Persistent Vision

Do you remember Telmor?
How could she forget? Of course….
The beginning of the end?
“Yes.”
The betrayal. The slaughter. The corruption and bloodlust.
“I remember it all.”
She paused and raised her axes, tightening her grip on the pummels with sweaty palms. Her breathe came ragged and low, and the first twinge of anger flickered to life.
“I remember how they were before,” she said, her tongue dancing over the musical notes of her native language. “I remember the nobility and the passion. I remember the brown skin.”
But their skin is green now.
“And their nobility lives on.”
They slaughtered us.
“They were used.”
They turned willingly.
“Not all of them!”
They were pawns, as we all are. Pawns of a power greater than all other powers. You say you are Draenei, but you are Eredar. Look at what your leaders have wrought. The near slaughter of the Draenei by savages, and your own desperate flight from extinction. Such is the way for those who turn their back on destiny.
She swallowed and looked up into the sky, glancing through the slits of her helmet towards the green hue of the Twisting Nether. Around her Draenor seemed to heave, to rage, and to die. It gasped for air with burned and broken lungs. How anyone could find a future here….
“You are one of us,” she finally said.
No longer.
“Man’ari,” she whispered hoarsely.
I take my place amongst my people, as I should have done so many years ago.
“I will remember you as you were.”
The words were not hers, but the voice familiar. A warm prickle ran across her skin, and she knew she had been blessed. She felt Stevanya by her side, the paladin readying her great hammer.
“We won’t allow you to suffer in such a way.”
She reached out, made contact, and asked of the spirits. Her axes burned with lightening as she ducked forward and swung them both upwards in unison towards crimson flesh.
* * *
Pavla blinked, her vision clouding and then clearing as she came awake into the eternal twilight of the Elves. It was late in the morning as she rose, and already the nocturnal Elves had begun to settle into the steady rhythm of sleep – a rhythm that felt so strange to her. Still, she enjoyed the quiet of the city during the day most times. Darnassus had become home, or at least the closest thing to home she had found since Telmor.
Outside a soft rain fell, and a gentle mist spilled over through her window into the ancient wooden floor where she now lay. She sat up, stretching arms and legs still thick and heavy from the tea that helped ease open her mind to the spirits and their wisdom. Staring at the wall, she felt it come back to her, first in bits, and then, in a rush, all together.
A dream? Maybe.
A vision? If so….
She felt her heart beat quicken; her forehead break into a cold sweat. She needed to see them.
She rose and quickly dressed, belting a loose fitting robe and securing both of her axes. Outside she untied her saber, Duster, from the stock, and led the great cat from the city by his reigns. It was a short trip to The Exodar, but still, she enjoyed his easy company and the warm affection that seemed to sparkle in those glowing, intelligent eyes. As if sensing her anxiety he pressed up against her during the boat ride to Azuremyst and purred heavily as she absently scratched behind his left ear.
The hovel was as it had been the last time she’d seen it, a fraction of The Exodar that had broken off and landed nearby supplemented with neat, Draenei styled ceramic walls. Absently, she was surprised her parents hadn’t done more.
She tied Duster to a nearby tree, and ducked down into the home that her mother and father had made upon this new world.
“Mother?” she asked. “Father?”
In the other room she heard the clatter of dishes.
“Pavla?” Her mother stepped into the room, a genuine look of shock evident on her face.
“Yes,” Pavla said.
“You…. What…. You’re here!”
“Yes.”
Her mother smiled widely, and despite herself, Pavla felt a grin creep across her lips. The older Draenei wrapped her arms around her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her in close.
“My youngest…” she said into her shoulder. “How are you?”
“I…. am…. well… I don’t know.”
Her mother pulled back, and frowned.
“You don’t know?”
“Something is wqrong.”
“Wrong?”
“Mother, are you okay? Is it…. Happy here?”
“Pavla….”
“Please.”
Her mother frowned and pulled at one of her tendrils, a nervous habit.
“I’m fine, I suppose. A bit lonely, but Stev often comes by.”
“Lonely?” Pavla then frowned. “Where is father?”
“He left.”
“Left?”
“A group of humans came by. They were looking for those who would fight the Legion. The Scourge as well.”
“He went with them?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t try to stop them?”
“I told him my thoughts…. But he is determined.”
“Mother…”
“I’m sorry!”
Pavla exhaled between her teeth, and for the first time in a very long time she felt fear close a fist around her mind.
“Do you know where he is?”
“He said he’d write soon. Stev did not tell you this?”
“I have not seen her much, mother.”
“Oh.”
Pavla frowned and sat back into one of the chairs that surrounded the center stone table.
“You look tired, and you’re drenched. Let me get you a blanket.”
But Pavla did not hear her. She stared down at the floor, her concern evident on her brow.
If it was a vision….
Category:Stories