Oneiros

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This piece is part of a short series of tales about Tserai from my time in WoW. I don't intend to show every single one nor place the ones that I do, in any order. More details after the piece.

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The air had calmed and the light was quick to dim. There was no noise in the streets below. All was as silent as Tserai’s very mind. He’d returned to Stormwind, barely conscious of his surroundings. He’d clung to her tightly, never letting go, not even in his sleep. She was his anchor- his only doorway to life. The trip was harsh and long, but his grip never faltered. Through storm and ice, he survived with her hand in his. She had not left his side except for the briefest of moments, when his slumber was deep and rapt.

Boats, caravans, horses; whatever means brought them closer to Stormwind- she took them. His wounds continued to open. His fever would not break. The only thing keeping him to this world was her hand, holding his life upon the limb of a few fingers. It comforted her to know that he was alive, but that very fact continued to terrify her. She recalled their most recent meetings- his sudden lunacy and her disparaging reproach towards him.

And yet here they were again, together with clasped hands, as if the very fates grinned their sardonic smiles at them. He would not awaken- only mutter and whimper in his sleep as Stormwind continued to draw nearer each day. The healers there would cure him, she had desperately hoped when she found his fallen body in the midst of an empty road, battered and broken by forces unknown. Her first urge was to flee- to escape the growing pain that tugged at her soul. He was a curse- a blight to her future. That darkness- it continued to surround him- more strongly now. She could not help but blame herself for such a tragedy. She had failed him, and now she would do so again, by letting him die?

Her mind spoke against her. Every fiber in her being struggled against her to leave him to his death, to let this man disappear from her life. And yet she ignored those calls and reached out for him. As her hand touched him, his eyes unexpectedly opened. He could only manage to whisper her name before falling back to the ground unconsciously, seemingly lifeless if not for his breathing- so slow and deathly hollow.

She could not discern his dreams, nor his troubled state. She could only watch over him and comfort her own bothered mind over yet another burden she thought lost. Stormwind. Why Stormwind, of all places? It was not for the healing. It was for the bitter memories that could never be. Where they met. Where they laughed. Where he changed. For her. Always for her. And that bothered her- yet she never told him.

* * * * *

The city seemed to recognize him more and more, as they drew further in. Commander of the Dawn, they whispered. Hero over the Black Citadel. They knew of his exploits and yet knew nothing of his methods, Ylli thought bitterly. They were not aware of his schism with the Argent Dawn. Or perhaps they simply did not care. This was Tserai Azurio, a man who ventured into death itself, and emerged victorious. A man who could lead the very fleets of the Alliance to Northrend itself in the coming days.

She brought him to the cathedral and watched them open his wounds. She would listen to his cries as they removed the poisons within his flesh. She was his sentinel. It was her duty as a priestess, she reminded herself. Her duty. 

 

When the priests were finally done, she promised to care for him under her roof. His sweat continued to soak the sheets, and she would change them regularly, almost as often as the damp cloth upon his forehead. Slowly- very slowly, his hand would stop trembling- a sign of recovery on his part. The fever broke. His skin began to regain color. He would open his eyes at last and see her again, like an eternal dream, dancing at the tip of his mind.

“You’re awake finally.” She spoke softly with a faint tremble. “You’ve been asleep for weeks.”

It all began to fall together for him, as it had many times before. She was here, as real as anything else in the world. His mind however, continued to blind his senses, leaving his emotions dull and weak. He did not know how to feel- how to react. He could only watch faintly, her face shining down at him with what seemed to be a smile.

“You’re in Stormwind, Tserai. The… priests- they healed you. You nearly died, you know.”

She didn’t know what to say really. It all seemed so pointless, these words of hers. The tears- they wanted to slip through, but she could not allow it. She would not allow it.

He only stared at her, his face blank of any emotion or meaning. Was his mind whole, or had he emerged scathed and senseless from the terrors within Naxxramas?

Or was it her? Was she his bane, or he hers? Her stomach twisted as questions continued to torment her psyche. 

 

His eyes closed without a word and he fell into a slumber once more. She allowed her restraints to fail and tears began to form. As one slid down her face, it fell upon his cheek. She was quick to wipe it off before letting go of his hand and leaving him to his silent repose.

* * * * *

A week had passed and the city had grown silent to his arrival. He was but a leaf, quick to blow through the streets. Quick to be forgotten. He would sit in a chair and stare out a window, without saying a word to her. He hardly ate, but it comforted her to see him eat anything at all instead of nothing. She would leave her home frequently, to further the distance between them. Nights would be spent alone, wandering the streets and occasionally glancing at the stars. And yet as she passed by her home, she would look at the window and see him stare at the sullen earth and not the stars above.

Once, she had heard him humming an unfamiliar tune to himself. She silently crept to an adjacent wall and sat against it, listening to him for hours before falling asleep. Waking up the next morning, she discovered his blanket covering her tightly. Walking to his room, she found an empty chair facing out to a bright day.

He did not return, no matter how long she waited. It was an empty feeling, her being alone within her own home. She felt anxious. Afraid even. Stepping into the warm streets, she began to wander the roads of the city, hoping to find him somewhere- anywhere, safe and unharmed. It was not like the days of the past. She tired easily. She could not travel the same distances without brief rest. Sitting down at a bench, she closed her eyes and sighed.

Where did this compulsion come from? Why did she want to find him? He was no child in need of a mother. He needed no caretaker. He was a man of his own, who had survived for years. He was reckless. Dangerous. Careless even. And yet, he continued to live where others had died.

But was it truly a life, that he was living? Or was it an empty shell of one- just like himself? Did she truly want to help him or was it simply the priestess within? Perhaps he didn’t even need help. Perhaps all he needed was her.

She sensed another nearby. Her eyes opened and saw the man of her thoughts, leaning sideways against a dim light post, clutching at himself as if frozen in the cold. She stood up, watching him carefully as he stared back and shuddered.

“Its… its cold here.” He whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. “I… don’t remember it- it being so cold here.”

“Tserai…” She stepped forward.

He stepped back.

“You… don’t understand. You- you don’t know.”

“Tserai..” She said again, edging closer with a outstretched hand.

“They… they did things to me. To them.”

Things. Horrific things no doubt. Things she could not imagine. It was all possible. And their result was this broken man, afraid of even her.

“I never wanted them to die, Ylli.” Tserai said quietly, his back hitting against a wall. She continued to step closer.

Was he speaking of his past, or his experiences within the Citadel? It all seemed so similar. And yet it made little sense, these ramblings. What could they have done to drive him to such a summit? Or was it ultimately her, who had broken the last of his defenses?

“I’m sorry.” He said with a near-whisper, his legs buckling as he fell towards the ground.

She rushed towards him, catching him in his fall. She embraced him tightly, refusing to let go. Releasing him slowly, she looked at him and smiled.

“Lets go home, Tserai.”

“Home…”

“Yes. Home.”

* * * * *

They returned to her dwelling, with her whispering comforts with every step. He would respond now and then, hinting at a familiar return that brought a smile to her face. As they entered her room, he gently sat at the side of the bed, watching as she sat next to him, her hand still clasped with his.

Tserai finally looked up at her after long minutes of dead silence, his expression trapped between a look of guilt and one of relief. There was a difference in him however, Yllithia noted. She continued scanning his face, searching for the change within him until she found it, a warm sense of happiness flooding within her. It were his eyes. As ashen grey as they had once been, they hinted at change as a sliver of cerulean stared back at her.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” He said softly, stroking her hand with his fingers, his voice relaxed and calm. This was the man she knew once. He was quiet- almost inaudible. But his composure did not change. That dark pride however- it seemed to be gone. He seemed to understand his limits and his very mortality now. 

 

"I love you, Ylli."

“I know, Tserai.” She replied with a smile, pushing away unrestrained hair with her other hand. The response was almost immediate and she pondered whether it was honest or instinctual. 

 

“Stay with me tonight?” He asked, almost pleadingly, his grip tightening slightly.

“You know I will.” Came the reply, as gentle as ever before.

He sat there with her for eternal minutes, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder before slowly laying down on the bed, her body lightly lowering with him. She embraced him tightly and looked at his face, smiling as she recognized the tranquil quintessence within his eyes. Her hand remained with his while the other slid down his cheek, towards his heart. Their faces drew nearer and he smiled back, his eyes lowering to her lips. They continued to fall, past her neck and to her swollen abdomen.

His eyes suddenly changed, that serenity being quickly replaced with an expression or fright and terror. Whatever lifelike change grew in his eyes quickly disappeared and the familiar gloom returned, his eyes becoming as grey as the shadows surrounding them. His heart seemed to stopped and Yllithia’s every thought rushed to her child- the only valid reason for such a change.

Before she could push away, an unexpected warmth covered her hand and she drew back in slight surprise. 

 

“Y-Ylli..” He stammered, his eyes falling from her lips, to her hand. 

 

Her own gaze fell and eyes widened as she looked at her own hand, covered entirely in blood.

“Tserai- what’s happening?”

His body collapsed upon the bed and a stifled gasp escaped his lips. She released his trembling hand with regret and pulled at his shirt, crying out in dismay as gaping holes poured out blood through his chest. 

 

“Tserai!” She screamed, trying desperately to cover the cavernous wounds with her hands. His eyes stopped stirring and all movement quickly faded. She continued to scream for him, unable to do anything as a thick stream of blood trickled from his open mouth.

His vision faded. He could feel her cries become faint and empty as everything darkened. Wet tears splattered upon his cheek and her very touch began to fade. Her face disappeared from his mind and the only a faint whisper remained. It grew louder and louder- until he recognized it, not as a whisper but as a laugh.

“And now you see what you cannot have, Azurio. Now you have felt your own heart. How it beats. How it thinks. Let it die, Azurio! Let it die and never beat again. Let her own thoughts die along with it, for it will never be. Realize this, and be closer to your… ambition!”

His eyes opened to the screams of nightmares surrounding him. Deathly horrors enclosed around him as he lay upon a slab of frozen ice, chained and bound. A path parted within his view and he could see a shadow of a being standing over him with a blade in hand.

“Now, let us see how much you’ve truly decided to give, Azurio. Let us witness the change that you have decided to accept. After all, this was your own decision.”

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Commentary: 

 This is perhaps one of the more important moments in Tserai's story, recalled through Yllithia's point of view.  Though it is probably difficult to discern without knowledge of the context, all of this is actually a dream.  I would call it more of a nightmare though, or perhaps even a vision.  This scene describes events that could not have possibly happened, following the previous events of the story.  Here, it describes Tserai as the hero of the battle, not the fallen victim that he had become in reality.  If this story ever becomes more than one book, I would love to have this section placed at the very beginning of the sequel, in order to confuse the reader into thinking that all of this has actually taken place in some unfathomable way.  

So if this was all false, why did I call it a vision?  Well, in my revising, I've decided to use this section as an unforeseeable future.  In one way or another, something that happened in this vision will most definitely occur in reality.  This vision has three versions.  Tserai and Yllithia have different experiences.  This vision comes from the mysterious Dir-Dawaan and he attempts to ensure that it occurs properly.  I'll leave things at that.

Of course, being a work of WoW fanfiction, I've already changed the majority of names and environments.  With this being original content, I will obviously continue to revise, improve, and edit the piece sometime to better fit the proper story in the world that it belongs in.