04. A Key Memory
The Sil'dihn Subterrane
Complete the left path, sparing the flowers before the final boss.
On my fifth nameday, my parents gifted me with a key wrought in silver─but not the knowledge of what it opened. “When you are a woman grown, we will take you to the precious place this key protects,” Mother had explained. Father had nodded, saying it was “where slumbers the memories which neither we, nor Ul'dah, should ever forget.” I, a child of five, understood only that I was being forced to wait for my true present. Oh, how I had sulked and fumed back then! Yet now I cling to that fading recollection with desperate fingers, like a failed merchant to her dwindling coinpurse.

'Twas too soon after when Mother and Father were called away to Thal's eternal halls. Their sudden absence left me hollow and dazed; my ascension to the throne followed by torturous days of uncertainty steeped in sorrow. It seemed I stumbled across the desert, the sands burning one moment, freezing the next. All thoughts of keys and secret places were cast aside, forgotten.

Why had they entrusted such a portentous gift to a daughter so young? Had they foreseen the “accident” which would befall them? Or had some other factor influenced their actions? Their true intentions are lost to time. There is only one thing I can know for certain: that the key was left in my hands for good reason.