I'm not sure what we're going to find inside. Dagda almost succumbed to her possession. Mabon fell to his, a loss that continues to loom over the ward. The Kryptis are growing more powerful each moment, and our time to deal with their threat is running out. If we can't rescue Isgarren soon, he may suffer a fate worse than our dear Mabon. This would be catastrophic not just for the Astral Ward or Wizard's Court, but for Tyria as a whole. Without Isgarren, who knows what'll slither forth from the Mists next. And worse yet, what sort of a threat would a corrupted Isgarren be? We regrouped on one of the bastion's floating rings. Dagda and Zojja stood with Zizel, who was listening for movement. Kryptis were waiting to attack, so we marched forward to get the upper hand. As we entered the spire, Peitha took on a defensive tone. "The veil is parting," she told me. Zojja overheard us despite our efforts to be covert. She asked if I was okay, assuming I was speaking to myself. I managed to conceal Peitha's existence for just a bit longer. With tensions as strained as they are, I can't risk being compromised for fear of being removed from the field—or worse. But I don't know how much longer I can keep up this deception. Zojja was on the verge of launching into a lecture when she was interrupted by a Kryptis ambush. This fight likely won't cool until something has concluded. I just don't know if that something is going to be in our favor. After fighting wave after wave of Kryptis, Peitha advised me to think of a particularly fond memory—something to hold on to in the moments ahead. I thought of my home. My friends. Aurene... But Zojja, whose attention was already focused on me moments before, snapped. Is "one of them" in there? And before I could deflect, Peitha interjected. Zojja's skin crawled, but before anyone else could process that revelation, someone more important hovered just ahead: Isgarren. ***