The mountains will be your tomb, Loraine.

The Obelisks are not worth it. No matter what secrets you think they hide, they will lead you down a dark road. A cold, dark road, Loraine. The summits are still teeming with soldiers, and I doubt they'll let you warm your hands by their fire. But I don't just fear the people. I'm terrified of the winged beast. Didn't you read our colleague's research?! Don't you know the legends? They'll tear you apart before the bitter cold can freeze you blue!

You can't even be certain that the Obelisks will lead you to the ancient kingdom. Please, stay here with me. Let's drink chamomile tea by the river like we used to!

It's suicide, Loraine. That's all I have to say.
Yours forever, Nala.

I finally understand why the obelisk glyphs gave me so much trouble.
Their language changed. It split into different dialects, one young, one old. Two factions within the Ancient breed, and two ideals:

The young Ancients chose to come to our aid — they chose to help us fight the Shroud. To share their fire so humanity could withstand what they accidentally awoke.
Despite this, the elder Ancients still clung to stoic elevation, segregation, and neutrality... thus, sealing themselves away and ascending to preserve the Flame's purity.

I've gone so far... Survived the Shroud, the heat, the cold... now, what else is there to do but validate my hypothesis? If I can read their signs, walk their path... I can speak their language... ask questions... and get answers.

— Loraine Crim, Yearfall, 508 D.A.