You step through the second glowing door and emerge near the roots of a vast tree - the Great Tree itself, ancient beyond reckoning, standing tall and proud through the endless march of time. Its bark pulses faintly with life, but that life is now under siege. The air is thick with an acrid stench, vile whispers sound in your ears; a chorus of voices that do not belong to the living.

They come in waves. Wraiths - pale shapes made of shadow and grief - claw and tear and coil themselves around the tree, gnawing at its roots, seeping into its bark like rot. Each successful strike drains color from the vibrant branches that have offered protection for so long, blanketing them in the thick, vile sludge you have come to associate with Dre Klage.

Their efforts are concentrated at the hollow of the tree. The two skeletal figures, locked tight within the roots' protective embrace, guard the first sprouts of what you now know to be the cure to the Parasite - the Gold Turtlehead! Their tender leaves are only just beginning to push past the topsoil, glittering with a soft golden sheen, and the wraiths seek to rip them out and destroy the Great Tree that shelters them.

You can feel its endurance growing thin, its quiet plea resonating deep within your bones. Stand fast; drive them back. If the tree is lost so too is the hope of a cure for the Parasite, as well as a benevolent power that has allowed love to flourish and children to be born into this world regardless of the limitations of mortal flesh.

It cannot fall.