necessarily in their entirety, but you forget places, events, and people you were once close to. I can tell Zojja wants to do this, but I can also see that she might not be ready to leave her old life behind. She asked about Taimi, who, of all our companions, would have some pretty strong feelings about all this.
When we had no choice but to kill Ceri, she called her— and by extension the Astral Ward—"found family." These people helped her truly heal from her physical and mental injuries in ways that her contemporaries didn't. That her friends couldn't. The ward gave her an escape from the political trappings and dwindling cachet in Rata Sum. Zojja needed to leave the events of Maguuma behind, and the Astral Ward was the best thing she could've found.
I told her that I'd support her no matter what and that I'll trust whatever decision she makes. Whoever she becomes after this, I will still call her my friend.
I left Zojja to her thoughts. When I exited the barracks, I ran into Dagda lingering nearby. She dropped her hostile tone and instead treated me as someone concerned for a mutual friend. We both felt a little helpless in our attempts to comfort Zojja. I attempted to reassure her, emphasizing the weight of the decision she'd placed on our friend. It was the kindest interaction we'd had yet. And I hope not the last.
***
The search for Isgarren is on, and shadows continue to stir in the sky. I headed to Amnytas, where Rian introduced me to his wife, Kamilla, another Rift Hunter. She's been working alongside the ward to uncover unique enchantments to the Heart of the Obscure. After working with her to test the device by using distilled, potent emotions to lure powerful Kryptis, I continued supporting the ward in their fight to protect the bastions from the Kryptis.
After I helped push back against the Kryptis, Zizel contacted me. A strange inkling drew his attention to the Bastion of the Obscure, but he couldn't determine what called him in that direction. He asked if I would investigate. The mysterious origin of this pull perplexed him—he couldn't tell if it originated from a Kryptis or Isgarren—but that's where I'm headed next.
***
When I arrived at the Bastion of the Obscure, I found R'tchikk and Gladium waiting for me outside. Zizel had asked them to guide me through. Akin to the hunch that guided us here, Glad sensed a strange presence inside but couldn't identify what exactly awaited us.
It was...Mabon. More accurately, his essence. Even though he was dead, I couldn't write off the possibility that deeper magic was at play in this place. We made our way inside, curious and anxious to face what lured us here.
The bastion was silent. R'tchikk mourned the once-bustling pathways as we crossed into the main hall, now filled with a stifling gloom that clung to the air and filled our lungs. Glade guided us forward, picking up on some trail the rest of us could not detect. We fought scores of Kryptis while searching through debris, until we eventually found...a peculiar artifact. I picked it up and experienced a vision... Or a memory, perhaps?
I recognized Mabon's voice immediately. It was gravelly and strained as if after a drawn-out fight. A second figure hovered over him. Isgarren. His name flooded through my mind as I viewed him for the first time. He had Mabon, who was ready to concede, pinned to the ground. Isgarren taunted him and called his mursaat nature into question, asking why he didn't fight back. But Mabon didn't flinch. He was ready to die by Isgarren's hands.
R'tchikk and Glade called me back to reality before I could see the outcome, as Kryptis cut the moment short. After clearing the area, my companions asked what I saw when picking up the artifact. I recounted what I was able—that Isgarren and Mabon had once been anemies, and inferred that whenever the memory was, it was likely before Mabon's ascension. He sounded harder. Life had not been kind to him up until that point.
R'tchikk didn't seem too surprised, being someone surrounded by archaic magic daily. She departed with Glade to report what we found to Zizel. I hesitated for a moment, absorbing what I'd just witnessed. Even Peitha noted the rising tensions in the air— Isgarren's aura grows stronger as we near the war's apex. As we spoke, a curtness laced her voice. She seemed worried. In the same breath she delivered a second revelation: Cerus, that hulking beast that pursued me in Nayos, is her brother. I wanted to draw my weapon and strike her down but knew how little that would accomplish against my...inquisitive passenger. Cerus has circled me, she claimed, and has been hunting me this whole time. Waiting to pounce.
The time to find Isgarren and confront Cerus draws near. Once I regroup with my friends in Amnytas, we'll draw our next plan.
The World Spire
While processing Peitha's ill-timed revelation, I hauled myself back into Amnytas and out of the stifling eeriness of the bastion. But just as I did, Zojja called on me.
Isgarren has been sighted at the Bastion of the Celestial—the gateway to the World Spire. And we've not time to spare.
***
I'm not sure what we're going to find inside. Dagda almost succumbed to her possession. Mabon fell to his, a loss that continues to loom over the ward. The Kryptis are growing more powerful each moment, and our time to deal with their threat is running out. If we can't rescue Isgarren soon, he may suffer a fate worse than our dear Mabon. This would be catastrophic not just for the Astral Ward or Wizard's Court, but for Tyria as a whole. Without Isgarren, who knows what'll slither forth from the Mists next. And worse yet, what sort of threat would a corrupted Isgarren be?
We regrouped on one of the bastion's floating rings. Dagda and Zojja stood with Zizel, who was listening for movement. Kryptis were waiting to attack, so we marched forward to get the upper hand.
As we entered the spire, Peitha took on a defensive tone. "The veil is parting," she told me. Zojja overheard us despite our efforts to be covert. She asked if I was okay, assuming I was speaking to myself. I managed to conceal Peitha's existence for just a bit longer. With tensions as strained as they are, I can't risk being compromised for fear of being removed from the field—or worse. But I don't know how much longer I can keep up this deception.
Zojja was on the verge of launching into a lecture when she was interrupted by a Kryptis ambush. This fight likely won't cool until something has concluded. I just don't know if that something is going to be in our favor.
After fighting wave after wave of Kryptis, Peitha advised me to think of a particularly fond memory—something to hold on to in the moments ahead. I thought of my home. My friends. Aurene...but Zojja, who's attention was already focussed on me moments before, snapped. Is "one of them" in there? And before I could deflect, Peitha interjected.
Zojja's spin crawled, but before anyone else could process that revelation, someone more important hovered just ahead: Isgarren.
***
Isgarren, the Curator. A being of legend, boiled down to hostility and impatience. Whatever invaded his consciousness was vicious; neither Lyhr nor Dagda could break through the glacier of ice that covered his mind. Even Dagda—with all her stoicism— was shaken by the sight of him.
Isgarren snarled at the group before retreating further into the bastion. A brutal fight lay ahead of us. We pursued and cornered him in a small opening. His power was flickering outward, as if only a piece of his consciousness was exposed. A distilled manifestation of his bitterness, and we needed to break it down one ornery thought at a time.
Dagda attempted to calm his spirit, but words alone wouldn't free Isgarren from the demon's grip. He threw Mabon's death at my feet in defiance. "Wayfinder" dripped from his mouth like venom, just as it had from Dagda on our first encounter.
We fought. Grotesque clusters of Kryptis energy burst from Isgarren's manifestation as we battled. We attempted to quell that corruption before it could reinfect him— returning his thoughts to sludge and impatience. As the conflict raged on, Isgarren pulled farther back into the bastion. Lyhr and Dagda were mortified by what he'd become. Whatever or whoever had their claws in Isgarren's soul had burrowed deep. And the words he uttered pierced like arrows. To talk any sense into him, we needed to expose his vulnerabilities—break down every jaded thought and ideal until there was no refuge in which he could hide. He has mistakes to own up to, consequences to face, and a demon to kill.
Isgarren eventually pulled away, retreating farther onto the ring. The group pushed forward, fighting against their heartbreak. Isgarren aimed his words—at me, at Mabon. Dagda remarked that in normal times he has a cavillous nature, but this far exceeded his worst days. Lyhr maintained his composure, keeping a keen eye on the situation and pointing out that Isgarren was headed straight for the heart of Amnytas: the World Spire. The only thing fending off a full-on Kryptis invasion.
We pursued Isgarren to the next opening. His attention pivoted squarely to me, accusing me of only causing pain here—as I have all over Tyria. A lifetime of hurt starting with Zhaitan and leading to this moment. Isgarren only saw a threat. While I "reacted" and "scrambled" below, he claimed to protect this world from above. I know damn well that his inflated ego is just that. He may have protected us from the Kryptis, but I kept the Elder Dragons from ripping the entire world apart. Toxic and vulgar manifestations ripped from his essence and lashed against us—Isgarren's subconscious attempting to defend his choices. They'd festered for far too long, and Isgarren needed a proper reminding of what's at stake: Tyria. Our mutual home, that we've each sworn to protect in our own way. His, the more dated.
Battle worn and exhausted from our battle of benevolence, Isgarren fled from us once more. But we did not give him respite and cornered him soon after. With few options left for escape, Isgarren froze in place. His snarling spirit simmered, but something...strange happened (even stranger than the events that had come before). As we defeated Kryptis that appeared to feed on Isgarren, they dropped essence of unity—revealing within Isgarren was at least some flicker of truth. He heard us.
Isgarren saw that the only way forward was to do it together, with the Astral Ward. With me, even. When I threw this essence to him—to his manifestation—he was propelled forward. His icy shell began to crumble, a glimpse of the real Isgarren showing through. He crept forward, one step closer to the spire.
As quickly as that shield fell, Cerus's voice boomed forth from Isgarren and the wizard pulled away—this time, to protect us. A portal to the World Spire opened in his place.
***
We pursued him to the apex of Amnytas, atop the World Spire. Everyone held firm, ready to defend their home. Eager to keep Tyria safe. The group broke off to fight Kryptis, while Dagda instructed Zojja and I to keep Isgarren busy, while she and Lyhr attempted to expel Cerus from his mind.
Glimpses of the real Isgarren broke through as we fought, but those moments of morality were stifled when Cerus pulled his yoke. A surge of energy overcame the group, knocking most of our allies unconscious—only Dagda, Lyhr and myself stood.
We slowly approached him, but before we could make the final blow, Cerus shifted his plan of attack and tore open a rift just before us. Isgarren and I were pulled straight inside.
Treachery
I awoke in that decaying place again. My head pounded as I gathered my bearings. Isgarren was crumpled on the ground nearby, nearing death but still hanging on by a thread. Peitha's voice rang in my ears, but my attention turned to the demon before us: Cerus.
Cerus circled, mocking us as he closed in the same way the lumbering beast had tried to kill me before. He celebrated his impending victory: he'd returned to Nayos with Eparch's prized bounty, Isgarren, and a prize for himself. The champion of an Elder Dragon. The scourge of Tyria. Blood-tinged saliva dripped from his jaws in anticipation. This fight was done.
As Cerus gloated, Isgarren called me to his side. With his last remaining strength, he cast an enchantment on me before Cerus took notice. By expending the energy rendered Isgarren unconscious. With Isgarren incapacitated, the demon's attention snapped to me. This time, he wasn't going to let me crawl out of here alive.
We fought viciously, but it felt like an unwinnable battle. I was knocked to the ground, death threatening me once again. Before Cerus could land the final strike, a sardonic chuckle broke through his concentration. I know who she was before she stepped from the shadows.
My blood turned cold. Was this what Peitha wanted, to serve me on a platter to her brother? The siblings mocked me as they danced, Peitha maneuvering between her brother and me. For a sliver of a moment, I was all but sure she was preparing to steal her brother's kill. Regret flooded my thoughts—I should've told Zojja. I should've told any of them. But it was too late.
But Peitha did not raise a hand against me. Once she was positioned between us, she instead dragged the tyranny of Cerus and Eparch into the light. She'd had enough of their treachery. Of their disregard for their own kind.
Peitha snarled at me to get to my feet. Even with a Kryptis lord in my corner, the fight ahead would prove a brutal one. While we fended off Cerus's blows, they traded verbal jabs. Peitha had abandoned their king, and I'd walked straight into the meat grinder of sibling rivalry. From what I could parse, Eparch has done as much harm to Nayos as Cerus and he have done to Tyria.
The battle persisted and eventually we weakened Cerus enough that Paitha called on me to land the final blow. "He did not deserve to dream," she growled, and I purged the life from her brother's body.
Isgarren stirred awake but didn't recoil at the sight of our new "friend."! I suppose little can faze someone whose lived for millennia and wrestled with demons for as long as he has.
***
With Cerus dead, Peitha insisted that we could take our leave. Eparch was surely watching and could ambush us at any moment. I followed without hesitation.
When we emerged from the portal, we were back in the opulent embrace of the Wizard's Tower. Zojja's voice broke through the crowd first. She rushed to my side, inspecting me for injuries. Similarly, the Astral Ward flocked to Isgarren—eager to have their leader back—but Dagda's gaze immediately fixated on Peitha. For once, something else stirred a bigger reaction from her than me.
Peitha, however, was unfazed. If anything, she appreciated the jotun's reflective nature. Before the two came to blows, Isgarren stomped on any impending escalations. He was home now, and drama like that would not be tolerated. Sharing Dagda's curiosity, Isgarren turned to Peitha. He had questions that demanded answers.
While Peitha and Isgarren headed somewhere more private to talk business, Zojja pulled me aside. She finally made her choice. THE choice.
She told me how she struggled against those thoughts: wouldn't she be leaving her friends—the remains of Destiny's Edge, the colleges, and Dragon's Watch—behind if she chose to ascend? Would she be leaving me after reuniting after so many years apart? I did the only thing I could: I supported her. Whatever she chooses, this is her family now. These are her people. And, regardless, I have my own path to travel. Whatever version of Zojja I meet on the other side, I'll support her just the same.
She held back tears as Dagda approached—Isgarren and Peitha called for me. Zojja nodded, encouraging me to go ahead. She was going to be fine.
I rejoined the group. Peitha and Isgarren were already at odds. Peitha told us that the situation in Nayos had devolved and was now beyond anything we could imagine. While war raged against the Kryptis in Amnytas, another conflict had been stirring in the burrows of Nayos for millennia. The Kryptis may be a bit prickly compared to Tyrian standards of etiquette, but Eparch is an entirely different beast. He'd reduced their people to cattle, feasting on their bodies and souls to his benefit. Even with Cerus out of the picture, we'd barely snatched victory from his jaws.
Peitha was Kryptis royalty. And she needed our aid in the fight against her corrupt leader. Isgarren was entirely strategic—almost clinical—about her request. He posited that allowing Eparch to bring his world to ruin may spare ours, but Peitha shook off those remarks. She insisted that Eparch would simply come here when he had his fill, invigorated and ready to conquer. And he is quite fond of our world. Isgarren analyzed the situation before eventually asking for my input.
Peitha had been a fixture in my mind this entire journey, and while I questioned her allegiance until the moment she rose up against Cerus, she has not harmed me once. She protected me from Eparch's whispers—she guided me in battle. She may be a Kryptis, and we may not know all of her motivations, but we haven't seen all that Eparch is capable of. And we do not want him here.
I offered to go with Peitha to her home world. Isgarren, at first hesitant, eventually agreed. The ward needs to recover before he can lend any meaningful aid, but as soon as Peitha is ready I will join her in Nayos.
After our impromptu war council concluded, I stepped aside to speak with my cross-dimensional ally. At first it will just be Peitha and I embarking on her mission—she feared bringing too many of Isgarren's forces in too quickly would threaten the greater Kryptis society, so I will act as her champion while we rally support from the inside.
Before I was pulled into that rift in Gendarran Fields, I questioned what came next. With the Elder Dragons dead and Aurene settling into her new role, I...didn't know. I didn't know what I wanted or what the world wanted from me. I suppose Zojja and I shared similar struggles. But now I feel like the world has been cracked wide open. With the discovery of the Astral Ward, I realized that there's a whole side of Tyria that I didn't know about. That nobody knows about. And with the arrival of the Kryptis, we may be seeing new threats from the Mists emerge in their place more frequently.
Tyria needs to act. We've a reprieve from the onslaught of the Elder Dragons—and there have been no signs of any rogue gods. We need to rebuild and heal. With the Kryptis being pushed back into Nayos, we've got time to figure things out. For now, at least. I just hope that Isgarren chooses to inform the rest of the world of this darker threat before the hour is too late.
Peitha suggested I do the rounds and meet with my allies—enjoy a moment just to breathe. Because as soon as she's ready, we're headed to Nayos.
