#work writing

“I didn’t have to destroy Gilfer; I only had to stop Ryn from ever touching the staff in the first place,” she murmurs, and there’s something so distinctly broken in her voice that I want to cry -for- her. But I don’t...I can’t. I’m frozen in place, ears perked and heart pounding. “I went back to the day before, and I...got them out. It wasn’t easy to convince them, but I did. I got them to leave. An’da, min’da, Elerius, and Thilana, too. They were all safely in Stormwind by the time the survivors began to stumble into the streets.” The other Ely closes her eyes, rubs at them. She’s so tired. “All safe and sound; alive and well.” 

“S-so, why...?” 

“...do I look like this?” She finishes the question with a hollow laugh, opening her eyes half-way to peer at me. “Ryndolyn didn’t get his magic, Elyiaen. No magic means he never teleported in front of me that day in the Cathedral District. No magic means I never had to save him, and no magic means we never bonded through that experience. No magic means he’s safe and alive, yeah, but...he’s not ours.” 

I’m speaking before I know what I’m saying, a queasy feeling engulfing me wholly. “You say that like he’s...someone else’s.” My nauseousness grows at the sad smile she offers me. A condolence, as if -I’m- the one who needs to be comforted in this moment. Perhaps I am. She’s gotten used to it...or, well, she’s accepted it as her reality. But, for me? To hear that my soulmate, the love of my existence rests in someone else’s arms...? 

“Gilfer was almost right,” she says, and though there’s a little tremble in her tone, she’s keeping that sad smile steady. “A pretty face attached to a kind woman...without the trauma he faced, that was all he needed. There was nothing really special about me, not without the sacrifices I made to protect him.” She pauses, then gestures between us. “The sacrifices -you- made.” I swallow thickly and she exhales a long sigh. “Don’t get me wrong, Elyiaen. You do not know how -good- it is to see him well. He’s -so- happy. Jaledriel never had to die, Ryndolyn never had to suffer, and his parents lived long enough to meet their first grandchild.” I feel the urge to vomit rising; she can see it in my face, and there’s a look of apology in her eyes. 

“I made a different sort of sacrifice, Ely,” she speaks the nickname for the first time, and for a second she sounds like Snarl. I look at her for the first time, now...-really- look at her. She’s dressed like him, too: mercenary leathers and strapped with a dagger and sword combo. Everything clicks together easily enough as she continues speaking. “I gave up our happiness together so Ryn could be happier alone. To say I regret that would be so -incredibly- selfish of me, but I...” She trails off, gaze settling to the ground. “...I -do- miss him. Sometimes, I wish that my reset of the timeline would have wiped my memories of it all, so I wouldn’t feel this...-pain-.” She grits her teeth, sucks in a sharp breath through them before she can continue. “But this is my burden to carry. It’s the price I’ve paid to give him the life he’s got.” She raises a hand to tuck back a loose strand of hair that’s escaped her ponytail. “And, I’m doing alright for myself, y’know? I’ve found a new, worthwhile path to walk.” 

“A new path...working with Wintersnarl?” I question, and she exhales slowly. 

“Yeah, I was,” she murmurs. “Al’anath passed last year, Ely.” 

My heart can’t take much more, and she realizes this easily enough - she’s me, after all - so she quickly continues speaking. “Elerius just finished his training at the temple in Val’sharah, and is now a full-fledged priest of Elune,” she offers, hoping the news will relieve some of my grief. “And Thilana recently moved to Feralas to work with the Sentinels there at Feathermoon, just like we always thought she would.” She chuckles hollowly and I watch her scratch at her nose with a single claw. “An’da and min’da live in Ashenvale. They like it better than they liked Darnassas, I think.” 

“Ashenvale,” I repeat, and that sparks my next inquiry. “What about Liev?” 

Ely averts her gaze. “I didn’t have time to save her,” she states, and there’s a clear amount of guilt in her tone. “She...still died to the orcs. As a wisp, she stayed for a while with Snarl and me, and then she...moved on.” 

“So, you’re...” 

“...alone, yeah,” she finishes my words again, scuffing at the dirt with the toe of her boot. “I mean, I’ve got my work and I’ve got my...-our-...family, and I visit them as much as I can, but...they’ve got their own lives, y’know? And it’s not exactly like I can explain to them that I watched them -burn to death-. I just have to pretend that everything is...”

“...exactly how it was meant to be from the start,” I finish for her this time. She looks up at me with a melancholic, but grateful smile. 

“It’s nice to talk to someone who understands,” she says, and her voice wavers again, before she sucks in a steadying breath. “Listen, Elyiaen...” A step closer is taken, and she plants a calloused hand on my shoulder. It feels heavy, matching the shift in her tone. “I know what you want to do, okay? You want to fix things like I wanted to fix things. There’s nothing wrong with that - in fact, it’s incredibly brave and so, so kind, but...” She shakes her head slowly. “...you can’t sacrifice the -one- timeline where everything works out so you can try to mend all the alternatives where it doesn’t.” 

I blink once at her choice of wording, before a frown wavers over my brows. “No...” I start, slowly, before repeating, “No. Every last one of our stories is meant to end in tragedy. The Traveler said--...” 

“Fuck what The Traveler said,” she cuts me off with something like a growl, her other hand landing on my other shoulder. She curls her fingers into a grip and gives me a slight shake for emphasis. “Listen to -me-. The reason he couldn’t find a reality where things didn’t end in tragedy is because -yours- is the one that breaks the mold.” She’s staring into my eyes with an intensity I hadn’t yet seen. “Your timeline is the only one that matters; it’s the one where we get our happily ever after. All the others...they’re alternatives for a reason. All the ways it could have gone wrong, but -you-.” She breathes out that final word in a near whisper. “-You-.” There’s tears beginning to well in her eyes. Sympathy brings tears to mine, too. “-You- are the one who will live out our story the way it was -meant- to be. You are armored by the fact that you are the -true- Elyiaen; you exist in the -true- timeline. Every decision you’ve made, every thing you’ve sacrificed...” A shaky smile finds her lips, and the tears spill down her cheeks. “...it hasn’t been for nothing, okay? You haven’t been doomed by the narrative from the start. You have been -protected- by it.” 

I can’t stop the little sob that escapes me, and she abandons her hold on my shoulders to pull me into her. Her embrace is tight, like I’m the last thing tethering her to the world. She confirms this with her next whispered words. 

“You’re all my hope, Elyiaen,” she whimpers, and one of her hands raises to stroke at my hair. “You’re the best of all of us; you’re the proof that love endures. You’re a savior, and a matron, and a wonder, and an absolute force of nature. Elyiaen, you’re -everything-.” She’s sobbing now, and so am I. Two versions of the same person, clinging onto the other in all our grief.