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This elven writing found in the Arbor Wilds is so old as to be incomprehensible.
There are whispers from the Well of Sorrows. It's impossible to understand the entire text, but certain parts suddenly reveal a shadow of their original meaning.
"In this place we prepare to hunt the pillars of the earth. Their workers scurry, witless, soulless. This death will be a mercy. We will make the earth blossom with their passing."
For one moment there is a vivid image of two overlapping spheres; unknown flowers bloom inside their centers. Then it fades.