> "In lands where hope has drowned, sorrow becomes the water. And its currents can carry whispers of terrible purpose."
> — Fragments from a Waterlogged Scroll, Drowned East
>
Ash lay on the crumbling stone of the bell tower, gasping for breath. The humid air of the Drowned East was thick with mist and the faint, unsettling wailing of the Ashen Choir. Below them, the half-drowned village lay silent, its watery streets reflecting the perpetual overcast sky. In the distance, Captain Valerius's disciplined forces were slowly, methodically pushing into the mist-shrouded coast, their pursuit relentless. They were trapped, caught between two converging storms.
"We need to move," Lyra whispered, her voice tight. She scanned the mist-shrouded horizon. "Valerius will be here soon. And this place... it feels like it's watching."
Kael sat quietly, his face grim. The pervasive sorrow of the Drowned East weighed heavily on him, pulling at the still-fresh wound left by the Shard of Grief. His Path of Frost fought valiantly, maintaining his outward detachment, but Ash could sense the knight's profound struggle against the overwhelming melancholy.
"This entire region is steeped in the Queen of Sorrow's influence," Selene murmured, her twilight eyes sweeping the desolate landscape. Her Path of the Hollow was unusually active, sensing the deep spiritual malaise that permeated the very land. "She doesn't rule with armies alone; she rules with despair. Every lost soul, every submerged ruin, fuels her power of Sovereignty."
Master Elara, hunched against the damp cold, consulted his memory. "The Queen is said to gather not just artifacts, but also the raw essence of profound loss. Her power grows with the despair she commands. To understand her, we need a deeper source of information than just these surface echoes." He pointed vaguely towards the deeper, mistier waters. "Legends speak of the Library Without Walls, a sentient archive of forbidden memories, said to be located in the heart of the Drowned East. It is said to record every loss, every tear shed since the Sundering. It would know her true purpose."
Ash felt the Core of Binding pulse in his hand, echoing the cold, determined Will of Captain Valerius, who was using his fragment to probe the pervasive sorrow of the Drowned East, trying to cut through it to find Ash. But Ash also felt a subtle, almost magnetic pull from the distant reaches of the Drowned East itself—a deep, resonant sadness that might lead them to this fabled Library.
"The Library Without Walls," Ash decided, his voice firm despite his exhaustion. "That's where we'll find answers about the Queen, and perhaps how to counter her power."
They began their perilous trek through the Drowned East. The terrain grew even more treacherous. They waded through knee-deep water that was strangely still despite the lapping waves, their feet sinking into soft, sucking mud. Crumbling causeways, overgrown with dark, fibrous algae, stretched across vast, mist-shrouded pools. The air was perpetually damp, and the distant wailing of the Ashen Choir was their constant, mournful backdrop.
As they moved, Ash felt the land itself try to influence them. Illusions flickered at the edge of his vision—ghosts of ancient ships sinking, faces of drowned sailors, faint echoes of desperate cries. These were the Grief-Traps Elara had warned about, localized manifestations of profound sorrow, trying to induce apathy or despair. Ash used the Harmony of his Path of Flame to push them back, maintaining his emotional balance.
Kael, however, remained mostly untouched. His Path of Frost's deepening emotional detachment, a grim shield against the overwhelming grief, allowed him to move with a stark, unfeeling efficiency. He observed the phantom sorrows with cold, scientific curiosity, unaffected by their emotional weight. His physical endurance was phenomenal, but his silence was unnerving.
They navigated through the haunting landscape, constantly aware of Valerius's distant, probing Will. The mist began to thicken as they ventured deeper. Suddenly, Ash felt a strong, precise pull from his Core of Binding—not towards the Library, but towards a specific, nearby ruin. And from that ruin, the mournful wailing of the Ashen Choir surged, closer than ever, distinct and organized, no longer a distant lament but a direct, chilling performance.
Through the swirling mist, a colossal, half-submerged structure emerged from the water. It was a massive, ancient archway, draped in black banners woven from what looked like dried kelp. And beneath it, a large gathering of cloaked figures, the Ashen Choir themselves, stood in a perfectly still circle. They swayed slowly, their masked faces turned towards the archway, singing their eerie, mournful lament. At the center of their circle, a powerful, dark energy pulsed, as if they were channeling the pervasive grief of the Drowned East for a specific, terrifying purpose. They were performing a ritual, and they were preparing for something immense.