I was undercover during the Pandaren expedition, because during my depression after the Lich King died, my eyes turned blue again. However, I had also gained about 90 kilos, because I was literally trying to kill myself with food and alcohol. So Garrosh Hellscream chained me in Ragefire Chasm for six months so I could fast and sweat out everything. During that time, I was usually blind from arcane withdrawal, and I couldn’t have solid foods, except this blubber meat that was supposed to keep my jaw strong and teeth intact. I had undead medical doctors checking up on me regularly, checking my teeth, blood pressure, blood sugar levels, and my weight. At first, I was objective, almost begging them to just let me die, the first month of alcohol withdrawal was worse than the mana withdrawal, the headaches, nausea, the cold chill shakes, and the terrifying hallucinations that cause me to scream off the top of my lungs as I recalled the events from Northrend. Everything from there was just manageable and my blindness from withdrawal gave me some time indication that the day was almost over, and I could sleep. I appreciated any company that came… Whether it was Kor’jus to bring me a blended mushroom shake, Whuut that brought me a watered-down mana potion, or Dark Cleric Cecille to check my vitals.
I could pass off as a High Elf if I stopped taking in arcane magic for a few days and just lived off mana potions, and that’s when I met Oranio. A tall and muscular Draenei hunter, who could clearly see I was not skilled with a bow or double swords or anything that rangers were supposed to do. I nearly blew my cover when the rangers of the Silver Covenant saw what I couldn’t do. While there, he really helped. I was so scared back then that I couldn’t use any holy power. Also, without a way to refill from an arcane mana source, the only thing I could do to keep my body from going into shock was that rationed mana potion that I was supposed to take with a drink. A lot of the time my body felt weak not just from a lack of mana, but I had lost a dramatic amount of weight in a short time. Oranio who was a Draenei helped me enough to at least make it look like I knew what I was doing, how to hit a target with an arrow, and how to flurry with double swords and spears, always engaging in one of his masculine displays of strength, dexterity, and most importantly, passionate commitment. Even his hatred for the Horde had me undividedly attentively to his manliness. He said, “Strength has very little to do with accuracy, just remember how to breathe.”
One day, Oranio told me he liked spending time with me, and he didn’t want to leave Dalaran, even though there were no more contracts in Northrend. He even suggested that maybe I could join the Alliance officially.
I told him no. I told him he should go back.
“I may never see you again,” Oranio said, his voice filled with frustration.
I looked away, shaking my head. “Zank you for elping me these past few movs,” I forced a smile, trying to keep my composure. “But it’s better if you go back, back to le Alliance.” My words were distant, cold, avoiding his gaze.
He reached for my arm, concern clear in his movements, but I refused to look at him. I pushed his hand away. “Not even a smile and a fond farewell? Or even an ‘I’ll miss you’?” Oranio sighed, taking a deep breath. “You seem upset.”
I shook my head, keeping my eyes low. “I’m not upset, it’s better for ze boat of us. I am High Elf, you’re Draenei. It would never work.” I finally glanced up at him, my heart twisting at the sight of his face.
“Melfina, you’re crying,” he said softly.
Melfina was my cover name, and it wasn’t that I didn’t feel the same way. I had been drawn to him for months, but I couldn’t let it show. I couldn’t tell him that I was working for the Sunreavers, reporting back to Garrosh Hellscream, marking the gaps in the Silver Covenant patrols. I had to stay distant. I had to keep it hidden.
Oranio pulled me into a hug, and I told him to let go, pushing against his chest. “I’m sorry, you have to go,” I whispered between sobs, but he wouldn’t let me go, kept asking what was wrong, unable to see the truth I was desperately trying to hide.
A High Elf from the enclave approached, concern on his face. “Hey, you two okay?” he asked in Thalassian.
I pulled away from Oranio, trying to collect myself. I looked at the High Elf, forcing my voice to steady. “Yes, we’re fine," I replied in Thalassian, wiping my eyes and nose. “Oranio was just telling me zat…” I hesitated, struggling to find the right word in Common. “He was leaving, oui?”
Oranio didn’t respond. I turned and ran toward the opening to the sewers—the Underbelly of Dalaran. I heard him start to follow, and I whirled around, tears blurring my vision. “Just leave me alone, okay?! Go ‘ome!”
I fled into the shadows, knowing that if I let him close, he’d see the truth. And that was something I could never allow.
We were out in public, and I couldn’t be seen hugging him, not like this. There was another High Elf nearby, so Oranio didn’t chase me. I ran all the way to the end of the Underbelly, to the overlook that gazed out over Crystalsong Forest. It was my usual spot for writing reports before I handed them in, but today I just sat there, feet dangling over the edge, trying to calm myself. I’d been told that if anyone ever saw me here with my reports, I should jump, but I hoped they knew I had spells to save me from the fall.
After a few moments, I heard the familiar clatter of Oranio’s hooves behind me. “You’re not going to jump, are you?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.
I was glad he came after me, even if I couldn’t let it show. Oranio and I had been friends for a while, but not like me and Protecto. With Oranio, I had to be someone else—an eager, childlike student excited to learn. I could explain our friendship to others, at least to other High Elves, but I couldn’t explain the way I truly admired him or how much his opinion of me mattered. I looked away, trying to hide the faint smile that tugged at my lips. “No. Don’t be silly,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.
“You keep telling me to go,” Oranio said, sitting down beside me, his eyes searching mine for some hidden truth.
I met his gaze, my expression blank, and nodded before looking back out over the forest.
“But it seems like you don’t really want me to,” he pressed gently, trying to read the emotions I was so desperately trying to hide.
I looked down, my resolve wavering, and shook my head, unable to find the words.
“Did you understand me?” he asked softly.
I glanced at him, nodding, and offered a small, strained smile. “Common is easy to understand, but difficult to speak.”
He chuckled, a warm sound that eased some of the tension between us. “It’s not my first language either. Mind if I sit?”
I scooted over, and he settled beside me, our shoulders almost touching. “It’s a breathtaking view,” he said, gazing at the sea of purple and white trees that painted the landscape. “I’ve thought about learning Thalassian. Always liked how it sounds, but I’m afraid it might lose its romantic mystery if I learn too much.”
I laughed lightly, the tension in my chest easing just a little. “Zat’s true,” I agreed, still avoiding his eyes, trying to keep my emotions in check.
I could feel his gaze on me, searching for something I wasn’t sure I was ready to reveal. “So why do you not want me to leave?” he asked, his voice soft, almost pleading.
I shrugged, shook my head, and looked down, struggling to find the words. “I… um.” I wanted to tell him I needed him to go, but it stuck in my throat.
“Did you—” He paused, his words hanging in the air.
“I understood, yes,” I nodded, trying to sound composed. “You ramble sometimes, and I lose track.”
He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he remembered. “I know… You always smile and nod when I’m talking about something important or when I get all worked up. I can tell I lost you when your expression doesn’t change.”
I sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. Sometimes I just need to rant, and it’s probably better if you don’t understand.” He glanced at me with a half-shrug. “But really, why do you want me to go back?”
I met his gaze, searching for the right response, but all I managed was to wrap my arms around him.
“Hey,” he murmured, putting his arm around me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, holding on tightly. “I’ll miss you, and I am upset. I can’t go with you, and I can’t tell you why.”
“You don’t trust me, Melfina?” he asked, but hearing my false name only deepened the loneliness I felt under this persona. What I wanted was for him to call me by my real name, to see me as I truly was.
I pulled back, breaking the embrace. “You shouldn’t trust me,” I said, my voice tinged with an honesty that felt like a confession.
“I trust you,” he replied, stepping backward toward the open ledge. He positioned himself at the very edge, his hooves perched precariously, and grabbed the top of the archway with his hands. “Melfina, I’m going to fall if you don’t catch me.”
I shot up, alarmed. “Oranio, get back in ‘ere,” I ordered, my heart racing, but he let go, falling backward. Without thinking, I grabbed his leather tunic just in time, pulling him back from the brink. “What ze ‘ell do you zink you’re doing? You could ‘ave gotten yourself killED.”
Oranio spread his arms, laughing as he hung there, held up only by my grip on his tunic. “You see, I trust you,” he said, smiling. “We have to trust each other with our lives if we’re going to trust each other on the battlefield.”
“Don’t take a stupide risk like zat again,” I demanded, my heart still pounding. “Wat if I ‘adn’t—”
But something went wrong—maybe his hooves lost their grip, or perhaps he slipped on a loose rock. I watched in horror as he hit the edge of the ledge with a sharp grunt and began to fall. I knew this drop well; it was about nine seconds to the bottom. Without thinking, I jumped down after him, face first, my mind racing. Oranio tumbled through the air like a flipped coin, screaming as he fell.
Four seconds. I focused my magic, casting a Circle of Protection around him. I watched as the clear bubble formed, encasing him in safety even as he continued to plummet.
Oranio stopped screaming, and the silence that followed was deafening. Six seconds later, my vision began to fail. Everything turned white, with only faint gray outlines hinting at the shapes around me. At eight seconds, I quickly cast a Divine Protection spell on myself, feeling the golden sphere form around me with a soft hum. I braced for impact, hitting the ground hard, and all I could see was blinding white. My magic reserves were barely enough to keep me standing, let alone casting spells so rapidly. I kept my ears open, desperately trying to focus. “Oranio!” I shouted into the void.
“I’m alive?” I heard him say, his voice filled with shock and disbelief.
I was on all fours, my palms pressing into the hard brick of the forest floor as the spell dissipated. “Oranio, are you okay?” I called, my voice strained.
I heard the sound of his hooves coming closer. “Melfina, are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.
I stood up, forcing myself to act as if nothing was wrong, even though I was disoriented. “Oranio!?” I yelled again, struggling to pinpoint his location. “Do you ‘ave any-zing to eat or drink!?”
“You don’t have to yell; I’m standing right in front of you,” he replied, his tone gentle but puzzled. “No, I don’t have anything on me. There’s a lake not too far away though; we could drink from there.”
My eyes always gave out first when my mana was low, a painful reminder of the cost of arcane addiction. I knew the lake was still a few yards away, hidden behind trees and potential dangers. I reached out clumsily, grabbing for Oranio’s hand, and he held on tightly. “Melfina, are you blind?” he asked, his concern deepening. “Maybe we should head back up through the teleport device.”
“No, no, no!” I protested, shaking my hands defensively. “If you ‘unt some-zing nearby zat would be better. It will come back if I get some-zing to eat or drink. I’ll be fine.” I tried to sound lighthearted, swatting my hand in front of me as if I could brush away my blindness.
“Okay,” Oranio said, holding my hand even tighter. “Let’s head over to the lake. I should be able to hunt for something. I regret coming so unprepared, but… how did you do that?” he asked, still baffled by the magic I’d used.
I tried to deflect, making a circular gesture with my hand. “Yes, it would ‘ave been great to ‘ave a… ‘ow do you say? For eating outside?”
“A picnic?” he answered.
“Yes, is same as Thalassian,” I joked, leaning into him more for support. I heard him laugh, the sound a small comfort amidst the chaos.
“You saved my life, I think,” he said, still processing everything that had just happened. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
I smiled, though my anxiety was creeping in. “Can we just focus on getting my vision back before we talk about our near life experience, please?” I asked nervously, holding my hand out in front of me.
I didn’t want to face the reality of what had happened, of what I had to do to keep us both alive. Not yet.
As we reached the lake, I listened to the sound of Oranio wading into the water, hearing the gentle splash as he moved waist-deep. “It’s fresh,” he called out. I heard him scoop water with his hands, and he brought it to my mouth, carefully guiding me to drink.
It didn’t restore my vision, but the cool water eased some of the exhaustion, giving me enough strength to cast a spell if I needed to. “I still need some-zing to eat,” I said, my frustration slipping into my voice.
“Does this sort of thing happen a lot with your people?” Oranio asked.
I tilted my head down and sat near the water’s edge, feeling the coolness against my skin. “I need you to not mention zis to anyone,” I stated firmly, knowing how dangerous it could be if word got out.
“Why not?” he asked, concern evident in his tone.
I turned my head in the direction of his voice. “Can you just trust me, please?” I asked, my voice softer.
I couldn’t see, but I sensed him considering my words before diving into the lake. The sound of splashing filled the air, followed by the thud of something hitting my lap. I felt the cool, slick scales of a fish, about three feet long. I pulled out a knife from my cargo pocket and started to scale and gut it, working by feel alone. Meanwhile, I heard Oranio gathering wood, and soon the crackle of a small fire reached my ears.
“Melfina, your eyes are completely whited out,” he observed as he cooked the fish, his tone laced with concern.
I nodded. “I know.”
“So, you gave your vision to save my life as I was falling?” he asked, the disbelief still lingering.
“You could say zat,” I responded, my voice devoid of the usual bravado.
“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly.
I furrowed my brow, feeling a mix of irritation and relief. “I couldn’t ‘ave just let you die. We’re friends, and…” I trailed off, feeling the intensity of his gaze even through my blindness. I reached out, my hand exploring until I felt the firm contours of his arm, then up toward his face. I touched the side of his warm skin and laughed softly. “What are you doing?” I asked, unable to hide my smile.
“I’m sorry,” he said, standing abruptly.
I bit my lip, my heart pounding as the moment hung between us. “Oranio, wait. You ‘ave some-zing on the side of your face,” I joked, trying to ease the tension.
“Oh really? Did you feel something?” he asked, his concern mingling with curiosity. I nodded, and I heard him step closer, bending down. My hands reached up, finding his chin tentacles again, and without thinking, I gave him a kiss on this lips.
The gesture wasn’t planned, but it felt like the only honest thing I could do in that moment—a fleeting connection that spoke more than any words we’d managed to say.
“Yes, it was me,” I said with a smile as I pulled back. That kiss felt like six months of tension finally released, a fleeting moment of truth I hadn’t allowed myself to feel. He was going to leave anyway; it couldn’t hurt to let him know how I felt.
Oranio laughed, a warm, rich sound that carried the smile I could hear in his voice. “I wouldn’t feel right taking advantage of a blind girl,” he joked, though there was a sincerity behind his words that cut deeper.
I gave his arm a playful squeeze. “But you zought about it,” I teased, then turned my face toward the fire. “Could you get back to cooking? Zis girl is starving.”
He nodded, and I heard him move back to the fire, tending to the fish. The smell of it filled the air, sizzling as it reached that perfect point between charred and succulent. He handed me a piece skewered on a stick, and as I bit into the tender, smoky flesh, I felt the colors returning, dancing before my eyes until my vision slowly pieced itself back together. The world came back into focus, and there he was, looking at me with that same warm concern.
I looked at Oranio, noting how his silver-blue skin stood out in the dark surroundings, his presence solid and unwavering despite everything that had happened. There was strength in his stance, a resilience that seemed to shine through even in the dim light. For a moment, I found myself marveling at how, even now, he didn’t see me as an enemy.
He looked at me, first with a gentle smile, then with a sudden shift to fear. His eyes widened, and he took a step back, a wave of panic overcoming him. I followed his gaze and saw the unmistakable green glow—fel magic, a reminder of what I had become.
I covered my eyes with my hands, shame washing over me. My chest tightened, and without thinking, I drew my sword, backing away from him. “Who are you?” Oranio asked, his voice trembling.
I stepped closer, my blade poised, and spoke through gritted teeth. “Don’t,” I warned, desperation leaking into my voice.
“Who are you?” he repeated, fear etched across his face as he stumbled backward.
I tried to mask my pain behind a facade of strength. “My name is Perfectia Dawnlight of Dawn Star Village, Paladin of the Horde. And you…” I hesitated, the words I had rehearsed so many times feeling meaningless. ‘You are an impediment to my plans,’ I wanted to say, but the truth lodged itself in my throat.
A sharp pain burned in my chest, crawling up into my throat. Tears blurred my vision, and I struggled to keep my composure. I swiped at my eyes, my sword still raised.
Oranio lunged past me, grabbing his bag and pulling out a small pistol. His hands were shaky, his breathing ragged, fear clear on his face.
Oranio’s eyes were fixed on me, his grip on the pistol tightening as he tried to process everything I was saying. “It wasn’t all a lie,” he whispered, his voice thick with pain. The words seemed to hang between us, vulnerable and raw, and I could see how much it hurt him to say it. “You didn’t want me to leave,” he added, almost like a plea, as though he were searching for some small glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. His hand shook, and the pistol wavered between us, an unsteady bridge of threat and hesitation.
“OF COURSE I WANTED YOU TO LEAVE!” I shouted, my voice cracking under the pressure of the emotions I’d bottled up for so long. The words came out with a force that made my chest ache, each one tearing away a part of me. “Don’t you get it? I never wanted any of zis!” My voice broke again, quieter this time, the anguish seeping through. The truth of what I had to say was unbearable, but it had to be said. “One of us is going to leave ‘ere alive, and one of us is going to die.” The silence that followed felt like a heavy weight pressing down on both of us. I could feel my own heart shattering as the finality of those words sank in, and I couldn’t stop the tears from blurring my vision. There was no coming back from this.
Oranio shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks as he stared at me. He wiped at them with his free hand, a futile attempt to hide how deeply he was affected. “It doesn’t have to be like that,” he said, his voice laced with desperation. His eyes searched mine, looking for any sign that I might agree, that there might still be a way out of this nightmare that didn’t end with us killing each other.
But I couldn’t let myself believe in that. Not now. Not when everything I’d done, every choice I’d made, had led us to this point. “You’re Alliance, and I’m Horde. Nothing can change zat. Zat’s just ze way ze world is!” I yelled, the words coming out almost like a curse, my frustration and heartbreak boiling over. Why couldn’t he understand? Why couldn’t he see that we were on opposite sides of a war that neither of us had the power to end?
He looked down at the pistol, and for a moment, I thought he might use it. His face was a twisted mask of anguish, torn between the anger that had driven him to draw it in the first place and the sorrow that was keeping him from pulling the trigger. His breathing came in ragged gasps, and I could see the turmoil, the battle within himself. He let out a strangled, guttural sound, somewhere between a sob and a scream and then, without warning, he threw the gun into the lake. It splashed into the water, disappearing beneath the surface.
In that moment, everything I had been holding back broke free. I dropped my sword and rushed into his arms, pulling him into a tight embrace. It wasn’t about politics or factions anymore. It was just us, caught in a moment that defied all reason. He held me close, and I leaned in, pressing my forehead against his, the closeness a comfort against the storm of emotions swirling inside me.
For the first time, I felt truly vulnerable. Every fear of exposure and every ounce of shame that I had suppressed melted away as he held me. The tension of our surroundings, the forbidden nature of what we were doing, made my heart race, but in his arms, I found a fleeting sense of peace. I looked out at the lake, sparkling with the colors of the aurora borealis, and for once, I felt safe—just the two of us, hidden away from the eyes of the world.
Oranio pulled back slightly, his face filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”
I hesitated, my voice barely a whisper. “I’ve never been this close to anyone before,” I confessed, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me.
He studied my face, his expression softening with understanding. “You’re doing just fine,” he assured me, his voice filled with warmth. “It’s just… most elves I’ve met are older.”
I shook my head, feeling self-conscious. “I’m only 20. I’m sorry if zat bothers you. Zere ‘asn’t been much time for a close friend… It bothers some of my kin, they think I should still be a child.”
Oranio looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and tenderness. “You don’t look like a child to me. And 20 years is far too long to wait for someone to trust,” he said with a gentle smile, giving me a tender kiss on the forehead that sent a warmth through me I’d never felt before—a moment of quiet amid the chaos of our lives, a fleeting connection that felt impossibly real.
It wasn’t about what came next or the world we had to return to. It was about this—two people finding solace in each other, if only for a moment, against all odds.
I pushed myself up on my hands and rear, looking deeply into Oranio’s glowing blue eyes. The way the green light from my own eyes cast a faint glow on his skin made the moment feel surreal, almost dreamlike. He looked down, visibly conflicted. “All those things I said… like, ‘those traitorous mana suckers’ or ‘damn those savage Horde.’ I didn’t think about how it might make you feel. I hope I didn’t hurt you.” His voice softened, tinged with regret. “Forgive me.”
I gently touched the side of his face, feeling the warmth of his skin. “I ‘aven’t felt lonely in a long time. I was ‘appy because… you were always beautiful to me.” I leaned in, pressing my forehead against his, wanting to hold onto this fragile moment for as long as possible.
Oranio smiled faintly, a mixture of sadness and relief in his eyes. “And so are you.” He stood up abruptly, diving into the lake. I watched as he stayed submerged for a while, his form moving gracefully under the water. When he resurfaced, he shook his head, water droplets glistening off his loose hair, giving him an untamed look I’d never seen before. “Perfectia,” he called out, his voice echoing slightly across the stillness of the water. “Let’s just get away from all of this.”
“From la Horde?” I asked, my mind racing as I considered the weight of his words. I took a step into the cool water, feeling it wrap around my legs, and watched as he swam closer.
He nodded, coming up beside me, rising from the lake like a statue brought to life, water cascading down his powerful frame. His presence was captivating, and I found myself staring longer than I should have, my thoughts wandering somewhere between admiration and disbelief.
Oranio chuckled softly, catching my gaze. “Perfectia, my eyes are up here,” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes that broke the tension. I laughed, feeling a rush of embarrassment mixed with joy.
“Let’s forget about the Horde and the Alliance,” he said earnestly, his voice carrying the weight of a sincere hope. He took a few steps closer, the water rippling around him. “Let’s forget about this war, and all of the things that keep us apart. What do you say, Perfectia?”
I stared at the water, letting the idea sink in. For so long, I had been caught in a cycle of revenge, duty, and battles that never seemed to end. But here, with him, the thought of leaving it all behind felt like a distant, beautiful dream. “I’d like zat,” I admitted, my voice soft and uncertain. “But don’t you zink your people wouldn’t approve?”
Oranio smiled, a warm, reassuring look crossing his face. “There are some who would be delighted by the idea. We could be free, live on our terms.” He reached out, his hand hovering near mine. “Do you have any family that would come with us?”
I hesitated, thinking of the few connections I still held close. “My auntie might say yes. But Protecto…”
He nodded, understanding the unspoken challenge. “I can talk to him, make him see. If he cares about you, he’ll understand. We don’t have to keep fighting, Perfectia. We can make our own way.”
Standing there, waist-deep in the cool lake water, with Oranio’s earnest eyes on mine, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time—hope. The kind of hope that promised a future beyond war, beyond factions, beyond all the things that had defined me. For once, there was a real possibility of escaping it all, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating.
I interrupted him, “No, I’ll tell him. He’s my dragon.” I stepped into the water, feeling the cold ripple around me, but I quickly adjusted, letting the chill wake me up. I looked over at him, neck-deep in the water, and asked, “What would we do if we turned our backs on the Horde and the Alliance?”
He hesitated for a moment, lost in thought. “We could go to Argus,” he said, his voice filled with a longing I hadn’t heard before. I furrowed my brow, thinking of the war-torn world ravaged by the Legion. He caught my hesitation and shook his head. “No, not the Argus we know. We could go to the Caverns of Time, see if the Bronze Dragons can take us to Argus before it fell, to the Argus I remember.”
I smiled, moved closer, captivated by his dream.
“You wouldn’t believe how beautiful it was,” he continued, his eyes lighting up. “Massive stadiums, lush parks, and creatures you’ve never seen. It was a world of wonders.”
“Horses?” I asked eagerly. “Did they have races?”
He chuckled, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course. Races were a big deal—thousands would gather to watch.”
I waded closer to him, the fantasy unfolding in my mind. “I’d bring Lucy. She’d be ze fastest mare out zere.”
He smiled, amused at my excitement. “She’d be a champion.”
I let my imagination run wild. “I could train Elekks, breed them for racing. I’d spend every year preparing for the next big tournament.”
"Show jumping, jousting, even polo,” he added, his enthusiasm matching mine.
I clasped my hands together, grinning at the thought. “I’d make them all the best show ponies in Argus.” But then, reality crept in, and my smile faded. “But what would we do after that?”
He shrugged, as if it were the simplest question in the world. “We’d go back to our house, dressed in fine clothes, listen to live music, and trade witty remarks at passing nobles.”
I laughed, picturing the scene. “And you’d tell everyone about your exotic, alien wife. Zey’d be so envious.”
He looked up, his gaze distant and wistful. “Every night, we’d watch the sunsets paint the sky in rose and gold, the stars appearing one by one until morning. Argus was beautiful.”
“It sounds like a place I’d love to see,” I said softly, my heart aching for a life that felt impossibly far away.
His grip tightened on my hand, and he pulled me closer. “Then let’s go. Let’s head to the Caverns of Time. There has to be a way.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. No one had ever called me beautiful before, and the way he said it made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t expected. His strong hands moved over me with a tenderness that caught me off guard, tracing the curves of my body as though trying to memorize every part of me. I shuddered at his touch, the unfamiliar sensation overwhelming, and I found myself questioning if I was ready for this. My body was trembling under his attention, and though I had never been this vulnerable before, I realized I wanted him close.
He moved over me, his expression a mix of desire and uncertainty, and I could feel the warmth of his skin against mine, sending sparks through my whole body. I hesitated, feeling exposed and unsure of myself. I pulled my tunic closer, holding onto a shred of modesty as nerves flooded in. “I-I don’t zink I can do zis,” I said, my voice wavering as I pulled back slightly, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by how quickly things were moving.
Oranio stopped and looked at me, his eyes full of understanding and patience. He didn’t push me; instead, he gently reassured me, his touch softening as he kissed me again, this time slower, more deliberate. “Perfectia,” he whispered, “we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.” His words were kind, without pressure, and in that moment, his tenderness meant more to me than anything.
He shifted, moving to hold me close rather than push forward. I felt his forehead rest against mine, his breath mingling with my own as we stayed connected in that shared space. There was no rush, no demands—just a mutual comfort that came from being near each other. He cradled me gently, his presence soothing the anxiety that had gripped my heart, allowing me to feel safe in his arms.
I knew then that this wasn’t just about the physical act; it was about trust, about letting someone in after so much time spent building walls. I closed my eyes, leaning into his warmth, letting the feeling of being held wash over me. It was enough just to be close, to share this quiet moment where nothing else mattered.
As we lay there together, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the rhythm of our breaths and the quiet understanding that, whatever came next, we didn’t have to face it alone.
I remember leaning forward, placing my hands on his chest, and trying to muster the words to stop, but my voice faltered. Fear and anticipation battled within me, and every moment felt like a tug-of-war between my doubts and my desires. I wasn’t sure if I could truly handle what was happening, but his touch was gentle, and the connection between us was undeniable. The world around us seemed to fade as we moved closer together, caught in a moment of vulnerability and unspoken promises.
Oranio was patient, his movements careful and respectful of my hesitations. I was nervous, more nervous than I had ever been, but there was also an undeniable pull that kept drawing me back to him. His touch was tender, his expression soft as he looked at me, waiting for my cue. I took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the moment press down on me, but I knew I couldn’t turn back. This was something I wanted—something I needed.
We moved in sync, slowly exploring this new and uncharted territory together. His closeness was overwhelming, and I felt a mix of emotions coursing through me—fear, excitement, and a strange sense of relief. He held me as if I were something precious, his hands steady and comforting. My thoughts were a whirlwind, and though I wasn’t sure what to expect, there was something deeply comforting in his presence, as though he were shielding me from the storm of my own anxieties.
As we lay together, time seemed to blur. I felt connected to him in a way that was deeper than anything I had ever known, as if the walls I had built around myself were finally crumbling. Every touch, every whispered word, felt like a promise of safety and belonging. In his arms, the world outside faded away, and all that mattered was this shared moment of tenderness and trust.
Eventually, we pulled away, the cold air settling around us as we caught our breath. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat and feeling an unfamiliar warmth spreading through me. It was a comfort I hadn’t realized I’d been longing for—a sense of peace in a life that had been anything but calm. As I lay there, I knew that something had shifted within me, something that couldn’t be undone.
We stayed close for what felt like hours, holding on to each other as if we were afraid the moment would slip away. When I finally moved, I felt a strange mix of emotions—joy, fear, and the faintest hint of something more. I looked at him, and he smiled back, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. Whatever came next, we had shared something unique, something that would stay with me long after we had parted ways.
I tried to rise slowly, feeling the weight of the moment still pressing down on me. Oranio watched me carefully, his expression a mix of concern and something else—something unspoken that hung between us like a secret. As I took a tentative step away, I realized that this was only the beginning of a new chapter, one that would carry the echoes of our connection long after the sun had set on this fleeting, stolen moment.
Oranio helped me into my damp clothes, the chill seeping through, but it only made me want to stay closer to him. As he carried me, I couldn’t help but think of my grandfather holding me the same way when I was a child. “What happened to us back there?” I asked softly.
He chuckled, a mix of regret and contentment in his voice. “We lost ourselves, and I don’t think we’ll ever find our way back.”
I lowered my gaze, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry I got us lost.”
He looked down at me with a reassuring smile. “I don’t mind.”
He carried me through the forest and back to the teleporter that brought us to the top of Dalaran. He gently set me down on a bed in the clinic, and together, we awkwardly explained what had happened. They tended to me with antiseptic bandages, wrapping me up and prescribing bed rest. I collapsed onto the bed, exhausted yet strangely at peace. Oranio leaned over, kissed the top of my head, his touch lingering as he whispered my real name before leaving. It made me smile, and I felt a warmth as I thought about the moment we shared.
I drifted off to sleep, my mind filled with dreams of a future I hadn’t dared to imagine—perhaps even a family, with little ones cooing softly in my arms and Oranio smiling nearby.
As you might have guessed, this whole experience reshaped my perspective on celibacy, virginity, and shame. It wasn’t that I suddenly wanted to parade around without clothes, but my old beliefs about sexuality, modesty, and intimacy as something sinful now seemed foolish. It felt as if the zealotry of my past had been stripped away, exposing an immature view of the world, much like discovering that Grandfather Winter during Winter Veil was just a man in a suit.
I still wonder if people can lose their minds through love. If something as simple as being close to someone could shift your worldview so completely that you’d risk everything, even the things you once held sacred. What Oranio and I shared was not just an act—it was a connection that shattered the walls I had built around myself.
The next morning, I rested my hand on my stomach, a quiet hope blooming within me. It was a subtle feeling, but somehow, I knew that everything had changed. A warmth radiated from deep within, a fragile promise of something new—something I would protect with everything I had. I couldn’t help but imagine the possibility of a child, our child, and the thought filled me with a sense of wonder. What might they look like, and what kind of future would they have? The image of little blue eyes and a tiny smile brought a quiet joy to my heart.
Oranio was a mystery I wanted to unravel—a fierce protector but never disrespectful. I kept thinking about what I could give him, how I could be the person he needed, so this strong, soldierly figure would always stay by my side. His presence was captivating: smooth, tanned skin sculpted by hard work, strong shoulders, muscular legs, and that melodic accent where his L’s were pronounced from the back of his mouth, and his W’s became V’s. His warm laughter, intelligent eyes, and purposeful movements revealed a man of courage, discipline, and instinctual grace. When someone possesses those qualities, their presence feels like more than just physical attraction; it’s a pull, a connection that binds you deeply. Being with someone who genuinely loves you feels worlds apart from someone driven by mere lust or ego.
During that time, I was at my most vulnerable. I was still recovering from starvation, and Oranio’s presence symbolized more than just physical strength; he represented safety, provision, and the potential for a shared future. I wanted him to be the one to protect and provide for me and our children, and even before we became lovers, I often pictured him in that role.
But back then, I didn’t look like the image you might have imagined from my words—I wasn’t at my peak physical shape. I was still overweight, with folds of skin and stretch marks from my rapid weight loss. When I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t see how anyone could find me attractive, let alone arousing. I wasn’t invisible to Oranio, though, and that made all the difference. Garrosh knew I could be a good spy because people didn’t look at me, they never noticed me enough to see what I was doing. But Oranio saw me.
Oranio was beautiful in ways beyond just his appearance. He could lift me with ease, and that simple act meant so much more than I could express. I thought about living a quiet life, raising a family, and the idea appealed to me deeply. What we shared as friends and then as lovers was a beautiful transition, and I sensed that within me, I carried the potential for something extraordinary. A new life, perhaps the start of a new generation—one that could change the world in small but meaningful ways, breaking the cycle of war that had gripped Azeroth for so long. As I rested my hand gently on my stomach, a quiet hope began to bloom within me. I wanted that future, and I wondered if he did too. Did he want to marry me? I think he did.
“You’re really hoping, aren’t you?” a voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see the blonde High Elf healer from the clinic, her tired blue eyes meeting mine as she caught me touching my stomach. She was teaching basic first aid and healing magic at the time, and her gentle presence felt comforting.
I nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah. I’m sorry Oranio did most of the talking before, but I’m a little worried about complications. He’s a lot bigger than me, you know.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve already sent letters to Velen about your rare circumstances last night. He responded and said he’ll be here in a week.”
I glanced down, hesitating before asking, “Does he…?”
She raised an eyebrow, curious. “Does he what?”
I chuckled nervously. “Is there a word in Common for ‘differenter’?”
She smiled, shaking her head. “No. And not in Thalassian either.”
We were speaking Thalassian at the time, in case you’re wondering why I’m not writing in the accent. “Well, it’s just… things are more complicated,” I admitted, feeling the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on me.
“Complicated how?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, her expression gentle yet curious.
I sighed, shaking my head, feeling the reluctance to share more but knowing I had to.
“Listen, I took a Hippocratic Oath to respect my patient’s privacy and to treat all who are sick, regardless of race or faction,” she said, reassuring me with her calm and professional demeanor.
I looked down, nodding slowly, knowing she was trustworthy but still feeling the shame of my hidden truths. “Okay… I’m a Blood Elf and… a spy. Does that make things more complicated?”
She shrugged lightly. “Medically? Not by much. You might need more mana during your first trimester and while breastfeeding, but I’ll still need Velen’s expertise when he comes by.”
I hesitated, realizing I didn’t even know her name. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”
“Dr. Cadence Olisarra,” she replied with a kind smile, “and yours?”
“Melfina Lovewood, for now,” I said, feeling a strange comfort in using the alias that had protected me for so long.
She nodded, waiting, sensing there was more.
“And your real name?” she pressed gently.
“Perfectia Dawnlight,” I finally confessed.
And that’s how I met my bestie, Olisarra—this amazing woman who quickly became one of the most important people in my life. She’s beautiful, with pouty lips, large, lemon-shaped blue eyes, a narrow, pointed chin, and light blonde hair, contrasted by surprisingly dark eyebrows and eyelashes. Her voice is gentle, lyrical, and full of expression, with a natural vibrato that never feels forced. She’s not just a talented doctor; she’s a brilliant singer, poet, and musician, who can make the lute weep with her melodies.
It’s hard to explain, but she became my anchor. Unfortunately, I’ve made two awkward romantic advances since we became friends—once because I misinterpreted her kindness as something more, and another time, foolishly thinking our relationship should move to a deeper level. But I don’t want anything to jeopardize our friendship now. We are lifelong friends, and that’s all I could ever want.
So, let’s get one thing straight: if you’ve read my earlier entries, you’d know I didn’t always have the right words to describe the events of the night before. Olisarra is the one who introduced me to the Twilight series, and she’s the one whose fan fiction I devoured, learning to write in this romantic and expressive style. She’s not just a healer—she’s an incredible writer, and if you think my stories are lewd, oh my Light, just wait until you read hers.
So, here’s to Olisarra, the bestie you never knew you needed.
Olisarra was kind enough to listen as I recounted the events of the night before. She explained that the sharp pain I’d felt before Oranio and I… well, she said something about it being an “ovum dropping” or “a spike in oxytocin.” Honestly, I had no idea what she was talking about. Medical terms fly right over my head like a gryphon at full speed. I mean, for all I know, an “ovum drop” sounds like something you’d order at a Gnomish breakfast joint. I just nodded along, pretending I understood.
Her advice? I should “have intercourse a few more times with my partner”—like it was as simple as going to get a loaf of bread. She then gave me a new bra, which, to my surprise, I desperately needed. She mumbled something about “increased estrogen levels and lactogenesis,” and I’m just sitting there thinking, “Great, is this how it feels to become a cow?” But still, there was a part of me that was excited. My chest felt a bit fuller, and for once, it seemed like it wasn’t just gravity being extra cruel to me.
Putting on that new bra felt like I’d earned some kind of weird promotion. Finally, my pear-shaped body was giving me something to work with!
Once I finally mustered the strength to stand, I stumbled clumsily out the door, half-walking and half-waddling. My heart quickened at the mere sight of Oranio—the storm of masculine energy that made my pulse race even on normal days. Just catching sight of him set my heart leaping with joy, recalling every cherished moment we shared by the lake. It was probably the most unproductive day we’d ever had. When no one was looking, we’d steal gentle kisses, and I couldn’t resist the pull of his presence, staying close whenever we could.
I couldn’t stop thinking about that night, and questions lingered in my mind that I couldn’t help but ask. How many partners had he been with before me? Had he ever been with anyone since arriving on Azeroth? These were things I could never ask when we were just friends. He answered modestly, and I found him shyer than I expected, but there was a happiness in his eyes that matched my own.
We were affectionate in our own careless way, tugging on each other’s tails and sharing smiles when no one was looking. Oranio always seemed to know how to make me laugh or make my heart flutter, and every small touch sent warmth through me. My combat lessons had taken a backseat, replaced by the desire to simply be close to him. I felt like a cat who had given up on the chase, content with comfort and gentle affection.
Before my patrol, Oranio held me by the waist and kissed my forehead, whispering softly, “Do you think something could be growing inside you?”
I looked up at him, my heart fluttering at the question. I kissed him gently on the lips and, with a shy smile, whispered back, “I ‘ope so.”
Pulling myself away from him to go on guard duty felt impossible. I had this silly, child-like grin on my face and a lightness in my steps that did not go unnoticed. My patrol partner looked at me suspiciously, asking why I seemed to be in such a good mood and why I was walking funny. I denied everything, brushing off her questions with laughter, but inside, my thoughts were still lost in the memory of Oranio and the possibility of what might come next.
I found Oranio waiting for me as I went down to write my reports. Unable to contain my excitement, I ran to him, knowing full well the kind of mischief that awaited us. Even though my views on intimacy hadn’t shifted completely, an undeniable thrill coursed through me. It wasn’t so long ago that the Draenei used to unsettle me; their imposing stature, their otherworldly appearance, and everything they represented seemed so alien. But now, as I remembered Oranio, his warm smile, his gentle nature, and his strong, sculpted body, I couldn’t help but feel captivated. The idea of being with someone so different used to be terrifying, but thinking of him now filled me with a sense of wonder and excitement.
As I read through these pages, it strikes me how far I’ve come in expressing these emotions. Thoughts I’d buried deep down now flowed freely onto the page. There was a time when just writing Oranio’s name felt overwhelming, but now it’s almost liberating. I’m ready to dive back into those memories.
The moment we met, all pretense fell away, and we crashed into each other without hesitation. I hugged him tightly, feeling a rush of affection and anticipation for whatever was to come. We held each other close, savoring the warmth and connection between us. Oranio led me gently to a more comfortable spot, his eyes never leaving mine, filled with a mix of passion and gratitude. In that moment, all my fears and doubts seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us.
We shared a tender embrace, his hands steadying me as I leaned into him, feeling the security of his presence. He looked at me with such intensity, and I could feel the depth of his emotions in every glance. I marveled at the sight of him—tall, broad, and powerful, yet gentle and caring in a way that touched my heart. As he drew closer, I couldn’t help but shiver, not out of fear, but from the anticipation of what lay ahead.
There was an electric charge between us, an unspoken connection that seemed to draw us together. We didn’t need words—our emotions spoke for themselves as we held each other close. In that space, all hesitation melted away, replaced by a shared understanding and a sense of comfort. I reached out, holding him close, completely captivated by the warmth of his embrace. In that moment, I knew that whatever came next, we would face it together.
I felt the warmth of his touch as he moved closer, the anticipation building as I lay there, open and vulnerable to him. His hands, though strong, held a gentleness that made every touch feel meaningful, as if he were trying to understand not just my body but my very soul. My breath caught with each movement, the closeness between us sending shivers down my spine.
He held me with care, his touch guided by both control and kindness. There was an intensity to the way he moved, but it was matched by a respect that made me feel safe. The world seemed to blur, leaving just the two of us, connected in a moment that was about more than just being together—it was about trust, understanding, and surrender.
Allowing myself to be close to him was both thrilling and comforting. I could feel myself letting go, opening up to him in ways I hadn’t imagined possible. It wasn’t about anything physical; it was about the bond, the connection we shared, that made the moment so powerful.
We moved together, our breathing synchronized, and it felt as if the space between us disappeared. Every touch, every gentle movement seemed to speak volumes, and I realized that this wasn’t just about what was happening in that moment. It was about two souls meeting, trusting, and finding solace in each other’s presence.
When it finally came to an end, I felt a mix of exhaustion and peace, the feeling of what we had shared still resonating deeply within me. He leaned in close, resting his forehead against mine, and for a moment, everything else disappeared, leaving just the two of us, sharing a quiet connection.
“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” I whispered, my voice unsteady with emotion.
He smiled softly, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “Neither did I,” he replied, his voice gentle.
I laughed lightly, still trying to catch my breath. “Next time… maybe a little warning?” I teased, my eyes meeting his.
He shook his head, a playful grin on his face. “No,” he replied, his gaze locking with mine, filled with a quiet confidence that made my heart flutter. “I think we both enjoy it better this way.”
There was something in the way he spoke, his self-assured tone, that made me feel a mix of emotions—vulnerability, excitement, and an unexpected thrill. I felt exposed yet connected, as if he knew me better than I knew myself. I couldn’t deny how much I craved this closeness, how it felt to let go and just be with him.
“I’m going to lose my voice if you keep making me laugh so much,” I whispered, still breathless.
He just smiled and shrugged, as if words weren’t necessary. When he kissed me again, there was a gentleness to it that contrasted with the intensity we had shared, and I leaned into him, savoring the warmth of his presence. But then, he pulled back slightly, his expression softening as he looked at me.
“I want to talk about something,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “It’s just… it’s hard for me to understand everything I feel for you. I don’t know if I can put it into words yet, but I want to try.”
I hugged him, our bare skin still tingling from the closeness, and I could feel his heart pounding against mine. He held me gently, his touch comforting and protective. I leaned into him, letting myself relax in the afterglow of our connection. The warmth of his embrace, combined with the comforting scent of the woods, made me feel safe and cared for.
As I started to drift off against his chest, I glanced down and saw the hint of a smile on his lips. I reached up and flicked his shoulder playfully. “You’re such a troublemaker,” I said, unable to resist a grin. “But I love it.”
“What?” Oranio asked, his eyes widening slightly, as if he hadn’t expected my words.
I felt a flush of embarrassment, realizing what I’d just said. I quickly looked away. “Nothing,” I mumbled, my cheeks warming. “Maybe we should get dressed. Someone might come by.”
He chuckled, giving me a reassuring squeeze before helping me to my feet. “Yeah, probably a good idea,” he said, his tone light, but there was something tender in the way he looked at me—a feeling that told me everything was okay, that I hadn’t ruined anything.
He nodded, though his fingers lingered on my abdomen, sending a wave of warmth through me. I met his eyes, trying to convey how much I wanted more—more of him, more of this moment together. I wanted to feel his presence, to let this connection stretch on forever. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on my belly—a tender gesture that made me feel foolish for doubting him. Reluctantly, we dressed, but my thoughts lingered on everything that had just happened.
I remembered our first time together, how nervous I’d been, how I’d hesitated. Oranio had taken his time, always careful to listen to me, knowing when to ease up and when to be gentle. I realized then that I trusted him completely—not just with my body, but with these hidden, delicate parts of myself that I’d never shared with anyone.
As we walked, a small, nagging thought remained—this felt almost too good to be true. There had to be something waiting around the corner, some consequence or reality that might shatter this fragile happiness. Still, as I looked at him, I knew that for better or worse, I was willing to face whatever came next.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I began asking Oranio questions about his past—his experiences, and if he’d ever had relationships outside of his own kind. He seemed more comfortable now, more open. He told me about a ritual from his past, when he and others had been sent to battle demons. Before they left, a group of women had offered them comfort, knowing they might not return. It had been a strange, awkward experience, one that felt more like an obligation than anything else.
When I asked if our time together was different from those past experiences, he looked at me, his eyes softening. “You are so much more,” he said. “Back then, it felt like a duty, something we had to do. But with you… it feels natural, like you belong with me. And I wouldn’t want to share this with anyone.”
I hugged him tightly, moved by his words. “I do… I belong to you.”
“What we have will stay with me always,” he told me.
And I felt the same, which is why I’m writing it all down now.
Reality was pressing in on me. I hadn’t come to Dalaran just to discover this beautiful, hidden part of myself. I was there to write reports for the Horde, to do my job, and I had to do it right in front of him. Each time I tried to put my thoughts on paper, I’d glance over at him and find myself unable to continue. Frustrated, I ripped another page from my notebook and crumpled it up.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.
“I can’t do zis anymore,” I complained, feeling the weight of my conflicting loyalties.
He looked at me, confused but empathetic. “I told you, you don’t need to be embarrassed. We’ll get a bed eventually.”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little, shaking my head. “I didn’t mean zat, mon cheri.” I sighed deeply. “I mean zase reports.”
“Oh…” he sighed, visibly relieved. “Because what I said earlier—”
I waved his concerns away with a smile. “It’s fine… You don’t have to explain yourself.”
“But you have to,” Oranio said, his voice tinged with worry.
I threw my pen and paper to the ground, feeling overwhelmed by the pressure. “I KNOOOOOOW!”
“Perfectia?” Oranio stood up, startled by my outburst.
I shook my head, looking down. “I told you not to call me that…” The sound of my name on his lips still felt good, but now it hurt too.
“Listen, they’re just patrol times. What’s the worst that could happen?” he said, trying to calm me.
And there it was—the bad thing I was looking for, the reason I couldn’t fully trust him. I felt a surge of anger and disbelief as I walked toward him, my voice trembling. “’Ow…” He backed away, avoiding my eyes. “You went through my reports?” I demanded.
“I…” He mumbled, raising his hands defensively.
I grabbed him by his leather tunic and pushed him near the edge of the opening, just like before. “’OW MANY MORE PEOPLE KNOW?” I shouted.
“Perfectia, please,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t drop me. I was afraid of what they would do if they caught you.”
I couldn’t bear to look at him. My gaze shifted to the drop that could have ended his life the first time we were in this position. “I trusted you,” I choked, my voice quivering. “I would ‘ave risked my life for you. I let you…” Tears streamed down my face.
“That was the most beautiful night I’ve ever had,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “I wanted to spend more of…”
I turned away, unable to meet his eyes. “No, you used me… and not in a good way… and you lied and betrayed me.”
“You know that’s not true,” he insisted, desperation in his eyes. “I was trying to protect you.”
He looked at me with a mix of guilt and yearning, and for a moment, I forgot the danger of the situation. “Please… I want—”
I shook my head, cutting him off. “Don’t look at me like zat!”
“Perfectia, I…” He struggled to find the words. I knew he wanted to say it—I could feel it. And I wanted to say it back, more than anything.
But my anger boiled over. I shook him as he teetered on the edge. “Shut up! I never want to see you again. We were…” I pulled him back in, not wanting to end his life but wanting him gone. “Go ‘ome, Draenei, back to your Alliance. I’m going to tell zem zat my cover was blown, and ze mission ‘as failed.” I turned and ran, hearing him call my name as I fled back to the Sunreavers.
When I reached them, I told the Sunreavers that my cover was blown. But I lied about how—I said I’d been careless, that my reports were missing, leaving out the truth of Oranio’s betrayal. They told me I needed to stay put for one more night so they could send their reports and reassign me. But it didn’t matter; I couldn’t stay, not after everything that had happened.
I went back to my assignment for one more night—one more patrol—and I’d go back to my old life. Back to the running, riding, flying, and fighting I usually did as an adventurer. I had only been in Pandaria for a little over a week before being reassigned, but the Pandarens had brought some pretty exotic food into Orgrimmar. After ten months of starving in Dalaran to keep my eyes blue, I was looking forward to gorging myself, leaving this cross-faction love affair far behind on the other side of the planet. One more day, I thought, and… Well, I thought and thought, “Perfectia, you need him. You’re pregnant. What do you think will happen when you give birth to a blue-skinned half-breed?”
New plans, new thoughts—I did need to leave Dalaran, but there had to be some way to contact Oranio. I regretted my emotional outburst, and as I patrolled, I rehearsed what I should say to him. “I’m sorry, Oranio. We need a change in scenery. There might be a baby coming, and…” My voice trailed off as I muttered the words aloud, “I love you.” It was strange how hard those words felt to say. “I love you, Oranio.” We’d be in for a hard life. Both factions would likely reject us being together. It wouldn’t be like the life he imagined on his home planet, but it would be something—together.
We could find a refugee camp, or we could always be running, but we would be together. Whatever resentment I held for him—whether for lying, for taking me in such a dominating way—I knew I wanted to be with him. His words, his actions, his presence had left something imprinted on me. I could still feel his shape where he’d hollowed me out. My insides would cramp and twitch like they needed his touch to feel whole again. Almost like a fever, they would tense involuntarily, calling for him. Even when I tried not to think of him, flashes of blue, the scent of the woods, or mentions of anything phallic would cause me to squeeze tight, remembering our unrelenting mating.
It was more than lust—it was an undeniable craving, and losing that outlet felt like despair. I wanted him back, and I knew then, as I know now, that there hasn’t been another like him.
As I pondered how to fix everything, the shift change began. Guard breaks usually took about half an hour. That’s when I saw him: Garrosh Hellscream, striding out of the Darnassus portal. A group of Draenei were waiting for him, shields in the front row and guns in the back. Trolls and orcs held a giant bell, dragging it through the portal. Garrosh’s presence was unmistakable, towering and commanding.
“Hmph,” Garrosh grunted, scanning the scene. “My spy reported that this place would be fairly deserted, but it seems you were expecting us.”
“Leave her out of this!” I heard Oranio’s voice ring out. “We knew you’d be coming, but this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”
I moved closer, staying hidden, listening intently. Garrosh shot a disgusted glance in my direction as he spoke. I drew my blades quietly, slipping behind the Draenei phalanx without them noticing. Garrosh glanced at me again, his eyes narrowing in recognition. I nodded at him, and he smirked.
“I will listen to your proposition… for now.” Garrosh’s voice dripped with the promise of violence held at bay. The tension in the air was palpable, and I knew this would be far from simple.
“Take that bell back to Darnassus, and we promise you safe passage back to Orgrimmar. Or we cut you down here,” one of the Draenei ordered.
Garrosh rolled his eyes and smiled, his expression twisted with cruelty. “Interesting, but I think I have a better proposition. I am not completely without mercy. You leave and let me go about my business, or I cut each of you open like the pigs you are!” he shouted, his voice laced with venom.
The Draenei laughed defiantly, their resolve unwavering, but Oranio stepped out from the phalanx, laying down his gun. “I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his voice heavy with weariness.
His comrades stared at him in disbelief. “You’re just going to turn your back on your brothers?” one of them demanded, anger and betrayal etched into his features.
Oranio looked around, his eyes filled with sorrow and determination. “This has to end somewhere,” he said softly, almost to himself. He turned away from his comrades and faced me. The moment our eyes met, his weary face softened into a smile—a smile that was meant for me and me alone. I could feel the pull of that smile, drawing me toward him, erasing the pain, the anger, the fear.
For just a heartbeat, it was as if nothing else mattered. The battlefield faded, and it was only the two of us, standing on the precipice of something beautiful. I dropped my blades, ready to run into his arms, ready to believe in the hope I saw in his eyes. But then, the world shattered.
“Coward!” Garrosh’s voice ripped through the moment like a jagged blade. The words hung in the air, and in a blink, he hurled Gorehowl with monstrous strength, sending the crude axe spinning through the air. Time seemed to slow as the axe hurtled toward Oranio’s unguarded back. I screamed, but my voice was lost in the chaos. Oranio’s face, once filled with hope, twisted in a sudden, sharp realization as the axe buried itself deep into him. His body jolted violently, the force of the blow staggering him forward.
I ran to him, catching him just before he hit the ground. “Perfectia,” he whispered, his voice fragile and faint. I could feel the life slipping from him with every breath he struggled to take.
“No, please,” I cried, clutching him tightly as if I could hold his soul inside his body with my embrace alone. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it when I said I didn’t want to see you. I forgive you, I trust you… Let me heal you, just hold on,” I begged, my words tumbling out in desperate gasps. I kissed the top of his head, feeling the cold sweat on his brow, praying that somehow, someway, my touch could anchor him here with me.
His eyes, still so beautiful even in pain, met mine, and for the first time, he said it, the words I had longed to hear. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. I told him I loved him too, but his eyes had already dulled. He was gone. He had slipped away, and I didn’t know if he’d heard me.
Grief tore through me like an arrow. I clung to him, shaking him, calling his name, but his body was limp, lifeless in my arms. “Stay with me,” I pleaded, but he was beyond hearing, beyond saving. My screams echoed through the stone walls of the arena, raw and unrestrained, mingling with the sounds of battle as my heart shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. It was as if the world had turned to ash and dust, crumbling under the weight of my despair. I prayed to every god I could think of, begging, bargaining, pleading for just one more moment, one more chance to hold him and tell him I loved him. But the heavens were silent, and there was no one listening. There was no one there for me, for him, for us.
Garrosh and his men surged forward, breaking through the Draenei phalanx, their weapons raised. But my world had narrowed to a single, blinding point of rage and agony. I laid Oranio gently on the ground, feeling the weight of his body leave my arms, and I rose slowly. Every nerve in my body screamed in protest, but I could feel something rising within me, something terrible and powerful. I reached for Gorehowl, still embedded in Oranio’s back, and as my fingers closed around the hilt, a bolt of searing lightning surged through me. The pain was unbearable, like a thousand burning knives piercing my skin, but I welcomed it. I needed it.
The heavy axe felt impossibly light in my hands, as if it were a part of me, as if it recognized the weight of my despair and rage. I looked down at Oranio, his lifeless body cradled against the cold stone, and the world around me dissolved into a haze of pain and fury. My heart, shattered into a thousand pieces, fueled the storm brewing inside me. A bolt of holy lightning struck, not from the heavens but from within, crackling through my veins, filling me with an overwhelming power that was both foreign and familiar.
Gorehowl trembled in my grip, its crude, jagged edges flickering with the sparks of something divine, something holy. It was as if the weapon itself was crying out, resonating with my grief, reshaping under the weight of my agony. My aura blazed brighter, a searing light that drove back the shadows of doubt and despair. The edges of the axe began to glow, transforming from the savage weapon of a tyrant into something pure, something righteous.
Garrosh’s voice broke through the silence, dark and mocking, tainted with twisted delight. “The Ashbringer…” he said, his eyes locked on the shifting form of the weapon in my hands. His smile was that of a man who thought he understood power, but he knew nothing of this. “…Interesting. Well, I wanted to see what this thing could do. So, I might as well use it.” He grabbed a club from the bell’s wooden frame and struck it, the sound reverberating like a war drum, but it felt distant, unimportant.
I was no longer just Perfectia. I was no longer the broken spy, the lost lover. I was vengeance and wrath, a being reborn in the crucible of pain and fire. I was every tear shed, every promise broken, every stolen future. Gorehowl was no longer just an axe; it was the embodiment of my grief, my fury, and my will to defy fate itself. The jagged edges smoothed, the crude metal reshaping itself, the wicked axe morphing into a brilliant sword that shimmered with the light of my unyielding spirit.
Ashbringer. The name echoed in my mind as the transformation completed, the final surge of holy power coursing through the blade. It wasn’t just a weapon—it was my answer to every betrayal, every loss, every moment ripped away before it could bloom. It was Oranio’s final gift to me, forged in the fires of my love and my rage.
Garrosh and his men paused, watching with a mixture of awe and fear as the holy light consumed the battlefield. They didn’t see the Perfectia they once knew. They saw something far more dangerous. They saw a reckoning, a force that would not be stopped. I raised the Ashbringer high, its radiant glow blinding in its brilliance, and every step I took was a promise of vengeance, a declaration that I would not be silenced.
For Oranio. For every dream that would never be realized. For the life within me that would never know its father. I was the end of all things, and I would make them pay.
The bell’s gong reverberated like the toll of death, filling the chamber with a sinister, oppressive smoke that coiled around Garrosh’s men. They fell to the ground, gasping, their lungs burning as the toxic fog choked them. But Garrosh inhaled deeply, savoring the malevolent power that surged through his veins. His skin darkened to an obsidian black, veins pulsating with a silvery glow that leaked from his eyes and mouth. Shadows twisted around him, forming the shape of a monstrous beast—a creature of rage and corruption.
Garrosh’s transformation was grotesque and horrifying, his muscles tearing and bulging as he dropped to all fours. His bones snapped and reformed, his roar echoing through the stone walls like a beast unchained. He was no longer just an orc; he was an embodiment of raw fury and madness, an unnatural predator hunting for destruction.
With the Ashbringer blazing in my grip, holy light flared around me like a second skin, and I charged, dragging the radiant blade behind me. Garrosh lunged, his claws slicing the air, but I vaulted over him, the heat of his monstrous form scorching my skin as I twisted mid-air. He skidded across the stone, tearing into the ground with his claws, and sprang back up with a snarl, eyes locked onto me with feral intent.
I drove the Ashbringer into the floor, unleashing a shockwave of holy fire that exploded in all directions, bathing the room in searing light. Garrosh was thrown back, but he landed on his feet, snarling as dark energy rippled through his twisted form. I summoned lightning, arcs of holy power crackling around me, and hurled them toward him. But Garrosh moved with inhuman speed, his beastly figure darting between the bolts, scaling the walls like a rabid animal, always a step ahead.
He roared, leaping from the shadows, and I swung the Ashbringer in a broad arc, meeting his charge with a resounding clash. The blade bit into his mutated flesh, and I used his momentum to hurl him into the nearest wall. The stone buckled and cracked under the impact, dust and debris falling like ash. Garrosh howled, his body convulsing as he writhed free, black drool spilling from his gaping jaws.
He charged again, more savage, more desperate. His claws raked across my back, tearing through armor and skin. The searing pain shot through me, but I gritted my teeth and retaliated, blocking his next swipe with the Ashbringer. I ducked beneath his relentless strikes, every movement a battle against the force of a creature that was all rage and no restraint.
Garrosh’s claws slammed into the ground, sending shards of stone flying. Before I could react, his other hand shot out, closing around my throat like a vice. I felt my feet leave the ground as he lifted me effortlessly, his strength monstrous and unyielding. He hurled me skyward, and time seemed to slow as I twisted in mid-air, the Ashbringer slipping from my grasp as I plummeted back toward the unforgiving stone below.
I crashed hard, pain exploding in my body, and Garrosh was already upon me, a beast consumed by madness. His roar echoed in my ears, a sound of primal fury that shook me to my core. The battle wasn’t just a clash of weapons; it was a war of wills, of light against darkness, of hope against despair. And as I lay there, struggling to rise, I knew that this was a fight I couldn’t afford to lose—not for myself, but for everything I still had left to fight for.
Stars exploded in my vision as he loomed over me, jaws snapping, teeth bared, trying to bite into my face. I struggled, barely holding him back, but he lifted me again, throwing me against the wall with a bone-shaking impact. The Ashbringer slipped from my grip, clattering to the ground, reverting back into the crude and menacing form of Gorehowl.
Garrosh roared, preparing to lunge for the final strike, but a blazing fireball tore through the air, crashing into his side and sending him sprawling. He hit the floor hard, his monstrous form dissolving back into his normal self. He sat up, bewildered, staring at his hands as if unsure of who—or what—he had just become.
“I think you’ve been toying with that bell for far too long, Garrosh,” a familiar voice echoed through the chaos. Aethas Sunreaver stepped forward, his staff still crackling with lingering flames. He was calm, but his eyes were fixed on Garrosh with a cold fury. “She reported that her cover was blown, and you thought now was the perfect time to make your move?”
Garrosh stood, scooping up Gorehowl, his grip firm but uncertain. “I needed to act before everything we’ve worked for was lost,” he said defiantly, casting a scornful glance at me as I struggled to rise. “Besides, I think there’s more to this than you realize.” He stepped forward, eyes narrowing with cruel intent.
“Get up…” Garrosh sneered as he grabbed me by the neck and hoisted me to my feet, his grip tightening. He drove the blunt end of Gorehowl into my stomach. Pain exploded through me, and I screamed, a raw, agonizing sound ripped from the depths of my soul.
“What are you doing?!” Aethas shouted, fury and disbelief twisting his features.
Garrosh ignored him, his focus entirely on me. “Garrosh, no, please,” I begged, my voice choked and broken, struggling to form the words. I reached for him, my body shaking with fear and pain. “I might be carrying… I might be preg—”
Before I could finish, Garrosh drove the jagged, spiked end of Gorehowl into my pelvic area, twisting the brutal weapon with a sadistic precision that shattered bone and tore through muscle. The spikes bit into me, digging into the tender flesh and splintering the fragile bones of my hips. My vision exploded in a blinding flash of white-hot pain as the cruel edges ground against my pelvis, sending shockwaves of agony rippling through every nerve. My breath caught, trapped in my throat, as my body convulsed in violent, searing pain. He knew what I was about to say; he knew exactly what he was ripping away from me.
He held me there, suspended in his grasp, and I could feel my lower half go numb as the blood poured out of me like a waterfall, warm and slick, soaking my legs and pooling on the ground beneath us. It felt like my insides were tearing apart, every nerve screaming, every muscle trembling. The unbearable, throbbing pain radiated through my entire body, a relentless tide of torment that made it impossible to even think. All I could feel was the excruciating anguish, the sickening sense of loss that tore at my heart as deeply as the spikes had torn through my body.
I stared down at the blood soaking my thighs, dripping steadily from the gaping wound that had once been the cradle of a new life. It was a flood of crimson that painted the ground beneath us, a testament to everything I was losing in that moment. Oranio’s child… our child… gone before it ever had a chance to be. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t scream; the pain was too much, and the reality was too unbearable. I tried to cradle my stomach, but my hands were trembling, slick with my own blood, powerless to stop the torrent of loss that was pouring out of me.
The physical agony was nothing compared to the emotional devastation. I felt as if every hope, every dream, and every stolen moment of happiness I had imagined with Oranio was being ripped from me, piece by piece. I had failed—failed to protect the fragile life that had been growing inside me, failed to keep my promise to the man I loved. And now, as I hung there in Garrosh’s grip, bleeding out with every heartbeat, I knew I would never hold our child, never see the future we had dared to dream of. It was all gone, ripped away in one brutal, senseless act of violence.
My vision blurred with tears as I looked down at the growing pool of blood, each drop a painful reminder of what I could never get back. The sharp, metallic taste of blood mixed with salt as it welled up in my mouth, my sobs choking me as the reality of my loss sunk in. I had lost everything—Oranio, our love, our child—and the cruel, unrelenting truth of it left me hollow and broken. As the darkness closed in around me, I could only feel the overwhelming emptiness of a life that would never be, a future that was stolen from me in the blink of an eye. “No! Why?!” I screamed, my voice breaking, my spirit shattered. I was left with nothing but the echoes of a love that would never be fulfilled, the ashes of a future stolen before it could even begin. The unbearable truth was that I would live, but I would never again feel whole.
“I’m punishing traitors!” Garrosh spat, glaring at Aethas with seething contempt. “Do you have a problem with that?!”
Aethas looked at me, his face pale, disturbed by the blood-soaked horror unfolding before him. He hesitated, conflicted, before slowly lowering his gaze and shaking his head, conceding with a silent, reluctant “no.”
“Good.” Garrosh sneered, his eyes burning with scorn as he turned back to me. “You disgust me.”
“Just finish it,” I choked out, tears streaming down my cheeks, the agony in my voice mirroring the devastation I felt. I could hardly lift my head, but I did, praying for the swift, clean death that seemed a mercy now.
Garrosh nodded, gripping Gorehowl tightly, flipping it so the razor-sharp blade was poised at my throat. I braced for the end, closing my eyes, but then—a piercing whistle cut through the air. An arrow buried itself deep into Garrosh’s wrist, forcing him to drop Gorehowl with a roar of pain.
“What are you doing here, you damned monster?!” A voice, sharp and furious, cut through the chaos. I forced my eyes open, seeing Garrosh pull out the arrow, dark blood trailing down his arm. He turned, still gripping me like a lifeless rag doll, to face the new arrivals.
It was Vereesa Windrunner, her bow drawn, two of her High Elf rangers flanking her, their eyes fierce and unwavering. “Vereesa,” Garrosh snarled, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “so good to see you again. I’ll be sure to give your sister my regards.”
Vereesa’s glare was deadly as she kept her arrow trained on him. “What did you do to that High Elf?” she demanded, her voice steady but seething. “Answer quickly, or the next arrow goes straight into your eye.”
Garrosh threw me onto the ground, the impact sending fresh waves of pain shooting through my body. I lay there, gasping, my vision swimming. “This is not one of your High Elf rangers,” Garrosh scoffed. “She was a spy working for me, but then she decided to set up a little ambush. Go ahead, put her out of her misery—save me the trouble.”
Vereesa’s gaze flicked to her ranger, who knelt beside me, his expression grave as he examined my wounds. “There’s a lot of blood, Vereesa,” he said softly. “I don’t think she’s going to make it, but she’s Sin’dorei alright.”
Vereesa didn’t hesitate. “Bring her here, quickly,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for defiance.
Garrosh stepped forward, slamming his foot into the ground with a thunderous force, blocking the ranger’s path. “You will do no such thing!” he roared, his voice echoing with rage. “This b— betrayed me, and I can still kill every one of you right here!”
Vereesa’s eyes never wavered. She aimed her bow directly at his heart, unyielding. “And who’s going to help you move that bell, Garrosh? If she dies, the Alliance will bring their best and brightest, and even you won’t be able to kill them all. So, bring her to me RIGHT NOW!”
Garrosh looked down at me and picked me up as gently as he could, I was still writhing in pain as the broken hips’ bones were cutting into my muscles, “It would have been a mercy to kill you, but you deserved this.” He whispered before he handed me to one of her rangers. “Take her.” And he crossed his arms, “One-hour Vereesa, if she’s alive for one hour, you fulfill your end of the bargain, and help me move the bell.”
Vereesa narrowed her vision up to him, “And if she dies before that?”
He looked away and shook his head, “Then she died quicker than she deserved, you keep the bell, and try to kill me. Either way I win.”
She nodded, confirming the deal.
They took me to the Silver Covenant and put me on a bed. A priest healer came to me as I laid there in the bed and began to cast healing magic on me, but the mending of bones didn’t take place like they usually do. I felt a snapping pitch in the groin area followed by an almost electric pain going through my entire body. I remember shaking uncontrollably and the last words I heard before I lost consciousness were, “She is going into shock, this isn’t going to work. She needs surgery.”
I survived the hour, obviously. As it turned out they had to break my pelvis bones again and add more bone matter to me, but fecal and urinary incontinence and dyspareunia would continue to be an ongoing problem. Dr. Olisarra performed my surgery, but she was also the one I said that I might be pregnant. I spent a lot of that time sedated, and things were explained to me about what needed to be done as far as ensuring my survival, with the only words I was able to conjure back was, “My baby?”
And that response back being, “We’re trying, Perfectia, if we don’t remove it, it will kill you.”
Eye phasing in and out barely able to see, “I don’t mind.”
The whole process took about five or six months until I regained full consciousness without pain medicine or slow healing spells. It took almost a year after that of regular visits to the Sunwell to where I could walk around without crutches. I still came by Hero’s Inn to talk to some of my friends that I had made there. Few of them were biased and resentful, but the bartender Isarami Fairwind explained things to people, and they usually apologized.
Love: I can only call it that. In Thalassian we have several names for it: filer le parfait amour, avoir un cœur d’artichaut, Trouver la perle rare. None of these really translate very well into Common, they have a savage generalization that I thought did a disservice to the feeling. But I guess the reason might be to stem it more in mystery. The love I had stemmed from desire, for a wish to be thrown off course by an unknowing force. But my love for Oranio didn’t really exist beyond that great feeling. ‘Compassion’ is a loan word from Thalassian but makes the feeling more godlike, but love is just something so terribly fragile. Also incredibly savage, like an animal that has been living in a world that it wasn’t born in, then it encounters one of its own kind and it realizes it’s been searching in the wrong place. I know it was far-fetched, but at that moment I thought I could take revenge on Garrosh. After all that pain and suffering I knew I had to keep that weak savage animal in a cage.
Isirami Fairwind was an uninhibited woman who always invited inquiry. Her smile was confident, a radiant declaration that she loved her life and her choices, yet her demeanor warned you not to waste her time. There was an air of mystery about her, a fiercely guarded privacy that contrasted with the approachable softness she exuded. She had this way of looking at people—her piercing blue eyes were hungry, almost predatory. It was the kind of look that made you feel exposed, studied, and vulnerable, like you were both prey and prize. The kind of look that lingered just before a kiss, filled with both danger and desire. It sent chills down your spine. For her, that intense, almost tired expression was default—open-mouthed, probing, and irresistible.
Her golden wheat hair was short and perfectly styled, shining like tempered sunlight against her delicate face. She wore makeup with just the right touch of refinement, balancing her natural beauty with a touch of artifice. Her clothes were sleek and fashionable, usually in shades of purple with golden trim, paired with a crisp white shirt that commanded attention. But it was her exposed abdomen that caught the eye, flaunting soft, pale skin without a hint of shame. She was bold and unapologetic, fresh and dangerously feminine. There was something about her that felt almost too perfect, and though I admired her, I also resented her deeply.
I hated her because she represented everything I wasn’t—confident, shameless, and in control. I would catch myself whispering bitter names about her in my mind, joining in the petty gossip about her rumored affairs and deviant ways. The truth was, I envied her freedom, her ability to walk into any room and own it. She could have anyone she wanted, and I despised her for it.
When I first arrived in Dalaran, my pride was my only armor. I was on crutches, my body broken but my spirit stubbornly defiant. I refused help from anyone, clinging to this delusion that I would be back on my feet soon. I told everyone that it was just a matter of time: three months, and I’d be walking without support; six months, and I’d be sparring lightly; a year, and I’d be out hunting beasts again. I clung to those timelines like they were promises carved in stone, convinced that sheer willpower would pull me through.
But the reality was crueler. Weeks turned into months, and my body betrayed me. The strength I had once taken for granted didn’t return. I wasn’t bouncing back—I was stuck, trapped in a broken vessel that refused to heal the way I expected. I had faced pain before, trauma and injury that I had always overcome, but this was different. This was a pain that seeped into my bones and refused to let go, an injury that no amount of magic or medicine could simply fix. I wasn’t getting stronger; I was just surviving.
The hopelessness was suffocating. Every day was a reminder of what I had lost: the freedom to run, to fight, to live my life on my own terms. I’d wake up every morning with painkillers as my only solace, my crutches never far from reach. My days were filled with longing for the life I used to have, and the harsh reality that I would never truly get it back.
I remembered how I used to complain about the little things: the cold bite of morning air, the weight of my armor, the constant grind of keeping my gear in good condition. Those complaints felt so small now, almost laughable, compared to the battle I fought just to get out of bed. I had been so blind to the blessings of my old life, the choices and freedoms I never thought I’d lose. Now, every movement was a struggle, every step a reminder of the fragility of the body I once took for granted.
Life can change in an instant. One mistake, one moment of vulnerability, and everything you’ve built can come crashing down. I thought I was invincible, that I could conquer anything with enough grit and determination. But there are some battles you don’t win, some wounds that never fully heal. And those are the hardest to accept—the ones that steal your future and leave you clinging to what little you have left.
So don’t take anything for granted. Don’t waste a single breath. Because life is fragile, and sometimes, all it takes is one wrong turn for everything to change forever.
The alcohol helped with the pain, dulling both the physical and emotional wounds, but it was the pain medication that really made everything go numb—blank, detached, and euphoric. Sometimes, I would drink until I blacked out, waking up in my room with no memory of how I got there. I pushed the boundaries with those pills, taking just under what I knew was lethal, desperate to feel nothing. Each time, I flirted with the temptation to take just a little more, to make it all stop.
One night, I stumbled back to my room at Hero’s Welcome and collapsed into a restless sleep, waking up to find the empty bottle of painkillers beside me and the next dose just out of reach. The pain was a constant, gnawing presence, getting worse with every movement. I couldn’t even reach my crutches, my hips locked in agony, forced to let the bones heal naturally. Dr. Olisarra had warned me not to use my own magic on the injury—any attempt to mend it with Light would only cause the bone to graft improperly, pinching nerves, or worse, severing an artery. I tried anyway, of course, but my magic wouldn’t flow, tangled up in grief and defeat.
I lay there in my own filth, too humiliated to call for help, feeling the dread build with every tick of the clock. Hours passed in unbearable silence until, eventually, the inevitable knock came. I tensed, praying whoever it was would just leave me alone, but I heard the door click open, and there she was—Isirami, armed with a broom and cleaning supplies. She stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene with a look of concern that cut deeper than any blade.
The moment Isirami stepped into the room, I felt my entire body tense, a bitter taste rising in my mouth at the sight of her. She was beautiful, effortlessly so—her golden hair catching the light just right, her confident smile hinting at a life untouched by hardship. Everything about her was so perfectly arranged, as if she could breeze through the world without ever feeling pain. It made my stomach ache, a twisting knot of something I refused to name. I hated her for it.
I hated her because she represented everything I wasn’t. I’d always fought—through pain, through loss, through blood and bone. I had worked for every bit of strength I possessed. And here she was, standing there like she’d never worked a day in her life. My lips burned, and it wasn’t just from the anger. There was a strange heat that rose in me, something that I could almost taste. It made me feel disgusted with myself.
I had to double down on the thoughts of how much I hated her, needed to fuel that fire just to drown out the other feelings creeping up inside me. The jealousy gnawed at me, a nagging voice that whispered she’d never had to struggle. I imagined Isirami sitting comfortably, her only challenge deciding which of her admirers she’d bless with her time. “Probably never worked a day in her life,” I muttered, my voice dripping with disdain. She had beauty as a sure ticket to anything she wanted, the kind of life I could never imagine, let alone respect.
Still, I couldn’t look away from her, no matter how much I wanted to. My eyes were drawn to her, taking in the way her golden wheat hair framed her face, the way her exposed abdomen hinted at confidence I could only envy. It wasn’t just her appearance, though—that was bad enough—but the scent of her filled the small room. An enticing aroma, something floral, something rich and alluring, that made me want to lean closer against my better judgment.
I felt my chest tighten, the resentment bubbling up like bile. I needed to cling to that bitterness, to keep it burning bright. “Maybe you can just get one of your boyfriends to clean the place up for you,” I sneered, trying to push her away with words sharp enough to cut. Anything to cover up the way my stomach churned at the sight of her, the heat that rose in my lips when I looked at hers, the way her mere presence made me feel—raw, exposed, and wanting.
Isarami’s piercing blue eyes flicked to me, and I saw that look—that look that cut deeper than I’d expected. It was as if she saw right through me, as if my words had bounced off her without leaving a mark. She stepped closer, her smile fading, replaced by something that looked almost like pity. I swallowed hard, hating the way my body responded, the way her presence made me feel so small, so angry, and yet… so drawn in.
“Just give me the damn meds,” I snapped, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to hold onto my anger. It was all I had, my only shield against the way she made me feel. The way her scent wrapped around me, the way her confidence pulled at something deep inside me. I needed to hate her. I needed to, because anything else felt too dangerous, too real. “Once they kick in, I’ll grab my crutches and be out of your hair.” But we both knew that was a lie. Even with the medication, the process of getting up and moving was grueling and slow.
She approached cautiously, her eyes scanning the room, and then they fell on the soiled bed sheets. I saw her reaction—disgust, pity, maybe both—and something in me snapped.
“I’M FINE!” I screamed, my voice cracking as she got closer. The heat in my chest was unbearable, like a fire raging out of control, burning away all my composure. I needed her to keep her distance, to not see me like this. “Just give me the bag. I can do it myself.”
Isirami handed me the bag without a word, her movements slow and deliberate. I snatched it away, fumbling for the pills, my hands shaking. She was still there, holding out a glass of water, and I took it, my anger flickering into something softer, something sad. Her eyes on me made my skin burn, made my heart twist with something I couldn’t name, and it made me feel so damn weak. “Thank you,” I muttered, swallowing the pills before lying back down, rocking side to side, waiting for the numbness to take over. I tried not to look at her, tried not to breathe in that scent that seemed to wrap around me, warm and soft, reminding me of all the things I wasn’t. “What time is it?”
“It’s 1 p.m.,” she answered, but she didn’t leave. Instead, she quietly continued cleaning the room, her presence a reminder of the reality I wanted so desperately to escape.
I let out a long sigh, my voice heavy with resignation. “I missed my appointment… You should probably go clean the other rooms. I’ll be out of here soon, and I can pay for another night.”
She paused, glancing at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Her eyes were piercing, and I hated the way she looked at me—like she could see right through all my lies, all the walls I had built around myself. “This was the only door that was locked. I’ve already cleaned the rest.” Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were sharp, seeing through every lie I tried to tell.
The meds were slow to work, and the pain kept pulsing, sharper with every breath. I tried to sit up, gritting my teeth against the agony that radiated from my hips. I was determined to do it on my own, even if it killed me. I had to prove I didn’t need her, that I could handle this alone. But as I struggled to prop myself up, Isirami moved closer, her hands reaching out instinctively.
“No, no, no—” she chanted, her voice filled with desperation, a note of care that tore at my defenses.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” I yelled, tears burning in my eyes, my voice breaking with a mixture of rage and shame. The sight of her, so poised, so effortlessly put together, made my chest tighten painfully. I hated that she was here, hated that she saw me like this. I needed her to go, needed her to not see how far I’d fallen. “Can’t you see how disgusting I am?” I turned away, wanting to disappear, to be anywhere but in that room with her. My lips trembled, my entire body tensed as if bracing for the blow of her rejection. “Just leave me alone… Please.”
But she didn’t leave. Instead, she knelt beside me, her presence unyielding, her scent enveloping me, and I hated how comforting it was, how it made the fire in my chest waver. The raw heat in me battled against the icy grip of despair, and I tried to hold onto the hatred, the anger. But it was slipping, crumbling under the weight of the vulnerability I couldn’t shake.
“Melfina,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the haze of pain and bitterness. “You don’t have to do this alone.” Her words were simple, but they shattered something inside me, something I had been holding onto for so long.
I swallowed hard, my vision blurring with tears, the ache in my chest spreading until it consumed every part of me. I wanted to hate her, wanted to push her away, but all I could feel was the warmth of her presence, the tenderness in her voice that broke through all my defenses.
She stood still, unfazed, her resolve unshaken. “I think you should lie back down. I’ll clean you up if you made a mess.”
I swallowed, the words escaping in a hoarse whisper, “I hate you… I hate you so much.”
She nodded, her expression soft, almost understanding. “I know. Most women do.”
I shook my head violently, reaching for my crutches. “I don’t need your—” I gasped, but a sharp pain shot through my hip, and I slipped, collapsing forward. In that moment of weakness, Isirami caught me, her arms steady and strong. I thrashed against her hold, determined not to be helped, not to be pitied.
“Let go of me,” I sobbed, choking on my own pride, the tears hot and blinding as they streamed down my face. Every ounce of my strength felt like it was draining out of me, and I hated it. I hated that I needed her, hated that she was there, hated the way her arms felt so steady, so safe.
But she held me, her embrace unwavering, her voice steady as she whispered, “I won’t let you fall, Melfina. Not today.” She held on tighter, her own tears starting to fall as she whispered, “Please, stop fighting me. Just for today, don’t be the paladin. You don’t have to be strong all the time. You can take off the armor. It’s okay to let go, just for today. You can fall apart. I’ll help you get through this.”
And so she did. She helped me through the pain, through the shame, through the silence of all I had lost. I let go, if only for that one day, and for a moment, it felt like it might be enough.