#wanderinglore

Caelestra had mad it to Dalaran, as it took it’s high throne in the sky above the treacherous waters that etched away at the shores of the Broken Isles. She’d rented a room in the Legerdemain Lounge and settled in partly. Before even her robes made it into the chest at the foot of the bed, she set up her small altar on the windowsill. The massive bowl of water she had requested sat on the floor in front of a cushion under the window, incense had been lit and a single white candle burned. The priestess spent a good hour and a half on that pillow, meditating, until her legs cramped. Stirring softly, a low sigh left her and her shoulders sagged before she leaned forward and pulled her wild mane of fire waves back. Gently, nude lips kissed the perfectly still surface of the water and slowly her face sunk, submerged until the sound of the world was left for the sound of dull water. Dalaran was left behind as she traveled to the wells of knowledge, seeking that which their keepers had refused to give her night after night. She still came knocking, again and again, refusing to accept their silence. This time, as she slipped into her trance, instead of total refusal, she received three words of hope. 

“You grow close,” three voices echoed in soft, melodic whispers all at fidderent tempos. 

Cae’s breath had abandoned her lungs which starved for exygen, forcing her to pull back and gasp. Heavy breathing, the Priestess sang her praise and gratitude, filled with new hope. Her heart had been aching and she had felt the tugging of despair. Their graces came just in time. 

Refreshed with motivation and the confidence she was going in the right direction, the priestess settled into bed. 

A familiar blackness swept by, behind closed eyelids, settling like a curtain over her mind. Unnatural silence, utter darkness... It seeped in and filled every crack and every corner. Her insides cramped and twisted, recalling the heart shattering scene that played out before her last time. 

The sensation of her hand being taken spooked her

Dimly, in the background, the bright ring of steel on steel reverberates and slowly grows louder. "It's not over... right? Because I love you..." Barely a whisper. "I haven't forgotten you... even if I slipped your mind for a while." It squeezes Cae's hand a little more as the darkness blooms into a beautiful moonlit field. But when she turns, she's alone.

Tears stung her eyes and instantaneously everything vanished as she was finally able to wake up. 

                                    “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m so, so sorry... 

Loreilei... Please....                                               I’m coming! Okay...? Please... 

        I’m going as hastily as I can... 

                                            It is NOT over...”

Pale sister of the light, she’d been searching and investigating all day. No one seemed to have the time of day to talk to a blind priestess. She was a nuisance, someone who asked pesky questions to people that couldn’t be bothered.

The people in the cities either came back from combating the Legion, or were so consumed with delusions they pretended there wasn’t a war in progress. Either way, getting any answers to the commanders whereabouts was a grand failure. 

Caelestra was tired and worn, her spirit slightly crushed and her heart weighed only heavier. When her flushed cheek pressed and nuzzle into the fluffed pillow, it didn’t take very long until she fell asleep, mid planning for the next day.

As were many nights, in her dreams... she could see. She could see all the splendorous colors the world had to offer, all the beautiful things. The faces... To the auras and soul glows, there were shapes and sometimes even eyes she could peer into. In her dreams, she relied on the pools of vision to show her what she could not on her own and to be blessed with occasional premonitions. 

Usually, any foresights and warnings were vague metaphors or cryptic symbolism that she had to interpret. But that night, there was nothing uncertain about the message. One that didn’t come from the waters of the light. 

She saw a place utterly unfamiliar to her, it’s environment at first static and fuzzy. It took a minute until everything unfolded properly. It took a moment for the cool and moist forest air to ghost over her skin as though she had been summoned to a real place. It took a moment, for the smells of trees and grass wet with dew to fill her nostrils... the rich, earthy musk. The soft rustle of falling leaves, dancing in the light wind that turned her skin to gooseflesh and the melody of bubbling, rushing water of a shallow stream not too far. It all lulled her into a false sense of verisimilitude. 

What truly took a firm grip about her lungs and slowed her breath to near deathly tempo, was the spitting image of a woman, suddenly commanding the focuse of the landscape.  The voice she heard was crisp and clear, as though she was truly in the presence of Her, when she opened her lips...

        "Did you forget about me...?"

                                                                             "Did I matter to you...?"

Chills chased in waves over the Priestess’ skin, shivers running up her spine. The hairs on her neck stood straight and her ears stiffened so harshly they truly hurt. The whole forest drowned in an ominous atmosphere and suddenly something had drained all the vibrant, verdant colors out of the very leaves. The earth turned cold and phantom frost crept over the earthy ground. 

Shadows began to gather and darkness coalesced to form a figure that inspired her stomach to twist into knots. Caelestra was as frozen as her surroundings, unable to predict, nor stop the dooming blade that plowed and pillage, straight into the chest of the one woman Cae loved most. 

Life water, red and hot. It spilled, bleeding from Loreilei and carved it’s many splitting paths to the ground like the countless rivers that cut through the continents. 

                                      "You weren't here... when I died..."

Her breath was robbed from her, her heart stopped. Her soul cried out and every muscle in her body seized. She had to force her eyes shut for is she saw this image of pure horror another second, surely she’d perish on the spot as well. 

“Liar!” 

                                                                              “Impostor!”

                       “False Vision!”

                          “No... Please... Make it STOP!”

Pain shattered her bones. Pain seeped into every fiber and wracked her entire being. Physical pain, extended... from what her heart felt. It woke her from that terror, from that place of horror. Nightmare. 

Caelestra’s face was drained of blood and pale as the snow that had... that had been stained with blood. She gasped for air in desperation, a silent cry torn from her throat. Tears welled, flooded and spilled over, racing in abundance down her cheek. Into forlorn sobs, she broke out, denouncing the vision, denouncing what she’d seen. 

She refused to even consider that it was sent from the pools of light. She refused to give it any credibility, and yet there was this overshadowing, depressing sense that perhaps... it was true to events.

‘A Nightmare... nothing more... Just a Nightmare,’ Caelestra told herself, chanting within her mind over and over. Just a Nightmare. 

“Loreilei...”