[Lomenár] The Road to Healing

Saying her goodbyes to the Order had been harder than she had ever imagined it. Giving up her position as Commander over the Blackmoon Sentinels had been almost impossible. But she had done it anyway… and she had faith in Nightborne, she truly did. Lomenár knew that Aariam would take good care of the Sentinels in her absence… and if she failed in her mission… well… Nightborne was a good choice for second in command, and a worthy successor. A sad smile crossed her lips as she looked over her shoulder and watched as the crown of Teldrassil slowly disappeared in the distance… the city of Darnassus, the Order of Nature’s Grasp and her friends with it.
"Ande'thoras-ethil…" she whispered softly into the night.


Lomenár breathed in the crisp air of Winterspring, sighed happily and looked around, trying to spot Isil. The great feline’s tracks were easily recognizable in the snow and Lomenár followed them at a leisurely pace, lest the wounds within would make themselves known again. She had reluctantly sent her hippogryph companion back to Darnassus… Winterspring was no place for the beast at this time of year. Winter was just a few moons away and once it arrived the temperatures would decline rapidly and raging snowstorms would no longer be a rarity… they’d become a constant presence instead. But for now the weather was still nice. A pale sun shone in the sky and the temperature was manageable. Lomenár walked on.

She caught up with Isil when they neared Frostsaber Rock. The cave, their “home”, was just up ahead and Lomenár couldn’t wait to get a fire going. She wasn’t usually bothered by the cold, but due to her mysterious illness, or whatever it was that was slowly tearing up her insides, she couldn’t stand the cold for too long. Lomenár shuddered and pulled her cloak tighter around herself. Isil somehow noticed her shivering and moved closer, glancing up towards her companion.
“No need to look so worried, my Moon… I’m fine. It’s been a long journey and I need to rest is all…” Lomenár ruffled the cat’s fur gently.
Isil growled deep down in her throat and glared at her friend.
“My friend, you have no cause to worry… I assure you that I am fine. And stop that growling… no need to be grumpy... we’re home.” Lomenár smiled softly at the feline.
Isil gave Lomenár a last glare and with a flick of her tail the great cat left the kaldorei woman’s side and bounded away across the snow.

That night they were joined by their fire by Isil’s mate, Lossë. He usually wandered alone and never strayed too far from Winterspring. But he always joined the pair whenever they came back home to visit. Lossë was a huge, completely white saber with a silvery mane and ice blue eyes. He was magnificent to behold and pleasant company as well. Isil behaved like a lovestruck kitten every time he was near and Lomenár couldn’t help but laugh gaily as she watched the two felines play a game of tag. When the game was done the cats lay down on either side of Lomenár and went to sleep, purring loudly. Lomenár, on the other hand, stayed awake and sat watching the fire for a long time afterwards… she missed her friends within the Order and she wished that they could have been there with her, at this very moment… sharing in the simple joy of being home, in a beautiful place, and in the comfort of having two saber cats asleep beside her.

She wondered what her friends were doing now… was Aariam putting her children to sleep? Or maybe she sat talking to Stormfeather, Arrowsong and Oakleaf? And what about Arkil? Would he be busy planning for their next venture to the Eastern Kingdoms or was he planning the next Wildheart lecture perhaps? Frostfeather would be out on patrol most likely… and Winterwind… well… she hadn’t really seen or talked to Winterwind previous to her departure… but perhaps he was walking the forests of Teldrassil, enjoying the quiet calm of the woods.

A surge of blazing fire shot through her abdomen and ripped her from her thoughts. Lomenár curled up into a tight ball, trying to muffle her pained gasps. The pain was excruciating and it felt as if she was being torn apart from the inside… and she was completely helpless to stop it.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when the pain finally left her, but she was stiff and cramping all over and she felt completely drained. In the aftermath of the pain, failure didn’t seem such a distant reality after all and she wondered briefly if her friends would miss her, should she fail.

As the days grew shorter and colder, Lomenár’s pain grew worse and worse. She had hoped that the peace and quiet of Winterspring would help her achieve some rest… and hopefully some healing as well. But there was to be no rest for her. Her wounds plagued her day and night and made sleeping or even resting quietly impossible. Isil and Lossë took turns to stay and watch over her, but the felines grew more anxious and agitated for every day that passed and Lomenár’s condition didn’t improve. Lomenár knew something had to be done. If she stayed in the cave it would most likely end up becoming her grave instead of her sanctuary. She had to find help, but where to start?

Soft white flakes swirled down from the sky as the companions finally reached Everlook. They had travelled for two days and Lomenár breathed in a sigh of relief when she spotted the city walls up ahead. Despite having ridden on the back of Isil and Lossë’s son, Alata, most of the way she was still completely exhausted. As the group approached the city a goblin dressed in the formal guard uniform of the Steamwheedle Cartel stepped out from the small guard house by the gates.
“Halt! Who goes there?!” the goblin’s voice was sharp and Lomenár winced… the loud noise hurt her sensitive ears.
“I… I am… looking for… for a healer…” Lomenár managed to wheeze before she went into a fit of coughing.
The goblin peered suspiciously at her and her three companions.
“Well, if you’re looking for a healer you just missed him.”
“What?! Where… where did he go..?”
“What’s the information worth to you?” A greedy, and somewhat fanatical, gleam appeared in the goblin’s eyes.
“Worth..? You… you mean… I… have to pay..?”
“For the information? Yeah! Of course! Can’t hang around here and chat with you all day. I have a job to do… a job that actually earns me money… so, if you’re not gonna pay me for standing here chatting nonsense with you… well, then… don’t waste my time…” the goblin rolled his eyes and turned around, muttering something in goblin under his breath.
A wave of resentment surged through Lomenár and left a sour taste in her mouth. She remembered why she’d always shunned the lesser races… they were so greedy… and hasty… and not to mention, rude! But she also knew she didn’t have time to waste… and that sometimes swallowing one’s pride is necessary. But knowing that didn’t make that particular brew easier to swallow.

“Wait…” the plea was faint, but the goblin heard it and turned back… an annoyed expression on his face.
“So, you gonna pay me or what? C’mon… time is money, friend… can’t stay around forever.”
“Yes… I’ll… I’ll pay you. Just… tell me where… where the healer went.” Lomenár slowly handed over a couple of coins to the goblin and the gleam in his eyes shone even brighter at the sight of the gold.
“You’ll have to turn back the way you came from. He went that way… said he was going to… uh… Timbermaw Hold? Yeah! That was it!”
“You… you’re… sure that… that was it?”
“Yeah. I’m sure. Now move it along pal!” the goblin made a dismissive gesture and disappeared back into the guard house.
Lomenár stared for a moment after the goblin. All the lesser races ever thought about was money… money, fame and glory. Such childish things to dream about… and without even a second thought towards the truly important things in life! Kin and family… friends… the well being of the land… She sighed and called to her companions.
“We’ll have to turn back… to Timbermaw Hold… hopefully our welcome there will be slightly warmer…”

“Friend elf? Nightsinger?” Lomenár jerked awake as someone roared into her ear.
“Greatroar?” she focused dizzily on the furry figure in front of her.
“Yes, yes, yes! Indeed, it is me! It has been many, many moons since you visited us last time Nightsinger. Greatroar has missed you.” The furry figure bared his teeth in, what Lomenár supposed was, a smile.
“It is… great to see you… my friend…” Lomenár offered the furbolg a tired smile in return.
“Nightsinger is weary? Have you travelled far?”
“From Frostsaber Rock… to Everlook… to here…”
“That is not far… not for the great Nightsinger. You have long and strong legs. They carry you far and swiftly. Greatroar remembers. You won every race. Though, I won the wrestling…”
“It is not far… usually… but… I am… unwell.”
“Unwell? Have you been drinking foul Winterfall firewater?” Greatroar eyed her critically and Lomenár sighed.
“I am afraid… it is… worse than that… my friend. Would… would you take… me to your chief?”
The furbolg’s smile died away and he gently lifted Lomenár off the saber’s back and into his own powerful arms.
“Greatroar had hoped that Nightsinger was just tired from her journey… but…” the furbolg shook his head.
“Do not worry, friend Nightsinger… Greatroar will take you to Chief Kernda… and then Greatroar will take care of you.”

Lomenár lay in a soft bed at the inn in Whisperwind Grove. A few days prior Greatroar had taken her to see Chief Kernda and she had learned that a healer had indeed passed through their tunnels about a day or so before Lomenár’s arrival. She had also learned that the healer had been a druid and that he was headed toward Whisperwind Grove. Lomenár had spoken at length with the furbolg chief and at the end of their conversation Chief Kernda had attempted a healing on Lomenár. The healing had eased her pain for a little while, but it had by no means healed her completely. The next day Greatroar had carried her through the tunnels and then walked with her and the sabers a bit as they set out towards the grove.

Lomenár smiled as she thought of the young furbolg. She had first met him many years ago when she was staying with the Timbermaw clan. Greatroar had been just a cub at the time and Lomenár had been in charge of babysitting him. They had played together and Lomenár had taught him the basics of hunting. During her stay with the furbolgs Lomenár and Greatroar had become fast friends and when it was time for her to leave Greatroar had wanted to come with her. But Lomenár had convinced him that he had a duty to his clan and his family… that they needed him more than she did. But it had been so nice seeing him again. He was still young and as high spirited as ever, but Lomenár had sensed that he was slowly growing into his adult role as a hunter… and it filled her with a great sense of pride.

At the grove she had finally met with the druid and a few of his companions. They had tried everything in their power to help her, but nothing seemed to work permanently. Their spells and ointments gave her some relief for a day or two, but then the pain kicked back in with a vengeance… and she was running out of time.

The Temple looked huge, as well as cold and forbidding, and Lomenár had a fleeting thought to just turn around and return to Winterspring. She stared up at the building in front of her and she had to muster all the courage she possessed to force herself to enter. The almost eerie calmness that was the core of the atmosphere within the temple sent shivers down her spine and she flinched every time a Priestess smiled and nodded in her direction. Why had she decided to come here? The Priestesses hadn’t been able to help her before… but, she hadn’t come here to ask the Sisterhood for help…
The reason why she’d come was standing by the moonwell, looking as impatient as ever. Lomenár knew exactly who he was, but she’d never had any reason to approach him before. She hadn’t wanted to either, seeing as he was a highborne as well as an arcanist and Lomenár tended to avoid both. But now she had to approach him and ask him for help. Another bitter brew to swallow.
It had taken Lomenár a long time to convince herself that this path was the only one left to her. She had tried everything she could think of, and so far nothing had worked. And now she found herself face to face with someone who manifested everything she despised; Archmage Mordent Evenshade.
“Archmage…” Lomenár bowed her head in something that she hoped would be seen as a token of respect.
The arcanist turned around to face her and wrinkled his nose in distaste at her appearance.
“Yes, Sentinel? How may I be of… service?”
Lomenár felt the weight of his ice cold gaze as he took in her dirty and torn clothes and her gaunt and worn face.
“I would ask for your help, would you be willing to give it.” Lomenár kept her own gaze firmly on the ground, lest the mage should notice the resentment and anger that swirled within.
“Oh? A Sentinel, in need of my help? How curious…” a mocking smile curved the man’s lips and his voice took on a very condescending tone.
“Well then… I shall do my best to help you, seeing as it is not every day a -Sentinel- asks the Archmage for help. Now, what can I do for you?”

Through clenched teeth Lomenár told the arcanist her story.
“…so, I had hoped, seeing as it was your magic that caused this… wound… in the first place, maybe you would know how to undo it as well.”
Evenshade studied her for a few long minutes, his face as unreadable as a rock. No, actually, it would have been easier to read a rock than the Archmage’s face.
“I am sorry, but I cannot help you.”
“Why not?!” Lomenár finally looked up and stared at the Archmage in disbelief.
“Because, I have none of the necessary equipment or books at my disposal here in Darnassus.” The Archmage sighed heavily.
“And I cannot leave at present… but if you truly wish the help of the Highborne you should seek out the Shen’dralar in the ruins of Eldre’thalas… they -might- be able to help you. Don’t get your hopes up though… The magic of the Highborne is -not- the same as the magic of the naga. You’d do well to remember that!” the Archmage pulled himself up to his full height and stared down at Lomenár in an attempt to intimidate her.

Lomenár on the other hand just wanted to laugh… she wanted to laugh herself silly! She was dying and the fact that she had to seek out the one people she hated almost as much as the Horde and then place her life in their hands was extremely ironic. She didn’t trust them at all… and the fact that it was -they- who had brought about the reason for her condition in the first place didn’t make things any better. But she was in no fit condition to force the mage in front of her to help her either… so once again she had to swallow her pride, bow her head and mumble a few empty words of thanks.

”Here is where we part ways, dear heart. You don’t possess the gift of flight, and time is of the essence…” Lomenár touched her forehead to Isil’s and sighed.
The cat narrowed her eyes and hissed at Lomenár, which only made Lomenár smile.
“I don’t like it anymore than you do, my moon, but I don’t see any other way… I can’t run in my present condition and you can’t fly.”
Isil tilted her head and looked up at Lomenár, a pleading look in her green eyes.
“Ah! Star of my life! I will miss you… I will miss you so much…” Lomenár hugged the great cat tight and buried her face in Isil’s fur.
“You should go back to Winterspring with Lossë… I’ll find you there if I find the help and healing I need. I promise.”
The saber flattened her ears against her head and growled deep down in her throat, her tail sweeping back and forth quickly.
“My mistake… I should have said -once- I find the help and healing I need. Of course I will heal. Don’t worry, my love.” Lomenár tried to sound as cheerful and convincing as she could, but she knew that her companion wasn’t fooled.

Lomenár got to her feet and walked towards the edge of Teldrassil’s crown. The branches snaked out all around her, but she could still peer through the twigs and leaves down at the sea below. It looked incredibly vast and Lomenár’s heart sank. Would she really be able to reach Feralas and the Shen’dralar in time?

Lomenár shook her head to clear it from the unwanted thoughts and tilted her head back and let out one single keening note. An answering note could be heard high above in the sky just seconds later. A few minutes later her hippogryph companion landed gracefully beside her. Lomenár gave Isil one last pat before she mounted the hippogryph, leaned forward and urged her companion to take to the skies.

Most of the journey passed in a haze of pain and exhaustion. Lomenár could remember bits and pieces, but most of it was lost in the haze. As they had flown over Desolace Lomenár had been overcome by violent shivers and she suddenly had trouble breathing. Her companion had wanted to land so that Lomenár could rest, but the picture of sizzling lightning bolts hitting the ground in front of her and the deep rolling sound of hundreds of hoof beats coming toward her was still very vivid in Lomenár’s mind and she asked her companion to keep on flying.

But they didn’t entirely escape a run-in with the centaurs of Desolace this time around either. As they neared the edges of Feralas they were spotted and suddenly the air around them was filled with arrows seeking a target and crackling spells. Lomenár clung to the back of the hippogryph, completely paralyzed and unable to do anything but hold on. She could see the great clouds of dust the centaurs’ hooves produced as they followed far below. Lomenár closed her eyes at the sight of them, but she couldn’t close out their angry shrieks and yells and the sounds sent shiver after shiver of fear down her spine.

The hippogryph managed to evade the attacks and “outfly” their pursuers. They crossed over the border to Feralas safely.

That night Lomenár wondered what her friends would think of her, had they seen her in that moment when she flew over Desolace. What would they say? Would they pity her? Would they despise her? Would they lose their respect for her? Their usually unflappable Commander succumbing to fear… unable to use her weapons… unable to fight back…
For once she was glad that she hadn’t asked anyone within the Order to accompany her. This was Lomenár at her worst… and it was nothing her friends needed to see.

“From here on I’ll need to continue on foot…” Lomenár said to her companion as she huddled between the roots of an enormous tree.
“Why? My wings are not yet tired.” The hippogryph tilted its head and looked at Lomenár curiously.
“I know you could fly for many more miles my friend, but I have enemies in these woods… and a rider on a hippogryph would draw too much attention.”
“You don’t think I can be discreet?” The hippogryph made a clicking noise with its beak, signaling irritation.
“Of course you can, but my enemies are well trained… they would spot us if we flew.”
The hippogryph drew itself up to its full height and gave Lomenár a scalding look.
“I am -very- good at hiding…”
“From other hippogryphs?”
“Especially from other hippogryphs!”
“And from Sentinels with bows and arrows as well?”
“I managed to hide myself from your view for many moons… and you were once a Sentinel, yes?”
“That is true… and according to them I still am…” Lomenár sighed heavily.
“Anyway… that isn’t the issue. I need to continue on foot, to be able to hide in the forest… and give the stronghold a wide berth. If we flew, we wouldn’t have many options for hiding. And flying down here among the trees… well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not excited by that idea.”
The hippogryph just glared at Lomenár and refused to offer its thoughts on the matter.

“Get some sleep my friend… we both have long journeys ahead of us tomorrow.” Lomenár poked at the embers of their small fire with a long stick and sighed.
“What about you? You need sleep too.”
“I am afraid to close my eyes… I don’t know what I’ll see or dream if I do.”
“You are no druid… why do you fear to dream?”
“Because it is sometimes painful… and frightening. Old memories resurfacing… the faces of my friends… my own death…”
“Why do you fear these things? Friends sound like a good thing, yes?”
“It is…”
“So why are you afraid of seeing their faces in your dreams?”
“Because it hurts… because I miss them… and because I may die here and never see them again…”
“Death… death is a silly thing to be afraid of. You will die when you die. Now sleep. My wings will shelter you from harmful dreams.”
Lomenár smiled up at the hippogryph and shook her head.
“Fine… I concede this battle to you. I will sleep.”
“Good. You worry too much. It is not good for you.”
“Yes… I know…”

That journey, on foot, through the jungles of Feralas still remain one of the worst and most physically painful trips in Lomenár’s long life. As she moved deeper and deeper into the heart of the jungle, the wound within pained her more and more. The pain, which in the beginning had swept over her like a tidal wave every now and then, had now turned into her constant, and only, companion. Every step she took sent shocks of lightning sizzling through her body and it was only the sheer force of her will that managed to keep her going.

She avoided Feathermoon and the Sentinels as best she could, but seeing as she was not her usual stealthy self she was sure she had been seen on several occasions… but no one came after her. Lomenár silently thanked Malorne for that bit of mercy. She didn’t want her friends in the Order to see her like this… but she dreaded to even think what the Sentinels of Feathermoon would say or do if they found her in her current state.

After several days of slow walking, and sometimes crawling, she finally reached the ruins of Eldre’thalas. She had a vague memory of the Archmage in Darnassus telling her that there was a small side passage in one of the ruins that would lead to the arcanists’ hidey-hole. She had no idea if it was even possible for her to find it in her current state, her mind being as muddled and clouded by pain and grief as it was. But that wouldn’t stop her from searching for the supposed entrance though… and be it by sheer luck or by Elune’s will she eventually found the passage and crawled the last distance into the headquarters of the Shen’dralar.

“She is waking up! Finally!”
An unknown voice whispered somewhere to her left. It was dark and the air was stuffy.
“Wa… wat… water…” she managed to croak through her sore throat and cracked lips.
Immediately a cup was held against her lips and she drank deeply, blissfully.
The room was still dark, but she could make out shapes within the darkness now… shapes, smells and more sounds.
The air smelled of spices, dust, parchment, scented oils and perfume and she could hear the soft sound of footfalls on the floor as well as the sharp scratchy sound of parchment being turned.
“How are you feeling? Better?” the voice to her left asked and Lomenár turned her head slowly towards it.
“I… a little.” The water had eased her throat, but it had by no means eased the pain that still raged through her body like a deadly storm.
“Good. You can talk. Why are you here?”
“I… I came to seek help…”
“You are not Highborne.” The voice was thoughtful and she could almost see the Highborne frowning. Why was it so dark?! Why couldn’t she see properly?!
“No.”
“You are not Highborne, but you still wish our help?”
“Yes… I have tried everything, there is no one left to help me… please…”
“Why should we help you? From what you just said, we are your last resort. You do not hold us in very high regard then?” the voice was cold now and held no traces of sympathy.
“Please…”
A long pause. Then finally the voice spoke again.
“You may tell us what ails you and afterwards we will decide.”

Lomenár told her story slowly, while trying to pierce the unnatural dusk and get a good view of her possible rescuers at the same time. But to no avail. Her gaze couldn’t pierce through the strange darkness and all she saw of the Shen’dralar was their shapes and shadows.
“…and that’s why I thought that you could help me. Your… your magic caused this wound. Your magic should be able to heal it as well.” She summarized.
A deadly chill had entered the room and settled on everyone present. For a heartbeat everything was perfectly still and quiet and then the voice hissed, between clenched teeth Lomenár guessed:
“Our magic?! OUR MAGIC?! You dare..! You dare come in here and accuse us of… of… that?!” Lomenár could feel the air move as the Highborne waved a hand in her direction.
“I am not accusing you… but the Naga share the same ancestry with you…”
“YOU DARE COMPARE US TO THAT FILTH?!”
“It is common knowledge the Naga were once Highborne…”
“We have nothing… NOTHING..! in common with those vile snakes! And to even suggest that our magic is the same..?! It is… I do not find the words. It is beyond insulting!” Lomenár could hear pacing and the murmur of other voices closeby. She shivered. Oh, Malorne… she was in trouble now…
“I meant no insult… please…” Lomenár turned her gaze up towards the voice, straining to see the face it belonged to.
“I… we… do not care. You come here and practically demand our help and then you proceed to insult us in the worst possible way. We will not, and cannot, help you.”
Lomenár felt tears of frustration and fear sting her eyes. They refused to help, what was she to do now?

“My people will escort you out of here and a ways away from this place… there the cloud from your eyes will be lifted. That’s the only thing we’ll do for you. And if you die of that wound… well, that is none of our business. And should you survive and try to seek revenge… you have not seen our faces. You will not know us if you ever dare come here again.”
Lomenár managed a weak hiss and spoke slowly.
“I will remember your voice, mage… I have a long memory… if I survive…”
“You do not scare me and with that wound… it is very unlikely that you will survive.” Lomenár could hear the glee in the speaker’s voice.
“Goodbye, kaldorei. May our paths never cross again.” The voice turned away from her and Lomenár was suddenly grabbed by strong hands that dragged her out of Eldre’thalas.

That night, as she lay curled up in the shelter between the enormous roots of an even bigger tree, she went over her situation in her mind. Her strength was fading fast now, she could feel it leaving her body and seep into the ground with every breath she took. She could barely move her limbs at all at this point. The Shen’dralar had known and they had left her by this tree to die.

At one point, several years ago, she had been willing to end her own life due to her legs having been damaged enough that they may have been beyond repair. She had reasoned then that you did not keep an animal who had been hurt enough that it might be a cripple, and suffer, for the rest of its life. You put it out of its misery. Thankfully her mate at the time… Elrren… it still hurt to think of him… had been able to put her legs back together, piece by painful piece, and she had never had to make that choice a reality.

But now… wasn’t this situation even worse than having damaged legs in a way? A pair of damaged legs could be seen and understood as a grave injury… but this? This was something that could not be seen, could not be touched… could only be felt… and it was draining the life out of her every day. Wasn’t that crippling in the way her damaged legs never had been?

It hit her then with forceful intensity that she was as surely dying as the sun rose and set each day… and she was not yet ready to leave this life! That day, those few short years ago, she had thought she had been ready to die. Now, when the dark aspect of Elune and Malorne stood before her and would welcome her to join them in the final sleep, she was not ready to go with them. The faces of her friends in the Order floated in the air in front of her, but she did not have the strength to stretch out her hand to touch them… to say goodbye.

Darkness was closing in on her fast now. She could feel the weight of it pressing down on her. The pain becoming worse with the weight… the last thing she heard were the voices of a hippogryph, an owl and a sabercat mingling into a sharp and painful lament… and then nothing. Just darkness. Endless, peaceful, darkness.

"Elf?" Silence.
"Elf? Hello? Can you hear me?" the voice managed to penetrate the silence and darkness that surrounded her and wanted to carry her away.
A murmured exclamation as the owner of the voice prodded her and noticed her wound. Wound? When had her wound reopened? Soft hands (hands?) prodded and poked at her and wouldn't leave her alone.
"Wound like that... should not be the cause of her being on the brink of death... Hmm... need to find shelter..." the voice seemed to be talking to itself, or at least thinking aloud. Lomenár was drifting in and out of consciousness and the darkness threatened to engulf her completely every time she passed out.
Suddenly strong hands lifted her up and she was hoisted over a... a shoulder, perhaps, and carried away. Lomenár was only vaguely aware of being carried through the woods at a fast and ground eating pace. She remembered thinking that the person carrying her must be in an awful hurry to move that fast, before she passed out again.

When she next came to she was able to open her eyes slightly. But she almost instantly regretted this when the light of a small fire nearby almost blinded her. The bright light hurt her eyes and she quickly shut them again.
"So... you are awake and aware at least... that's something." The voice from before.
"The light hurt your eyes? Of course it would. I apologize. It was thoughtless of me. Here... I'll screen it for you. There... try opening your eyes again."
Lomenár slowly opened her eyes once more and braced herself for the bright light from before. Nothing but a soft and dim glow awaited her. Her vision was clouded and shapes and colours seemed to blend together, but she was still able to see a little.
A dark shape moved closer to her, and a face came into view. At least she thought it was a face. The voice spoke again.
"No pain? Good. Good. We're making progress."
Lomenár squinted and was able to make out the basic shape of the face in front of her. It was round with a... black?.. nose and large blue eyes. The shape didn't look human and it was definitely not kaldorei. A gnome perhaps? But it was too large to be a gnome. She noticed something protruding from the top of the person's head and thought it might be horns of some sort... a draenei? But the creature in front of her seemed to be stockier and shorter than the draenei she had seen... and the accent was wrong. And it was no dwarf. Of that she was certain. It didn't smell of stale sweat and ale.

Lomenár blinked a few times and her vision cleared a little more. This time she could see that the things on top of the creature's head were ears and that the face was covered in some kind of texture. Fur? Was this a worgen then? She had had little to do with the worgens, but she did know that some of them preferred to roam the lands in their feral forms instead of their human ones. But when she looked closer she noticed that the nose was too short and the shape of the face too round... and the ears were rounded too, not slim and pointed like a wolf's. The face seemed almost bear-like in its features, but as far as she knew no furbolgs lived this far south. What was this creature then?
"I see confusion on your face. You wish to know who and what I am? You've never seen one of my kind before? No? Well, I'll tell you soon enough... but first you need to rest. What little skill I have in healing has managed to keep you from dying one me at this very moment, but you need to rest and regain your strength if you are to battle the thing that festers within you. Now sleep." The voice began humming in a smooth and soothing voice and, unable to resist its pull, Lomenár fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

She woke to the delightful smell of food being cooked. When she opened her eyes this time her vision was clear and she was able to see her rescuer clearly for the first time. The creature sat on the other side of the fire, across from her, and stirred something in a cooking pot over the fire. The creature was indeed bear-like in its features, but definitely humanoid. Its fur was in a reddish brown and white pattern and it had mahogany coloured hair, streaked with blue, in a messy bun on its head. She, for Lomenár was now sure it was female, had gold rings in her ears and she was dressed in simple traveler's garb. A sturdy staff, with a few decorations and pouches hanging from it, leaned against a nearby tree. The bear-creature lifted her head and smiled at Lomenár.
"Feeling better are we? Good! The food is almost ready. Nothing solid, mind you. Just broth for now. You probably wouldn't be able to keep anything else down in your condition." The creature didn't seem to expect an answer and Lomenár wasn't exactly sure she would be able to give one... she wasn't even sure she could talk yet. The pain inside seemed dulled somehow and she was able to flex her fingers and move her limbs a little bit. That was something. But she was still confused about the whole thing. She had been dying. The wound inside was not gone, she could feel that much, and she had no idea what the creature had meant by "...battling the thing that festers inside you.". Lomenár was pretty sure she was in no condition to battle anything at the moment.

"Here... this will do you a world of good." The creature had moved to Lomenár's side and held out a bowl filled with the tasty smelling broth.
"Can you hold it yourself? Good. Slowly now... do not burn yourself. If you eat too quickly you might unsettle your stomach, and we do not want to deal with that right now. That's it."
Lomenár was able to eat small spoonfuls of broth by herself, but that was about as much as she could manage. While she ate the bear-creature told her that her name was Zhenmei and that she was of a race called "pandaren" from a place called "the wandering isle". She was also something her people referred to as a monk. A spiritual fighter type and healer.
After she had finished her broth the creature urged her to sleep again and, still confused, Lomenár obeyed.

This continued to be the pattern for the next few days. Lomenár was roused from her sleep to eat and drink and then urged back to sleep by the pandaren's soothing hum. After five days of this she was able to sit up and move her arms more freely and after a week she was able to stand on her own. Not steadily, but she could at least stand up.
The day she was able to walk around camp by herself Zhenmei declared that she was ready. Ready for what?

"Now, that physical wound you had when I found you... I've been able to heal that. See, not a mark on you... but if my senses are accurate, and they usually are, you are suffering from something else entirely. Something much worse. Is that correct?"
Lomenár nodded.
"Do you know what it is?"
Lomenár shook her head.
"No... the wound should have healed, but it has not... I don't know why..." she then proceeded to tell her rescuer the story of how she'd received it.
When she was done telling her story Zhenmei sighed heavily.
"I feared it was something like this... I've never encountered it before, but I have heard of it enough to know what it is. It is not the wound that is slowly killing you... the magic that dealt the wound has certainly done a lot of damage... but it is you, and your own mind, that is doing this to yourself."
Lomenár just looked at the pandaren, not entirely comprehending what she was saying. The pandaren noticed Lomenár's utterly confused look and smiled weakly.
"Simply put, it's like this... the magic dealt the wound, but you and all your negative feelings toward yourself are keeping that wound wide open instead of letting it heal. It is a lot more complicated than that, but we do not need to go into all the gritty details. What we do need is to take action immediately. This has been going on for a long time, yes? That means we have a lot of work ahead of us... painful work..."
Lomenár shuddered a little and met the pandaren's eyes. Hadn't she suffered enough pain already?
"Painful..? How painful?"
"Extremely painful. That wound has festered, like any other poisoned wound, and that poison needs to be drawn out and the wound cleaned before it can heal properly. Ordinarily that process is a rather painful one, as you're probably aware, but in this case... let's just say that you'll need to be extremely strong if you are going to make it."
Lomenár felt the fear begin to creep up her spine and crawl towards her heart and she stared at Zhenmei, eyes wide with fright.
"I know you are frightened... and if I knew of another way, to make it easier for you, I would have suggested it... but this is the only way. I am truly sorry. Do you think you can do it?" There was understanding and kindness in Zhenmei's eyes.
"I... I truly have no other choice?"
"None."
Lomenár closed her eyes for a moment. She was not yet ready to die. Not ready to go with the dark aspect of Elune and Malorne to whatever awaited her on the other side. Not ready to leave her friends and the Order behind. She opened her eyes again.
"What do I have to do?"

The ritual was simple, Zhenmei explained. Lomenár would have to go into a deep meditation and during it she would have to travel deep into her body, find the wound and confront all the feelings and thoughts that had made it fester. Zhenmei could not give a clear answer as to how Lomenár should confront the feelings and thoughts she would have to draw into the light. But she thought that acceptance and forgiveness might be a good start.

Lomenár closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Zhenmei sat across from her and had placed six sticks of incense in a pattern around Lomenár; one for each sense. Zhenmei began chanting softly, and Lomenár felt herself being pulled away from the world around her and her focus turned inward.

It was dark. Very dark. The only thing she could see was a path that snaked into the darkness ahead. The path was dimly lit from within, or at least that was the only explanation that Lomenár could come up with that made some kind of sense. She turned her head and looked backwards. There was still an open door behind her. It would be so easy to turn back... but that would also mean that she would die. And she was not ready to die yet. No. She had to look ahead. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time.

Lomenár didn't know for how long she had walked when she heard the loud BANG behind her. Instinctively she knew that the easy way back, the way she had come, had closed behind her. She would not be able to go back that way now. She walked on.

A faint light up ahead. Lomenár's spirits soared at the sight of it and she walked faster. The light proved to be an open clearing and in the clearing was a small house. It looked exactly like the house where she had grown up. Lomenár walked tentatively towards the front door and gently pushed it open. No sound came from within. She walked inside and stopped short when her parent's figures materialized before her.

"You knew what would happen once she was grown! You knew I always meant her to follow in my footsteps!"
"She isn't cut out for it Illera! She is a wild thing! Not suited for your kind of life!"
"She is MY daughter! Of course she is suited for my kind of life! She will grow out of that wilderness you speak of... she will grow out of it and learn to obey."
"She will wither and die you mean!"

The familiar argument made her breathless with pain. Her parents had argued for days and days and the rest of their small community had shunned them during that time. They didn't understand why her father couldn't accept the natural order of things. Lomenár obviously had the skills and the willingness to learn. She seemed eager to follow her mother and become a Sentinel. Becoming a Sentinel was a high honor. Why couldn't Tavnar see that?

Lomenár remembered the hurt she had felt when her father had said that she wasn't cut out for her mother's way of life. If her mother thought she could do it, why did her father think otherwise? Lomenár also remembered stepping into that argument and declaring with a loud voice that she would follow her mother and become a Sentinel. She remembered the defeated and hurt look on her father's face and she also remembered the triumphant look Illera had given her father.

Looking at the argument now she knew that her father had been right. She wasn't cut out for the life her mother wanted her to lead. She had the skills, yes, but not the heart. She had joined the Sentinels because she wanted to be like her mother and to spite her father who had said that she wasn't cut out for it... and she had hurt him deeply by doing so. She had carried the guilt of that hurt with her through millennia and that guilt had doubled after she had left the Sentinels and she knew that he had been right all along.

Lomenár studied the shadow of her father's hurt face for a long while before she closed her eyes and went to her knees.
"I am sorry, Father. You were right all along... I could never be like mother, live the life she did. I am too independent... too wild. I am so sorry that I hurt you. I know that you are gone and my deepest regret is that I did not tell you in person how sorry I am..." She felt the tears trickle slowly down her cheeks and for once she let them fall unhindered.

When she finally rose from her kneeling position the house and the clearing was gone and she was breathing a little easier.

She continued down the path and every so often she encountered shadows of people from her past... people she had hurt in some way, people she had failed to save. It hurt seeing them. It hurt hearing them talk. All the guilt she felt roared to the surface and left her unable to move on for a while. She meditated after each of these encounters and forgave herself for things that had been out of her control. But she knew that the worst was yet to come... and she feared it.

"You left the Sentinels?! You left?! Lomenár Shadowmist, how could you do this to me?!"
"Mother, I am sorry... I don't want to disappoint you but I had no choice. I was like a caged animal in there..."
"Not another word! You have brought shame upon yourself and, more importantly, on me... and there is no way for you to remedy that. We will be the laughingstock for centuries to come! How DARED you go against my wishes in this?"
"Mother, please..."
"Do not EVER call me mother again! You are no daughter of mine..."

Pain shook her body and the grief and shame she had felt when her mother cast her out returned tenfold. She had hoped, against all hope, that her mother would be forgiving... understanding at least. But no... Illera had a deserter as a daughter... Lomenár had shamed her... made her the laughingstock of the Sentinels. How could Illera possibly forgive something like that?

Lomenár whimpered as the damning words resounded in her mind again and again. It was all her fault! She was condemned. She had shamed her mother for all eternity...
"It was not your fault..."
The voice was soft and barely audible through her mother's screeching.
"Forgive yourself..."
Lomenár strained to hear it. It sounded strange, yet familiar... very familiar.
"You went your own way... you should be proud. You were true to yourself."
Slowly, slowly her mother's voice faded and was replaced by the gentle words of that familiar voice. The moment she realized that the voice was actually her own, her mother's voice had disappeared completely. It left behind a sense of calm acceptance and serenity. Lomenár had gone her own way... she had been true to her heart.

The encounters did not come in chronological order. They just appeared. She saw her father's death and had to force herself to forgive... she could not have saved him, even if she had been there. If she had, they both would have died instead.

She saw Elrren and the expression on his face tore her heart to pieces. She had consciously pushed him away, trying to shield herself and her heart. She had hurt him and now he was gone. He had turned his back and walked out of her life forever.

The tears burned hot and angry and it was so hard to let it go... so hard to forgive and forget.

And suddenly there it was! The thick foliage of Ashenvale forest closed in all around her, forcing her to move forward. There, in the clearing, on the ground! There he was! She knelt beside the broken body, beaten and mutilated beyond recognition... but she knew that it was him. He had given her all the knowledge he possessed, he had shown her extraordinary things and he had given her back her joy in life... he had given her everything. He bought her life with his death. He saved her.

This was the core of it. The old grief and guilt raged inside her, threatening to tear her apart. She sobbed uncontrollably and took his mangled body into her arms. Her tears stained the skin that had long since rotted away after years spent in the cold dirt. She threw her head back and keened. A shrill unforgiving sound, filled with heart wrenching sorrow and grief.

He had saved her by dying... and she had repaid his sacrifice with running away. She had never grieved properly, she had not gone back to find his body, to bury it... she had turned her back on him, when he had given her his last breath.

She cried and she raged. She cursed and she keened. And she sang... she sang until her throat was sore and she was emotionally spent. She cuddled up against his still form, whishing that she could have taken his place.
"I'm sorry... Lithior, I am so sorry..." She buried her face in the tattered shreds of his tunic, trying desperately to shut everything out and let the blessed darkness engulf her. The darkness never came.

Instead a light began to bloom in the middle of the clearing. Lomenár slowly got to her feet and stared at it until it grew too bright to face. And then a voice... a voice she remembered and missed so dearly. A voice she loved deeply.
"Ah... dear heart, why so sad? I never regretted my decision, why should you?"
"But... but... you died... I... I could not save you!"
"I gave my life to save yours... if you had not run when I told you to, we both would have been dead by now... would that truly have been better?"
"I didn't grieve... not... properly..."
"You were not ready... grieving is a long process, dear heart. Did you expect to go through all of the stages of grief at once?" Lithior's voice sounded amused.
"I... I guess I did..."
"You loved me for millennia... to lose something that precious takes time to process. And it has not been that long since my passing. A breath, a blink of the eye... Twenty years is nothing, NOTHING, compared to the time we spent together. Don't you agree?" She could hear a smile in his voice now and the tight knot in her chest eased a little more.
"I... yes... I agree. Twenty years... it's a short time... I guess I just wanted it to be over quickly, like it is for humans..." she heard him snort at that and felt herself blush.
"Humans! What do they know of grief? No, dear heart... let your grief take time... and stop blaming yourself for my death. It was my choice, and mine alone."
"I will try. I will do better, I promise."
"Good. That is all I have ever asked of you. We may be parted for now, but remember that even though I am gone I still love you... I always will. And when the Dark Aspect of Elune comes for you, we will be together again. That is my promise." the tears that ran down Lomenár's face were of joy this time, not of grief, as she finally let all the guilt she had kept with her through the millennia go.

Lomenár slowly opened her eyes and found Zhenmei sitting beside her, looking slightly worried.
"Is it done?" the pandaren asked.
"It is done... finally." Lomenár smiled.
"You've been gone for a long time... it was a long journey you had to undertake?"
"Several millennia's worth of guilt and grief had to be cleansed, so yes... it was a long journey." Zhenmei snorted.
"It's a wonder you were still alive when I found you then! Ah! But beeing that strong of spirit... you'd make a fine monk!" The pandaren smiled broadly at Lomenár.

They spent two days in Zhenmei's camp before Zhenmei declared that it was time for them to part ways.
"Thank you, Zhenmei, for everything. I could not have done this without you." Lomenár hugged the small pandaren close.
"I am glad I could help, my friend. If you ever find yourself in the need of a companion for an adventure, don't hesitate to send for me!" The pandaren winked and waved a cheerful goodbye, leaving Lomenár behind to ponder her next step on her journey.