Dear adventurers of mind and spirit,

Contained within these pages is a special tale, one of a realm adjacent to
ours that exists just across the Ethereal Plane. These are the sights I saw
with my very own eyes. I hope that sharing it may bring greater reckoning
of the darkness that preys upon Serin, that we may better understand the
chaos that encroaches upon us.

May the waters guide you and keep you safe.

Serra, Lore Keeper of the Physical

It was a surprising day when I received the news. My old mentor, Markus,
finally contacted me for the first time in eleven years! He wrote briefly
of the things he had learned, and then ended the missive with a curious
statement - I need your help, Serra. Come with me to Acadia.

I could hardly say no to such a request. After all, my life's duty is
devoted to helping others, as well as exploring and learning about the
unknown - this was an opportunity too good to pass up. Without much
hesitation, I wrapped up what few earthly belongings I might need on such a
long trip, stowed the rest of my acquisitions beneath a large rock, and
headed to Emerald Forest to meet him.

It is said that the Emerald Forest is a gateway between worlds. As I have
researched previously, it enables one to traverse both our and the Ethereal
planes with a curious ease. It so happens that this forest also enables one
to pass through to Acadia, given a few caveats: one must pass through one of
the rare Wisp Portals that open up at random, and one must be guided by a
Pixie who is taught in the ways of magical transport. As Markus told me
later, he had been appointed one such guide by the Queen of the Fey to lead
me to their land. And so it was that I watched our small, brilliant guide
conjure a window to Acadia through which he flitted, Markus stepped, and I
squeezed into the most wondrous land I have ever seen.

Acadia! A landscape of dizzying colors and scents and sounds, with exotic
flora of various shapes and sizes including mushrooms larger than the
Seringale bell tower, and earth a rich and surprising purple color that
sparkles and winks when you let it slip through your fingers. The very air
there hums and giggles with pure energy, for this land is so enriched with
magic that every creature is positively infused with it. The portal from
whence we stepped dropped us at the base of an enormous vine which twisted
up an even larger tree whose crown was adorned with glinting webs of some
kind, and clouds of flitting creatures.

As we climbed up and up the vine, the webs and creatures became clearer. It
was no spider's nest, nor was it a cloud of midges - indeed, the gossamer
threads held aloft an entire village of pixies who were congregating in the
air outside, listening to one of their elders telling a story through song.
The music that flowed forth from his lips and the harp that he strummed with
his fingers somehow interacted with the air in such a way that images formed
in the clouds behind him.

Though I understood not a word, it seemed he was telling the tale of a great
darkness that had broken through to their world, which was very troubling.
This rupture had been caused at the edge of the forest in which we stood,
but already tendrils of darkness and dark creatures were beginning to creep
in. As Markus explained to me, when he was first called to Acadia it had
been but a mysterious smudge in the sky, but it had darkened over the years
and finally, a celestial before, had torn open.

Despite their best efforts, the native mages could only attempt to keep the
rupture from tearing open quickly, while their warriors were exhausted by
the constant onslaught of invading creatures. Markus discovered that he
could soothe the rupture to some extent, with a combination of calming and
cleansing spells, but this was only a temporary balm. The Queen had begged
him to seek aid, and so he had returned to Serin, calling for assistance
from his former brethren from the Order of Light, several other healers of
his circle, and myself, as the only student of his who had persisted in the
guild. However, due to the growing pressures of darkness and the rise of
Legion within Serin, none of the others had heeded his call, finding it more
critical to defend their own home front rather than assist a foreign land
they had never even seen.

It was up to us, then, to try to do something about it.

My first visit to Acadia, however, was a brief whirlwind of events.
Within half a celestial, Markus swept me along to visit a number of villages
populated by spriggans, brownies, satyrs, fuzzars, sprites, and other fey
creatures I had seen flickering in and around enchanted forests in Serin.
Our primary task, set by the Queen of the pixies herself, was to recruit an
army to defend Acadia at the site of the rupture, for the pixies were
becoming overwhelmed at the battlefield.

Markus had obtained a scroll from the Queen of the pixies, which he showed
to the guards of each village to allow us to meet the elders. Many of the
Acadians were outright hostile at the sight of us foreigners, and there was
more than one incident that made me feel quite uncomfortable as they felt
such unmagical beings were beneath them. Still, the Queen's scroll carried
its own gravity, so they begrudgingly listened to us, though generally they
were quite cold and condescending in their response. Some of the more
social tribes, such as the brownies and satyrs, held public hearings for
Markus to speak. Thus, while the leaders themselves did not order their
subjects to join us, a good number of individuals from these clans later
offered their aid, which we gratefully accepted. We left maps with them
pinpointing the location of the rupture so that they could perhaps gather
their own allies and meet us there.

The only creatures we were initially unable to approach at all were the
fuzzars, who blinked into thin air as we approached and petulantly refused
to appear. In the extra-magical atmosphere of Acadia, I found even my
ability to detect invisible bodies could not discern them when they chose to
hide from view. Feeling somewhat silly, Markus stood in what looked like an
empty clearing and read the Queen's scroll aloud, then waited. Several rude
noises and high pitched giggles punctuated the silence after his speech, and
his shoulders slumped. Just before we turned to leave, a small group of
bunnies materialized from thin air and one of them piped up in lilting,
accented Common tongue without moving its lips: "We will join too." So they
also received a map and our gratitude.

Having traversed these many regions of Acadia and gathered all the help we
could muster, Markus then sent me home.

"You have much to do, young Serra, and it is up to the Acadians to defend
their own home. You should return to yours now, and resume your duties in
the Consortium."

"Are you sure, sir? I'm glad to help here, if I am needed."

"Yes, yes. I can handle it." He waved me off with a flap of his hand.
Despite his carefree demeanor, I knew he was worried for me, for my training
was still far from complete and he had seen me losing concentration too many
times in his presence. Perhaps he was protecting me from the dangers, or he
felt I was not ready to partake in the battle. I nodded, but privately my
determination was renewed.

"I've been working hard on my studies, sir. I just need a bit more time.
When next you call, I promise I'll be ready."

He took my hand in his, gripping it firmly in farewell. "I will be counting
on that. Be well, my student."

"Stay safe, sir!"

With that, I called upon Kedaleam to send me home, and returned to my temple
in Seringale.

My second journey to Acadia occurred half a dozen celestials later. This
time, the scroll I received was hastily written upon a blood-stained
parchment, the sight of which filled me with foreboding. I quickly gathered
my things and, after sending a few quick notes to my friends in Serin,
headed again to meet Markus at the portal to Acadia. I soon found I was not
the only one he had called upon: a small crowd of humans and elves in
shining armor emblazoned with a golden sun clustered near a copse of
impossibly tall trees. As I approached, I realized that the trees were in
fact a group of treants. They rustled, deep in conversation in their own
language, generally ignoring the rest of us.

Markus' beard and hair were both unkempt, and his robes were patched and
scorched in places. Still, his large hand shook mine in its warm, strong,
familiar greeting and he smiled his same old roguish smile.

"Serra! You came."

"Of course, sir - I could not refuse to lend my aid." I adjusted my pack on
my shoulder as I looked toward the portal. "How have you been? How is the
battle faring?"

His smile faded quickly as his brow furrowed. "It's been a challenge. Our
numbers were strong at first, and more Acadians have joined the cause, but
the demons seem to be endless. It is wearing them down terribly. I am
hoping with you here, and some of my old brethren from the Order of Light,
we will be able to turn the tide."

"I will do all I can, as Lord Kedaleam wills it."

Markus grinned broadly. "You finally chose a God, did you? You didn't mention
that tidbit last time we met."

"Aye, sir. My Lord has been nothing but kind to me. I feel I have been
fortunate in my faith."

"I am glad to hear it! My own Lady Vevier enjoys a prank or two." He
chuckled to himself and called to the others gathered there. "Come,
everyone, let us make our way through the portal before it closes."

This time as we stepped into the world of Acadia, it was clear the realm was
under strain. While the brilliant colors of the land still regaled our
gaze, the usual music and birdsong were silent, and even the winds seemed
still. In the distance, we could see the edges of the rupture peeking over
the tops of the giant trees and mushrooms. The treants shuddered
collectively as they stepped forth from the portal and their roots touched
the purple earth. One of them remarked slowly, "There is great sorrow
here."

We ventured down the path solemnly, bracing ourselves for the coming fight.
Before long we encountered a pair of brownie scouts, who had been sent from
the main battle to watch for our arrival. They spoke quietly with Markus,
who evidently had picked up some of the Acadian languages during his long
stay. I could not hear them, but the expressions on their faces were very
grave, and I could see Markus was trying to bolster their morale with his
words. When they were finished, he turned to me and said simply, "We must
make haste."

We turned off the main road soon and pushed east through a dense forest
which the treants cajoled into parting for us. As the branches yielded,
more and more of the sky became visible. At last, we broke into a clearing,
and could finally see the rupture in its entirety. The sight of it raised
the hairs on my neck.

Before us, the rupture gaped like an obscene mouth. The edges of it
lingered like a dark, spidery fog in the golden sky; its center was deep
black with fingers of violet magic arcing across it like lightning. Every
so often a sharp crack and burst of light would occur, and from within the
rupture hordes of evil creatures would emerge: large muscular warriors and
dark-knights with glowing eyes and twisted faces daubed in white war-paint,
slender mages shrouded in darkness slinging great arrows of fire, and small
winged demons I recognized from my Serin travels to be quasits. Until our
arrival, the defenders of Acadia had kept them at bay. It seemed as though
the last wave had just been defeated, for only a sorry-looking band of
defenders remained beneath the rupture, binding their wounds and recovering
the bodies of the dead.

The members of the Order of the Light, well-versed in warfare, immediately
formed a battle phalanx and moved forward in unison, meeting with the ragged
defenders at the front lines. The treants and I followed Markus, who took
us to a camp at the south-east corner of the clearing where reinforcements
were preparing themselves for the next battle. I pitched my own tent on the
edge of the camp for some of them to rest in, then joined Markus and an
assortment of reinforcements at the fire pit.

"We will be sending shifts to the front," he was saying as I approached.
"We need to make sure clerics are there with each shift, to heal the wounded
- we cannot afford more casualties." Several of the treants, whom I guessed
to be druids, nodded with me. "The Order of Light are fresh and
battle-hardened, so I have asked them to lead the current charge. Some of
you druids will come with me for the next one, and Serra, you and the
remaining treants will shore up the third. There will be bards with you, so
you will not bear all the healing on your shoulders."

I nodded firmly. "I am ready, sir."

"Good. Then rest while you can. We will begin soon enough."

Just as he spoke, the rupture flashed fiercely, and warcries echoed across the
field. The battle for Acadia was on.

Time passes strangely in Acadia compared to Serin, and even moreso when
one is preoccupied with fighting. By now, it seemed as though we had been
there fighting there for many celestials, and countless bodies had been
sacrificed which must have appeased the Gods in Acadia and Serin twice over;
yet our enemies still poured forth from the rupture, fresh and eager for
blood.

I must admit, my many travels across the lands of Serin were invaluable to
the time I spent during my Acadian sojourn. The green, wavering novice I
once was had been replaced by an older, wiser, more determined version of
myself who was used to long hours of healing without respite, and taking
blows when those around me needed to rest. Markus remarked upon the changes
with a twinkling in his eye as I relieved his shift for the umpteenth time
at the front lines.

"You have grown from a sapling into a tree," he laughed, as he loosened the
buckles of his helmet gratefully. I snorted as I encased myself in a
protective shield, quietly thanking Lord Kedaleam that he still granted his
blessings to me in such a distant place.

"I know I've grown in girth since I was a girl, but you don't need to rub it
in, Markus!" But he had already disappeared, flying back to the safety of
the defensive camp behind us. A few of the Acadian fighters nearby turned
towards the sound of my voice and offered puzzled smiles without
comprehension.

The field before us was now littered with bodies from both sides - invaders,
defenders, and trampled vegetation. Nearby me stood a few of the treants
who had been recruited from Serin. With myself, they formed the
reinforcements and stood tensed, weapons at the ready. One of them, an
elder dryad, was conjuring rainclouds to heal the others while they rooted
themselves during the brief respite. Her rumbling, deep chants reverberated
through the nearby earth as well, causing small plants to sprout within her
consecrated circle.

I began my patrol by casting cleanse room, followed by an aura of calm. For
some reason, this combination of spells appeared to not only influence the
living creatures in the area, but also the material fabric of Acadia -
perhaps due to the enhanced concentration of magic in this curious realm.
The sky brightened and the edges of the fog began to shrink back, while the
scorched, broken earth sprouted new tendrils of greenery in response. Next
to me, pixie, brownie, and spriggan rangers busied themselves restringing
their bows and replenishing their quivers using makeshift arrows carved from
the weapons of the fallen. Beside them, pixie and fuzzar illusionists
floated in cute little sleeping bags as they rested their weary minds.

I then tended to the wounds of my companions with the more efficient method
of continual curing I had recently learned from Korvoduin, supplementing the
restorative duets of pixie and satyr bards. I was surprised to discover
that while the lyrics they sang were in their unfamiliar tongue, the
melodies were identical to the ones I had heard in Serin, such that I could
even hum along. The nearest bard beamed at me and cheerfully raised his
voice.

We were interrupted in our preparations by another, stronger, wave
descending upon us. I can only describe what happened as the world
*shuddering*: a great, soul-shaking roar was heard, and the trees and giant
mushrooms nearest to the rupture bent away from the sound as if in fear. A
huge, obsidian, skeletal dragon wrenched itself through the rupture, ripping
it wider while spewing a stream of glowing green acid across the field
toward us. Where the acid landed it bubbled horribly before carving a deep
chasm into the earth - the vegetation there blackened and shriveled
instantly. In the dragon's wake, pouring forth from the torn open rupture,
a new legion of invaders leapt upon the battlefield.

The Acadians emitted horrified gasps and cries as they rushed to meet
them. The rangers ran to create two flanks while unleashing their arrows,
the illusionists quickened them with haste and prepared their own illusory
fighters, and the bards sang their battle hymns, then began calling upon the
four seasons and arachnids to lend aid. The treant warriors broke free of
the soil just in time to avoid the corrosive streams and lumbered towards
their enemies. Above the shriller cries of the smaller races I heard their
fervent warcries to Lords Phostan, Olyn, and Lorne. I prayed their gods
heard and protected them as well as my own. The druid brandished her staff,
calling upon the primal fury of earth to entangle the invaders with a mass
of roots and tendrils. Several of our enemies were entrapped by the vines,
slowing them sufficiently that they lost formation.

Still, the quickest of them were soon upon us. Shards of metal, flaming
arrows, hellstreams and meteors rained from the sky while the dark-knights'
malevolent auras filled us with dread. The bards shifted into defensive
mode, their soothing melodies only audible between the explosive
bombardments. I called upon Sedgwick for his favor, then focused my healing
upon them as they sang for our troops. Between frantic heals and quick naps
to recover my energies, I managed to take a glance at the battlefield.

The dragon's attention was focused on the druid now, who was slicing ribbons
from its wings with the freezing winds of winter's wrath. This had grounded
the terrible beast, and it was now beset on all sides by a swarm of pixie
thieves who were stabbing furiously with their daggers and dodging its
anguished swipes with ease. A lash of its tail sent several of them flying,
but they quickly righted themselves mid-air and launched themselves back
toward their foe. An unlucky one was met with a flame arrow and fell
smoking to the ground, motionless. The invoker that had cast it licked his
lips with satisfaction and approached with a dagger of his own to slit the
pixie's throat, but was blinded by a colour spray, forcing him to flee.

Several bards were by now exhausted and trying to rest behind rocks or
stumps, wherever they could find temporary shelter. Many of the rangers had
been forced to take up sword and shield, for the dark-knights had quickly
charged into close combat and were alternating between fireballs and
spreading plague and blindness, which I attempted to cure as quickly as I
could. Despite my best efforts, I could see the sickness spreading among
our ranks and was greatly relieved when Markus and several human and elven
healers appeared beside me, using their holy beacons to hasten their return
to the front. A cadre of elven paladins rode in on steeds, a few moments
behind them.

Taking advantage of the reinforcements, I dove into my tent to rest. It was
not long before I was roused by a terrible bloodcurdling scream and
awkwardly scrambled back out, rubbing my eyes. When I opened them finally
my heart leapt into my throat, as I could barely believe what lay before me.

Utter carnage! I was surrounded by corpses. The brave bards along with
many rangers and thieves lay mangled and dismembered among the bodies of the
invaders, though I guessed most of the illusionists had gated themselves and
the comrades they could manage to transport to safety. The dragon also lay
slain, viscous black blood leaking from thousands of dagger-cuts in its
thick hide, a thief crushed in the death-throes of its terrible jaws.

The great treants had at the end formed a protective circle with the druid at
their core. Using the ritual of trees and the energies of her brethren, she
had conjured an entire forest which had ensnared the rampaging dark-knights
and invokers with roots, vines, and thorns. Their limp bodies hung
lifelessly in the brambles, which had grown denser still with their blood.
Still, this had not gone without sacrifice; every treant had been fully
exhausted by the effort and they were now rooted, dormant, and vulnerable,
unable to be woken.

But who or what had issued the scream? The rupture was wider, to be sure,
but I could only see the bodies of the fallen. I scoured the terrible
landscape before my eye alighted upon the source. It was an elf - one of
the paladins - standing over Markus, who lay gravely injured near the bards.
But there was something wrong with the elf. His eyes, once a tranquil grey,
were now glowing crimson, similar to the eyes of the dark-knights we had
fought. Behind him a hulking dark form stood, with webbed wings arched up,
blocking the sun, and bloodied claws resting on his shoulders. Shrouded in
shadow, I could not make out the demon's face. But the elf's pale visage
was twisted in a terrible leer, and he gripped his sword in both hands,
raising it high.

"NO!"

I rushed towards them, closing my eyes and praying against all hope for
Lord Kedaleam to take Markus home, wherever his home was, where he would be
safe. For a brief, horrible moment, I thought I was too late. But the
sound of the blow struck stone, not flesh, and when I opened my eyes, only a
patch of bloodied grass remained where he had lain.

Then the demon and the demon-elf turned as one, and came for me. The demon
uttered something in its sibilant, guttural tongue, and every muscle in my
body suddenly froze. My mind panicked, fluttered, beat within my skull like
a frightened bird searching for freedom against the iron bars of a cage.
Then an unbearable, burning pain engulfed my body, as if every cell of it
was warring with itself, and I heard the bloodcurdling scream again - only
it was coming, I realized detachedly, from my own lips...

I remembered nothing after that.

I was nothing, for a long time, until I woke again in my guild in Seringale,
feeling as though it had all been but a terrible dream...