Everything that is, is alive.
My name is Altan and this much I know.
I find solace in this world. It is peaceful and quiet and beautiful and vivid. The wind is gentle and soothes my restlessness ; the mist veils all the living in a serene shroud ; the air is bittersweet, full of the mourning and guilt of many and the eager expectation of few. I count among the latter. I was deemed a lunatic by my peers, an outcast to the social norm of my people, who pride themselves on their unshakable and righteous faith in the Light; for I had too long wandered in the shadows. I merely thought of the Light as a philosophy, an abstract concept meant to guide the people in times of dire need, hope for lost souls like my own.
Yet the contemplative mood I relished in since childhood was often mistaken for bold demeanor or sheer reverie—whereas I had been, unbeknownst to all, even myself, deeply and intimately entwined with the elements. I pondered over the scent of a cleansing rain, the purple flowers swaying to a soft summerbreeze, the glowing ember of the fireflies in my mother's garden, as if they had some special meaning I only managed to grasp. I truly believe Nature has endowed all of us with Her gift, yet most choose to study the arcane or learn the art of battle, mostly out of convenience.
That I do not know. I admit I lack knowledge in such fields—we draenei excell in many things; but what I have learned from my apprenticeship at Farseer Nobundo's side is that we are capable of horrid deeds, despite our profound and genuine kindness. Respect, tenacity and compassion, those are the three virtues every draenei strives to achieve in the name of the Holy Light, yet during the shunning of the Broken I have seen none of that. Farseer Nobundo is a good man. He has never given up on his people and I am grateful for having him as a friend. I have made my choice.
Today I will tell my mother and father that I am to follow the path of the shaman. I am fully aware that it is no easy path, and even though I adore my beloved Nayeli more than is reasonable, I fear such feelings are too burdensome in times of dire need.
Everything that is, is alive. Nobundo often reminds me of those words. He knows of my love for her and demands patience where there can be none; and despite her deep sorrow I selfishly wish she would feel the same, although I'd never allow myself to lay eyes upon her and call her my own. She scarcely smiles but when she does she sweetens my lulling routine.
If it dares to be then I hope it is alive.
