A Fel-Fire Pyre

“We were not prepared… This world is doomed to the pyre. Petty interests, even my own, damn us all to such failures… Such as the immortal pursuit may be, even the longest lived are destined to die, for if not by time’s tireless fury… Then at the hands of the envious and fearful of power.”

“Look upon these great hosts of influence and power. Silvermoon. Stormwind. Orgrimmar. Lordaeron. See them for all that they are and could be at their greatest heights of passion and commitment.” I stride back and forth within my inner chamber, hair pulled into a messy bun as I converse with the mirror in my hand. “Tell me truly, is there any such worth to standing so low beside them now? You have proven time and again how miscalculated intervention can be fatal.” I saunter into a nearby corner and rest against the familiar stone walls that mark my solitary post.

“I have only proven what pettiness might attain; Look to the affairs of the Alliance and Horde. See the vanity that even now consumes them with the enemy standing before the gates, howling for blood and demanding the souls of the weak and innocent.” There is a moment of laughter shared between the mirror’s image and I. “But of course, such faults of mortals cannot be mended – even in the face of adversity so adamant and surely final…” The image in the mirror breaks into two, splitting the wide divide of a figure both holy and unnatural. “And did you not once lose such faith in the face of certain cataclysm with the coming of the supposed World-Breaker? Did you not sit and await the coming tide only to be disappointed in the ultimate end?” A genuine smile takes my lips and I nod in reply.

“The Red Magister was far from an optimist, and even in his more glorified moments, desired such an ending to his tale. The poetic act of exacting his revenge just before the world might be wiped clean… Though even of the parallel worlds, we’ve seen what such sorrows might reap – we’ve our own Eirwen to thank for that insight.” Emotion pulls at my heart, nostalgia perhaps, or the longing of something long lost. I quickly steady myself as I continue this conversation with faces past. “Perhaps not, but I was at all times pragmatic. I confess the truth of foresight to be arrogance in the end, for all my machinations had at once run their course and I was left to no purpose but to repeat the motions for fear of lost direction… I did not wish to face the world, as you now find yourself woefully conflicted.” He was right, of course. I did not wish to entangle myself so publicly or among the affairs of men yet again, so infantile were my resurgent powers and uncertain motive and direction. How could this form, now endowed of such dark magicks, be any different or diverse from that of it’s predecessor?

“…Only by first having faith of one’s self and conscience of the moral sensibilities.” The holy man had answered, aware of my thoughts. We three. The damned clergyman, the vengeful mourner, and now… the hopeful redeemer. “Do we need take the stage? Must we enact the awe of our audience? Can we not be content as mere supporting actors along another’s crusade?” The Magister asked as I moved from the wall to the nearby table to examine the weapons I had laid out upon it. “T’is a divergent path among many you’d elected to pursue.. Yours was far too glamorous. Too decidedly controversial. My own must be given measure and grace… Were not your own wishes that this life be one the better formed of mistakes past?”

“But of course, you have the right of it. In the end, however, it can only be decided upon by you whom hold this blood stained mantle I have passed along, for she whom keeps company among herself and seeks counsel within a mirror is indeed lost as I was already.” He says softly, a cynical smile pulling at his lips before the two fade into nothingness and I see only myself. These brilliant green orbs along my face, blazing out of all control. Fear takes me as I set my hand atop the hilt of my sword. “A terrible curse, to be so great a fool as you. One might only hope this fel-fire pyre serves not as a wake, but as a lesson.. For you are both correct. I have waited far too long as it is by my lonesome.”

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~ by anethodawnpride on September 10, 2016.

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