Balance

So as you shiver in the cold and the dark, look into the fire and see it’s spark –

My eye watching over you.

As you walk in the wind’s whistling claws listen past the howling of the wolf’s jaws –

My song comes to you.

And when you are lost in the trackless snow, look on high where eagles go –

My star shines for you.

You are not forsaken – You are not forgotten. The hells cannot swallow you. Time cannot bury you –

I will come for you.

Azeroth shall grow warmer, and the gods will smile. But oh, my love, guard yourself well –

All this may not happen for a long, long while.

RED

Love. Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted body and soul to a single person who may fully occupy one’s every thought and action. To clutch at one’s heart to the exclusion of all else. Many claim to ‘want’ this sensation to sweep over them, thinking that it’ll simply come to them if they wait for it. But I… I do not just want such passions. I crave them. I need them – even as I know them to be damning in their own right. I ache for the touch of another, to escape from reality into a fantasy-esque bliss. They say in such texts that the religious put stock in; The angels of yore took to mortal women and laid with them. When they gave into their lust, the Light was no longer theirs to hold. Cast from their kingdom they gravitated to another in darkness. In time, they gave form to the Eredar… Or so one of many theories goes.

Oh ye blood red soul – have you always been alone?

Have you never loved again? Love will live on~ Oh~ Oh~Oh~

Life must go on~ oh~oh~oh. For you cannot spend your life regretting.

You must face another day~yay~yay~

Oh ye blood red soul – now your love hath gone away.

Once you loved her~ Woah~oh~

Now you’ve lost her~ Woah~oh~oh~oh

But you’ve lost her forever, ye blood red soul~

When there are clouds in the skies and they are grey~ you may grow sad but remember they’ll all soon pass away~yay~yay~

Oh ye blood red soul – After the showers must the sun be shining anew.

This applies to all things tangible and intangible alike. The love of coin. The love of prestige. The love of power. Passions rage intimately in all manner of things and there will come a point in everyone’s life, without fail, that we must gaze upon our naked selves and discern the truth of our hearts – to look upon our base desires and know that which feeds us. That which sustains our souls beyond food and drink for man cannot live on bread and salt alone. Who better to speak this truth than I? I whom have subsisted on vengeance for so long? I who have feasted upon hatred and agony? Who is more suited to speak this simple phrase repeated time and again?

“We shall soon see whether I… No… Whether my spirit might be as if a spear – Capable of piercing every one of you. We’ll see if I’m truly such a weak mortal creation!”

As I delve deeper into the shadows I ponder. Must one remain a slave to their own desires? Must one always remain shackled to their festering phobias ’till death? Shall we forever cling to the same intangible desires – Live by a single compass? I have toyed with these questions in my life and upon the lives of others. The answer is yes. People may pretend to rise above their insecurities but they will always inevitable submit to their base passions and fears. For there is no greater love, than the love of one’s self. T’is as though a pattern of thought instilled from birth. We know only ourselves from the seconds of life first gifted to the last moments of solitude before breaching the barrier between this world and the next. We stoop to such lows that we might survive in the face of terrors, become the monsters told of in horror stories. There is no stronger emotion, truly.

“WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE ME!? WHO ARE YOU TO DAMN MY ACTIONS – SO CALLOUSLY IGNORING YOUR OWN! How many have you lured to -your- bed whom were spoken for!? You who tip toe along my designs so carefree and without regard to consequences. In the end however we all answer to our crimes. Time is the true sin. In the end, ultimately, it serves me – days, months, years. In but a moment life ends but in hours, weeks and decades everything becomes fleeting. Even love and family. Time is the agent of revenge. So it might be said that in the end… Revenge is mine alone.”

Even I may not transcend such things – I whom pride myself on rising above mortality. Beyond the meager limitations that we foolish creatures craft of ourselves. I have left Asleon and Marianne in the annals of memory… But I shall forever exist as Anetho Dawnpride. That is the cage I’ve built for myself, the limitation I shall never escape no matter what power I command – no matter what face I choose to wear be it that of the lowly urchin or that of a nobleman. I have forged the lock and done away with the key as must we all. We must all surrender to that which we are…. -You- included….

The priest rapped upon the door left ajar by a careless agent of The Rose. “What is it you are seeking amongst dust and death, my son?” The aged clergyman inquired in a soft, haggard tone. “N-nothing.” The rogue replied, suddenly startled. He stood upright, left hand touching the hilt of his dagger. “To tell a lie is to sin – and sin is the language of the church, my child.” The priest regarded the young  man with tired eyes befitting his elderly appearance, but there was something darker fluttering beneath them. “You’ve been doing an extensive amount of research into my person. Whom are you so desperate to learn about? Myself or the latest addition to Silvermoon’s social circles?” The thief stiffened, unnerved by the old man’s unwavering gaze. His mind frozen in a magically induced fear.

 “Allow me to tell you all about both – though I imagine it’d be alot faster…” His voice echoed in dual magical tones as he placed his right hand along his face and pulled at his face, ripping it apart and casting it to the skies – illusionary magicks exploding as they parted to reveal Anetho. Rose petals seemed to encompass the air and swirl all about them, mana radiating profoundly from the fel-tainted Magister. “…This way!” Both hands pulsed with spellfire as he laughed maliciously, the malefic tones as if maddening drums to the rogue whom stood paralyzed in horror. A scream filled the air coupled by a smoke cloud rising into the skies, ferrying another departed soul to worlds beyond.

I cannot escape the torment – the taint that clings to my very soul. I have tried to flee into the night, but one cannot escape themselves. Even as I had her whisk me into bliss the grim reality reaches out to snatch me from her grasp. No matter who ‘she’ refers to. I wasn’t destined for such things. Perhaps fate wished this path for me, that I should act as another guiding light – rather than trying to seek out such a thing in another.

How dark it was when I first woke to this world… The emptiness of the soul I now possessed – how absent was my mind that I could scarcely formulate a single thought? Even the beat of my heart was so weak that I was rightly dead moments before. So dark were the first months of life I possessed that when I breached the threshold of conscious thought I was blinded and overwhelmed by the sliver of light born of a voice not rightly my own as I spoke unto myself, tapping the dormant wealth of knowledge that my forebearer possessed. So clumsy was my tongue that I stumbled over my first word. “Hoe-Puh.” A curious word to cling to – though I suppose if not for it, I’d not have thrown myself from that waterfall all those years ago.

Cold unforgiving darkness held to tightly to me. It robbed me of breath – of an infantile life. I drifted to nothingness. As my eyes adjusted I was laying upon the wastes of the Ghostlands. Either through current or the more likely scenario of having simply walked subconsciously. A new day dawned as my hands grew first accustomed to labor – hands that forged this very city of Silvermoon. Hands that laid mortar and pestle. That built half the nobility brick by brick. The same hands that would know the blood of those whom were thought safe by my very architecture and stone. The same hands that would pillage all those walls were meant to defend.

Darkness obscured my actions and embraced me. It ferried others to my side, those whom shared in my deceits and trades of depravity. I would walk in shadow amongst roses and emerge at last in the Sun’s fury. There I learned a balance. To hold light and darkness alike until the balance was at last to be tipped in favor of one or the other to the benefit of my designs. As a shaman once told me; There are two wolves inside of us. One is black as the night embodying sin, vice, evil and all things depraved. The other is white as the snow representing virtue, honesty and benevolence. Both are locked in an endless duel for the ages. I asked which would arise the victor. His reply was blunt. “The spirit wolf you feed.”

As the Sunwell glowed brighter than it had in days of old, my path became truly illuminated for the first time. A light of purity – a cleansing aura befitting a noble man. A magister of the people. A light to cast the shadows of my vengeance along the luminescent halls. Even as the winds of the frozen north sought to shut out the sun – I remained steadfast in the eyes of the people. True to them – and to my burning desire for revenge. In the darkest undercrofts I carried the blinding rays of my vengeance. I burned brighter than the stars in the sky as I carved my agony upon the flesh of those whom had wronged me in righteous fire. I emerged in the very same radiance. Once again I played the facade of a champion to ease their souls and my own unresolved memories of a lifetime ago. I know the truth and may never speak of it. I know what truly befell my tragic liege and I wept.

Praise and happiness were commonplace as the world stood perpetually bathed in light. I stood once again in the radiant benevolence of our combined efforts as a nation. The brighter the light, however – the larger my shadow grew until it encompassed the whole of Silvermoon and my grasp rested upon all of Azeroth. All that I sought was unveiled in time beneath the grace of this flame. As the world shattered beneath the influences of greater creations I watched in temporary fear as my light slowly dimmed until we were all left in darkness. My cowardice was soon replaced with comfort and familiarity. After all – I was first a creature of darkness. Inherently I was a monster. I thrived beyond the glow of society, in the world of my forging. Of my birth. That which served them – also guided them blindly to me – to a well deserved end.

The quiet darkness engulfed them until they were to few to even be considered a threat. Those responsible for my misbefotten life had been put to a restless end. Forever entombed in a crystalline tomb. I watched in bliss as the world was certain to end. The skies darkened as did my heart. From the tower I was perched I observed through scrying orbs what was to be the final hours of mortality. The final end to this sortid affair we know as life.

The images projected from the orb served to dimly illuminate Anetho’s bare body as he reclined in his chair, Cielane at his side. She’d brought him a bottle of wine and filled an empty glass upon the small table between them. “You don’t plan to intervene, Master?” She set the bottle upon the tabletop, slightly perplexed at his sudden inaction. “Look upon the orb – the world is burning. Soon it shall scarcely be said to have existed at all. I have no further cause to interfere. Those that had wronged me fell victim at my hand. Now even their memory shall fade from all existence.” He stroked a vibrant soul orb idly with his foot. “What shall I care that all is put to the torch?” He asked cynically as he toasted the Aspect of Earth.

 “What shall I care that the world feels the same despair that once filled me?” Cielane frowned, looking at the barren floor. “Why deny them? Why save what elects to die upon it’s knees? They have made their decision – to crutch upon ‘champions’. Let fate determine the resolution to this tragic play.” He chuckled maliciously. “And you don’t feel the slightest obligation to your people?” Cielane inquired, citing him as a hypocrite with an often used justification to his actions. “No.” He replied quietly. “Now silence your tongue…” He observed the Skybreaker’s crew descending upon Deathwing’s back. “I wish to witness our final hours in deserved peace.”

The world was spared a violent passing and it’s populace rejoiced. Mortal kind had defeated what many considered to be omnipotent. The darkness never departed my being as I thought it might. It clung to me – Hate, rage, sorrow. All that I drew upon and had no further desire to retain. Despair took me once again as I observed what I had become. I was now worse than the source of the powers that I possessed – My life, one built upon vengeance and retribution held no purpose. I sauntered back to the world of politics and intrigue. The only one I knew – and found myself thrust into the jaws of a new conflict.

I continued to expand my influence and dance everyone along their strings though it served no purpose anymore. I continued to consolidate power through the darkest of ways out of habit. I tired of the mediocrity and the warmonger that I was to serve. The same that would soon shatter the Horde. I left for foreign shores to serve as the eyes of Quel’Thalas – and to pursue an agenda long resolved. I was forced to look upon myself in the form of the Sha – An entity that quickly drew everyone’s attention. Over time, as we learned more of it, my directives were clarified. Such things had to be vilified lest another dabble in them. This only further enthralled the blood thirsty warmonger. I took up the title of my sword amongst others and planted the seeds of dissent in a few of my compatriots. The act was hardly necessary. Even had we not urged all we met to the isle, I imagine the revolution would have come regardless.

Now with the Warchief deposed and my oath well and truly honored I still fail to grasp the light and fall to darkness. As I languish upon the ground however – I form the conclusion that promises light once again, of my own variation. For after all, we must shape our own reality and determine what rests within our soul before the mirror that is our heart.

“I stand as an angel, you say? Perhaps I am an Eternal? One wonders, no?”

With my eyes unclouded I play a new sonata to the glow of hellfire, and pen the chapter of a new tale. One fixated on entities beyond intangible leads such as lust or revenge but rather those individuals that distinguish themselves in the inferno.

“There shall always be two; one to possess the power and the other to crave it. This is the only truth in our world of darkness and deceit.”

I will lay her upon the altar and shower her in tribute. Of coin and vice shall we revel. Upon graven images shall we consummate what has been long denied. Of passionate trials shall our praises sing. The walls between man and monster shall melt asunder. Upon this altar shall we be that which is beholden unto. The masses will lavish us with worship and contempt. For they have been scorned by the omnipotence that tomorrow holds. Cruelty shall be her final gift upon that which is closest – that which is blinded. A final bitter lesson that memory is indeed powerful and patience even more so.

20131018_030213

Revenge shall be the pilgrimage in my honor. A path I have walked into the Hall of Deities. Rage the all consuming prayer given day and night. Lust is but the practice, greed is the teaching. A constant sensation rippling alongside memory and it further stokes the embers as they are denied indulgence. For you are the Goddess upon my altar. That which pains mortal men – and I your Eternal. The constant mixture of jealousy and love forever in your heart.

Through us shall they know despair.

“Shall I tell you what it is I have seen?” Anetho asked the scrying orb as he recorded a parting message for those that should find it. “Of the inferno that ever stalks this pitiful, unremarkable world? Of the masterful tragedy written in your future? How earth and sky shall burn and mortal kind shall be but tinder to the tribute screams offered to the masterful beings beyond our ken?” He paced around the orb, running his right hand through crimson red locks of hair, they scintillate at his touch and shift in hue to a golden blonde. “As this world becomes one of the many pyres offered in sacrifice to the true lords of magic, only the chosen shall ascend beyond their mortal shells and petty callings. Only those whom heed the practices society claims forbidden will find themselves amongst the enlightened. Upon their shoulders shall rest the heavy burden of sin and salvation. Those who know true power, whom know what it means to sacrifice in the name of power.”

“I’ve lived my life upon the bread that is information. To know the truth beyond the truth. To revel in the secrets of others beyond their knowledge or otherwise… Then I learned all to well, that a mere mortal such as myself can never truly touch upon the truth. It’s impossible – it’s unsure. No one here is even interested in learning the truth this world has to offer…A truth that must be known.” He paused a moment, peering into the orb as if to gaze upon the listener. “But -I- wanted to know! I wanted to know that which must never be known!” He returned to pacing about. “Even without the events of the Well of Eternity or the so-called Burning Crusade I think mortals would still  be creatures that feared the dark and demonic. They do not face that fear – they avert their eyes from it and act as if they’ve no recollection of such history.”

“Man’s fear has withered – and even time tries to wither the desire to know the truth… Is it a sin to search for those things which you fear? That which is unspoken by the masses?” His hair shifted once again to blood red hues as he collected a wine glass from a nearby table. “My purpose in this world is knowledge and the dissemination of it…. and it is I who will restore the fruits of my labors to you whom have that burning desire as I.” He chuckled. “Fear. It is something vital to us pathetic creatures. The instant mortality stops fearing is the instant that the collective of mortal kind shall sink to pitiable lows, only to sit and wait apathetically for extinction.” He glared at the orb and shouted. “WAKE UP! DON’T BE AFRAID OF KNOWLEDGE! REACH OUT! GRASP AT THE DARKEST PRACTICES YOU FEAR MOST! WITHOUT SUCH YOU AND THE REST YOU HOLD DEAR ARE DOOMED TO EMERGE FROM HISTORY AS BUT ANOTHER CONQUEST! ANOTHER SHATTERED DESICCATED CORPSE!”

He drained the glass of it’s contents, sighing as it parted from his lips. “…If it meant that you could wield the inferno that those whom would end you carry as their own… If it meant that you could combat them on their own terms… would you not sacrifice petty title and taboo in favor of power?” Anetho straightened his tie, setting the glass aside. “…From the great dark beyond, chaos shall rain forth. From ley and magic will many be twisted and the gateway to mortal kind’s fear shall be cast open violently. Beyond dream and reality shall these horrors walk our earth and leave but ash and misery in their wake. That which was long locked away shall emerge from a deathly sleep to consume the world… Ancient powers shall slowly eat away at the core of this wretched world – and those without the power to act shall feed the abyss that embodies this ceaseless hunger.”

“Blood and agony are but the price of salvation and comfort. Darkness is the embrace, fire the means. Have you the resolve to stride where others fear? Have you the drive to ascend your pitiful mortal coil?”

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~ by anethodawnpride on October 19, 2013.

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