[Introspection] [Story] The Eye of the Storm

It has begun...

Soren sat on the stairs of his newly acquired house upon the cliffs of Lakeshire, peering up at the sky with a tankard of Darkmoon in hands, which he rolled between his palms slowly. The night was incredibly clear, crisp, and filled with a million stars. A surprising fact considering the state of the continent just beneath.

The priest's dreams and visions had grown in severity and in detail the past month...

Dreams of the world engulfed in lava and flames, shadow wings spreading across the land and encompassing it, the roar of a creature able to shatter the very core of men in a second, and Azeroth alongside. Cries of pain and agony, panic, chaos, chants, battles. And he was never able to tell for sure what was the cause of all of this. All he knew was that the time of the culling was coming fast, and the wait was driving him insane.

he could smell brimstone in the air every time he awakened, he could feel the shake of the earth, touch the madness hanging in the atmosphere... For several minutes on end after everything was over, while it was just a fleeting thought before. It left him sweating, and panting for breath, his heart racing both in fear and anticipation.

Then, the quakes appeared, as if surging from his dreams, so strongly that everyone started to feel them, and he found some respite. Reports were coming from all across the surface of the world describing the tremors, investigations were initiated, the capitals stood in alert. And finally, after such an excruciatingly long time, it had begun.

In the very morning, that fateful day, elementals had been unleashed upon civilization. The twilight cult started spreading the word of the world's end, of course, it was awfully convenient for recruitment, if one paired it with the battles against the elements in all cities and towns. And he was there to witness it all.

Stormwind: Blissful realization, dreams come true, chaos unbound. People running through the streets, the holy war between the zealots and the cultists reaching it's peak in a bout of savage cruelty, as instincts usually well-hidden and imprisoned were revealed by the unfolding events. He had expected that. It would be over soon enough, and they would regret their actions, be it from this plane... or the next. They would have time.

Heretic, wielder of darkness, rebel, agitator, seer, madman, messenger, guide, something else. He did not care the name which was given to him nor his role in all of this. He only knew he had one, and it was important he held it, until the end.

What worried him more was how poor his grasp on the shadow was becoming. The more the hour of twilight approached, the more he felt he had to fight for his ideals, yet... The very shadows he was in symbiosis with were now taking over him. Just earlier that evening, he nearly revealed himself in the middle of Stormwind, unwillingly. It had been a blessing he managed to contain himself just enough not to. Feelings hit him like a whirlwind, overwhelming his senses. The same way they did when he awakened from his short, troubled nights.

Relief, joy, fright, despair, anger, rage, passion, eagerness...folly. He wanted to dance and revel in all of it. A dance of death. He had to fight the urge to kill, to torture. It had never been his aim, never his purpose, he could do this without killing, surely...Not with his own hands anyway...He would as long as possible.

The young kal'dorei shivered at the thought, but smiled, taking a sip of his drink before addressing the stars. He did not forget it was the Night of the Dead. Ironic "coincidence". A large white flower was pinned to his black velvet robe. And he had left a fire bloom on the main altar of the Cathedral of Light during the eve, not knowing where else to make such an offering, considering whom it was for.

"A shame you are not here to see this in flesh, Dragomir. But I assume you are much more at ease watching from somewhere up there. I'll make you honor, have no doubts. By the way, your men are running themselves ragged these days."

There was a pause, and an hesitation, before he spoke in a lower tone, as if afraid to scare off a ghost, melancholy tainted his voice.

"The time has come, hasn't it, love? I hope you are not too disappointed in me. I will keep my promise... I will find a way to hold this mess of a world together, balance can still be re-established, once everything has been purified.

I am afraid it had to happen...They wouldn't want to understand without being wounded and cornered, faced to their sins.

The light...Your light, has been painted with blood so many times, soiled...I am sorry, Isimir, I couldn't do anything to stop it until now."

Another, longer pause, then serenity hit the elf's features, and he leaned back a little to rest his spine against the wooden arch of the doorway, the alcohol making him feel light-headed. His voice became a lazy murmur, eyelids sliding closed slowly.

"... Don't scold me or blame me for thinking about it, you know me. I'll hold onto life until I have no strength left to anymore. I'll fill my part of the play. But...Maybe I'll join you soon.

...If I don't...I beg you, do not abandon me again...I can't be your shadow if I don't have your light to show me the way."

OOC: I posted this here because it is referring to current events and I didn't know where to put it in the Stories threads, if you find it a better place, please feel free to move the topic!

I enjoyed reading this thank you for posting it

OOC: Thank you for reading it! I am very happy to know that you have enjoyed it.

I also wanted to make a small note on me writing another snippet like this one, they may become regular, if I can keep a good writing style going for soren. He is a difficult character to write for right now, being so tormented.

It is there, for now: Falling Masks