Asterix woke from what felt like an uncomfortably long slumber. A dull but bothersome pain ached all over his body, and a heavy weight on top of him made breathing difficult, but not impossible. He felt roots poking him in the back. When he finally opened his eyes, he was met with the pale face of a Mordrem beast.

He yelped, and tried to push the thing off. The shoving only shook its head back and forth like a limp doll, and there was no other reaction from the beast. At that moment, Asterix began to realize it was already dead. He eyed the golden blood that had stained its hole-riddled neck, as well as his armor. It smelled like sweet tree sap, but wasn't sticky.

Then he remembered he was the culprit of this creature's demise. Knowing how dangerous it still was with all its thorns, claws and… teeth, he carefully pushed it away from himself until he was confident he could crawl his way out from under the carcass. When the warrior was finally up, he looked down at the animal. It was well over six times his size.

He couldn't believe it… he killed a teragriff. Last time he ran into one of these things— no, he didn't even want to think about that anymore. Suddenly he noticed his rifle, its muzzle still lodged deep into its throat.

He began to reach out for it. Although knowing the creature couldn't possibly be alive anymore, he somehow still hesitated, the deep back of his mind imagining the ever-so-slight chance some life still might cling to its body. That it might lash out and still get him anyway. But … no. An involuntary twitch of the muscle post-mortem, perhaps. But it can't be any more than that.

The Gaul grabbed the rifle and set a boot against the corpse's neck, pulling and twisting the weapon around until it finally slipped out. Not surprisingly, a foul stench came free with it, and the weapon was covered in blood and saliva.

But he was only glad. As he expected, the weapon did not break. It looked just like when he first received it, minus the slimy additions.

Wait, bullets.

He had unloaded the weapon in a fit of fury during the fight. He remembered that. Where did he keep his spare bullets again?

That would have been his backpack…which was…

Asterix looked up high. And memories were being pieced back together again as he observed the trail of his fall. A torn hole was allowing sunlight to shine through, but it was so high up, he was baffled he somehow survived this drop at all. Then again, he had taken a pretty bad drop once before.*

The Mordrem beast and the branches that they hit along the way must have broken most of his fall. No wonder he felt so sore. Either way, there was no way he was climbing his way back up.

Strange. He didn't realize the ground was so unstable underneath them. There were plenty of holes at that camping spot, so they might have overlooked one. He might have backed into a treacherous, moss and branch-covered opening without realizing it, but his weight didn't inconvenience the branches until the teragriff fell on top of him.

Was his squad still up there?

He mustered himself up for the best call he could make.

"Hello!"

There was no response back, except for his voice echoing across the cave system, and unknown creatures that cried back at him from the tunnels. Worried by the noises that returned to him, he decided to abandon that plan. If they didn't reply back the first time, they must have moved on. Not really a surprise. Considering how far he fell, they probably thought he didn't survive. And telling by the sunlight, he had been out the entire night.

He didn't feel particularly rested, but no nightmares. That was a plus in his book. Still, he was going to have do this on his own. First, he decided to take a moment to look himself over.

Other than the obvious, he appeared okay. Without ammo, his rifle could only serve as making himself look more threatening. His gun and bow were equally useless, but at least he had them. Maybe he could fashion some arrows out of wood when he gets the chance. That left him with his sword. At least for the time being.

It was better than nothing, he believed. His swordsmanship was like none other.

Now, to get out of here. Then he could orient himself. His current goal was to reunite with the Pact. He began by taking in his surroundings. It was another large room, covered in moss and vines, but also a variance of giant mushrooms, growing here abundantly due to the darkness they preferred. Like upstairs, the area had several exits.

Avoiding the strange fungi; he'd rather not be poisoned or start seeing things, the Gaul carefully examined each tunnel from where he was to check if any light was at the end of it. He didn't have any high hopes, so he was pleasantly surprised to find that one did. It was dim, but it was certainly there. That meant it was his way out. Thank the gods.

His muscles still ached from the fall. His back especially. So he slowly eased his way into and through the cavern, careful not to slip on any moss or get tripped up by roots or vines. Remembering that remark one of the soldiers made, 'even the poppies here could conspire to kill us', he knew to stay on his guard. He could very well not be alone in this tunnel even now, even if he didn't see anything.

It's funny though. Poppies don't grow in a jungle… at least, he didn't think so.

The light became brighter as he closed in on its source. The hole from which the sunlight peeked through was covered up with plants. He peered through the opening, seeing freedom hiding behind the vines. If he could cut these away…

"Left hand fire, right hand bare," he mused to himself while he took his sword's handle with his right hand. The sword did not light up, as expected, and he carefully poked the vines with it first to check if they weren't alive. Asterix continued with the experiment by gently grabbing hold of one. When that didn't cause it to respond either, he cut it away and followed through with the others until he was free to exit.

The sun blinded him, but he couldn't help but be grateful for how pleasant it was to feel it on his skin. He crawled his way out and was met with a gorgeous sight.

Grand, undisturbed wilderness. And yet, Mordremoth's influence was definitely present. It wasn't as violent here as it had been to the north, where the Pact launched their attack first and the dragon responded by separating land with its vines. Here, its tendrils were slow and reached only where they could, blindly feeling for prey.

The Pact was still heading south, so he supposed he should do so as well. If only he knew where south was… His first idea was to gaze up, hoping the sun could provide a clue. Even if the leaves of the trees up high obscuring it made it harder, he had to at least try.

No luck… There was no way he could spot the sun from down here. In his mind he shifted through his other methods, but they were each thrown for a loop. There was no way for him to know how much different Tyria was from his home. Any ways he knew wouldn't be reliable here. Come on, don't panic yet, he tried to remind himself. There had to be something he could try. Maybe they left a clue? A mark to find the right way?

Wait… footsteps. The dirt was littered with them, and they were clearly boots, all heading for the same direction. He slapped his own forehead in disbelief. How did he not think of that? It was only a start, though. The jungle wasn't all dirt, but at least now he had an idea.

With renewed hope, he quickly went on his way, following the trail as best he could. And hoping he wouldn't run into anything that thought of him as an easy snack. The captain mentioned that wyverns and saurians—whatever they may be—were indigenous here. The wyverns were especially a problem. Not quite dragons, but very large, carnivorous and dangerous. To make things even more complicated, Mordremoth took advantage of many of the animals, turning them into a template for its blighting trees to create Mordrem copies.

At least daytime was here. Mordrem were less active then.

Before long, Asterix learned that following the footsteps was bearing fruit. He came across the first of the unusual structures the sylvari had mentioned of.

For a material like no one's ever seen, he was sure he recognized it. But it was a funny choice for certain. It looked like a pointy pillar, with bricks that appeared to be made of gold. It even radiated a strange light that made him feel safer, somehow. Like it might repel the enemy. But… nobody friendly was here, either.

The Vigil sylvari said there were more like these, right? Then he had to be going the right direction.

Before he left, the Gaul decided to leave a mark, so he would know if he ran into the same one twice. He quickly collected some flat stones and stacked them near the structure, then he went on his way once more.

The jungle was so beautiful here. Nothing like the destruction the dragon left up north. The plants were untainted and dense, green, and full of life. The rivers that ran through here were clean and invigorating. Even the air here felt different. Something strange about the place… What were these pillars? Why were they here?

Then, a glint of light caught his eye, and he froze. Could it be another? Asterix tried to pinpoint its source, and found it, hidden past the trees and the shrubbery.

The plants blocking his way may be tricky, but just to make sure, he took his sword into his gloved hand. If something caught him, he could defend himself. And not burn everything around him in the process. Very carefully, he maneuvered his way through, always making sure the shiny spot wouldn't leave his sight. And when he finally got close, he didn't find another golden pylon.

Something glistened, on the ground between the leaves. Slowly and cautiously with his sword gripped firmly in hand, Asterix approached the foliage. He attempted to lean his head to the side to get a better glimpse, but found that it was difficult to make it out still. Now just barely a few feet away, he gazed into the shrub. Whoever hid it, was trying their best. Underneath the green, young leaves, the shining object was buried under many more dead leaves, but a sliver of light still peeked through. There were tracks around it, and they looked fresh, somewhat rushed and in disarray. The person did not mean to stay here long, and may have planned to return for the treasure later.

He wasn't one to play finders keepers, but wanted to take a peek anyway. He knelt down and reached out for the pile, brushing some leaves aside.

A small figure within lit up to the touch, shimmering and dancing underneath its translucent, glassy shell. It was beautiful. The gem was warm and alive, somehow. The light within it reflected its surface like a spectrum, displaying a magical array of colors. Asterix brushed a few more leaves aside until its shape was clearly visible. It was round and smooth. The tiny light inside followed his hand until it slid off the surface. Touching the object tingled, as though his blood withdrew from his fingertips and left them feeling numb. There was no doubt it was valuable, but not in the sense of monetary value. Despite it's odd, crystalline appearance, this strange orb was truly a thing to be treasured.

It was an egg.

A huge crystal egg. Nearly as big as himself. And yet despite its inorganic form, it was clearly alive, the light inside of it reacting to the warrior's presence. The interest, the wonderment; he felt them. Less so much radiating from the egg, rather, he felt it well up from within. Some kind of alien thought that wasn't his own. Asterix was curious, definitely. But at the same time there was a different kind of curious. Like it was coming from a child's perspective, discovering something new for the first time and becoming fully captivated by it. The light shimmered excitedly.

Nothing like this could belong to any ordinary animal. Why was this here?

"Not a sound," a female voice whispered in his ear. He felt a blade stroke his neck; just barely not enough to cut into it. The Gaul felt the blood drain from his face – he was caught.

How did… He looked from the corner of his eye, but he couldn't see her. Just a green hand. Green and leafy, so a sylvari… a mordrem?

"I should kill you, right now," she hissed. "Drop your sword and raise your hands. Slowly."

Not outing a word, Asterix complied. Letting his blade go, he raised his empty hands gently and with utmost care. She peeked over his shoulder, inspecting the egg thoroughly. Finally he could catch a glimpse of the woman, a pale green face, white petals for hair, and bright blue eyes. Not mordrem, thank the gods, but she was still holding him at knifepoint.

"You touched it…" the woman whispered angrily. "You were trying to steal it."

"I wasn't going to steal it, I swear," Asterix retaliated despite her warnings, also suppressing his voice. The knife was still close to his throat, inching deeper when he made the noise, but not cutting in. He knew if he was going to be loud, she would end him.

"You wouldn't be able to," the sylvari assured. She grabbed one his wrists and pulled it down, forcing a wince out of the man and pushing his knees into the dry earth. The knife was finally gone when she put it away and took his other hand as well.

The Gaul began to regret his curiosity, feeling a tough rope get twirled around his wrists. How was he going to defend himself in this state?

"So, what will you do with me?" He started, again despite the warnings to remain quiet. "Leave me here, helpless? Let a beast eat me? That makes you no better than a mordrem, you know.

"Do not compare me to them," the sylvari threatened.

"And yet you clearly stole that egg. I bet the mother must be furious. She's after you right now, isn't she? That's why you're so afraid of getting caught."

Suddenly, the woman glowered. "You don't know her…" her voice rumbled.

"Do you?" Asterix remarked sarcastically. He noticed that the hands that were binding the rope around his wrists had suddenly paused. She had gone silent.

"…Do you?" he repeated in earnest, this time concerned about the long silence.

"Enough questions." She suddenly pulled on the rope to fasten the knot, making him wince again.

Asterix made a feeble attempt to loosen the knot by rubbing his wrists around, but it was too tight; she was good at this. At least her blade was no longer at his throat. He carefully got up to his feet and turned to see the sylvari attending the egg. He could now finally see her in full: a tall, lithe and pale character in long dark green leaves for clothing.

Her forlorn expression could speak a thousand words. She cared deeply for the wellbeing of the critter inside the egg. There was a bittersweet smile on her face when it seemed to respond to her emotions, flickering and shining. The woman eventually slid the crystal orb into a backpack fashioned from a giant slipper orchid and some other variety of leaves. The bag had taken clear strain from the egg's weight earlier, causing it to tear at places where the egg's light would have shined through and probably caught someone's attention. Repairs were shoddy and rushed, but they had to hold for now.

Asterix gazed at her, searching for an answer. 'You don't know her' was indeed a very suspicious thing to say. The sylvari really must have known whoever laid that egg. Did something happen to that creature? Did the woman feel the need to take care of the egg in its place because of it? He wanted to ask, but the sylvari had already asserted her dominance. No more questions.

"You'll be my hostage now," the woman said, hoisting the backpack onto her back with some difficulty. "Make any attempt to escape me, and your life ends. Am I clear?"

"Clear as day." The Gaul made a grim smile.

"If you do as I say, I'll drop you off somewhere safe and make sure you won't remember this ordeal."

"Understood."

The sylvan woman didn't bother to leash him, expecting him to follow her like a hound. He didn't have a choice. This lady was easily going to outrun him, even with that heavy bag. He had so many questions. Who is that woman? What's up with that magic egg? Why was he the unluckiest guy in the jungle, getting caught by something or someone every time? Well, maybe not the unluckiest… but he sure knew how to walk into one trap after another.

Following the river downstream, she appeared to avoid the golden pillars rather than stay close to them. After a while, the Gaul trailing her couldn't stand the silence anymore. Maybe he could try for just a little lighthearted talk.

"You look pretty exhausted," Asterix began carefully.

"You don't look any better," the sylvari commented back.

He smiled. "Touché." He wanted to poke a little more information out of her, but wasn't sure what question would be going too far. He decided to at least give it a try. "I know I'm not supposed to ask questions, but is everything okay? Why are you here of all places, with this egg?"

"I did tell you to not ask questions. Why are you insisting I open up to you?"

"Well, for starters, we're clearly not enemies. You're still yourself, not killing me right away, so that counts for at least something."

His comment made the woman laugh a little. She must have been quite lonely.

"Secondly: you promised me I won't remember any of this, so then it'd be okay, right? Rant a little. I don't mind."

"I'm not sure what I'm doing, exactly. I just know my job is to make sure it's safe."

"Do you think it'll be safe here?"

"Maybe…"

"You know who it belongs to?"

"Yes."

"Who is it?"

"Please, no more questions…" she cautioned concernedly. "They might be listening."

"Okay." Pushed too far. He gazed down at the thin footprints she left behind, following them fixedly. "Sorry."

He really wondered what was to become of him. If the woman would keep her word and leave him somewhere safe—wherever that may be—and 'make him forget' what transpired here. Or if that was really her way of saying she would off him soon. If the egg really was that important, then… could it be?

Thirty minutes passed in silence. The further away they moved from the golden pillars again, the more anxious Asterix was feeling about all of this. He didn't understand why he felt that way. They didn't affect him directly. It was some offhand emotion that kept welling up in him before vanishing again completely. Minutes later, it would come back again, stronger than before. Was something stalking them?

That same feeling became even stronger when they approached a small clearing, shrouded in the shade of the tall trees that towered them.

"We shouldn't be here…" he whispered.

The sylvari appeared to feel the same unease, motioning for her hostage to wait where he stood as she stepped forward cautiously.

"You've done well, Caithe." The new voice surrounded them from every corner, womanly and toxic. The sylvari stopped in place, startled by the familiarity. Asterix watched on anxiously, trying hard to suppress the feeling.

"Faolain?" Caithe asked, torn between an intense curiosity and dread. She tried so hard to find the person hiding in the dark, until, eventually, she saw her face; another sylvari, shrouded deep within the foliage she hid in. She remembered her face. A muted brown like bark and hair of branches. Faolain.

"Bring the egg to me," Faolain ordered coldly.

Caithe went wide-eyed, taken aback by the knowledge Faolain possessed. "What? The egg?" She glanced back quickly, seeing the Gaul shake his head and desperately urging her to get out of there… He was right. Something was terribly wrong about all of this. She felt it too. Turning back to her, she collected her courage. "The egg is my Wyld Hunt, and I can only trust myself with it," she told her.

But then, the foliage began to move around Faolain's head. A long, slender tail curled away and two large claws revealed themselves from their hiding place. Faolain, what was left of her original self, had been fused between the shoulders of an enormous mordrem beast, serving only as the neck and head of this new abomination. The pain in Caithe's eyes was further cemented by how Faolain's voice remained the same as she remembered; just as sickeningly venomous as before.

"We can all trust Mordremoth," it said, closing in on Caithe.

"Run!" Asterix cried out. He was taking steps back, trying to shake the rope around his wrists loose. The lady couldn't defend herself against that beast alone!

"F-Faolain? No!" Caithe stuttered, shocked by the monstrous creature. She staggered back a few steps, before mindlessly turning heel and running, grabbing and pulling Asterix by the arm as she passed him. He cried out, terrified by how shockingly fast the monster was behind them. Faolain's claws were only inches from them when the sylvari cast a spell and they both found themselves… elsewhere. The transition was so quick he could barely register what happened. He just saw large ferns everywhere. And Caithe, putting a finger on her lips, telling him to be quiet.

"Caithe!" the monster roared in rage, knowing very well what trick she had pulled. The monster wasn't far. But it would be spending some time finding them.

Asterix was still dumbfounded by the teleportation trick, but was beginning to understand. The sylvari in front of him quietly turned to his back, and slid her dagger between the rope and his wrists, letting him free once more.

"I'm so sorry about this…" she whispered. He took this as it being safe to speak, albeit as quietly as possible.

"What was that— who was she?" he asked, keeping his voice as low as he could.

"Faolain… I knew her, once," Caithe replied, just as quietly. "I can't believe it… what did Mordremoth do to her? Why did she come here?"

"Who cares? What do we do?"

"I…" Caithe stared at him with a still strong disbelief written on her face. He could see that she was in conflict with herself, though if it was from seeing her old friend in that state, or from Mordremoth, he couldn't tell. But suddenly…

"Listen to me," Caithe urged, struggling to remove her leaf-made backpack from her back. "Faol—that thing, won't stop until it has the egg. Take it with you."

"What? Are you nuts? I can't outrun it. Let alone fight it—" A realization suddenly dawned on him. His sword. He quickly glanced at his empty scabbard. Gods, they left it back there! No sword, no ammo – he was completely defenseless!

"I can't even fight. My sword… we forgot it."

"You don't have to fight. She won't catch you… I promise. Please," the sylvari's gaze was fraught with distress. Distress and desperation. "The egg trusts you. I know it does. Bring it to safety—"

"Caiiithe…" its voice called again melodiously. Faolain… The monster was scanning the area. It hadn't caught on to them just yet, but it was sure to find them if they made any more noise, if not soon. "Where are you, dearheart?"

Deathly silence was all the creature met with. But it sensed them. It knew they were here. "Won't you introduce me to your new friend?" it asked, using the same friendly but traitorous voice it had before. "You know I love meeting new friends of yours… You always pick such funny characters."

The creature slowly inspected the bushes around it, digging through the ferns with its claws. It was so, so quiet. It was sure it heard them before, whispering words it couldn't quite catch. They must be hatching a plan. Perhaps they wanted to try and trick it—

Suddenly, the sound of leaves rustling caught its attention. It quickly turned around, seeing the trail of something hidden between the ferns, running as swift they could. "There you are," it hissed, starting to run after the prey to impale them with its sharp tail, but then, another. From the corner of its eye, Caithe was making her escape. Running off with the backpack on her back. The creature went wide-eyed, excited. Forget the other one. The egg is what it's after, so it growled and turned, starting into a sprint.

Caithe was very fast. She always had been. But Faolain was faster on all fours with its new body. Its victim desperately sought to keep as much distance from it as possible, using every obstacle she passed to slow the beast, and elegantly dodging those in front of her, but she couldn't hope to stay ahead for long. The egg, no doubt, slowed her down, sagging her shoddy backpack with its weight. Frustrated with the chase, Faolain resorted to breaking whatever got in its way. It gasped and snarled, caring only about the egg.

So close.

Nearly there.

"I need the egg!" Its claw finally lashed out at the sylvari, colliding with her. She was sent flying, and hit the ground with a scream.

Faolain roared victoriously, looming over a defeated Caithe, tired and breathing loudly from the long chase. Eagerly, the beast's eyes scanned for her backpack, finding a deflated, ripped up green sack of cloth. Stones littered the ground beside the victim, and as Caithe looked up at Faolain, she gave the creature a guilty grimace.

* Vol. 19: Asterix and Caesar's Gift