And the Agony Remained

Cenias swam upstream, his gills moved while water rushed past him, in taking water automatically, despite his lack of needing air. Even here, in the stream that runs down from the mountain, I can feel the corruption of the Nightmare growing. The air, the water, the grass, the trees… It doesn’t taste as it used to. The creature glided onwards, moving at un unnatural speed while trees and hills rushed past him. The moon descended, then sun rose, set again, and again the moon dominated the ceiling of the dream. Time meant nothing, gravity, form, all that mattered was the Dream. The horned fish leapt from the water, a hot blaze streaked the sky while it hung in the air for a moment as the sun passed furiously across the sky, a year passed, a tree grew, went through seasons, and shed its leaves. The fish landed back in the water, dipping in while ripples flowed inwards to the surface.

Something happened, and the fish stopped swimming. It was subtle, like the missing of a single note in a complex melody that only the musician noticed. Cenias made his way to the surface of the water again, fins stretched, webbing into one another, forming claws as a bat like creature grabbed the surface of the water as if it were solid, and pulled itself out. The creature stood on the water, and the leathery wings finished forming, then sprouted feathers. Hooves pushed off the glassy surface of the suddenly still stream, a hippogryph took flight.

The intelligent creature soared over the sky, keen eyes scanning the ground, they narrowed, finding their prey. A slim, pale figure walked the surface of the forest. It’s figures were elven, but it’s flesh almost human in colour. The figure looked about itself, grinning wildly, while the hippogryph landed before it. The Sin’dorei looked at the magestic beast, still smiling. “This place… Is magnificent!” he laughed, happily, holding his hands out at his sides. The hippogryph cocked it’s head sideways, then stretched it forward. You, are aware of where you are, are you not?

“Oh yes, you must be a gaurdian of this place, aren’t you?” The being asked. You will leave now. Awaken, child, and return to your world. This is not your home, and neither is it a place for you to bring your corrupted addictions. There is nothing here for you to steal. The Blood Elf frowned, turning away from Cenias and touching the bark of a tree. “No, not until I have a taste…”

The bird pruned its feathers. If it will allow you to leave on your own accord, child of blood, then do so. The thin figure furrowed its brows at the words of the guardian, and placed it’s hand flat against the tree, breathing in sharply. A pulse of magic rippled, tiny, insignificant, and a single drop of water left the endless ocean of the dream. The Blood Elf released the tree, immediately, stumbling back wards. His legs quivered beneath him, his breath coming shakily, a trembling hand came to his nose, touching it, then looking at the black ink like substance that flowed freely from it. A heartbeat, and the ink dribbled from his long slender ears. Screaming the figure tumbled over, grabbing his insides, tearing his shirt off and clawing at the maggots writhing beneath his skin. Blackness poured from his mouth as he vomited onto the soil.

The bird pruned itself, the moon sank in the wrong direction.

Roots absorbed the soil as one of the trees became taken by the Nightmare. Living wood died, was reborn, and died again, in agony the branch wrapped around the slender figure before it, constricting it to the point of breaking. The guardian stood on his hind legs, stepping forwards. Muscle tendons rippled over his body, forming harder than the stone the dwarves and men exhumed from the deepest mountains, claws like deadly blades extended from muscle as Cenias assumed his true form, following Ursa. The bear swung a single, mighty paw towards the middle of the corrupted tree, the trunk exploded on impact, hunks of wood and slivers spraying in all directions. The Blood elf collapsed, gasping, at the feet of the guardian who resumed the shape of a Keldorei.

Cenias looked down, his figure a silhouette, eyes glowing in the darkness. If we were to meet in the reality of Azeroth, I would take your life in my hands, and extinguish it. But not in this reality, little child of blood. Here I am your guardian, here I take your life in my hands, and shelter it, sparing it. I will see you safely home. Tell your people what will happen if they come seeking power here again. He placed his hand on the forehead of the quivering, frail elf at his feet. The Sin’dorei nodded weakly, and vanished from the dream.

The guardian sighed, and placed his hands on the ground, rubbing out the miniscule corruption that remained. A breeze carried through the gale, and Cenias traveled along it. The Stag galloped, keeping pace with the breeze, and with it’s own sound. It will return, it always will. And so will more after him. The children of blood have no boundaries as to what they will siphon to quench their thirst. How many more years will I serve before I will see the last of their kind? How many more years will I be permitted to serve without Hyjal? I am still childless, perhaps it is time to find a third mate in order to birth a child to carry on the work of Ysera…

The stag stumbled in the woods suddenly; it’s horns shattering as it careened into the ground, becoming tangled in the undergrowth. Black tendrils crept around the shuddering beasts body, sewing it into the ground while the creature thrashed and kicked wildly.

Cenias winced, opening his eyes, he stirred in his nakedness, a thin layer of moss covering him. Tanya placed a hand on his chest, her hand caressing the muscular skin and moving to his bare shoulders. The female Keldorei was beautiful, her long blue hair flowed down her body, whirled and strewn about without loosing any of its grace. She propped herself with her free elbow, red claw lines traced down her face, a tattoo symbolizing ferocity, she smiled.
“You know, I do not think you have ever told me, love…” Cenias looked up to her, replying.
“Ask, Tanya, and I will tell you whatever your heart desires.” She smiled at the response, and kissed him, lightly.
“Why do your shoulders shed with the changing of the seasons?” she asked, drawing a circle on his chest with a single finger.

Cenias exhaled, looking up the ceiling of a cloudless starry night.
“The same reason as to why the stag sheds his antlers after mating season, and the same reason a tree looses its leaves in the fall,” he replied, reaching up and touching her face. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes. The mates smiled at one another, and in their secret grove embraced. A dry twig snapped, and the female’s head darted off to the woods. The male attempted to sit up, but the female pressed her hand flat on his chest, forcing his sternum to collapse his lungs like an animal being suppressed.
“No,” she snapped, her tone dominant. “You. Stay.” In a smooth motion, she slipped from the moss bedding, clothing her nakedness and taking up a glaive. Weak and helpless, the male watched his mate creep like a shadow among the trees, and waited for her to come back.

This is…

Years passed, the two of them grew together, becoming more and more steadfast in their duties, sharing the time of his awakenings and relishing in one another. He fought corruption in one reality, while she battled beasts and demons in another. Both guarded, both were protectors and warriors. Both knew that if when their time to meet came, and one did not arrive, then no explanation was needed.

I don’t want to see this.

Cenias watched through the dream, watched the horrendous battle along side a younger, but still mature druid. Arcane wielding dragons battled against the ferocious female warriors, and numbers fell from both sides. Cenias prepared to wake when the younger druid cried out, suddenly, and faded as two sentries were burned in arcane flames. Ailac shirked his responsibilities, perhaps by accident, perhaps he was shocked out by the sense of loss of his family members. In the end, he left early.

Why am I seeing this?

And so one stayed behind.

Stop, I don’t want to watch.

He begged and pleaded with his shan’do, but was reprimanded harshly for even considering leaving while now bearing a double burden. And so he skipped a cycle of awakening. And so he watched. From his cage he watched her wait, watched her wait longer. He watched her weep, he watched her strengthen her conviction, he watched her press onwards. He watched her live, he watched her finish grieving, he watched her meet another. He howled in rage while he brushed the locks from her face, and wept in bitterness and agony when she took him in their grove.

Please, no more… no more.

And then Ailac returned.

He dreamed of wrapping his hands around the younger druids throat, he dreamed of tearing out his windpipe with his own fangs. He dreamed of more and more ways he could do it, although more and more slowly. But when he looked into the other males amber eyes, and saw the same pain of loss…

Why wont you stop.

He chastised him for shirking his responsibilities, severely, and swallowed his agony. And he too, strengthened his conviction and moved on. The Druids became close, and fell into the same sleep cycle. A secret hatred never known was laid to rest. There came another, Nadoria, she was small and more lithe than Tanya, her hair was almost a light purple tinge. She was timid for a female, making her rather rare.

Not this, anything but this.

The war horn of Cenarius blew, and the Druids awoke. They fought alongside the females, and finally at Hyjal. Nordrassil splintered, bursting.

NO.

Cenias gnashed his teeth in bitter agony when he found Nadoria impaled by one of the splinters. A final reminder, a final casualty, a final blow. A final defeat.

…

Another druid remained asleep, unaware of the battle, unheeding of the horn. Ailac slumbered, wrapped in a quiet blanket of enveloping corruption.

He lost his mate in the battle too. I am not the only one who suffered.

Did she? Or did you tell him that to shield him from the truth of her leaving, and you being forced to care for his starving body in the barrows for the years that followed.

No, she died.

Liar.

The stag kicked furiously against the black, writhing worms. The kicking got weaker. The sun rose, and passed down again. The seasons changed. The hatred and the agony remained.