Shadow’s embrace

Shivering, she clutched herself as she ploughed through the thick layers of snow that
coated the landscape of Dun Morogh. She tried to keep up with the rest, who
were yelling battlecries as they ran towards the gates of that impenetrable
fortress, Ironforge. Ever since her transformation, about two months back, she
hadn’t been able to wear more then light cloth, which wasn’t helping much
against the freezing winds from the dwarven country.

Silently, she cursed the Sin Drassil for leading them into these circumstamces, with
incredibly small chances of success. As his ambassador, she had needed ample
time to realise his bravoure and recklessness would soon mean trouble for the
entire regiment. That day had arrived sooner then she had anticipated. Now here
they were, charging the dwarves in their frighteningly well-fortified capital.
How could anyone expect to be able to take it? Even siege would have been
useless, what with the Deeprun tram and mages being able to teleport inside…

However, here they were, seeking revenge for a brutal assault on Silvermoon city, two
days earlier. She hadn’t been there herself, as she’d been visiting her
mother’s grave on Sunstrider Isle. But she had heard the noises coming from the
city, and she had even felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, as if she’d been
stabbed, or shot. She had accepted the sensation as a sign of the contract she
had signed before her transformation. She would probably always sense –his-
inconvenience. She was grateful towards whatever powers involved, that she
didn’t sense more.

Now… the moment was now. Following the first throngs of Horde forces inside the gates of
the dwarven stronghold. They were met with a vast stream of dwarven soldiers,
some humans and she thought she even spotted the vile worgen. Then, everything
became one large chaotic mess of clangs from steel upon steel, shouted curses
and spells, flashes of Light and Fel, blood spattering everywhere, groans of
dying troops and the bangs of bullets. Her own spells were shot at a sturdy
dwarf in the colours of the city, who was pointing a gun at her. She was still
getting used to her new powers, not able to react quickly enough, she
desperately tried to shield herself in Light when she realised that was not
longer one of her capabilities. A loud BANG resounded in her ears, and another
one, and another. She felt something extremely heavy hit her chest, and before
she knew it, she was smashed down to the cold stone floors, with three gaping
holes in her torso, drowning in her own blood.

He was sleeping, recovering from his light wound, which he had suffered during the attack on the city. An arrow, fired by one of the dwarfs who had intended to kill Lor’Themar. They had been able to
prevent that-just. But many civilians had fallen and he had payed this
relatively small price for his contribution to the defense. His priestess had
layed her hands on him, healing him with a light, humorous remark, a
flirtatious look and, he knew, love. He smiled to himself as he thought back of
it. It went easy. Yet, he had still needed some time to rest, as the Light
never fully healed him, foreign as it was to his fel- and shadowtainted body.
In his sleep, he dreamed of her and of how lucky he was to have met her. It
wasn’t a given thing to any man to meet his Love, and not only once, but
thrice, three different women that had fascinated him. The other two were in
the past, dead or gone in other directions. He had no regrets. A smile touched
his lips. In time, she too would be his.


Suddenly, he woke, because he couldn’t seem to get air into his lungs. A burning pain settled in the midst of his chest. What the…! Blackness threatened to creep in, starting from the corners of his eyes. Growling,
hungry voices spoke of triumph in his head. Then, an image of green eyes,
fading. A high-pitched scream. Was it his own voice or that of a woman? He
couldn’t tell the difference anymore. Someone was laughing. His chest seemed to
collapse and then, like nothing had happened, he could breath again. Gasping
and coughing, he rose. He grasped at his surroundings, finding nothing. A
realisation hit him. A feel of loss, something essential had escaped him. There
was no going back. He sat up, clutching his face, a sigh escaped him. Was it
relief or regret? He wasn’t sure. One thing he knew. The woman known as Aneeta
Springrose was no more.


As the darkness took Aneeta away, something stirred in the body that was left behind.
Fingers closed around a green stone, managed to bring it to the bloodied mouth.
Oxygen returned to the bloodstream. Moments later, shamanistic powers
healed the punctured lungs. A triumphant smirk spread on the lips, a green light returned in the eyes. She opened them, satisfied. Finally, she was in control again. The Weak One was gone. She had
been a convenient mask, a name to hide behind, and she would continue to be
one, even now she had been cast out for good. She had the trust of the people
surrounding her, which was good. A title, friends, even admirers. The one she
had pledged herself to was the only possible barrier. She knew she couldn’t get
rid of him, but she also knew his weakness. She had goals, and she knew she
could reach them. At last, there was no master anymore to obey. At last, Annyra
Shadowleaf was free to take what was hers, and more. And nobody would stop her.