Memoires (Part 13 - Epilogue)

Letting go is never easy.

That was the thought that lingered on my mind as I stood at the window of my hospital room, peering down into the courtyard below. I placed my hands on the cool white stone and curled my toes in the thick rug carpet laid in my room as unbidden, images of Ragnaros and Nefarian flashed through my mind.

I was a broken warrior, a crushed spirit, and I was no longer fit to serve as the head of the alliance that had protected Azeroth against the malignant intentions of its foes. A part of me raged at the decision, though I had put it forward myself to step down. A part of me raged at the weakness in me, but a part of me was glad it was finally over. 

I thought after I stepped down I would find peace, although what I found was only nightmares and remonstrations.

Today I was due to be discharged from hospital, where priests and druids had chanted healing spells over me and where warlocks had tried to exorcise my demons. I was as healed as I was ever likely to get, they had told me, and the rest would be up to me.

A soft knock came upon the door behind me, a heavy oaken thing.

A serving maid entered, holding my clothes, cleaned and repaired. She was a pretty girl in her teenage years. Nothing more than a child to night elves, but nearly a woman grown in human terms. She would not meet my eyes as she set my items on the bed, and said not a word as she left as quickly as she'd come.

I sighed as I dressed, pulling on the silken breeches, then slipping into supple leather boots and pulling the robe over my head. It was to be expected; illness of the mind often feared by those who did not understand it, and it was not definitely not well understood by most.

I had no other belongings, save a letter which I tucked into a pocket, and my staff, which I picked up on my way to the door. The oaken wood of the shaft was smooth, inlaid with silver ornamentation and it thrummed with the power of enchantments as I gripped it, calloused skin on the knurling.

I walked, soundless, through Stormwind's military hospital. It was late afternoon and the place was not busy. I passed through long corridors and courtyards, simply decorated with tapestries of blue on gold, laid onto the whitestone that all Stormwind was made from. It was a cloudless day, and sunlight streamed through arched windows, making the whitestones seemingly glow.

Presently, I reached the main foyer. The receptionist was curt and perfunctory, and I signed my discharge papers in silence. He barely looked at me as I turned to leave the hospital, a place where I'd spent a month recuperating after I had left the front lines in Silithus.

The day was warm, and as I wandered through the city sweat began to prickle at my skin. I didn't mind though, the sun felt good on my face, and the cobblestones felt good beneath my feet. A few people stopped and stared as I walked past them; my face was not unfamiliar for the victories I had won for Azeroth. From henceforth though, I was no longer to be a warrior.

I passed through the trade district, filled with the bustle of people hawking their wares; the rumble of carts filled with fruits from Elwynn forest, the clucking of chickens and the shouted haggling. I made my way over a bridge spanning the canals and into a park, where white cobblestones turned to soft grass.

Birds chirped as they flitted around the tree tops as I breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of earth and plant and life. It seemed like I was smelling them for the first time. I went to the moonwell. It's blue waters lapped at the whitestone it was nestled in, and I could feel the cool air rising above the surface, filled with whispers of magic and purity.

Time to go home, I thought. Teldrassil awaits.

I left the park, emerging back into the throngs of people that were gathered on the streets of Stormwind, when behind me I heard a shout.

"Lyara! Lady Lyara!"

A red faced boy was pushing his way through the crowd, panting with the effort of some run. He reached me, too breathless to speak. I waited for him to recover, wordless.

"I...I was meant to find you before you left the hospital, but I got lost..." he wrung his hands, "I have a message from the boy king Anduin Wrynn. He seeks your audience."

"I will go to him."

An audience with the king. Somewhat unexpected.

I turned from the direction I was heading, and made for the Keep. The page boy fell in behind me.

The boy king Anduin Wrynn looked extremely tiny, sat on the massive throne that made even grown men look small. A throne should flatter a man, not diminish him, I thought to myself as I kneeled before him.

I glanced around the room as I stood at his bidding. All of the tapestries had been replaced, but there were still claw marks on the whitestones of the walls and floor where Onyxia had left her mark. To the king's right stood Bolvar Fordragon, who smiled and saluted. Nobody stood to the king's left, the place where Lady Katrana Prestor had once occupied.

"I am pleased to recieve a hero today," said the King, his boyish voice undermining the words a little.

"I am pleased to be recieved by your grace," I replied.

"Azeroth has asked much of you, and it is only fitting now that your service is ended, Stormwind be allowed to repay you in kind, for we owe you much. Name your reward, and you shall have it, Lyara."

"I have nothing to ask of Stormwind, your grace. I seek only to return home to Teldrassil."

"Then we shall provide you with a swift ship, and an honour guard," said the King.

"You are most kind," I replied.

"Lord Fordragon," said the King, "if you would."

Bolvar descended the steps towards me. Though a great man he was, he was still shorter than me, his head reaching up my chin.

"My lady," he said, "If you would follow me, I will take you to your quarters. A ship and a guard will be made ready to leave on the morrow."

Though my chambers were opulent, and the bed was the most comfortable I had ever lain in, sleep did not come easily, and when it did, it was fitful. I wondered constantly about my companions, about the war in Silithus, about the void that was the rest of my life that stretched out before me. What would I do with myself now that I could no longer fight?

I rose with the dawn, tired but also feeling restless. At my call, a servant arrived to bring me breakfast; a bowl of thick hearty porridge, freshly baked bread, warm and crusty and delicious cold meats.

It was mid-morning before Bolvar Fordragon sent for me. A score of Stormwind guardsmen clad in shining silver plate burnished with the lion crest waited for me outside the keep as he escorted me out. They were mounted on warhorses, magnificently dressed in the gold and blue of Stormwind, matching their own cloaks. I felt underdressed for the occasion. Their captain held the reins of a horse for me, a slender chestnut mare.

I mounted in one fluid motion, perhaps surprising the guard with the grace of my movements. Bolvar saluted.

"These men will see you safely to Teldrassil. Thank you for all you've done, Lyara, the realm will remember you."

I inclined my head, unsure of how to respond to such words. Bolvar nodded back at me. We turned our horses and left for the harbour, clip clopping through the streets of Stormwind. Crowds gathered to witness our passage, I could hear my name being whispered amongst them.

The port of Stormwind was a busy one, and usually seethed with activity - the comings and goings of merchant galleys, the portside fish market and the comings and goings of great warships. Today however, a path to the docks through the throng merchants, fishermen and would be passengers had been created by a cordon of guards, and they stood, their curiosity piqued, waiting to see who the fuss was for.

I felt a little out of place as the procession passed towards the docks. The victory belongs to all of us, not just me, I thought. I hope they honour all of my comrades in the same fashion.

"We'll be taking the Sunswift, my lady," said the guard Captain to me. "It's reputedly the fastest ship in all of Azeroth."

I smiled. The elves have long known ways to work the seas and winds that would make a heavy warship faster than the fleetest cargo runner that the humans had, but I allowed the captain his moment of pride.

My smile turned into a cry of joy as I saw who was assembled at the end of the wooden docks, and I kicked my mare into a gallop. I raced down the dockway and leapt off the mare.

Before me stood my guild, the Revenants, assembled in all of their glory, along with our stalwart allies from Resurrectable. I looked from face to face, they were all there. My friends and companions, those who I had commanded and fought with and laughed with and drank with and spent my life with. A swell of emotion rose in my chest, as a lump rose in my throat. They stood, their cloaks stirring in the stiff sea breeze, their armour polished, a motley crew of adventurers to be sure, but heroes each and every one.

"You're all here..." I said, my voice shaking slightly.
"We're all here now," replied Chaspal, as brusquely as ever, "You were missing before."
"I'm going home," I said.
"And we're here to see you off," he replied.

The goodbyes took the whole morning. Some were short; a simple hug or a clasp of the hands. Others were longer affairs. Someone told me once that warriors do not cry, but I was no longer a warrior as of that day, and so cry I did.

Finally, I made my way up the gangplank, flanked by my escort of Stormwind guards. The ship cast away, oars slapping at the water as they pulled to the slow beat of a drum. I watched as my companions kneeled on the docks.

"All hail!" shouted Chaspal, kneeling.
"Hail!" came the cry from those assembled. It rang through the air, above the noise of the gathered crowd.

I stood on the stern, watching as my companions on the docks shrank from view, followed by the dock itself and then the harbour, and finally the sight of land, leaving only the calm flat expanse of a summer sea to keep me company. 

The wind blew in my hair and my heart sang of joy and sorrow. I remembered a day, seemingly a thousand years ago, when I had held tight to a hippogryph as it bore me away from Teldrassil over grey seas.

The sun shone down on the Sunswift, as the golden prow sliced through the water. I prayed that for those heroes I had left, the sun would never cease to shine.

"Hail," I whispered.