The Mists Behind

Sirexx was happy to be back in the closest place he could call home while away from Ahn'Qiraj. It was only a small room on the edges of Prophet's Promise but he had lived there for a long time and had learned to really like it. Though he didn't spend too much time in it, it contained everything he needed: a bed, a table and some memorials from his past missions. It was his home while on missions in Eastern territories.

And Sirexx had lived there for a long time. Sirexx had been stationed there for five years, mainly because he found that he was more resistant to the heat than many others. Other factor was that he had had plethora of mistakes leading from misunderstandings with his former teammates.

For a while they could complete their missions with varying success with minor problems. Sirexx's teammates were close friends and loyal to their comrades. However, Sirexx had hard time approaching the others due to them having known each other since long ago. Even though they had no problems with Sirexx, he felt left out. Then it happened one mission that the short qiraji's team leader gave Sirexx ambiguous orders which he interpreted wrong. The result was the fateful failure in which two of Sirexx's comrades met their end. Those memories were painful to the qiraji but he wasn't punished because he wasn't really responsible as he wasn't the now-deceased leader. Nevertheless, he was commanded to change squad and he was relocated to Prophet's Promise.

Initially, the brown qiraji was depressed because of his past and had difficulties returning to normal life. He pretty much just completed his normal chores but otherwise mostly bashed in his self-guilt. Not long after his arrival, he was appointed to a new squad. He found out that his new comrades were much more suitable for him and teamwork worked better. Even though he truly couldn't, with the possible exception of Ke'nir, call them friends, Sirexx very much respected and had taken a liking to his teammates.

After an eventful day such as this one, Sirexx could only appreciate his luck becoming a member of Danoxx's squad. Their leader deserved the most praise for their success, as his decisions and planning were a recipe for swift victories. As for his companions, Ra'jol was usually quite good company and a fierce fighter. Ke'nir on the other hand, was very different from Ra'jol, calculative, intelligent but physically less powerful than the others. Still he was the one Sirexx appreciated most. He enjoyed his company, advice and cordial mood.

Although Sirexx had had his share of sorrow and guilt, he really couldn't he had major regrets in his life. Good group and lack of major problems were more than most qiraji could ask for. Sirexx didn't hope for any change in his current life.

With thoughts much like these Sirexx slowly fell to sleep.

Sirexx felt great joy. Even though he couldn't tell why, the moment every qiraji who ever lived was waiting for. He could feel the Temple trembling. Storms gathering across Silithus. Sweet whispers of power and glory coursing through his mind. Without a doubt, the God had awakened.

First Sirexx believed to see his creator's might bringing Ahn'Qiraj great power and wealth. However, what he saw was every qiraji being sent to war against all Kalimdor with powerful but wrong-feeling blessing from their God. The city itself was the epicenter of a monumental and unnatural storm.

"What is this? What's happening? Why we're doing this? Well, if we win, I guess it'll be worth it."

Indeed the qiraji scored major victories against other races but nothing about the war seemed like the utopia he had believed. Everywhere was death, destruction and elemental storms. What surprised Sirexx the most was how the qiraji behaved. They seemed mindless and unconscious of the events surrounding them.

"This is an abomination! We would never do this and neither would our Creator!"

The qiraji advance continued. They went into deepest of caverns, bottom of the Great sea and unknown green voids. For reasons he couldn't understand, the storms became worse, the earth shattered and the sea began to pour into Kalimdor and unknown continents. Finally Sirexx saw Ahn'Qiraj and their people in ruin. They were reduced to mindless slaves, their leaders to cruel despots and everything Sirexx believed his race was, along with their world, lied in ruins.

"This isn't real! It can't be!"

Sirexx woke up, horrified and breathing heavily.

"What the fuck was that? Seems like just a dream… but I saw things I didn't know. Did I make all that up? Well, luckily dreams are just dreams. They have nothing to do with reality. Still I wonder, why was it so lifelike? I know the Creator's not like that."

The mornings of western Tanaris were some of the most pleasant times of day. Temperature was pretty mild and the winds were blowing from Un'goro, bringing at least some humidity with it. The qiraji who were not on a mission awakened to a new, most likely pleasant day.

Even though Sirexx was still anxious about his nightmare, he wouldn't get himself in trouble with the prophet caste for doubting their God or otherwise ridiculed for worrying about a dream. He didn't even believe it himself, so why bother?

Promise was awakening quickly. The guards had been on alert all night but otherwise nights were silent. Even though Promise was essentially a military outpost, it contained some ways to spend spare time. Some of Sirexx's favorites were playing Me'lesh, reading and sometimes doing solo missions for extra ishns.

Now he felt like doing the first. Me'lesh was a popular board game, which required players to find a way through a scarab-resembling board to its head. Though seasoned players could use their knowledge of the game to their advantage, it was seemingly a luck-based game, perfect for gambling. Opponents were not hard to find as there was a big playing hall in Promise.

The gaming hall wasn't too full. Sirexx sat down next to a red gladiator- caste qiraji and the game started. Sirexx had a pretty bad start: the scarab-headed spinner gave him a bad number. As the game progressed however, Sirexx began to catch up, using some less-used routes to reach the snake-shaped goal, perhaps with more luck but quicker nonetheless. In the end, the Unseen was victorious. The gladiator acknowledged his defeat and paid the stake with his wrist armor.

"This game is so skill-based, heh. Well, who's the next victim? Isn't that old good Idh'lash?"

Sirexx noticed a familiar form sitting a few boards away. Idh'lash was one of his favorite Me'lesh opponents and closest friends. He and Idh'lash had met in their youth, when they were still just beginning their studies to become true Unseen. Though they were seldom appointed even to same outposts, when they were, the two old friends could play and chat for hours on end. Sirexx hadn't seen him since his long-term mission in Feralas. Sirexx took a seat in his board.

"Hey there. How long has it been? Three months?"

"Sirexx? Nice to see you again. I'd say it's been four already. How have you been?"

"Quite well, nothing special. I think such a long term trip as yours was more interesting."

"Too much even. My job was to spy Eldre'Thalas, the elf stronghold in Feralas. If you ask me, they're up to something. Some of the elves were disappearing and the elements felt troubled. As if some unnatural and concerning powers are gathering there."

"Doesn't sound good. We've had our share of elves here but they didn't feel to have any special powers."

"Feralas elves are different. They call themselves Shen'dralar and they have traditionally been largely independent of Hyjal. Lately, interaction between them has been growing too."

"Teldrassil?"

"Oh, sorry, I don't remember how little I too knew of the elves until the mission. A city somewhere around Hyjal called Vordanaar is their capital, far to the north, beyond the plains and forests to the north. They have a great empire there."

"Bigger than ours?"

"Don't really know. But if something happens, it won't be pretty."

"Let's not think about that. There's time for that later. I noticed you were waiting for company. Let's see if you've forgotten how to play."

"One last thing. I'm sorry but the last of your former teammates, O'rel was recently killed in Desolace.

"How? When?"

"While in a raid to Magram clan. From what I heard, he was simply ambushed in the early stages of the mission. I'm sorry, Sirexx."

Sirexx was saddened but not really crushed by the news. He wasn't that close to his former teammates but since their common failures, Sirexx had only felt shame and anger with himself whenever reminded of them. Now that all of them were gone, he felt that a certain chapter of his life was truly over. The brown qiraji, even though he would never admit it even to himself, was somewhat relieved to know that no one knew what had happened on their last common mission.

Sirexx answered grimly "May he find his place on the Creator's side. Thank you for telling me."

"Of course. Now, let's play, if you still wish."

Even though the news weren't exactly crushing for Sirexx, he was lost in thought. Could he just ignore the death of his former companion, especially after bringing so much pain to him? His former group had been very close to each other, expect for Sirexx. They had held great grudge against Sirexx afterwards but due to his reassignment, no actual violence had followed.

I guess I should pay him and the others some respect… after all, I am their last living comrade.

Even though the qiraji had no formal code of showing respect to the dead, confessing one's feelings to the Creator was certainly a respected way. Even though his nightmare had scared him badly, Sirexx had accepted the fact that a dream was just a dream. The Creator couldn't possibly bring the apocalypse. It was against everything he was taught in his life and no nightmare could convince him otherwise.

The Great Temple was the only place worthy of being called with the name but Promise had a small shrine wing in the central building. The interior was decorated with stories of the Creator's victory over the alien invaders called the Titans, His defeat and the great purpose of Sirexx's kind. At the end of the room was a small table with the holy symbol of the qiraji, a scarab.

"I'm extremely ashamed for calling out to You, but I'd like to pay my respects to my deceased comrades. I know their demise was mostly my fault and I'd wish to make peace with them when I too, am gone. However, meanwhile I hope to honor their memory with bringing this matter to Your consciousness."

Sirexx did not really expect any answer, as no ordinary qiraji was deemed worthy of a "real" audience with God. The most Sirexx's caste could hope was to live in the hope that their Creator heard them. That was the case this time also. Only silence and the dim candle light greeted the qiraji's words. Sirexx stared at the shady wall in front of him for a while before he rose from the floor and left the shrine. Even if God was silent, Sirexx was sure He guided his comrades towards green and peaceful lands.