Once More

[Ashtyn]

"What you see now may very well not exist tomorrow. You may wake up yesterday and have no memory of this place."

Custodian of Time

[Ashtyn]

There’s another here, in this cave. No, not just a cave- too big. I have this strong feeling as though I’ve been pulled here from somewhere else. I’m dripping wet, covered with sweat and grime. Muck. I can hear a low thwap, thwap, thwap but I can’t get my mind around what’s causing the noise. He’s calling my name, screaming out words in a language I can’t understand. I’m confused, I can hear him, and I can sense him, but I can’t see him. I try to speak but I can’t get any words out. I look down and see blood down the front of my tunic. Is it mine?

There’s something pulling my back. The thwap, thwap, thwap has gotten louder. I’m being lifted.


My eyes flutter open and it takes me a few seconds to adjust to the light and my surroundings. I’m awake now; any last remains of my dream are dissipating into the recesses of my subconscious. My heart is racing; it must have been another nightmare; although the details are rapidly fading. A couple more minutes and I won’t be able to remember any of it. At least this time the subject wasn’t the legion of undead that still terrorized the dead scar.

I push off the bed and begin to get ready for the day. A quick glance at the antique gnomish clock tells me that I’m going to be a few minutes early to training. That’s fine; I’ll be able to visit the café on my way to Farstrider’s Square. Their cinnamon buns are to die for, and I can already hear my stomach rumbling.

The newspaper is on my front stoop, as usual. The Silvermoon Times. I received a free trial subscription a few months back when they were doing their big marketing push advertising their first new issue since the destruction of the Sunwell years ago. They also gave you a free pen if you signed up. I never bothered to cancel; the newspaper was decent and it gave me something to read when I ate breakfast.

I unfold the paper and look over the headlines. Then the strangest thing happens: I am struck by a feeling of déjà vu so powerful it almost feels like a tangible force.

[Ashtyn]

The cinnamon bun is as good as I expected, but I can’t bring myself to sit and read so instead I go for a walk around the square. I’ve mostly shrugged off the feeling of disquiet from earlier but I still welcome the distraction.

Champion Varnesh is making his rounds. The rangers practicing in the center of the square pay him no mind; the few that do look up from their training don’t even manage a polite smile before they return to their training. I bow respectfully as he passes. My mother taught me manners.

I understand where they are coming from. The rangers were the old guard of Silvermoon, and it must be unsettling to have the Blood Knights come to the forefront. Times have changed, however, and since the near-destruction of our people and our city the Sin’Dorei need something more than the rangers can provide. I’m sure they will come around in time and see how valuable the Blood Knights are to the defense of Silvermoon and our way of life.

It’s not only the rangers that have concerns with them; I’ve seen the looks given by the general populous. Distrust, mainly. Some, revulsion. It’s not that I don’t understand these feelings; I do. The Blood Knights are new, and like anything new, people with closed minds view them with suspicion. But someday they will come around. They will see that we had to hold the Naaru and borrow his gifts for our own survival.

A delegate from the Darkspear passes me and I nod politely. A thought crosses my mind- I’m glad my father isn’t alive to see a troll walking free in his city. I trust our Prince and I understand that this alliance with the trolls, orcs and tauren is necessary. I also know that the trolls are not the same Armani that terrorized our people for centuries. Still, there is a certain part of me that wants to run them out of the city. It feels almost like they are desecrating it.

A clock chimes somewhere in the city; it’s time for my training. I allow myself a momentary fantasy as I walk to the hall and pretend I’m riding my own charger through the city as Varnesh does.

However, in my daydream, even the rangers are saluting me.

[Ashtyn]

My biceps are shaking under the strain of lifting the iron weights. This is my third set, and it's taking all my concentration to complete it. The mental battle is worse than the physical. I am tempted to stop, as I've been tempted to stop at the end of the last set, and I will be tempted at the end of every set I ever do. If I'm not tempted, if that voice isn't there telling me I've done enough, I'm not pushing myself. And I have to push myself to become a Blood Knight. I'm in training as a new recruit, but I still have a lot of work to do. I can control the light as well as any at my stage of developement, but my physical strength and endurance are lacking. I know it is impossible to excel in every facet of the Blood Knight, but that will not stop me from trying.

I notice that I'm clenching my teeth and holding my breath. It's a bad habit, I know. I focus on exhaling as I lift the wieghts. I think about how many reps I have left. Three. I inhale and exhale in time. My thoughts wander to earlier that morning, to the déjà vu I felt, and then earlier to the nightmare I had. I can't remember it any longer, but I remember the after effects well enough. I keep thinking about it, hoping some snipet of the dream will rise from my subconcious, but my efforts are in vain. Well, not entirely. I've finally finished my set.

I return the wieghts to thier rack, looking around at the others in the room. They are all here for the same purpose I am, to protect our way of life. The new guard of the Sin'Dorei. A wave of intense pride washes over me. One of them bares a passing resemblance to my father. I stop and do a double-take. His hair is the same color, a golden brown characteristic of the Amberlights. I touch my own hair as I think this. I take after my mother's pale blonde, almost the color of wheat. My father had been disappointed, almost as disappointed that I was a daughter and not a son for him. I think if he had lived, however, he would be proud of what I have accomplished. I have done much to clear the Ghostlands, and my efforts were noticed by the fledgling Blood Knight organization. I feel a pang of sadness at this thought, but a second later I remember the Darkspear delegate. It is a mercy my father did not live to see trolls in Silvermoon.

I'm shaken from my thoughts by the sound of my own name. At first I think it's Anesta, and perhaps she wants to hit one of the baths together after I stretch. But the second time I hear my name I know it isn't her. My dissapointment is waylaid when I see who is calling me. A high-ranking Blood Knight. Instanly my déjà vu returns. I have time to wonder if I know what she is going to say to me, but before I can complete the train of thought she speaks. And although I should be, I am not surprised at what she says.

Lady Liadrin wishes to see me.

[Mortica]

((ooh, very nice! can't wait to read more))