A/N: Well, I'll try and make this nice and simple… and update more often. I promise no more huge breaks like there was a couple of weeks ago. Anyway, enjoy chapter nine of Destiny's Warriors.

Destiny's Warriors

Chapter Ten: Dream a Little Dream

Simonee woke to find thick foliage interspersed with dead stumps, and he realized he was back in the forest. His younger self had been sitting, panting, and regaining his strength, after running countless miles from the once-beautiful High Elf city of Quel'Thalas. Tears shone in his eyes, after witnessing the horror of a scourge invasion, the horror of the ice-blue eyes of Arthas, and most of all, the horror of watching the woman who sacrificed her life for his being sliced neatly by Frostmourne.

Simonee never realized how much these events had actually affected his life. For instance, being in contact with the Sunwell for so long had lengthened his life, as he looked 25, but in fact was nearing 40. He was always able to make tough decisions in tight spots, but never did he place any single one of his friends in danger. He was intelligent, and had plenty of common sense. However, for every good thing brought from these happenings, there were fair shares of maladjustments. Nightmares, constantly, for one, a near addiction to the pure mana of the Sunwell, from the same contact that brought him a longer life span, and memory like Swiss cheese.

Breaking out of his reflection, the older Simonee looked at the younger, who had stood up and started walking westward.

Dalaran.

Probably the best place to run, being that the Dwarves of Ironforge would probably question a Human child in the gates of the great mountain-city. Not to mention, he could relate to and learn from the scholars in the veritable mage city.

With the path forward set, and a long walk awaiting him, Simonee started to trail his memory to Dalaran. Night had approached quickly as both Simonees walked in the beautiful twilight, a beginning to a crisp, cool Azeroth night. They had crossed into the Western Plaguelands by true nightfall, the ghoulish, barren lands giving a foreboding essence. They continued to press onward, the mountains of Alterac finally showing over the horizon. The younger Simonee had fought for hours the drowsiness, and it finally won over, as he found a sparse tree trunk to climb into for the night. Cold and huddled inside the tree, he fell asleep.

Morning came quickly, and with it rose Simonee, who, after living and training with the High Elves, had a knack for rising at sunrise. He yawned and stretched, after which he un-shouldered his pack and pulled a loaf of bread from it. He tore a chunk out and replaced the larger portion to his pack, munching on the smaller. His morning meditation was had over his breakfast of bread, as he chewed mindlessly on the tough hunk of rye. Ten minutes after this, he climbed from his sleeping place and continued to march on through the lands, making Alterac and its snow-capped peaks at midday.

At this point, the older of the two realized; 'Wait… shouldn't I have woken up by now?'

He shrugged it off and ran to catch up with the young man yards ahead of him. They turned south, into a small path through the mountains, carved years ago by armies of the Alliance. They followed this small, winding path for hours, finding themselves near the border to Hillsbrad, signified by the clearing of grass ahead of them. The younger turned westward once more, and followed the clearing along, straight into Dalaran.

Stopped by the guard at the gate, he was allowed rest after a short exchange of words. Soon after, the guard walked toward him and allowed him in.

"Enjoy your stay, young mage," was the greeting.

Immediately after entering the small community, he was met by a crowd, wanting answers – and rumors.

"What was it like?"

"Did they follow you?"

"What are they after?"

"How did you escape?"

"What is their next move?"

Soon, the guards pushed the way through, allowing Simonee to walk to the inn in peace. The crowd dissipated, questions unanswered until a later time. Simonee entered the small, cozy inn, reminding him of his small shack in Quel'Thalas, where he lived, bathed, and read books of varying length. He fell onto the cot he was provided in one of the three rooms in the inn, and closed his eyes, the warmth and coziness overcoming him, and, as he finally fell asleep, he thought of his home in Quel'Thalas, and his true home in Stormwind, where he would be soon.

It was morning time once again before Simonee woke again. He walked groggily to the bar section and ordered a quaint breakfast of eggs and toast. While his meal was being prepared, he lazily walked to a table in the corner, where he sat and waited in silent meditation. His meditation consisted of running each spell through his mind, noting each quirk and intricacy, the way the ancient words could change a spell at will, the syllables and accents bearing heavily on which spell was meant, and which was actually cast. It was an exercise, to say the least, and almost always took a solid ten minutes to complete.

By the time he was finished, his food was hot and ready at his table, the steam rising steadily from the smooth porcelain plate.

He took the fork in hand, and ate, while the older him stood, watching closely, studying. One by one, the small populace of Dalaran entered the inn and ordered breakfast from the bar. They mostly left Simonee to his business, not as curious as the day prior.

After finishing his eggs, he took his plate to the bar counter and set it down, where it was quickly whisked up by the barmaids. Leaving the inn silently, Simonee took in the already-bright morning sunlight, noticing the town's shadow resting on the foothills of the Alterac mountains. He asked guards for directions to the library, and found it quite quickly, suddenly in sheer awe of the multitude of books and librams stowed in the massive compository and available for perusal.

He chose a rather large volume written on the subject of spell volatility, and picked a random table to sit down and start reading. Almost an hour later, however, he had a need to shoot off some spells, newly invigorated by the read.

Simonee once again asked a sentry for directions, this time to the training grounds, which was mostly comprised of flame-proofed wooden dummies attached to poles of varying height. He began his training session, which would go on for hours.

"How long has it been?" asked Dagerly, to the medic on duty.

"Four days, although he's showing signs of major improvement. His breathing's getting easier, and his pulse is slowing down," came the reply.

Four days, Simonee had been unconscious, lingering in his memories of the past. The siege had long since been over, the protectors of Stormwind and Ironforge holding fast. Dagerly and the rest of the group had kept close watch over their leader, making quite sure no harm came to him in his state of limbo.

Moonlight shone once more in the sky, and Simonee stood, panting and exhausted. Having properly exerted his forces after two days of no mana use, he felt fresh and ready for fighting. He left the training circle behind, and started towards his bed in the inn, book in hand.

Sleep came easily after the exercises, and the older of the two was still left wondering why he was still lost in his memories.

"I should be awake by now, but I'm not. This shouldn't be happening... Gotta find a way out of here..."

His monologue was cut short by a stout knock on the door, and a voice, waking the young guest of Dalaran with a start.

"Sir, we have an investigator here. She says she wants to talk to you about Quel'Thalas," called the voice.

Simonee the younger sighed, and replied "Let her in"

The door swung open slowly, and into the room stepped a female soldier decked out in mail, glowing from the soft candlelight's ambiance.

"Now, young ma..." she started.

"Simonee."

"Now, er, Simonee, what exactly did you see in Quel'Thalas during the invasion?"

"Death."

"Anything more specific?" the investigator asked softly.

"No. Just large amounts of death. Everywhere. Everything."

"How did you get away?"

"I ran."

"Any details, Simonee?"

"Nothing much. Sylvanas Windrunner saved me from Arthas," was his reply.

"Wait – Arthas? THE Arthas Menethil?"

"Yes. If it weren't for the elf, I'd be dead now, and not talking to you."

"I see. How did you come to be in Dalaran?"

"I walked. Took a day and a half," came yet another stoic reply.

"Did the scourge follow you here?"

"No. I think they're still in Quel'Thalas."

"Do you know exactly what they were after there?"

"Yeah, the Sunwell."

The investigator gasped audibly at this and seemed to be genuinely shocked. She jotted everything down on a pad that Simonee hadn't noticed before.

"Thank you for your cooperation, that's all," she said, and with that, she hurried out of the room and into the hallway.

The rest of that night was quiet, as the young Simonee slept. The world was quiet. But, as everyone knew well, there was always a calm before the storm.