Full Circle

“…I desired to die, once. I resolved that when I’d destroyed everything that gave my fury purpose – I too would join the rest upon the pyre that the last of their terrible living memories fades with all the rest. I was content to sit buried in my tower and observe what I thought to be our final hours as the Aspect of Earth prepared to rip the world asunder in a final, ostentatious, display. In the aftermath of mortal kind’s victory – I found myself suddenly grateful for the gift of life, even as I had no idea what to do with it; Still I would not be deterred from my original intent… I would perish, once I’d ensured the last of the Twilight’s Hammer had been laid to rest.”

The young woman ran her fingers through fiery locks of hair as she looked over the still charged remains of Theramore. “…It hasn’t changed, has it?” She asked the mirror in her hands, as if it were a living person. Not even the slightest breeze disrupted the flows of magic in this place – yet untapped and so raw as to be primal. “Not in the slightest…” She sighed, walking slowly towards the epicenter of the destruction. “I saw everything as it was, and everything as it could be… and yet in my wildest imagining I could not have perceived this magnitude of destruction, nor the beauty it would give birth to…” She looked over the floating rocks and remnants of expert masonry – the few remaining indications of sentient life having existed here at all – and sighed once again. “For the deception, Thalen Songweaver could not have played a more perfect role… Though even he was unaware as to the presence of a long deceased man of the cloth working behind the scenes from behind the promise of ‘spiritual healing’. The one whom orchestrated a deception greater still.”

“…It was then that the so called Council of the Black Harvest made itself known, circulating the secrets they’d recovered from my most hated enemies… My work was far from over. I began to bastardize the very practices that had elevated me from a mere mindless puppet to the Red Magister. I worked to slow the progress of the craft from within, going so far as to abuse my station to instigate inquisitions into ‘The Sanctum’ coven and various others throughout the provinces of the Horde. I spared no friendship the chastising glare – nor the man whom resided in my mirror… It had to be burned away; But how does one destroy knowledge already abundantly in circulation?”

There was the hints of a smirk pulling at her lips, though she reminded herself that such habits were to be broken; A smug nature was not befitting of a woman in her position. Humility and tact would serve her far better than the arrogance of a Magistrate official could have. She worked her palms into the dirt, breaching an unmarked bastion that secured her future in a world now fraught with confusion regarding it’s own past. “…It is a melancholy sensation; The realization that this is the last orchestration that Anetho Dawnpride shall ever be directly responsible for – I can’t help but compare it to the end of a book that has no sequel. There is a closure of sorts, and yet… an absence just the same with thought that the story continues in absence of the author and his pen.” She’d found a carved rock nearly two feet down, wedged neatly along the crystallized soil below. She wrenched at it, and it came free with far more ease than she’d recalled in forcing it in place. Brushing at the dirt still clinging to the surface she noticed the engraved letters on the surface. ‘A.L.D.’

“…The answer was by diluting it over time until it no longer served the ends to which it was originally conceived. My own existence taught me as much – even as it had to end. I laid in place a contingency that might shatter the destructive instruments of my old and terrible foe – just as it would give rise to something altogether beneficial to the flock I’d always considered myself standing apart from.  The puppet, Anetho Dawnpride, was a conjuration of dark intent – an experiment based upon the principle that mind and soul are separate entities and therefore exploitable when merged that a monster might live within the body of a man… Dormant until such time it was called to feast; and feast I did upon the suffering of the innocent and the guilty alike in my mad desires. In making that ritual my own, I changed the intention and therefore the final result. Where once was meant to be nothing but death, I have laid the foundation of life; And that life is one dedicated not just to the pursuits of magic, but also to the world surrounding it.”

She traced the engravings with her fingertips, imbuing it with her mana. “…Good night… Anetho. Yours, is a deserved rest.” The stone split down the middle, revealing a single radiant orb glowing a brilliant blue. She rolled it over in her palms a moment, admiring what had taken so long to forge – and cost so much. Slowly she placed the jewel within her pocket and began to bury the remnants of the rock. All that was left to do now was retreat to a vault unblemished by the touch of her forebearer – yet readied by him just the same within the confines of Kalimdor. Her due inheritance of magic, and all that he’d left her in preparation for his passing. The end of that long road paved with great intentions and cemented by horrid deeds leading to the golden gate that was freedom. The very thought had her shaking, as she muttered an incantation and vanished in a subdued flash of magic.

“What I’ve learned in this life is that even in the worst monsters of the world, there are lessons to be taken that might benefit the morally just and contribute to modern society in a proper manner – Though it would take the voice of one far less tarnished than I to apply them. I am all that I shall ever know – for that is the burden associated with this face. My last act, just as my first, is one of malevolence – and even as it may promise a righteous outcome, the sins have yet come full circle and may again be made manifest if that path she must walk alone is not tread lightly, and in sober thought. I am ever optimistic of my legacy and all it entails; This beautiful thing I’ve created that has altered not just the final workings of my own despair, but perhaps those of the lives I know she’ll inevitably touch. Death is a natural progression into life – just as life is the natural progression to death. The past must yield to the future lest the blessing that is time over the generations lose it’s arbitrary value. I understand this now, and though more fearful than ever before – I am prepared at last to do as I resolved and grant the wishes of many in this world; I am prepared to kill Anetho Dawnpride.”


~ by anethodawnpride on March 23, 2015.

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