The Wolf and the Unicorn

It felt like everything around her had faded away, absorbed into the very moment she found herself in. Possibilities hovered around them, many paths available, so many decisions to be made, all relying on what could happen now. Nervously, Farelin moistened her lips, her eyes half-closed, her chest rising and falling a bit more quickly than usual.

She looked up, meeting the gaze of the man who stood in front of her, his face slowly getting closer to hers.

"I'm Zacharia Brightwood," he said to her, his smile charming and polite, looking playful. She watched him warily, finding his bold behavior disconcerting but appealing at the same time. Unsettled, she nodded.

"Shadowbreaker Farelin Kierstad," she introduced herself, resting a hand on the Westbrook Garrison's ramparts, keeping her distance from Zacharia...

Zacharia hesitated, studying her face carefully, trying to see what she was thinking by looking into Farelin's bright blue eyes. Her red curls fell loosely about her shoulders, swaying slightly in the light breeze drifting off the waters of Mirror Lake.

Watching Farelin spar with one of the Disciples, Zacharia kept hidden from sight, observing her. He had seen her fight before, recognized the fluid movements of a trained Shadowbreaker. The numbness in his chest, the emptiness he'd stubbornly clung to, was starting to fade away. The more time he spent with Farelin, the more difficult it was becoming to keep a hold on that black void where his heart used to be.

She was so beautiful, hair strictly tied back for ease when she donned her helm, the robes over her armor hinting at the woman's shape beneath them. She made up for her short stature by being fierce in battle, he knew that.

And there were moments, when they spoke, that he saw traces of sadness and regret in her eyes. She refused to speak of it, but he knew where that sadness came from. The hope he'd let die was slowly being rekindled...

Part of Farelin's conscience knew this was wrong. "If it's so wrong, why does this feel so right?" she asked herself, fear and excitement causing butterflies in her stomach as Zacharia leaned even closer, his hands moving to her waist. When she didn't pull away, he slipped his arms around her, drawing her towards him. Farelin reached up, resting her hands on his chest, rising up on the tips of her toes.

Then time seemed to stop as they stared at each other, finding themselves facing one clear route, a bridge that could either be crossed or avoided.

There was something so familiar about the priest, Farelin decided. She sometimes got the feeling that they'd met before but it didn't make sense. Still, she found herself enjoying his company more and more. It was nice to laugh again, even if he did make her blush on more than one occasion with his light teasing. It was all in good fun, completely innocent.

It had been a while since she'd been this happy, and yet it felt like her life had just become more complicated...

Farelin's eyes drifted shut as Zacharia closed the space between them. Their lips touched and her hands moved upwards, arms circling his neck as they kissed. She felt his right hand move up her back, lightly stroking her hair, making her shiver. When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers, their noses touching, the only sounds around them came from the forest, the lake, and from their breathing.

Sighing softly, Farelin gently rubbed the tip of her nose against Zacharia's. "What happens now?" she whispered, her voice kept low but trembling slightly.

He smiled down at her, leaning back to kiss her forehead, his hand moving from her hair to caress her face. "Now we take a day at a time. Now we get used to the idea that things have changed. And now we think about the best way to approach this in regards to our faith." When he saw the worry in her eyes, Zacharia chuckled softly and drew her against him, embracing her, resting his chin on top of her head. "You worry too much. You haven't done anything wrong, Farelin," he gently explained to her. "I know your faith, I know what's expected from you. I've known it for a long time."

Leaning into him, Farelin hid her face against his chest, hiding her uncertainty. It was easy to say he understood her faith. Whether he could accept it was another matter entirely. Only time would tell.

Hand in hand, Zacharia and Farelin walked back to where Binky grazed contentedly. The Shadowbreaker led the mare by her reins, unwilling to let go of the priest's hand. When they reached the road, they stopped, gazing at each other in silence. Raising her hand, Zacharia kissed her fingers before reluctantly letting go, taking hold of Farelin by the waist and lifting her up onto the horse's saddle. Though slender, he was strong for a priest. Smiling wistfully down at him, Farelin gripped Binky's reins while Zacharia stroked the mare's neck.

"When will I see you again?" he asked her, keeping his tone optimistic.

Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Farelin sent him an uncertain look. "You could always come find me at the Abbey," she suggested, looking at him hopefully.

"We'll see. Ride safe, my lady. Light watch over you," he said, stepping away from her horse.

Making Binky turn in a circle, Farelin did her best to keep Zacharia in her sight. Nodding, she smiled brightly at him. "Do not doubt," she called out before setting her heels to the mare's flanks, riding away, her bright red curls caught by the wind and flowing behind her like a banner.

Zacharia's smile faded when Farelin went out of his sight. Raking a hand through his dark hair, he turned away and headed down the road, his expression grim. There was much to think about now, so much to plan!

And yet...part of him didn't want to. Cursing, he shook his head, his long stride hastening in his frustration and doubt. What was he going to do now?

Only time would tell...


(( Yes, indeed...things have been happening behind the scenes. ;3 ))

(( Been feeling in a write-y mood lately and I haven't written a poem in a very long time, so I decided to have a go and base it on Farelin's current situation. This is kinda IC but not. Farelin didn't write this, I wrote it about her. ))

I've always been the dreamer
Looking out with wistful eyes
When it comes to matters of the heart
There is no compromise
I don't know where this is leading
I don't know if it's safe
I'm torn on how to explain to you
The strength that is my faith
Most people take one look at us
And speak those little lies
Of shame, of sin, of weakness
But what they don't realize
Is that the Light has brought you to me
And there may come a day
When my strength of faith is tested
And the Light takes you away
But in between those moments
When the Light will set us free
I'll have known what love is like
Because the Light sent you to me
I'll always be the dreamer
The girl with wistful eyes
But for my Sacred Duty
I will never compromise

(( Time for the next part in this story! ))


In the days prior to her choice to go on a pilgrimage, Farelin had felt as though something was urging her to run. Guilt ate at her, no matter how many times she went to confession. The Abbey no longer felt like a sanctuary to her. Instead, it was a constant reminder of her greatest regret. When Sister Gwen had made the suggestion she get away and go spend time with the Disciples at the Garrison, it had brought a sense of relief.

And it was there she'd met Zacharia.

As the days went by and she met with the Disciples, forming bonds--both good and bad--with the visitors who stopped by the Garrison, Farelin and Zacharia spent more time together. They'd become close and it was with sadness that she'd returned to the Abbey and then answered the call for the Crusade.

During the lulls between battles, it had surprised her when Zacharia had arrived. Once more, she'd found comfort in his presence, speaking of many things. When she became aware of the talk going around camp, it was then she'd chosen to see Vanquisher Sevelle to address the situation. He'd react much as she'd expected.

"You're not to be seen with this man until after you've seen a confessor, sister," he'd ordered. So she'd kept her distance from Zacharia, doing her best to explain to him why. Like a miracle, she'd stumbled upon a Lector in camp, though the tale in itself was unbelievable. Still, Farelin did not doubt. Her conviction to go on a pilgrimage strengthened and she asked Zacharia's opinion about it. He'd supported her idea.

And on the day of her departure, Zacharia had joined her on the tram, heading north to Ironforge and farther on, to Lordaeron. They'd visited the dwarven city, met with some of the locals (Professor Tjib had been particularly interesting and incredibly helpful), and after a few days, they'd ridden out, heading east, and although they'd tried to hurry, a snowstorm had stopped them. They'd lost the map thanks to a strong wind but they'd found refuge in an old, abandoned house, weathering out the storm. In the closed confines of their sanctuary, warmed by a fire, she'd taken out her harp and played for Zacharia for the first time, singing one of her favorite songs to him.

They'd listened to the storm raging outside and talked away the long hours of the night. By morning, the storm had died down and they'd rode out, finally reaching the mountain pass. They went through the trembling mountain, entering the land of Loch Modan.

Instead of camping out, they chose to go to the Quel'dorei lodge on the east side of the lake. It was there that Farelin confessed her guilt to Zacharia.

The lodge had been the last place she and Jeremya had met on friendly terms. Although the Chapter called him an Oathbreaker, it had shamed Farelin to have played a part in the death of Jeremya's wife. The woman had been innocent of her husband's crimes and it was her death that had driven Jeremya to submit to complete corruption. Farelin had ended the man's life in self-defence but it all seemed like such a waste...it could have been inevitable and the means towards Joanne's end did not sit well with her.

It was all of this that had built up, making Farelin feel as though her conscience had chased her. In that place, where she'd last seen Jeremya full of hope, she lanced the old wound, forcing it to be cleansed as much as possible. And it was there where she set aside her fears. Zacharia held her as she wept, gently pulling her away to look into her eyes.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," he said to her.

"Yes, I should," she disagreed, hiding her fact against his chest, shamed by her tears.

"Well, you're not a terrible person, Farelin. Things just happened as they did. They were horrible but you cannot always control your own actions or the actions of others. These things just happen." He paused, stroking the back of her head in a comforting gesture, his other arm circled around her waist. He lowered his voice, soothing and reassuring. "The Farelin I know isn't a cunning backstabber, nor a murderer, you see."

His words were perfect. Farelin took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She released it slowly, tension easing from deep within her. A thought occurred to her and she rested her hands on Zacharia's chest. As she looked into his eyes, her gaze softened and she studied his features, unable to withhold the love she felt inside.

"Do you believe the Light would send you to me as a sign?" she asked him, her voice low.

Zacharia smiled at her. "That...would be very much possible," he replied, meeting her gaze.

Nodding slowly, Farelin lifted herself up on her tiptoes. Bringing her mouth close to his, she paused, their lips nearly touching. All the tales she'd heard of the Witch Hunters back at the Abbey, of how wicked it was to feel close to someone, to share one's heart with another, how sinful it was...she'd believed them for the longest time, until that moment. The purity of her emotions for Zacharia, the closeness she felt...there was no sin in this.

Earlier, she'd told him what she'd come to realize: "A Shadowbreaker is so alone, we should have that special person that keeps us from becoming cold-hearted machines." For some, it could be a friend. For others, their confessor. The Light had brought her Zacharia.

"I love you," she breathed, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears.

"I love you too," Zacharia whispered. He closed that small distance, their lips meeting in a most passionate and caring fashion, as if love actually enveloped them from all sides. Farelin felt the difference, her hands moving up his chest, arms circling his neck in a gentle embrace, her mouth warm and soft against his. She met him with equal emotion, pure and sincere, innocent but so very strong.

When they parted, both were visibly shaken. This was beyond physical attraction and Farelin no longer felt afraid. He'd spoken earlier of when their pilgrimage would come to an end, of how difficult it would be to part ways. Strengthened in her resolve, Farelin nuzzled his cheek, her knees weak from the intensity of her emotions. With a clear gaze, she lowered her voice to whisper to him.

"I can't stand the thought of the end of our pilgrimage. I don't want to lose a moment with you, beloved. You know about my vow of chastity, and I'm not afraid anymore. Will you hold me tonight, and every night until the end?"

He was silent for a long moment, studying her features before he nodded slowly, whispering back to her. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I'd love to." He leaned back a bit more, glancing towards the lodge. "It does sound like a good idea to get some sleep now, too. We'll need the rest for tomorrow."

There was still a long journey ahead of them, but much had been revealed that evening. Propriety was maintained at all times. Clad in her nightgown, Farelin waited to open her eyes until she felt Zacharia's weight beside her. When he spooned against her back, she closed her eyes, feeling his arm circle her waist in a comforting gesture. Together, they prayed, soon drifting off to sleep. Farelin's last thought before she drifted off was gratitude over the fact Zacharia didn't snore.

They loved, but were not lovers. Temptation was not present in their love, their faith overcoming such things. Together, they slept, as close as humanly possible, free of lust.

It was a frigid feeling that coursed through his veins when his sword penetrated the old Vanquisher’s flesh, unlike when such actions were committed against one that was deemed evil, or fallen. He experienced that very same feeling, those very same emotions, when it happened to him. When Farelin’s blade entered through his skin into his flesh, spilling his blood…

Jeremya walked. He inspected his own hands, felt every step he made touch the soil beneath him, blinked his eyes, tasted his own saliva, listened to his surroundings and breathed in new, fresh air.

Lady Estherat was a woman of many mad skills.

He halted before a small lake, bent over and peered into the mirroring waters, feeling his own face.

He was… alive…

He felt well. He felt the fel controlling his body no more. No more were there signs of eternal rage, either. No more felt he the urge for revenge.

But he still wanted to. It was the right thing to do. In fact, he felt so sure that he could feel a warm presence coming from within his soul. That feeling when you’re embraced and guided by the Light.

He had found her at the Garrison. Farelin, that is. He had spoken to her. His scheme was faring well. They shared warm moments, cold moments, a healthy balanced relation. One that gradually evolved into love or… pseudo-love, atleast. With each smile he offered to Farelin, his mind was harmed. A dagger poked his heart each time they kissed. Each time they’d depart, and say they’d love eachother, he didn’t sleep well. The touch of their hands, cheeks or lips…were just as unpleasant as the touch of steel going through his stomach. But his smile never faded off. His charming eyes never left the scene. His warm words always struck his target, no matter what. But still, merely watching her felt as if a hot poker was forced into his eye-sockets.

Time and more time passed. Time of torture. Mental torture.

They shared personal stories that came from the depths of their hearts for hours, day after day, from the most distanced yet important memories. They spent time together, ate together, rode horse together. They prayed together, tended to charity, and eventually fought side by side during the crusade back in the Vale. They got to know each other extremely well. Or… Farelin was fed with lies, atleast. Lies about a non-existent man, made up, named Zacharia. Jeremya, or Zacharia, on the other hand, was fed with truth. The real Farelin. Her virtues and flaws. Her past, and her present, and her future wishes.

More time and even more time went by, and it was during their pilgrimage, in Ironforge when Jeremya couldn’t escape from a nightmare during his sleep. A nightmare about what he was intending to do. A nightmare about his scheme of revenge. But simultaneously, a nightmare that made him realize that his plan was flawed.

Jeremya sat on an old and unstable wooden chair, in the shadows of a dark corner. The only source of light that was shed through the window into the room was coming from the moon outside, which was lucidly visible within the raven, cloudless night sky of Elwynn. He was holding a dagger up in one hand, it shimmering within the moonlight, and held a transparent vial in his other hand, filled with a dark green liquid substance. He didn’t seem calm at all. Rather stressed, gazing at the two items he held, and barely blinking his eyes.

“This is it…” he mused. “…I’ve been waiting for this moment for such a long time now…”

“First I will poison her…Then I’ll lock her up in the basement…Now is the time...”

His breathing turned heavier.

“Our firstborn…our daughter…she will die before Farelin’s eyes, by her very own husband’s hands, and there won’t be anything she can do about it. I will keep her in the basement for days, letting her drown in her own sorrow. Then…when she has felt how I felt…I will end her own life, too…”

“Zacharia?! Zach, dear, dinner’s ready!”

Farelin’s warm and loving voice coming from below the stairs felt suffocating. His heart stopped beating for a moment. He applied some of the sleep poison onto his dagger, hid it within his sleeve carefully, and walked down the stairs silently. Each step seemed to take over an hour, and it felt as if his heart still hadn’t continued beating again.

He slowly opened the door to the room where they would have dinner. The room was illuminated by several candles and a small but cozy fireplace. He pulled his chair back and sat himself down at the table. He gazed at his daughter. She had her mother’s red hair, father’s emerald eyes, mother’s nose and father’s mouth. She was perfect, three years old now. She smiled at him.

Jeremya couldn’t help but to smile back. An euphoric mask. He tightened the grip on his dagger and averted his gaze to his wife, who was smiling at him too. Mesmerizing. Their eyes clashed, and on that moment, he felt his heart beating again. The poisoned dagger slipped from his hand and fell to the floor, as were the tears coming from his eyes.

Zacharia sat straight up in his improvised bed on the floor, his heart racing, mind blank, body sweat-drenched. He looked aside at Farelin, who was sleeping softly in her own bed.

Terribly confused, he cursed his nightmare.

What was this supposed to mean? Why didn’t he stab her with the poisoned dagger? What went wrong?

He had felt a strange feeling before when being around Farelin, really. Something that was strange and awkward and, not quite right. A struggle had started. In the past, he viewed Farelin as a backstabbing whore who had to feel the exact same as what he had gone through. Now… now that he knew who Farelin was. Now that he, himself, had come to his senses. Now that he was able to look back with a lucid mind, what truly had happened. Who truly were responsible…

He was falling in love.

It remained a struggle however. Jeremya was heavily confused and the battle that raged inside of him was mind-tearing. From Ironforge they went to Dun Morogh, settling inside of a small dwarven building to hide from a snowstorm. It was a brilliant time. No, really. Jeremya had never felt so close to Farelin before. No pseudo-love, but an actual bond.

They moved on.

When they finally arrived at Loch Modan, when they headed to the lodge where they had met before, this time as Farelin and Zacharia instead of Farelin and Jeremya, things truly changed.

She told him how she felt of Jeremya the Shadowbreaker. How she thought him as a friend. Her regrets. The story made clear to Jeremya that the blame was far from her. Very…very far, in fact.

Jeremya or… Zacharia, who ever he was now, felt genuine emotions towards her. The plan of revenge had fallen, and now things were truly getting complicated. Each smile to her, each conversation, each kiss, each moment they spent with eachother. They were still mental torture-sessions. But this time not because he found Farelin a gruesome woman. No, this time because he had grown to genuinely love her.

Farelin returned to her parents' house for another night, the Chapter still not having located their own headquarters yet. Guilt gnawed at her...would they have accepted an invitation in her parents' residence? She had no idea but that thought was set aside as a fresh wave of anguish slammed into her. Moving carefully, like one who'd just suffered an injury, she removed her armor, leaning her shield against the door as an act of habit. She took care not to leave her armor strewn on the floor, standing over it and staring blankly down at it when it was off of her. Wearing only the light garments worn beneath armor now, she moved to her wardrobe, opening it and gazing inside.

She caught sight of a nightgown and snatched at it carelessly, throwing it onto the bed before beginning to undress, moving jerkily, roughly, as though not caring about what happened to her clothing. Once undressed, she grabbed the nightgown and pulled it on, then reached back and loosened her hair, her fiery curls tumbling down her back.

Farelin stood still, her gaze transfixed by the billowing of the curtains at her bedroom window. Stumbling around her bed, she approached the gauzy fabric, standing before the open window, looking out over the city and resting her gaze on the Cathedral, in the distance.

Then her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. Dropping to her knees, she fumbled with the chain around her neck, pulling out her cross and clasping it between her hands, bowing her head over her laced fingers, pressing her knuckles against her bruised mouth, ignoring the pain as her lip pulled at the cut still there.

"Is this really what you want? Look at me, Farelin!"

"How can you ask me that? What do you think my answer will be?"

"If it's not what you really want, then why are you doing this?"

"Zacharia, please--"

"Answer me! Did your Vanquisher order you to do this?"

Farelin caught hold of the curtain as it brushed against her. Gripping it between her fists, she brought it to her face, hiding against it, weeping softly. Her Vanquisher had not ordered her to part ways with Zacharia. Ever since the Chapter had ordered some of them to Stormwind, Farelin had barely had any time for herself, let alone to meet with Zacharia. Her brothers and sisters needed her, there could be no distractions or obligations that kept her away from her Sacred Duty. She'd explained this to Zacharia and, much to her surprised, he'd understood.

It always surprised her how much he could understand the connection she had with her faith.

When they'd parted ways, he hadn't kissed her. She knew why but it was a brutal reminder that, for now, he had no claim on her. Perhaps someday, when...

Farelin opened her eyes and lifted her face towards the sky, her cheeks glistening with tears. There could be no "perhaps" or "maybe." She was a Shadowbreaker, devoted to her faith, the Chapter and their cause. Her heart would mend and it would be one day at a time, for a while. She would not falter, she would not doubt.

Faith would overcome.

Standing, she closed the window and moved to the bed, letting herself fall onto it. It was hours before she finally drifted into a dreamless slumber, the Light giving her reprieve from memories.