We ventured deep into the swamp, following the clues from old surveyor’s papers. Four days southeast, where the roads had long since vanished beneath the wetlands. The swamp water seemed to guide us. And we followed.

Along the way, we encountered the ghost of an elven librarian—a spirit bound to the ancient ruins. He revealed fragments of knowledge about the Vayrathians and their dealings with the Fae, but he did not lead us to a library.Instead, he led us toward something far older. A massive structure grown from living Songwood, its impossible construction bearing the unmistakable marks of the ancient Vayrathians.

At its heart stood a colossal door. Before we could reach it, we encountered a Feyward Tree, twisted by strange and ancient magic. We fought it—and defeated it. Then we stood before the door. It was enormous. Ancient symbols covered its surface, written in a language we could barely comprehend. When we opened it, we discovered that it was not a doorway into another chamber.

It was a doorway into another plane. We stepped through. And on the other side, we found ourselves facing another enormous door. This one was different. Its surface was covered in writings none of us could decipher.

Not Vayrathi. Not anything the elven librarian could explain. We searched for meaning. There was none we could find. The door remains closed. And we have no idea what waits beyond it. But if the Vayrathians built the first door to cross between worlds…

what did they build the second door to contain?