A lead into this tale...
If your curious, the wagon in the beginning is the same wagon mentioned at the end of this previous prompt inspired tale, tying these two together. The Orc mentioned is also that very same Orc from the end of Vesthi's tale. It's only been given a single edit pass, so if there are any glaring confusions or mistakes feel free to let me know, otherwise I hope you enjoy. edit: Doh! I forgot to post it on my Druid v.vAmidst the remnants of a shattered wagon lay a rather young Orc foot soldier. His breaths came hard and heavy. Pain radiated throughout as he struggled to lean himself against a burlap sack of grain. He pressed his back against a stack of heavy wooden crates that had miraculously evaded that chaos that had befallen their caravan moments before. Blood-blurred vision now only revealed shadows, and all he could heart was the thumping of his own heart and the hollow gasping for air. He reached his left hand to his ribs and found a gaping wound. It didn’t hurt as badly as he’d thought it might. A wave of shiver quaked through his body producing with it a wave of nauseating pain. His mind reeled at the notion of his entire person being in pain. The Orc drew a deep wet breath and began coughing. A large lumbering form padded up to him. He couldn’t see it clearly but he knew what it was. The very beast that had broken their ranks and shattered their supply wagon. The massive creature stood over him. He felt a hot breath blow across his face as it sniffed deeply. The hulking beast withdrew and slowly lumbered away. As the Orc foot soldier’s vision feel dark a single terrified thought turned over and over in his mind. They must be warned, she is coming… They must be warned…
The huge lumbering bear turned down a small side path clad in shadow, that ran from the main roadway into the forests of Darkshore. The bear paused and glanced back at the devastation she’d wrought. Crates, sacks, and other assorted supplies packed in straw; all broken and torn, left strewn about haphazardly across the roadway. All around the broken wagon the scene she’d painted was that of total devastation. Horde marked bodies, mostly Orcish, lay heaped upon themselves. Most were soldiers. Most… not all, yet all laid still. Not even the beast of burden pulling the wagon was spared.
The bear lingered a moment. The scene burned a mark of pain, sorrow and regret that would remain with her the rest of her days… however long that should be. The bear turned back to the shadowed path with a grunt of sorrow and staggered off the road. A fair distance down this winding forest path led her to a fork in the path. Forgetting her way the huge bear leaned heavily against a thick tree. She let out a low weary groan that carried in the air. As she slumped to the ground beside the tree the huge bear’s form slowly dwindled to that of a Night Elf. Her former thick hide hid a myriad of fresh opened wounds that needed healing. Naked and alone the Night Elf pressed herself up against the thick tree, the pain of her wounds coming sharper now that she inhabited this much frailer figure. She stifled a cry, clasping her hand over her mouth as the shock of what she’d just done pour over her. Hands shaking, she managed to draw lightly on the healing energies of nature all around her. Nanaai’s mind calmed, though the weight in her heart remained. Slowly she drew upon that subtle power until most of her minor wounds had knit closed, and her more serious wounds had for now stopped bleeding. It was a half measure. She would need bandaging but that’ll have to wait.
Nanaai’s long mane of hair shimmered back to its natural silver though it lacked any brilliance. She appeared as though she’d not had a proper bath in some time. Dirty, haggard and weary, Nanaai lifted herself to shaky feet. She needed to get back to her own supply stash. She looked down either fork in her path trying to remember which way she had come, and for the life of her couldn’t ever remember coming upon this particular fork in the path. It was strangely new to her. Pressed as she was against the thick tree she suddenly became aware of how foreign it felt. She pressed herself back and touched the tree again as though she were touching an old friend. “You don’t belong.” Nanaai glances up at the boughs. It’s beautifully verdant canopy curved out at their peak and then feel back toward the earth as if unable to bear the weight of their vast and robust leaves. Nanaai blinked hard, fighting back a headache of fatigue and confusion. She suddenly found herself surrounded by long thin vine-like branches that carried their leaves to the earth. “Where did you come from?” She softly asked the tree. It was then that she noticed the tree sprouted its root over a large boulder before burrowing deep into the earth.
Curious, she carefully stepped around the thick trunk of the tree and found that the earth fell slightly to a steep hillside. Leaning to peer down the hillside Nanaai noticed a strange structure. Carefully making her way down the face of the hill to flatter ground she turned to see a crude opening cut into the face of the boulder. A breath of air drifted from the opening and for a moment she felt as if something beckoned her to enter. The fine hairs on her neck and arms stood on end, though she felt a sudden wave of intrigue mixed with concerned tightened her chest. She couldn’t leave it alone. She stepped into the darkness and immediately a foreboding presence fell over her like a wet blanket. She knew she wasn’t alone. Nanaai drew upon the moonspirit’s grace to bless her eyes. The darkness parted before her and she could see descending steps cut into the stone floor. She drew and deep breath and cautiously continued forward.
The descent twisted in a tight circle for several hundred steps until finally a large darkened room opened up to her. At the center of the spacious room sat a large pool of crystalline water. Similar to any other moonwell Nanaai had ever seen these water glowed with a faint blue light. Yet unlike any other moonwell she’d ever seen, as Nanaai approached not only did she note that the pool’s physical construction was unlike any Night Elfen make but the waters themselves felt strange. Different somehow. If they were derived from a moonwell, something else was done to it. An air of dread pressed against her as she neared the waters. Neatly folded on the ledge of the pool was a small finely woven towel. A silent voice arose from the waters bidding her to wet the towel in the waters. Nanaai hesitated. It was foolish to do, but something overwhelmed her better logic. Her hesitation was replaced by a strong need to touch the gleaming pool of otherworldly waters.
Nanaai sat carefully at the pool’s side amidst aches and complaints from her wounds, and took up the towel. She peered at the pool a long moment before moving to dip the towel into the waters. Nearing the waters she catches her reflection and paused. The face staring back at her seemed as her own, yet didn’t. It felt like a wholly different Elf looking back at her. Shaking the notion form her mind, Nanaai lowered the towel nearer the water. Suddenly the eyes of her reflection turn black. The sudden shift startled her and though she dropped the towel into the water a hand splashed out from the pool and seized her wrist, preventing her from pulling back. Her reflection, Nanaai’s reflection, smiled. The reflection pulled heavily on Nanaai’s wrist hauling her off the ledge and into the pool’s waters. Nanaai kicked and struggled against something, or someone, that pulled unfathomably her deeper that what the pool should have been.
The reflection then pulled Nanaai’s head out of the water keeping her off balance and unable to get a foothold. As she spat and gasped for air the now very real reflection with darkened eyes spoke into Nanaai’s ear with a heavy whisper. “You can no longer deny me.” The darkened eyed reflection pushed her head back into the water. The reflection’s voice reverberated with a ghostly quality throughout the shimmering waters. “Give in to me!”
Nanaai was finally able to grasp a strong hold onto the reflection’s arms. She twisted in the water and began to shift into her Owlcat form, though something stops her mid transition. Regardless, Nanaai breaks the dark-eyed hold and scrambled out of the reflecting pool, pouring herself over the pool ledge into a heap. Wracked with confusion and pain. Several of her wounds from earlier had reopened smearing the slick blood across the stones as she struggled back from the pool. Her black eyed reflection calmly stepped out of the pool with a wide grin. Nanaai exploded with rage at seeing her reflection’s grin and lunged at the reflection, pinning dark-eyed version of herself against the wall of the cave. The reflection clasped Nanaai’s face in her hands showing no sign of fear, or even concern. Somehow the touch of this dark-eyed reflection forced Nanaai back into her Night Elf form. Nanaai glanced at herself then back those darkened eyes. In them she saw the depths of all the horrors wrought by her own hands. The horrors of her past, present, and future. The black eyed reflection spoke. Her darkening lips curled into a snarl. “I will not be denied.”
Searing pain radiated throughout Nanaai’s skull. Amidst the howl of her own scream everything turned bright white, and then suddenly black. Time fell away as she tumbled into the great nothing.
Nanaai gasped suddenly. Her breath came back to her in fits and gasps. Pain stuck like lightening and she struggled to push herself up in the darkness. She fumbled across the stone hewn floors frantically, blindly, till she found something. A wall. No, a ledge. Fear gripped her as memories of the pool flooded back to her. Even as she recalled the darkened eyes of her reflection, Nanaai forced herself to slow down and collect her thoughts. She pressed herself up to her knees, her arms raised ready to fend off another attack. The gentle glow that had filled the room before was gone, leaving only a stale darkness. Nanaai reached inward to that gift give her by the moonspirit and once more her vision parted through the darkness. She tentatively raised her head and found herself utterly alone.
The pool was still there though it looked as though it’d been bone dry for some time. No strange shimmering waters. The air was thick and stale. A thin layer of dust covered the floor and pool ledge. Nanaai began to doubt herself. She slowly rose to her feet on shaky legs and made her way back up the stairs. Had she imagined it all? Was it just some hallucination? It felt so real… Nanaai stepped out from the rock and drew a deep calming breath of the fresh forest air. When she turned back to look there was no longer a thick verdant tree standing upon the rock. No sheets of leafy-willowy vines draping as if from the heavens. Just the rock. The entrance too was gone, replaced by a stone face weathered by the ages. It was just another large rock.
Nanaai shivered deeply but not from cold. A deep gnawing fright knotted her stomach. She suddenly remembered where she’d been heading before and needing to get away she scampered back up the hillside to the small foot path she’d been following. She shuddered at finding that the fork in the path too was gone. She raised a shaky hand to her brow which brought with it a wince of pain. She was reminded of the wounds that had been reopened. Not now. Not here. She wasn’t going to lose her mind just yet. Not like this. She needed to find her stash. Her clothing and other supplies that she had hidden away. Giving the rock one last glance Nanaai took two careful steps backward. She turned and deftly shifted fully into that form given her by the moonspirit, that of a darkly colored Owlcat. With a careful and wary bound she disappeared into the brush.