At the heart of the Valley of Endon sprawls the Greenmarsh, a vast expanse of reeds, mist, and stagnant waters stretching thirty miles in all directions. Once a fertile plain, it was swallowed by water long ago, leaving only scattered islands where travelers can find fleeting respite from the sucking mud and treacherous pools.

The ruins of the Ssthessic Vrasa dot the landscape—half-submerged spires, shattered causeways, and marble plazas drowned beneath the shifting bog. Locals say the marsh remembers the empire that once ruled here, and at night, strange lights flicker in the mist, dancing like will-o’-the-wisps over the ruins. Some claim they are nothing more than swamp gases, but others speak in hushed tones of the spirits of the lost empire, lingering still in the waters that reclaimed their domain.