The Society has returned home, and mourning has commenced. It would seem that they were way in over their heads, and loss is a loss, it weighs on your conscience.
Outside, quiet, deathly quiet as the news of their exploits drifted through Shadowhearth. Arienne sat upon the steps that lead to her home and emanated the silence that embodied the place as everything from the days before sunk in. Slowly, like an agonizing ache emphasized in her head, tortured her hip and nauseated her core.
The scene changes, and she can see herself standing upon the banks of Lordamere Lake, looking on at the man who had been the reason for her strife, standing nonchalant, proud of what he had accomplished. He smiled at her, and she - hood down - glared back with an equal intensity, unwilling to let the exchange temper her resolve.
âWhat do you hope to accomplish, Arienne ?â He asked, the boat which he was positioned on wobbling slightly as he moved. Arienne remained silent, the desire to not play into his game burned in her gaze and Weselton made an exclamation of mock hurt, that proceeded to transform into a lilting, malevolent laugh. âYou still havenât unlocked your full potential, and yet, it seems you know the outcome of this foolish mission.â Here, Arienne squinted, tilting her head slightly at the remark.
âRiddled by dreams, that sense of foreboding that only entails your own involvement. An omen, or an augur? I think you know the answer to that. Youâve seen it in your dreams. The fire, the blood.â
âYouâre lying.â
âAm I? I know you know youâll lose your chance at securing my death. Youâve known it for a while.â
âI care little for that. All I care about is eradicating this⌠chaos under the guise of some Crusade.â
âA Crusade we were both a part of Arienne.â
âNo! I never wanted to be a part of that. When you took me from that Monastery, you turned your back on it all, took that sigil as your own and performed some sort of sacrilege to embody it. This is a husk, a futile husk to make yourself more superior. And you know if you went remotely near to any who wear that tabard they would strike you downâŚâ
âAnd yet, many followed me.â
âOnly those blinded by your proposal. You hide behind those walls because you failed. You failed my family, you failed that sacred brotherhood you were so adamant to join, to grow in, to uphold, you didnât fit their ideals so you tainted it further. I never wanted a part in that! I was a child!â
Weselton blinked twice before his face contorted with rage. âI dragged you out of that orphanage to give you a life. Your potential was wasted, wasted sti -â
âAnd will always be wasted, if it brings you the torture you deserve.â There was silence, until finally the man turned his boat around and rowed back, the secret exchange cut short by his demand, funny how even now when she had a choice to walk away, she had entertained his musing. âYouâll not succeed, Arienne. Perhaps you will save them, and yourself⌠but ending me⌠Weâll see. Oh, and do be careful, you donât want to harm that little one through all this.â
Back to reality, Arienne had retreated into her home, clutching the tea cup with such force that it shattered in her hands. She shrieked, but not because of the cuts that riddled her hands and the blood that flowed, but the terror that blinded her as vivid memories tortured her very soul.
Explosions echoed in her ears and the dull ache of being thrown back by these makeshift bombs had returned. Boltex with his remaining leg clean off⌠The harrowing screams that deafened her as flames surrounded her. Arienne backed into the corner as words joined the fray, repeating, crying, shouting!
No.
Hands positioned on the countertop helped Arienne stabilize herself as she maneuvered through the house, sight still blurred and body completely off balance as the visions and memory were replaced by the constant ring in her ears as silence settled over the room. Arienne took deep breaths, trying to calm herself as she gathered her thoughts. But the headache helped little and Arienne was forced to relive words she never wanted to hear.
âJustinâs dead⌠Justinâs dead⌠He died pulling children out of the fire⌠Justinâs Dead. Worvian is with him. Comfort himâŚ. Justinâs Dead.â
Dead.
Dead.
Justinâs Dead.
Dead Justin, Justinâs Dead.
Burning, Children.
Children Burning!
Burning!
House on fire!
Fire!
BURNING!
BURNING!
DEAD!
The sound of clattering as Arienne through everything off the counter with a scream, smearing the countertop with blood from her hands as glasses shattered and food hit the floor. Frantic, she dragged herself away, hiding in the tiniest corner. Retreating into herself to flee from the guilt. She had lead them on this mission, and the casualties⌠Well. The warnings had been there. Arienne should have listened.
Guilt had a terrible way of breaking someone.
Weâre back in Stormwind and licking our wounds, stop by if youâre interested in joining!