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Lore Short Story: Evil and Sorrow


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Lorien couldn’t stop shaking.

As the assault began, he’d found a solitary place below deck to shut out the noise; just as he had done all those years ago.

He never wanted to be a hero.

When the Dream called upon Lorien, blessing him with visions of some destined duel with the darkness, he’d fled from his fate in terror. Now, after a decade of relative silence and peace, the sinking feeling of one’s purpose going unfulfilled crept over him once again, tightening its tendrils around his spirit like a noose.

From the darkest chasms of Lorien’s psyche manifested an abyssal visage, searing itself into his mind’s eye.


Fear swallowed Lorien as the sinister shade only he could see closed in, poised to subsume his very soul. He couldn’t look away…

Two gentle hands on his shoulders briefly severed the trance.

“Hold on, friend.”

A Quaggan priestess.

She was staring deep into his eyes. “Yes, I see. The jungle’s shadow surrounds you.”

Her hands slipped away, and his focus split between the shadowy figure drawing ever closer and the priestess, reaching for the gemstone around her neck. Lorien remembered it from before. Ocean blue, it shimmered even in the faintest light.


His wide eyes started weeping.

“Don’t stop fighting, Sylvari. Mellaggan’s grace will guide you home.”

She took his hands, and in them placed the jewel. As she did, a subtle song, old as time, swelled in Lorien’s heart, washing away his dread.

The shadow grimaced.

“I’m…sorry…Thank you,” he whispered between sobs.

But the priestess had already left his side to prepare for the battle to come.

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