It's been months and months... the Dream scholars can't help me. There is no silence, there is no control. Whatever lets the other Sylvari filter the Dream, I don't have it. It's always there, always roaring through my mind; the memories of my hundreds of brothers and sisters, the Dreams of our entire race, the unformed prescience of the Dreams to come. It never stops, it never stills.
I found my own name in the noise - I am Madruun. My own Dream yet eludes me, but I have learned of a group of Sylvari called "The Soundless". They have abandoned the Grove and seek to shut themselves away from the Dream and the Pale Tree in an effort to escape our collective unconscious. Maybe they can help me escape this din and remember what I am meant to do or be.
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