Deep beneath the land of Istaria evil is stirring.  Evil so foul, so powerful, so deadly, that none dare speak of it lest they bring it to their own doorstep.  Istaria's brave community manager, Amarie, recently took another peek down into the dark depths of what is being called "The Blighted Labyrinth". By barely a tailor's thread, Amarie safely made it back to the surface with a letter given to her by one of the tormented souls trapped in the labyrinth.

Hear Sigrun's letter as read in her own haunting voice in this preview of one of the many quests that will be featured as part of the upcoming Blighted Labyrinth content pack.

Click here to watch and listen.

My most beloved Knut,

I sense that we shall move out quite soon, perhaps with tomorrow’s dawn.  I have no doubt that the road which shall bear the tread of our boots will lead us into the clamor of battle once more.  Knowing this, I am compelled to set pen to paper, to write lines that may fall under your gaze and speak to you, though my voice may have long since fallen silent.

Our march may be one of a few days duration and come at last to nothing, or it may be one of severe conflict and death to many, including one poor soul who only now can speak of her love for you. My heart is calm and my hammer ready; Brobbet’s will be done. If it is needful that I should fall on the battlefield for the kingdom, I am prepared. I have no misgivings about or lack of confidence in the cause for which we fight, and my hammer shall not falter. I know how strongly Aughundell leans upon the triumph of the Iron Guard, and how great a debt we owe to those who, with blood and suffering, purchased the safety of the Kingdom in days past. And I am willing - perfectly willing! - to lay down all my joys in this life to protect our people and to pay that debt with the same coin.

Yet, my beloved, I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them with sorrow and loneliness. I ask myself, is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly on the breeze, that my love for you should struggle so fiercely, yet with such futility, against the love of land, people, King, and Kingdom?

There are no words I can use to describe to you the turmoil in my heart this night. All around me, the purest steel of Dwarven Might, our brothers and sisters of the Iron Guard, slumber peacefully, enjoying what may be the last such pleasure they will know before entering the long sleep of death. Some few sit, as I do, sensing Fate upon them, and hold their own silent counsel in the darkness, yet I would wager what life remains to me that none would take a single step towards home, save the King commanded it.

I have sought most closely, diligently, and often in my heart, searching for a weak or undeserving motive for setting duty before the happiness of those I love, and I have found none. The Spirit of Aughundell and the Principles of the Mandate, to love Honor more than I fear Death, have called upon me, and I have obeyed.

Knut, my love for you stills my heart and my breath, binding me to you with mighty chains that only Brobbet’s own axe might break; and yet my love for Aughundell sweeps down upon me, like hammer onto anvil, and drives me, burdened even with these chains of my heart, irresistibly to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you soothe the ache in my heart, and I feel most gratified that those few hours were given to us. It is hard for me to give them up and burn to ashes all my hopes of future years when we might have lived and loved together. I want to know the blessing of children and of watching with you as our babes grow to adulthood in strength, justice, and honor. I have no right to beseech Brobbet’s will, but something whispers to me - perhaps the prayers of our children not yet born - that I should not surrender my hope and that I shall return to you unharmed. If I do, I will know no greater happiness until the day I take my first step as your bride. If Brobbet decrees that I should not, never forget how much I love you. Your name will be on my lips with every foe I slay, and with my last breath, I will whisper my love for you.

Forgive my many faults, and the many trials my willful heart has caused you. How thoughtless and boastful I have oftentimes been! I should gladly wash out every little stain upon your happiness with my tears and struggle at your side against all the misfortune of this world. Alas, this dream is denied me. I shall watch you from the Gallery as one of the Fallen Dead, waiting with sad patience ‘till we meet again and part no more.

Oh, my love, if we spirits can come back to these lands and flit unseen around those they held dear, I shall always be near you. If there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath. If cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be the touch of my lips and the caress of my hands. In the brightest day and in the darkest night, in your happiest times and your hours of heartbreak, I will be there always, always, and always.

Now and forever, no matter what may come, my love for you endures, and I remain your Sigrun.

***

The spirit heaved a long sigh, heavy with relief and gratitude. “Thank you so much for retrieving my letter, Gifted One. It may seem to be a thing of little consequence when measured against the thunder and strife that blankets our land, yet it has burdened me with years of restlessness and lamentations. Now, I beg one last indulgence of you: Carry my words back with you, that this small part of me may at last come home.”