***
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.
***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.
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.”
---
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.
