Spoiler Warning: from here on out, the story will be roughly following the plot of the expansion Guild Wars 2: Heart of Thorns. This means there will be spoilers as well as major plot points present in the story.

Jungle.

When he heard the word, Asterix had always thought of warm, humid air, a strong smell wafting off a wide array of flora. The color green. Green as far as the eyes could reach. But today that was not the case. There was an even more intrusive smell of leaking oil and burning wreckage. The sight of smoke and fire, bellowing in the smoggy black and orange sky. The ruins of the Pact's once mighty fleet laid there, broken. A ship graveyard, much reminiscent to the kind that rested on an ocean floor. The devastation left craters and pockmarks in what was left of the original scene. Not to mention the gargantuan, thorned vines that decorated rock, tree and ruin alike.

No, he corrected himself. Gargantuan, thorned vines that engulfed rock, tree, and ruin alike. Twisting and curling, with some of the broken remains of the fleet cradled in their grip. This was what a war against the jungle dragon looked like. Absolute destruction with no victory in sight. The people who went to war were blinded by their last victory against an Elder Dragon. Now they paid the price. How powerful was this beast, exactly, to be able to muster such a quick and well-performed defense?

The group looked on, down into the depths and the wreckage, with the canyon's precipice as their only protection. They found no life down below at first sight. What in their right minds made them ever want to go here? The answer came unexpected and in a vocalized, joyful chime.

"There she is!" the voice called out behind him. Before Asterix had even a chance to understand what the sylvari meant, Bohan was already bounding ahead of him, cascading down the canyon with jumps and leaps. All he could do was give chase after the sylvari, calling his name the whole way.

"Bohan, wait!" He tried hard to catch up to the tall, bark-skinned man, but his voice faltered in the startlingly steep descent, and soon he was forced to focus on keeping his balance on the uneven surface of rocks and dry sand instead. Finally, he stepped on even ground with a painful thud. He felt the impact tremble through his legs.

Bohan shouted a second time, "Liliwen! Liliwen, thank the Pale Tree!"

But when Asterix looked up to meet the sight, he only saw Bohan, standing there and waving his arms like a madman. He tried a little harder, squinting to make sure it wasn't just him. Truly, only Bohan was there. "Good gods. The heat has gotten to his head," he huffed silently. Then he picked up his tired feet and slowly caught up to the sylvari.

"Bohan, there is nobody here." He didn't hear him. The sylvari was, in some way, absorbed in a make-believe world, and made a few more steps forward, smiling a wide happy grin and arms spreading to embrace the air. The Gaul quickly gripped tight onto his coat, forcing his weight into keeping the sylvari from moving further forward and possibly sending himself down the next cliff.

"Snap out of it Bohan. She's not here!" he repeated, this time twice as loud. Finally, Bohan stopped with a blank expression written on his face.

"What?" said the sylvari. He blinked a few moments, letting reality set back in. The figure before him flickered away. "How?… I thought I saw her." He stared down, and took a few steps back in shock. How close he was to falling into the depths, a drop of at least fifty feet down.

"You were hallucinating." the Gaul answered. He slipped his backpack off himself, pulling out a jug of water and offering it to Bohan. "Come on, have some water. You're looking wilted."

Bohan nodded, and took it gladly. Indeed, the small leaves on the sylvari's head, although a colorful palette of autumnal orange, red and yellow, never looked this dry before. His joints were creaking when he moved and his skin splintered. That couldn't be good. Had he not been taking any water on their trip at all?

"Let's set up camp here, just for tonight. We'll start searching in the morning," the human suggested.

True, they were all tired. Twilight was approaching, and it would be unwise to go searching in the dark.

Shortly after the sun had set, the cold came with a hungry vengeance. Asterix immediately put his survival skills to work, setting up a campfire in record speed. Soon, he was cooking their first meal of the day. They had not eaten anything since breakfast, so the smell of spiced meat roasting above the flame was a welcome one. After they finished, Bohan took it upon himself to be on watch for the first half of the night.

Not that Asterix was going to catch much sleep. He still feared the other dragon haunting his dreams. The noises of a distant war and the stench of smolder kept him awake anyway. No use trying if you knew you wouldn't. He ended up leaning his back against Bobbo's snoozing form. The bear didn't mind, and it helped with the cold.

When they switched turns, the wind had picked up, blowing the smoke away from camp. It allowed for the night sky to clear. Asterix resorted to stargazing, taking glimpses back down on occasion to make sure they weren't being watched, or approached by enemies. He gave the sleeping bear next to him a pat on the head or a scratch behind his ear every so often, finding that he would often be rewarded with a happy, thankful sigh.

Eventually a voice came from behind him.

"Do you ever look at the sky and wonder what's out there? Such as…" Bohan paused, "Such as other life, perhaps?"

The Gaul flinched, not having expected the sylvari to still be awake. The question made him uneasy. It made him feel like he was sinking through the ground. What was he supposed to say? 'Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?' was whathe wanted to say. How he wished Bohan was asleep.

After he got no answer, Bohan chose to continue. "I mean, I got told this by some Priory theorist. He said that each star out there might be a sun like ours, and that each sun has worlds that could possibly have life on them. I didn't think much of the stars at all, but ever since he said that, it just leaves me wondering."

Asterix pondered the words. Each star … another sun? He looked at the sky. An endless number of tiny lights, flickering in a vast ocean of darkness. They were always thought to be small – smaller than the moon or sun. But now he realized it was only an illusion, because they were so much farther away. The thought made him feel so insignificant, that he was afraid to believe it. And yet, this world exists too. It has a sun, just like his. It made sense. His home was out there. One of those stars in that sky may very well be his sun.

"Did you fall asleep?" the sylvari questioned. Asterix shook his head, despite knowing the sylvari would not see him make the gesture.

"No, no. I was just thinking about what you said. And, well…if you want my opinion…" Asterix took a deep breath, giving one last thought over the answer he was about to give.

"If this world exists, who's to say there aren't any others?" he said eventually.

Another moment of silence.

"Do you suppose they are inhabited by creatures like us? And more Elder Dragons?" the sylvari asked.

Asterix pondered. "Maybe some. Probably not all of them."

"Imagine if you lived in a world without those dragons. That would be nice. You wouldn't have a care in the world."

"That's not— That probably wouldn't be completely true," Asterix corrected. "There can be problems other than monsters. There could be war, or famine."

"Oh, right," Bohan mused. "But things would still be a lot better without the Elder Dragons around."

"True," Asterix replied dully, and rested his head into the palms of his hands. He suddenly didn't feel much like stargazing anymore, and instead decided to look out into the precipice. As before, there was more wreckage than greenery. Shadows of the colossal tendrils loomed ominously in the distance. Asterix was sure his tired mind deceived him, when he thought he caught a glimpse of the things…moving. Flames still danced weakly in the distance, some of them looking almost like bonfires. Almost.

Or perhaps they were bonfires, keeping the remaining troops warm and awake. No doubt they were off a lot worse down there.

Bohan then once again broke the silence. "You know, I heard fairytales about how all humans came from another world. Something about their gods bringing them here… What do you think of it?"

"Go to sleep," grunted an exasperated Gaul.

The first day of the search was nothing short of chaotic, in Bohan's opinion. It began at sunrise.

Shortly after making the descent into the wastes, the group of three heard loud noises above their heads. A sound that was like trumpets and rapid flapping wings. The sylvari looked overhead. Pact choppers; an invention of the charr. Smaller and faster than airships, these crude looking metal constructs kept themselves airborne by the use of fast spinning blades instead of heated air. They were unarmed, which meant they were sent in to pick up casualties. Maybe bring reinforcements, as well.

"Seems they finally mustered a response," Bohan muttered.

They are like flies, unaware of the hand that might swat them at the right opportunity.

Despite the heat, the sylvari shivered involuntarily.

"Should we follow one of them? Maybe they'll lead to an encampment," one familiar voice suggested.

Bohan turned to look behind him. A short man followed him. He looked sleep-deprived. Skinny. Wearing only simple clothing with some leather armor and an iron helm with wings. A scabbard with a magic sword was at his side. He had a backpack that looked entirely too heavy for him to carry, yet he trudged it along on his back with relative ease. The human hardly looked any more of a threat than the fat brown bear that moped beside him. There was a questioning look on his face.

"Good idea," Bohan said, nodding. "We could ask them if they've seen Liliwen."

Following one of the choppers was a mistake. He realized it the moment they entered a fortified camp. Saw it in the furious eyes of a charr soldier twice his size and girth that had him pinned to the cracked sandy ground. The dust made his eyes water, and he had to hold himself back from sneezing. They were definitely in a Pact encampment; that much he could tell. A mixture of Vigil warriors, Priory mages, and Whispers spies. As expected, none of them were sylvari. Only charr or human, norn or asura. The sylvari were gone. With no knowledge of their fates, it made Bohan feel somewhat betrayed.

"Detain him," the officer in command, a charr woman, said.

Much to everyone's surprise, Asterix jumped into action when those words had been outed. He drew his sword, and when someone approached, he demanded an answer for their unfriendly actions. The norn took a step back when the sword spouted hot rage, retreating slightly but not relenting. After all, this man was easily five times his size.

"We only want to ask him a few questions – to determine where his loyalties lie," assured the leader.

But my loyalties lie with myself!

"I'm not letting you do this. He's with me, and we don't have time for this!" Asterix looked furious. His sword almost seemed to respond to his anger by burning ever hotter. The bear growled menacingly, his fur standing upright as he bared his fangs. The Pact members, in turn, did not seem convinced. If neither party was going to give in, a fight was bound to happen. His friend would lose.

"No, wait. It's okay, I'll cooperate," Bohan interfered. "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

The Gaul stopped and looked at the pinned sylvari, dumbfounded. But thankfully, the flames were calming down. "You're just going to let them treat you like this?"

Bohan smiled uncomfortably. "I don't want anyone getting hurt. They don't trust me. Let's just be nice. Please."

There was a short moment of silence. Asterix seemed reluctant to oblige, scanning the scene with his eyes for an explanation. The Pact soldiers around them looked wary and upset, their armor beaten, burned and ripped by their lost attempt to attack Mordremoth. Many had minor injuries. Finally, he slowly slid the sword back into its scabbard. "Fine," he said, finally. Regardless, the man still seemed upset.

The charr that kept the autumn sylvari pinned raised Bohan off the ground and to his feet. Another soldier confiscated his weapons the moment he stood straight. They didn't bother to do the same with Asterix. Still, Bohan simply cooperated. The sylvari was asked at least a dozen questions, sometimes hearing repeats of the same question to see if he didn't change his answer. Another half-dozen more were asked after his captors turned to ask Asterix two. What they were doing here, and what their goal was. He explained that everyone in Tyria already knew about the sylvari betrayal, and that they came here by choice. Once it was settled and Bohan was finally trustworthy enough to be released, the officer took the two deeper into camp.

The Pact did its best to keep their encampment as fortified as possible. The tents, weapon racks and boxes of salvaged supplies were well covered between canyons and overshadowed by jungle foliage, and any opening was barricaded and guarded by several people. Surprisingly, there were some sylvari Pact members here. Only those who had fully proven their allegiance with the Pact were accepted back within the ranks again. And yet even they were scared to death of the dragon. Worrying constantly, looking exhausted. Faces buried in their hands as they sat there, waiting for a fate they didn't deserve.

Others weren't so lucky.

Mines and traps dotted every exit. The Pact's choice of setting up camp here was highly strategic. There was a clean spring fountain nearby, providing a limitless water source. Wooden wreckage cobbled together formed the central unlit bonfire, that would keep the men and women warm at night. Further down the path, there was a large camouflaged tent that housed the medic camp to treat the wounded. And many wounded, there were.

The charr nodded to the ground near the pyre and sat down there. Her 'guests' followed suit.

"When the assault began, we were given a nasty surprise by the Jungle Dragon," the officer said. She glared up to the sun that was peeking between the trees, and she blew the air loudly through her nostrils. "We heard a roar, and then, giant vines shot out from the jungle and reached for our fleet. They were all caught in them – torn in half, crushed, dragged down… and just to add more salt to the wound, almost all of our sylvari comrades, once so keen on defeating the dragon, suddenly had this look in their eyes… bloodlust. Not for the dragon's, but for ours. They turned against us. And started praising Mordremoth, killing in its name."

Bohan staggered back with shock; his kin worshipped the dragon. Had they planned this all along? No, they couldn't have. Bohan knew they were truly honest and well-meaning men and women. There existed much conflict in the world. But no opinion was more mutual as the one about Elder Dragons and their potential to threaten the world to extinction. Then he realized everyone nearby had turned to look at him, as if he were one of those monsters described by the charr. The only two who looked at him with pity were Asterix and Bobbo. His stomach dropped. Liliwen was also out there alone. She couldn't be one of them, could she?

"We have reason to believe that the sylvari are somehow connected to Mordremoth," the officer then continued. "A jungle dragon with an affinity for plants. Plant people. The link's there."

"You said almost all of them turned against you. How many didn't?" Bohan quickly asked.

"Not enough," the officer admitted. "You can tell, some of them are still on our side. Trahearne, our Pact Marshal, and Warmaster Laranthir, to name a few. Don't know where they are."

"Clearly this was against their will," Asterix stated. Bohan wasn't sure if he was being honest, or if he was just trying to make him feel better. "They haven't betrayed you, Mordremoth must be forcing them somehow."

"Perhaps." The officer turned to look at Bohan. "It could be that the weaker-minded ones give in more easily. Once they're turned by Mordremoth, there's no going back. They change both mentally and physically."

The sylvari swallowed, trying not to argue or look insulted.

"That would mean you're still in the clear, twig. You should leave the jungle and go home, while you still have the chance."

"I won't!" Bohan retaliated. "I'm not leaving without Liliwen."

"Bohan, maybe we should take her advice," Asterix said, looking concerned.

"I'm not leaving without Liliwen," the sylvari repeated. "Maybe you haven't known her long enough so it's easier for you to abandon her to her fate, but I will go into that jungle alone if I have to."

The officer hissed. "Judging from your friend's name, she's a sylvari too, right?"

"Correct," the Gaul confirmed. He was more quiet than usual. Bohan recognized the tone of his voice as admitting a defeat. Why did he want to give up, now that they were already here? Was it that he wasn't sylvari himself? That he had no sympathy or understanding for someone not his kind? No, surely that wasn't the case.

"Then there's a big chance she's already turned or dead." The charr's slit, deep-green eyes expressed a hint of remorse when she said it. "I'm sorry, but you really should go home. The jungle's no place for travelers."

An asuran lookout shouted from the treetops. "Captain, we have Mordrem incoming! It's a raiding party, at least thirty!" The charr snarled like a wild animal and bared her teeth as she got up and ran, taking her two-handed sword from the nearby weapon rack. She squeezed the enormous blade's grip in her paws.

"Everyone to position!" Stop them from entering camp! Snipers, start picking 'em off while they're charging in!" She glared at Bohan and Asterix one more time. Mostly at Bohan. "And you two will stay put until we're done," she growled before leaving them. This, in turn, made the sylvari angrier.

"What about my weapons? Am I not allowed to defend myself?" he complained. But the charr didn't hear him. She was already charging headlong into the battle as the other soldiers around the camp rushed to their respective positions. Even the medics had weapons. Loud shots rang from above camp as the snipers shot down the enemy one at a time.

"Just use your magic," Asterix replied as he drew his sword and pistol. "Bobbo and I will keep them at a distance if they come for us."

Then the enemy came. Various monstrosities built from plant and bark rushed the chokepoints of the camp. Many were akin to animals; wolves that had dead animal carcasses coiled by corrupted plant matter to shape their bodies, beehive-throwing trolls, and floating creatures shaped like deadly teeth-bearing flowers that spat acid. These were only the lesser minions, however. The worst ones, the ones that made both the sylvari and the Gaul stagger back in shock and disbelief, were the humanoids among them.

They immediately realized that those were the turned sylvari. Their skins had hardened to corrupted bark and lost all color, their leaves were withered if not gone, and they had abandoned all reason. These creatures fought with the strength and tact of trained militants; evident by their bulky physique and their strategic approaches – the brawlers at the front, ranged squad in the back. It took at least two Pact soldiers to overcome just one when the battle was up close. The snipers in the trees could pick the slow targets off one by one with clean headshots, but the Mordrem had hunters of their own, leaving death in their wakes.

Then the ground beneath the camp shifted. Remembering the last time that happened, the two adventurers in the middle of the battle lost interest in what was around them and watched for vines to burst from the ground.

There popped one, and then another. More followed shortly after. They were small but numerous, and strong enough to snag an unsuspecting soldier by the feet while they were busy fighting other, deadlier things.

Asterix started by stabbing the nearest tendril with his sword. He made no pause and pulled his blade out, letting the fire consume the dying vine while he lashed out for the next. "We have to stop those things from snaring them! Sic 'em, Bobbo!" he cried as he severed another tendril. The bear roared and started stomping and biting the vines around him. Bohan looked at his empty hands. Indeed, Asterix was right. He did have his magic. So he lifted his hand and focused on the ground, drawing energy from his surroundings.

The Gaul jumped back a little when he noticed the ground underneath his feet turn putrid and dark. The vines trapped within the magic well crumpled and died as if the life was sucked out of them. He expected to become sick from the poison as well, but he didn't – instead he felt invigorated. It was a strange power that flooded his very being. Necromancy? He looked at the sylvari, and witnessed Bohan stealing the enemy's life-force and sharing it with his allies.

"I can't keep this up forever," Bohan said quickly. "Finish them!"

Without speaking a word, Asterix nodded and continued slaying the dragon's minions. Each vine caught in the necromancer's vampiric well granted the Pact the strength to continue unleashing their wrath on the Mordrem. Meanwhile, none of the vines at the center camp were given a chance to sneak up on the front-line. Asterix and Bobbo were too quick for any of them – as soon as one reared its head, it was either incinerated or forcefully bitten and stomped on until the root snapped. Bohan could feel the vines desperately squeezing around his ankles, but their grip wilted just as quick. His magic gave his allies the upper edge. They were winning. He felt dizzy from the adrenaline. Or was it maybe overexertion? It was before long that one of the Mordrem assaulters signaled to its comrades with a whistle of retreat.

"Mordremoth will come for you next time," one of the creatures hissed, as it turned heel and fled the scene.

The charr roared victoriously. "Next time, we will come for Mordremoth!" The crowd cheered after her. Bohan couldn't help but smile, proud that he helped. So many voices; voices that were glad that they had survived this fight, voices that mourned their fallen comrades, voices that wondered, what next? A voice…

"You disappoint me."

Then he turned pale, his vision went gray. The next moment he came to, he was staring at blurry lights.

"You okay?" somebody asked. It was Asterix. He could recognize his voice, but it sounded dull. The sylvari turned his head around aimlessly. The voice from earlier was so loud it felt like it was spoken directly into his ears. It felt strangely close to home, like a father he never had. But also sounded like an earthquake. Was that … Mordremoth? The dragon was disappointed in him?

"Good," Bohan concluded.

"Good? You don't look good." Asterix replied.

Did he say that out loud? Bohan could barely focus on Asterix. Bit by bit, he realized he was flat on the ground. What he was staring at before was the sunlight, peeking between the treetops. The blonde man looked like he was towering him from this angle. A bear appeared and loomed down over to smell the sylvari's hair.

"Ah! Bobbo, please stop," Bohan giggled.

"At least you look better than before," Asterix crossed his arms, grinning. "You overused your magic, I think. I can still feel it tingling."

The sylvari smiled nervously after he pushed Bobbo aside. "Y-yes, that must have been it. It was a pretty powerful spell…" He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell the truth. That he heard Mordremoth. For now, it didn't hurt him. So long as it didn't hurt him, it couldn't hurt the others.

He hoped.