Out of the pod then down the muddy hill and into a foggy swamp. That was all the newborn Sylvari was able to recall. Laying in a puddle of mud, he stared up at the grey sky, trying to piece together the very sudden and abrupt way he had just entered this world. As he lay, his green, leafy body, was slick with the foul smelling dirt. He steadily began to regain his bearings. He looked up the steep hill, but he couldn't see past where his pod had caught on a tree because of the thick fog that encompassed the area. He noticed the green, leafy pod was still oozing fluid through the hole in which he had been birthed from. After taking a few moments to breathe his first breaths, he sat up and peered down at his toes, wiggling them, and cracking a small smile amidst the gloom this swamp seemed to lay upon everything. He brushed the leaves, his own hair, off of his face and letting it fall the to side of his head and began looking around for any sign of life. Perhaps someone could tell him who he was, or where he was. The sadness of the swamp he tumbled into had already began to make him nervous. This didn't seem right, he knew in his heart that something was wrong.

The newborn Sylvari sat quietly. He was listening for anything, though now he feared what he might hear. He heard only his own breathing, and his own heart. After a few moments, the stillness of the dark swamp got to him, and he resolved he must find someone to speak to. He put his right leg under himself and began to very shakily stand. He had gotten about halfway when his leg buckled from underneath him, and he fell into the mud once more, getting a new layer of it. After a moment to regain his strength, he attempted to stand once more, giving his legs as much strength as he could muster. Eventually, he came to a very shaky stand. His arms were out in order to give him balance, and came closer to his body once he became used to standing. His legs were wobbling, but they were able to hold his body, to which the Sylvari expressed a quick laugh of satisfaction. He then used a nearby dead tree to lean on, propping himself on the black and lifeless bark.

His victory was short lived, for he remembered he was still in the swamp. His new height gave him a new perspective. Though he could only see a few feet through the dense fog, he made out the outlines of more dead trees, and other foul looking vegetation. The Sylvari looked at his own hand upon the tree. He felt so out of place here, a living being amongst a graveyard of color and spirit. Even he had lost track of his own color, as the thick layer of mud had covered almost every inch of his body. He looked away from his hand and gazed into the fog, and froze. He saw something shift through the density of the dead trees. He blinked, not wanting to irrationally become encased in fear. However, he did manage to stumble behind the tree, peering out the side of it, scanning the fog for any movement. Now he saw a figure moving, one about his size. It was lumbering, slowly and lazily. The more the Sylvari stared, the more figures he could make out in the fog. Each one was moving slowly towards him. He became frightened but alert, he was determined to not let fear take over. He turned around but there was no where to go, the steep hill blocking that direction, he looked to his left and then to his right, the latter seemingly the only direction in which they were not coming from.

He began to move as fast as he could move in his new legs. He was slow but they were slower. Just focusing on the horizon, he was stumbling, crawling, and frantically pushing his way through the dead and twisting vegetation that seemed to grasp at his every limb as if the very earth itself was trying to trap him in this swamp of the dead. He was receiving vicious cuts and gashes as thorns from the vegetation seemed to reach out for him. He was in too much of a hurry to care about the warm golden fluid rushing from his wounds. The more he moved, the more confident he became in his own legs, he was becoming faster and less sloppy in his movements. The newborn let out a small yelp as he felt a cold has grasp at his shoulder, and he dared not turn around. Were they catching up to him? This seemed impossible to the newborn, as he felt he he was doing so well at his newfound ability of running. But he could hear the sounds of multiple feet splashing through the mud almost directly behind him. It was only just too late he saw an arm reaching from the mud below. The rotten hand grabbed at his shins, only to slide down to his ankle and get a better hold upon him. The newborn fell onto the floor of the swamp, struggling to free himself from the grasp of the hand which had trapped him. He looked up at his pursuers. He saw horrific monsters, their very flesh rotting off their bone, the undead. The newborn took one final breath and shut his eyes as a foot came crashing down upon his skull.

His eyes flickered open to the blurry outline of a couple figures moving around him. He attempted to get up but the pounding in his head pushed right back down. He shut his eyes and rubbed his head, feeling the stickiness of his own blood in between his fingers. Through the sounds of his own breathing, he could make out the sounds of someone speaking. It was too muffled for him to understand, and he couldn't control his breathing. This is when he felt a hand lightly placed on his chest. The newborn grabbed at it with his own bloodied hand, but it didn't feel undead. The hand was warm, and it didn't fight back. He opened his eyes, and for the first time in his life, he saw another living being.

His vision was blurred but he could still make out a face. It was a woman. He could make out her long black hair and the black makeup around her eyes. He took note of the her eyes, a beautiful burnt amber color with elliptical pupils. They were alarming yet charming. She stared down at him and he stared up at her. The pounding in his head had stopped, and his vision became clear as he looked up at her. She spoke quietly and calmly to him. "Are you alright?" she said, genuine concern in her eyes. He looked into her eyes, mouth slightly agape, and nodded lightly.

She smiled gently down at him, "Do you have a name?". Her voice seemed like liquid to him. It flowed from her and into him, to which he gave unbreaking attention to. His silence must have tipped her off, and she spoke to him again, "I'm going to name you.." She thought for a moment, tapping on her chin with her free hand, "Ayre". Then he spoke up to her, "Ayre?". He felt strange hearing his voice for the first time, but she seemed to be relieved to hear it. "You know, like the wind."

She stood up, and offered a helping hand down to Ayre, which he took. "The wind?" he asked quietly as he was being pulled up. Only when he was pulled to his feet did he get the chance to inspect the woman. Strangely enough, she was wearing an elegant dress that seemed to show off certain areas of her figure. He also noticed a staff strapped to her back, and two daggers at her waist. Even when Ayre stood fully, she was still about a head taller than him. When he looked up at her, and she said "You ask a lot of questions don't you?". Ayre could only shrug, and turned as he heard motion behind him. His body instantly became ready to run as he laid eyes upon another abomination that was nearly identical to the ones chasing him only moments before. Except this one was different, it wasn't trying to chase him, it only stood. Ayre looked back at the woman, who was now rummaging through a small blue backpack. "Here" she said, tossing up a red piece of cloth. He caught it, and she caught the panicked expression on his face, and looked over to the undead. "Oh, one of my minions" she said nonchalantly. Ayre gave her a quizzical look, still holding the red cloth. She waved her hand at him "Don't worry, he's one of mine, and not like the ones chasing you."

Ayre turned and inspected the minion from a distance. It did seem more intact than the ones pursuing him before, and it stood as if magic was holding it up, which reminded Ayre that it probably was.

She approached him, "Here" she said softly, and like a mother, took the red cloth and tied it around Ayre's waist, covering him all the way down to his knees. When she finished, she stood back and admired her work, and said "Running through Orr nude is very dangerous, though I do know a man who gets off on that sort of thing". Ayre gave the woman another look, but she seemed lost in thought at the moment.

Ayre tightened his cloth and began surveying the area. Ayre and the woman were stood at the edge of the swamp, and the clear sky allowed him to see much further. To his left, the suffocating swamp that nearly killed him. To his right, what looked like a colossal wall just a couple miles out, preceded by dunes of grey and brown sand. To make the land seem even more unforgiving, the sun was setting behind the swamp, casting a shadow over where they stood. The dark purple sky spreading over their heads like a great aquilegia flower. The dead grey earth below made Ayre uneasy. This land was unnatural, he felt as if it had been created by something sinister.

Ayre turned back to the woman to see her hoist the small backpack onto her back. She then turned to her own undead, holding her open palm out to it. "We don't need you anymore" she spoke coldly "You'll just attract unwanted attention, and we can't have that, not tonight." Ayre warily watched as a dark glow grew around her hand. The undead was standing silently, unresponding. The woman clenched her hand and the aura faded, causing the minion to fall to it's knees and dissolve into the ground until it was nothing more than a pile of bones and dripping some sort of thick black liquid. Ayre looked down to notice that he had unconsciously clutched at his own heart with his hands. He shakily forced them to his sides, leaving small globules of his golden sap on his dirty chest. He forced himself to regain his composure, and watched her as she caught her breath. After what Ayre thought was an adequate amount of time, he managed to ask a question, "Why?" It was all he could muster.

The woman turned her gaze over to Ayre, and with a quiet voice, said "Because I need you alive." Ayre remained silent, hoping she would explain herself. She stood straight and looked back at him, "We're in Orr Ayre, the undead homeland, this is a very dangerous place and I need you alive." She almost sounded desperate. The woman paused for a moment, then gazed over the dunes of sand. "Look, come with me Ayre, I can get you to safety, I just need you to do as I say". Ayre looked at the woman. He knew he had no reason to trust her, yet he did. He could feel she was speaking the truth, yet how he knew was unbeknownst to him. "Now, come with me", she ordered, "There is a man waiting for us just beyond that wall." taking steps towards the foreboding dunes, aiming towards the far-off mountains. The dirty, bloody Sylvari obeyed without question, his bare feet making a soft crunching sound as the sand gave way underneath him.

The tall woman's stride forced Ayre to keep his pace quick in order to walk beside her. After a few moments of enjoying the sounds of the two of them walking, Ayre spoke up, looking up at the woman as he did so, "Why am I in Orr?" The words came quietly and carefully. The tall woman looked down to him, saying "You wouldn't understand Ayre, not yet." Ayre caught a small hint of pity in the way she spoke, and this only added to the extreme amount of confusion Ayre was experiencing. He had the feeling that no amount of questioning would ease his confusion, so he worked up the courage for a more basic question he knew would have a simple answer. While looking down at his feet, he asked "What is your name?" To this the woman raised a brow, looking down at the shy Sylvari. Ayre continued to avoid eye contact until he heard her say "You can just call me Vain, everyone else does." Ayre remained silent for a few moments, saying the name in his head a few times before blurting "What a strange name." Ayre shut his eyes, cringing at what he had just said. "Yeah, it is." Vain said quietly, as if she was thinking about the name herself.

Ayre cursed at himself, feeling shame for just insulting the one person he knew. He allowed Vain to take the lead as he fell behind by a few feet. His mouth felt dry and the silence he enjoyed just moments before only seemed to make things worse, but Ayre didn't hold the courage to continue speaking. The quiet was only broken by Vain "Well, you have a strange name too, salad-boy" Ayre looked back up, with a small smile on his face and a wave of relief in his heart. He caught Vain looking over her shoulder and offering a small smile. Ayre said jokingly "Yes, but you were the one who named me." Vain shrugged, "Yeah, but I could have also named you Garfunkel, but now you're glad I didn't aren't you" Ayre let out a small laugh. The silence didn't seem so menacing to Ayre now, and he allowed himself to return to Vain's side.

After walking over the dunes of sand for some time, Ayre began to realize the full height of the wall they were approaching. It looked hundreds of feet high, and it was ancient. Moss hung from impossible heights, cracks occupied most of the rocks, and piles of rubble resided near the base. However, as he was getting closer, Ayre could make out a temple built into the wall, with stone stairs leading up to the entrance. He turned to Vain and asked "We're going in there?" Vain nodded slightly 'Mhm, from just beyond there we'll be taking an airship back home." Ayre turned back to the wall, it was getting larger with every step he took. The setting sun lit the wall ablaze with a powerful mix of deep red and orange. It was menacing to Ayre, but Vain continued walking without hesitation.

By the time they reached the long stone stairs, the sun has gone down almost completely, the intense color of the wall had been replaced with a dark shadow. Ayre was beginning to shiver due to the sudden change in temperature and his breath was becoming visible. Vain and Ayre stood for a brief moment at the beginning of the stairs, looking up at the temple. Ayre was looking at the architecture, but Vain was looking for movement. After she determined it was still abandoned, she motioned for Ayre to follow and began ascending the steps.

Ayre's legs were tired and his breathing became heavy. The stairs seemed infinite, and Vain was getting farther away from him with every step. Suddenly he heard a heavy rumble coming from below. Vain and Ayre turned to look down and saw a swarm of the undead scrambling up the stairs, silently but ferociously coming for them. Ayre saw figures unlike his own, undead who were smaller, with short legs and big heads, other where covered in black fur, and hands with sharp claws and teeth sharp as knives. Ayre was suddenly being yanked at the shoulder by Vain, who forced him up a few steps, yelling at him to move quickly and pulling the staff off of her back. Ayre turned before he could see what she was going to do with it, and began to sprint up the stairs as fast as his legs could move, paying little heed to the large amount of steps that remained. As he was running, Ayre could hear the sounds of screaming undead and explosive magic. He didn't dare look behind him, all he could focus on was getting to the top of the stairs, from there it was a quick sprint past the columns then into the doorway of the ancient temple. Every step sent a shock of pain through his legs, and his lungs felt as if they were shutting down. The stairs were coming to an end, all he needed to do was push just a little further and he would be over the edge.

Ayre's body was on the brink of collapsing. Running over the last step, he began making his way past the massive support columns. His bare feet slapped against the cold stone as he made his way over the cracks and vines that littered the floor. He couldn't take it anymore, he needed to stop. He bent over, lungs gasping for air. After a few moments of heavy breathing, he noticed something on the ground. He had stopped to rest in what looked like a massive footprint punched into the solid stone, and it looked fresh. Ayre followed the direction of the print and saw a trail of footsteps leading into a massive smashed-in gate that led into black nothingness. After staring for a few moments and contemplating charging into abyss, the sounds of footsteps rushing up behind him caught him by surprise. He turned just in time for Vain to grab him by the arm and lead him into the opening. He tried to warn Vain of the footsteps, but fumbled over his words, only managing to say "Vain!.. I.. er.. There's-" before getting interrupted by Vain yelling "No time!" and getting hauled through the gate's opening.

After running through the stone passageway, Vain threw Ayre behind a wall that was opposite of the opening. He tried to wince but Vain had already covered his mouth, her body leaning on his. She peered around the corner for several seconds, watching for movement. Ayre was being smothered by Vain and he didn't know why, he tried to protest but Vain held his mouth tighter and leaned on him more. After Vain deemed that the coast was clear, Ayre was yet again gasping for air. He moved his hand to wipe his mouth of dirt, but paused once he noticed something peculiar. For moment, he could have sworn he saw a faint glow. He held his hand in front of him, perplexed but intrigued. His eyes widened as a faint blue glow radiated from under the folds of his leaves, then slowly faded after a few moments. His body did the same, the slight glow was visible from under the dirt and sap. He looked up at Vain, wide eyed and speechless. She chuckled a bit and quietly said "There's a path we can take through this temple, it'll lead us to the other side." and she shook her head, "I hope you don't mind the dark, Ayre."

Vain had taken the staff off her back, and was projecting a faint glow from the tip of it. The light was just bright enough to see where Vain should place her next step. Ayre was holding on to Vain's free hand as she guided the two of them through the dark hallways. There were doors on either side of them, some were bashed open, others remained shut. Ayre dared not look inside any of the openings in fear of what he might see. Ayre only watched straight ahead, the pitch black inspiring a series of questions to run through his head. "Why does this woman need me alive?" he thought to himself, "How can I even trust her when all she could be doing is leading me to my death?" Ayre was only certain of one thing: This woman could harness magic to raise the dead. "Was she a necromancer then?" Ayre looked up at her face, only slightly lit by the glow, to catch Vain eyeing him. Her eyes turned away as he looked at her, but there was no doubt she had been looking at Ayre.

Ayre had felt nothing but unease about this woman since the moment they had met. How much wasn't she telling him? Questions continued to run through his head as they were making their way through the hallway. He shook his head, he can't think about these things now, he should try and stay alert. Their footsteps were muffled by a dusty old rug which ran the length of the hallway. Vain stopped walking, and Ayre waited expectantly. She gestured towards a door to their right which was slightly ajar. Ayre stepped over and cautiously placed a hand on the door, pushing it open slowly. The loud creak the door made caused the two cringe, and they made their way inside once Vain checked the room with her staff.

The room turned out to be a jail cell. It was small and windowless, save for a small vent which the ceiling of the room led into. The walls were made of stone and there was what looked like the remnants of a small wooden bed in the corner. Vain shut the heavy wooden door behind them and locked it. She then walked over to the bed and began snapping off pieces of the wood with her bare hands. Ayre watched from a corner as she set the pieces down and used her magic to make a small fire in the center of the room. The light illuminated her smooth figure complemented by the dress she wore, which was somehow still clean. Ayre scooched closer to the fire and watched as the woman set her backpack down and pulled out a flask containing an unknown fluid. She uncapped it and took a swig, then sat down by the fire next to Ayre.

"We're going to be here for for the night, we don't want to be outside this temple again until there's daylight." The chill that Ayre had been experiencing was dispersing thanks to the warm embrace of the fire. He sat quietly with his eyes closed, enjoying the rest. The peaceful silence was finally broken by Vain, when she asked "So… you come here often?" After a moment of silence, Ayre gave her a look and she nudged him with her elbow. "Lighten up, Salad-Boy, I just saved your life two times in the last hour, I'd say you owed me." Ayre looked back into the fire, unresponding. Vain leaned closer to him, "You know it could be worse, ok? I could be talking about all the times I've had sex around campfires." Ayre was forced yet again to give her a look. "Of all the people to across, this was the one that saved me?" He thought to himself. Vain's expression changed from joking to slightly annoyed, "Fine, did you know I've had sex exactly four times in jail cells, and only two of them involved fire?"

Ayre could only stare into the fire as Vain rambled on about her favorite positions for sex along with how many people she's had sex with near campfires. Ayre briefly contemplated throwing himself into the fire, but he was too tired to move, and instead just listened to Vain as she described in extreme detail the feeling a tongue penetrate unspeakable places on her body. Vain looked as if she was reliving the moment, arching her back and falling back on her hands, smiling as she did so. She paused for moment with her eyes shut tight, as if she was already lost in her own memory. After a few seconds Ayre could only put his head in his arms and groan as Vain continued speaking, sipping from her flask every so often. She then recalled a moment of passion between her and a woman she had been hired to protect. Which was also by a campfire. She explained how that one involved magic and some potions. After looking over to Ayre, Vain determined he had enough. She reached into the small blue backpack and handed Ayre a soft pillow. "Maybe you laugh at my stupid jokes next time hmm?" He was too tired to argue, he took the pillow and set it down. Vain's magic dimmed the fire slightly and she pulled out another pillow from the small backpack. Ayre laid down on the pillow, "This is the woman I must deal with until we get out of here." He thought to himself, "I hope this doesn't last too long." Though the sinking feeling in his stomach betrayed him.