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: Morning Reading
[[Note: It is assumed that all spaces in the World of Warcraft, were they real, would be much larger and more elaborate than they are in the game. It may also help the reader to know that this excerpt from Sayna's long life takes place in contemporary times. As her life has indeed been long, though, not all of her acquaintances or the language the reader might see her encounter are always as contemporary. To aid the reader, I've left short explanatory notes marked by numbers, such as "[1]", which can be referred to at the bottom. Don't worry if this particular story seems dismal, because there are many more positive aspects of Sayna's life that will be touched on as her story is slowly, bit by bit, revealed. Enjoy!]]
Maliynn bent down slightly from her position behind the counter and opened a drawer, her eyes apparently scanning its contents. Her mistress Kimlya's inn was one of the larger establishments in Astranaar, so she had made it a point to offer storage for small belongings and valuables to the many travelers constantly moving through the city. Since many didn't want to take such things into the field, Kimlya's inn offered the service for a few silver.
“Sayna?” Maliynn asked a somewhat large elf woman before her. Sayna nodded and smiled. The innkeeper smiled back and produced a large, black, leatherbound book – the bent corners and leaves of paper within were browned from an obviously long life. There was no writing or engraving on it. “I think I remember you now. You came in a few days ago.” Maliynn handed the book carefully to Sayna, who took it gratefully. “It’s unusual. The patrons who stay here rarely ask us to hold anything so normal as a book. Then again, it looks to be very old. It caught my eye." Not responding, Sayna nodded politely again and turned to go. Maliynn tried to mask her disappointment. "Oh, will you be leaving Astranaar?”
“Not yet,” Sayna replied turning around a bit to reply, shaking her head once. “I just decided to rest for the day, and thought I might read. Thank you for taking care of my books.”
“My pleasure,” said the smiling elf woman as Sayna walked away.
Sayna walked for several minutes until she reached the bank of the Astranaarian Rivermoat. She’d spotted a bench near the edge of the wide inner moat the day before. She'd dressed in simple, rarely worn, daycomfort pants and shirt before eating a meager breakfast in the lodge's bustling dining hall before heading to the lobby to pick up one of her ledgers. For some reason, her thoughts had been drifting in a particular direction of late, and it was by no coincidence that she chose the black book that now rested in her lap as she sat on the cool stone bench. Now alone, Sayna gingerly opened the book to a point somewhere near the end. Yulain's familiar, slanted handwriting crowded the aging paper. It'd been a while since she'd opened this book in particular. Perhaps he might have some insights I've forgotten, Sayna thought to herself. The pages crackled loudly and stiffly as she flipped slowly through them, scanning, until her eyes finally settled on a certain spot:
...and it is as my student, if I may still refer to you as such, that I present to you with my final challenge. May your mind be free.
You know well of the pact that the druids made with the Princess Ysera[1] in the wake of Lord Malfurion’s agreement with Cenarius to form the Circle[2]. “Our Lord”[3] has ever been reckless, though it may have been necessary in times passed, and played loosely with his promises. One may question whether or not he foresaw the effects it might have on his own life, or how the loyalty he gave to such steadfast allies in war compared to his loyalty for his mate. I remember, fondly at that, bantering on the issue several times over. Still, that is not the question I wish to present to you. Think of what these promises have cost the world, and for what reward. What is the Dream[4], why is it linked to our world, and why by way of Nor’Drassil? Surely it may be considered sacrifice to sign away centuries of one’s life to the Dream, but for that sacrifice to be bourne fully by one caste of our society…? And, if it is indeed a sacrifice, for what gift was it made? It was the Red Queen[5] and not her dozing sister[1] that bestowed upon the world the healing gifts of Nor’Drassil and afforded us, still, our immortality. What would drive a being chosen by the Titans themselves, to make so senseless a pact? If Nelfarion was turned - and he charged with the most important task of warding this world - then what merits our faith in the Dreamer[1]? Thus far her half-pact has brought only pain and loss. To what end? To what end?
Here now, we have come to the final challenge. We see the dead fruits of the Dreamer’s agreement, the suffering of the world, and we know that it was a Dragon who designed this agreement; a Dragon picked by the hand of one of the greatest Titans. If a Dragon of such caliber can be a fool, then what of the Ti....
Sayna stopped reading and slowly looked upwards, out into the forest, shutting the old book in her hand. The water of the rivermoat lapped quietly at the mossy bank. The trees beyond seemed to speak with the voices of all the animals that inhabited their boughs or the ground below – the chattering of bugs, groaning of beasts, and chirping of birds. No matter what changes have befallen it or may befall it yet, she mused, the forest will always speak of what it holds inside, as long as there is a forest there to say it. She looked back down at the heavy book in her hand. Her thoughts returned to the passage she’d just read. This is too much, Yulain, she thought to herself. I cannot follow you there. I'm still obstinate. What is left in this world, what is solid and whole, if not the Pantheon?
Over her lifetime, her teachers had challenged her beliefs in everything, but before she was allowed to settle into a new belief, the new one was challenged. Eventually, she learned the lesson of finding truth on her own, rather than having it taught to her by a skillful and persuasive tongue, even if it was an honest tongue. She realized that, long ago, she’d come to a point where she was much alike to, if not wiser than, those that had taught her in her youth. She remembered them so vividly at times. Even Yulain’s final lesson, which she’d read many times in the past century, was not unfathomable to her, but her own questions remained. How am I to exist like that, without anything to rely on? Loneliness crushes my spirit at times. There is no love to stay my mind, no belief, no assurance in friendship. All passes, and even the greatest forces known to any in the universe are like petty chieftans, who are themselves like bickering children. Are the swine not more prudent?
Sayna hung her head and, laying the heavy ledger aside, pressed her fingers to her temples. She wanted to cry, but her tears seemed to stay lodged in her chest – as ever. She envied the forest its loose language. Would that she could speak what she held inside so plainly.
[1]Ysera of the Green Dragonflight.
[2]The Cenarion Circle.
[3]Malfurion. A colloquialism used in the centuries immediately following the War of the Ancients.
[4]The Emerald Dream.
[5]Alexstrazsa of the Red Dragonflight.
[[Note: It is assumed that all spaces in the World of Warcraft, were they real, would be much larger and more elaborate than they are in the game. It may also help the reader to know that this excerpt from Sayna's long life takes place in contemporary times. As her life has indeed been long, though, not all of her acquaintances or the language the reader might see her encounter are always as contemporary. To aid the reader, I've left short explanatory notes marked by numbers, such as "[1]", which can be referred to at the bottom. Don't worry if this particular story seems dismal, because there are many more positive aspects of Sayna's life that will be touched on as her story is slowly, bit by bit, revealed. Enjoy!]]
Maliynn bent down slightly from her position behind the counter and opened a drawer, her eyes apparently scanning its contents. Her mistress Kimlya's inn was one of the larger establishments in Astranaar, so she had made it a point to offer storage for small belongings and valuables to the many travelers constantly moving through the city. Since many didn't want to take such things into the field, Kimlya's inn offered the service for a few silver.
“Sayna?” Maliynn asked a somewhat large elf woman before her. Sayna nodded and smiled. The innkeeper smiled back and produced a large, black, leatherbound book – the bent corners and leaves of paper within were browned from an obviously long life. There was no writing or engraving on it. “I think I remember you now. You came in a few days ago.” Maliynn handed the book carefully to Sayna, who took it gratefully. “It’s unusual. The patrons who stay here rarely ask us to hold anything so normal as a book. Then again, it looks to be very old. It caught my eye." Not responding, Sayna nodded politely again and turned to go. Maliynn tried to mask her disappointment. "Oh, will you be leaving Astranaar?”
“Not yet,” Sayna replied turning around a bit to reply, shaking her head once. “I just decided to rest for the day, and thought I might read. Thank you for taking care of my books.”
“My pleasure,” said the smiling elf woman as Sayna walked away.
Sayna walked for several minutes until she reached the bank of the Astranaarian Rivermoat. She’d spotted a bench near the edge of the wide inner moat the day before. She'd dressed in simple, rarely worn, daycomfort pants and shirt before eating a meager breakfast in the lodge's bustling dining hall before heading to the lobby to pick up one of her ledgers. For some reason, her thoughts had been drifting in a particular direction of late, and it was by no coincidence that she chose the black book that now rested in her lap as she sat on the cool stone bench. Now alone, Sayna gingerly opened the book to a point somewhere near the end. Yulain's familiar, slanted handwriting crowded the aging paper. It'd been a while since she'd opened this book in particular. Perhaps he might have some insights I've forgotten, Sayna thought to herself. The pages crackled loudly and stiffly as she flipped slowly through them, scanning, until her eyes finally settled on a certain spot:
...and it is as my student, if I may still refer to you as such, that I present to you with my final challenge. May your mind be free.
You know well of the pact that the druids made with the Princess Ysera[1] in the wake of Lord Malfurion’s agreement with Cenarius to form the Circle[2]. “Our Lord”[3] has ever been reckless, though it may have been necessary in times passed, and played loosely with his promises. One may question whether or not he foresaw the effects it might have on his own life, or how the loyalty he gave to such steadfast allies in war compared to his loyalty for his mate. I remember, fondly at that, bantering on the issue several times over. Still, that is not the question I wish to present to you. Think of what these promises have cost the world, and for what reward. What is the Dream[4], why is it linked to our world, and why by way of Nor’Drassil? Surely it may be considered sacrifice to sign away centuries of one’s life to the Dream, but for that sacrifice to be bourne fully by one caste of our society…? And, if it is indeed a sacrifice, for what gift was it made? It was the Red Queen[5] and not her dozing sister[1] that bestowed upon the world the healing gifts of Nor’Drassil and afforded us, still, our immortality. What would drive a being chosen by the Titans themselves, to make so senseless a pact? If Nelfarion was turned - and he charged with the most important task of warding this world - then what merits our faith in the Dreamer[1]? Thus far her half-pact has brought only pain and loss. To what end? To what end?
Here now, we have come to the final challenge. We see the dead fruits of the Dreamer’s agreement, the suffering of the world, and we know that it was a Dragon who designed this agreement; a Dragon picked by the hand of one of the greatest Titans. If a Dragon of such caliber can be a fool, then what of the Ti....
Sayna stopped reading and slowly looked upwards, out into the forest, shutting the old book in her hand. The water of the rivermoat lapped quietly at the mossy bank. The trees beyond seemed to speak with the voices of all the animals that inhabited their boughs or the ground below – the chattering of bugs, groaning of beasts, and chirping of birds. No matter what changes have befallen it or may befall it yet, she mused, the forest will always speak of what it holds inside, as long as there is a forest there to say it. She looked back down at the heavy book in her hand. Her thoughts returned to the passage she’d just read. This is too much, Yulain, she thought to herself. I cannot follow you there. I'm still obstinate. What is left in this world, what is solid and whole, if not the Pantheon?
Over her lifetime, her teachers had challenged her beliefs in everything, but before she was allowed to settle into a new belief, the new one was challenged. Eventually, she learned the lesson of finding truth on her own, rather than having it taught to her by a skillful and persuasive tongue, even if it was an honest tongue. She realized that, long ago, she’d come to a point where she was much alike to, if not wiser than, those that had taught her in her youth. She remembered them so vividly at times. Even Yulain’s final lesson, which she’d read many times in the past century, was not unfathomable to her, but her own questions remained. How am I to exist like that, without anything to rely on? Loneliness crushes my spirit at times. There is no love to stay my mind, no belief, no assurance in friendship. All passes, and even the greatest forces known to any in the universe are like petty chieftans, who are themselves like bickering children. Are the swine not more prudent?
Sayna hung her head and, laying the heavy ledger aside, pressed her fingers to her temples. She wanted to cry, but her tears seemed to stay lodged in her chest – as ever. She envied the forest its loose language. Would that she could speak what she held inside so plainly.
[1]Ysera of the Green Dragonflight.
[2]The Cenarion Circle.
[3]Malfurion. A colloquialism used in the centuries immediately following the War of the Ancients.
[4]The Emerald Dream.
[5]Alexstrazsa of the Red Dragonflight.