"Well," says Torrent as she readies her axe, "looks like we're not going to learn anything else by just standing here. Follow me."
You follow Torrent down the stone stairway and into the chamber below the fountain. This twenty-foot diameter chamber radiates peace and patience; the soft blue air whispers with a hallowed, distant song. The chamber’s center
is dominated by a tall white statue depicting an elven woman plunging a greastsword deep into a rampant stag. The sword, though carved of stone, looks like it is made of wood and covered in vines that entwine the elf woman’s hands.
At the statue’s feet lie two immobile figures. The first is dressed in the uniform of a Shahalesti soldier from decades past, his body wreathed in pale flames that struggle to burn. The man’s eyes are closed, as if he is in a deep slumber. Likewise along the ceiling, tree roots growing down from the surface flicker with fire, but the flames are subdued, as if the light holds them at bay.
The second figure, a young male elf with red hair, wears the robes of a priest, though he carries no holy symbol. Numerous claw wounds mark his face and body, and he does not breathe, though his body shows no signs of decay. His arms are spread as if he fell in battle, and a heavy mace lies inches from one of his hands. It points to an elaborate glass display case near the wall, which has been shattered, its contents missing.