"Time is like a river, Jaina. It has branches and tributaries, as each decision we make affects the future in ways we can never fully understand. Today, you may decide to take the left fork in the road, and never know what was on the right. However, you also chose the right fork. Somewhere in the vastness of reality there's a Jaina Proudmoore who went right instead of left. An infinite number, in fact, as each decision compounds upon the last."
"But is time not a circle, Antonidas? Since it can flow backwards as well as forward, which is something a river cannot naturally do. What happens if one were to go back and change their decision? Would that action even matter if, as you say, each decision creates a new branch for every outcome?"
"You just answered your own question. Imagine using the power of Nozdormu, and choosing to save someone who might have died. That simple act could very well set in motion the events that led to their death."
"But there would be a time and place where they still lived."
"There would be, regardless of what you do. The question I pose to you, then, is: would changing the reality you know accomplish anything for you, knowing that it is ultimately pointless?"
"We have witnessed champions stop the Infinite Dragonflight from altering our own history."
"Did they? By the very nature of infinity, there are timelines where the champions did not succeed. Does that make their efforts fruitless?"
"Not to them."
"Tell me then, if your efforts for peace were fruitless?"
"I don't think I can envision a timeline where they weren't."
"And yet, the Alliance and Horde are now at peace."
"In a round-about way, drowned in rivers of blood. I wish you'd heeded my warning. You would still be alive and perhaps things would not have gotten so dire to begin with."
"I know, child, I know. Take solace in the fact that there is at least one world where, some day, you were the one teaching me."
Jaina drifted on her back, floating through darkness on soft, gentle waves. She had the faintest recollection of talking to someone, but the memory was fuzzy, like it was being viewed through the bottom of a half-filled glass of wine.
She opened her eyes, once, to be blinded by soft light in shades of pink, purple and blue that reflected off of the water as it rippled around her. It was too bright, and she closed her eyes, letting herself drift off. She was tired. So, so tired.
Did anything Jaina do actually matter? She hadn't been able to save Arthas or Antonidas. She'd lost Theramore. Her anger and rage may have led, in part, to the war that nearly destroyed both the Horde and Alliance.
She'd watched friends and family die over and over and over again, and now, finally, death had claimed her. It didn't seem so bad, floating on this endless sea.
But questions haunted her. Had she saved Orgrimmar? What happened to the compact now? To the peace? Would her sacrifices, all of them, be enough to prevent war from breaking out again? She had given up so much to wed Sylvanas, to bind the factions together...and she couldn't remember what provisions, if any, had been laid out in the event of her death outside of Sylvanas's order.
"Okay, so if the mathematical equation is altered just so, we don't actually know what the result could be. We should probably test this out in the marshes somewhere, away from the city."
"Try following that thread though. Do the math with the changes, you can reliably predict what will happen and then it's just a matter of testing out the hypothesis, Kinndy."
"What about more creative solutions? Like music, or, I don't know, summoning a tidal wave."
"Still math. Music is timing, patterns. Music is … geometry. Making shapes with sound."
"Sound waves right? Wouldn't that be more like sailing? Or is music more predictable than the sea?"
"Everything is more predictable than the sea."
"Why are you hugging me, Jaina?"
"I just miss you so much."
Groaning, Jaina came to again and realized she was no longer drifting aimlessly and had washed up onto shore, stones and pebbles digging into her back. She opened her eyes again; the light had faded and it was now night. The stars that stretched on forever were unfamiliar to her, the distant lights of another place and another time.
But they were beautiful, flowing through the heavens like a river of light and Jaina wondered if she'd drifted on their currents to come to land here. Wherever here was.
She sat up, and saw that the shore led up to a forest. It was old, ancient, a living breathing thing that seemed to pulse with every breath she took. Climbing to unsteady feet, Jaina stumbled up the incline, catching herself on a tree before she could fall.
Eyes shone in the darkness. A predator's eyes, and Jaina was too drained to summon up so much as a spark as a Nightsaber stepped into the moonlight. It stared at her a moment, then turned, looking back at her as if expecting her to follow.
Carefully, Jaina started to move. The Nightsaber seemed to be one with the earth, padding sleekly and silently in front of her, powerful muscles rippling under fur the color of midnight.
It was a beautiful creature, she thought, and then didn't think of much else. They could have walked for hours or days, or maybe years, the only light that which filtered in through the canopy above.
Even through her boots, Jaina could feel the pulse of the forest. It was a strange, primal thing, different from the magics she wielded. She'd once heard the arcane described as a living thing, but that was a pale echo of the life she felt around her.
Jaina stumbled, falling to her knees in a meadow. She dug her fingers into the earth, trying to will the world to stop spinning.
Hadn't Sylvanas once tapped into this? She'd been a Ranger, a wielder of nature magic, one with the forest. But Arthas had taken that from her, twisted and perverted her power into death and decay. It broke Jaina's heart to think about what it must have felt like for Sylvanas to realize she could never feel this again.
She thought she heard voices, and when she looked up, she saw a Kaldorei woman. She wore a simple leather skirt and shirt made from scales, and was as pale as the moon with hair the color of spring leaves. She must have been the nightsaber, and she looked vaguely familiar. "I'm… I'm sorry, I feel like I know you but I can't place your name."
"That's understandable, I've been dead for years and you've probably met plenty of adventurers since then."
"What." Jaina stated blandly, leaning back and blankly staring at the woman as her words sank in.
"Oh, you're not dead, Ms. Proudmoore. Well, not entirely." The druid sat down crosslegged in front of Jaina. "I'm Kiska Windwhistle."
"Windwhistle?" Jaina tried to remember why that sounded so familiar, and remembered Yukale Ravenwing's ship.
Where the compact had first been proposed. Where everything had changed. Everything.
"Oh. She named it for you. Her ship."
Kiska smiled fondly. "Yukale does have a romantic streak a mile wide."
"So if… I'm not dead and you are, where are we? Is this the Emerald Dream?"
Looking around, Kiska shrugged. "No, not really. Some place in between. Closer to death than life or I wouldn't have been able to pull you to shore."
"So you're saying I'm almost dead."
"You said that, not me," Kiska replied, cheekily. Clearly, Jaina thought, Yukale had a type.
"Are there others, here? Like you." Jaina frowned, "Or… like me."
"A few." Kiska leaned forward, "Like me now. And like I was before, when I was also on the razor's edge between life and death."
Definitely almost dead, Jaina thought. She knew she should be more alarmed by that, panicked even. But exhaustion kept her emotions at bay. "Are they just shy?"
"Maybe." Kiska picked up Jaina's hand, taking a close look at the rings there. "Though I know at least a couple of people who'd be really interested in that ring."
"Lireesa Windrunner?" Jaina guessed.
"Mm. Her too." Reaching up, Kiska took a lock of Jaina's hair between two fingers. "You used to be blonde. Silver looks good on you."
"Its a long story."
"We've got time."
"Do you only get news of the living world when people pass on?" Jaina latched onto something she was good at, something that comforted her: Knowledge and curiosity. "This is nothing like what anyone has predicted of the afterlife."
"The afterlife, at least for those of us who avoided being fed to soul engines and the like, is whatever you wish it to be."
Much of the Legion's technology had been fed by souls. Jaina didn't want to think about the countless beings across the universe who had been lost that way. It seemed such a cruel thing for innocents to not even have the peace of death.
Her mind again went to Sylvanas. What fate awaited her? Was it the same as Arthas? What became of a soul touched by Frostmourne, let alone devoured by it? It occurred to Jaina that Sylvanas had never spoken of it and she herself had always avoided asking about the oldest link between them.
Jaina sighed, and leaned back on her hands. There was a lot to catch Kiska up on, but it would do Jaina good too. Allow her to wrap her head around things, to see it through the perspective of someone who had little stake in the matter. But she had some questions first. "What made you notice? Do you commonly hang around seeing who washes up?"
Why not someone she knew much better than a woman she'd only met a few times, years and years ago?
"What makes you think I was the first person to notice?" Kiska asked, as if sensing the direction Jaina's thoughts had gone. "You made quite the splash."
Jaina opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. She could recall voices. Familiar ones. Echoes of conversations and the weight of them in her chest.
"That's what I thought. To actually answer your question though, you're not wrong." Kiska got to her feet, walking aimlessly about the meadow. "I don't have any family left alive. Almost everyone that really mattered to me in life, I have with me in death. Except one. The second person I ever loved."
Kiska stopped, and then looked at her. "Is she doing all right? Yukale. She had such a hard time after I died, she once even used the Caverns of Time to try to warn me."
"Someone warned me of the dangers of that," Jaina mused. "She's alive. She seems happy. She's … with someone."
"Good. That's all I want for her. I figure we can sort all that out eventually. Always knew we'd have to with my husband." Kiska returned to Jaina and dropped back to the ground in front of her. "But seriously, you really don't want to go messing with the Caverns."
"Don't plan to."
"Ever thought about it?"
"Once or twice," Jaina admitted. "But there's no telling what could happen once you make a single change."
"You might create a timeline where you're a warmongering maniac!"
Jaina coughed. "Yes, that could be… a thing."
At least, by the time Jaina told her story, there was no judgement in her eyes. She didn't seem surprised at Teledrassil, though Jaina reasoned she probably had family there when the tree burned. It made her guilty to think about. Like she could have done something to stop it. Like she shouldn't be married to the woman who caused it.
Despite that, Jaina felt immeasurably better. She hadn't just given Kiska the bare facts of everything, but she'd admitted a few things that she hadn't even been willing to acknowledge for herself. And the druid just listened, and nodded, and asked a question now and again but did not judge her. Not for her inability to save Theramore nor her actions after.
And not for…
Jaina wiped at her eyes and inhaled deeply. "And I knew the wave would kill me, but it was the only option I had."
"If you linger much longer, it will." Kiska lifted a hand to her own hair, fingers briefly shifting into the paws of a Nightsaber as she sliced off a lock. "Can you do me a favor?"
"Of course."
Kiska put the lock into Jaina's hand and closed her fingers over it. "Give this to Yukale. Tell her I'm at peace and the two years we had together were among the best of my life."
"I will." Something inside Jaina ached for them. Two years was barely any time at all for a human. For Kaldorei, who could measure their lives in centuries and millennia, two years might as well be two days.
"Are you ready to go home?
"I don't think I can teleport," Jaina said. "I'm so tired."
"You have a hearthstone, don't you? Isn't it set to home?"
"Home was destroyed. It no longer exists."
Kiska shook her head with a smile. "Nonsense. As long as you remember it, it still exists."
Jaina slipped her hand into her pocket and closed her fist around the stone. Yes, Theramore might be gone, but she remembered it. Every stone and brick, every person who lived there, the sounds and smells of that sea.
Her lungs filled with water, her body became battered and sore and the pressure threatened to crush her. And then the magic enveloped her like a warm embrace and Jaina Proudmoore went home.
"It's strange. A human wearing that ring."
"It wasn't by choice."
"Maybe not then. Now?"
"It's familiar. Like home."
"Sylvanas is a hard woman to love."
"I never said I loved her."
"Then leave the ring behind."
"Do you know what she did to your daughter?"
"Yes."
"Would you still love her, knowing that?"
It felt like her bones were on fire as Jaina rolled onto her side and immediately emptied the contents of her stomach. She convulsed, holding her hand over her abdomen as she vomited up seawater until nothing remained.
For several minutes of dry heaves after she wished she was dead, but the pain finally subsided. She rolled onto her back and lay there, still kind of wishing she was dead.
The only reason she knew that she wasn't dead was the pain that blossomed throughout her body every time she tried to move. She wasn't sure if anything was broken, but it felt like she'd gone five rounds with an Ogre.
Jaina could remember a face, though the details were fading. She remembered conversations, though the words were absent. Patterns of stars danced across her eyes with constellations that didn't exist.
When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by a ruined sky. Dull flashes of purple lightning and rips in the fabric of reality through one of which she could see that strange constellation.
The rift wavered, and the constellation was gone.
Rolling her head to the side, Jaina could see she lay at the center of the crater. Unbidden, laughter bubbled out of her, bitter and shrill and hysterical until her body was wracked with sobs. Her sobbing set off her pain and she curled up until unconsciousness claimed her.
Sunlight woke her. It was just starting to come up over the ocean and cast light down into the crater. Almost on instinct, Jaina dug her fingers into the magically altered dirt and started to drag herself up and out of the crater.
She reached the top in time to see the sunrise, passing out a few minutes later, right hand stretched out towards the sea.
A seagull woke her next. She turned onto her side, spitting out dirt, and watched the gull circle overhead. When had life started to return to Theramore? She watched it disappear through a rift and emerge from another one changed, the flight feathers trailing violet energy behind it.
"All right." Her voice came out a raspy croak, throat scoured raw by salt. "I need to get back. Before someone starts a war."
Willing herself to stand, Jaina managed five feet before she collapsed to her knees again. She was in less pain now, but her exhaustion was exhausted. A portal would be impossible, and when she tried to conjure a pastry nothing happened.
She needed food, and water, and to regain enough strength to portal back to Orgrimmar. It wasn't just the best choice to return to, it was also the closest. She had to know that it survived, she had to return before Sylvanas lost her mind.
Something clacked and she blinked, trying to restore focus to bleary eyes. A little crab skittered towards her and she eyed it like her life depended on it. Maybe it did.
Grasping at a stone, Jaina leaned forward on her left hand, taking aim before flinging the stone at the crab. It arced wide, and Jaina swore the crab made a rude gesture as it calmly walked away.
"Get… back here… you little…" Jaina fell onto her face again and closed her eyes. A little rest. She just needed a little rest.
When next she woke, Jaina found herself staring into the stalks of a crab. She grabbed for it, and it snapped its claws onto her finger, making her yell and flail her hand. The motion flung the crab into the remains of a wall and it fell down and went still.
"Okay. I'm awake now." Jaina crawled towards her future meal. Despite feeling 'awake' she knew if she passed out again without some kind of nourishment she might not wake up again. On the way there, she grabbed a few small pieces of dried driftwood.
Skittering drew her attention to a group of crabs that seemed to be following her. She frowned. "Look… I'm very sorry. But it's...it's either him or me and honestly? You're next."
Reaching the crab, Jaina propped herself against the wall and started arranging stones into a firepit. She tore off enough pieces of fabric to make tinder and hoped it would be enough to make a fire.
Pulling some flint out of a pouch on her belt, Jaina hesitated when she saw a lock of green hair. It seemed important, even if she couldn't figure out why or how, so she put it back and then turned her attention to making a fire.
The crab was overcooked and her mouth almost too dry to swallow, but she devoured the meat greedily. She caught a second crab that got too close, and that one she cooked a little better. It wasn't enough to restore any of her magic reserves, but she at least now had the strength to walk. Her body still protested every movement and the headache beginning to pound at her temples insisted sleeping again was the better idea; but with Theramore's wells destroyed or inaccessible staying any longer was a death sentence. Besides-she had to get to Orgrimmar. She had to. The longer it took, the more anxious she got.
There wasn't much left of the gate and wall that had once led into Theramore, and Jaina paused to look back at her city, feeling her throat clench as she fought back tears.
Home had saved her. It was easy enough to impose the way Theramore had once looked on top of the way it was now. She watched a guard on patrol, saw a child running towards the inn. Pained stepped out of the tower and lifted her hand in greeting, Kinndy at her side.
Jaina blinked and the image was gone.
Pulling out her hearthstone, Jaina stared down at it. It thrummed softly in her hand, bringing back a thousand memories. Kneeling by the side of the road, Jaina dug a hole with her hands and then placed the hearthstone at the bottom. She brushed her fingers along the surface once more, before pushing the dirt over it and patting it into place.
It had saved her life, but it was time to bury the past. Jaina touched the arrow dangling from her neck and then began to walk.
By the time Jaina emerged from the marshes and into the Barrens, she was about ready to fall over again. It had taken her most of the day, and there was still the trek through the barrens to the Crossroads where she hoped she could get some potions-and water, the one thought that wasn't growing hazy and nebulous as she walked.
Her magic reserves were filling, but slowly. At this rate it would be days before she could even teleport ten yards in front of herself. She'd never felt this tired or worn out before, but then she'd never used her entire reserve of energy before, either.
Get to Crossroads. Regain enough strength to create a portal. Stop a war. Hug her wife.
Easy.
But. Water. WIthout water she wasn't sure she'd make it to the Crossroads. Oh, there'd been a well she'd found, near the remains of an old house. Had that been Tabitha's? She really couldn't remember, only that she'd given it a few hours before dragging herself away. She had to move faster
It was about a mile into the Barrens that Jaina tripped over a root and took an undignified tumble down a hill. She came to a stop near a road, and wondered what god of luck she'd managed to cross because really. She took several moments to take deep breaths and push herself back up on shaking arms.
When she lifted her head, she found a large, lean blue raptor six inches from her face.
In the split second it took to understand the danger she was in and lament the bitter irony, the raptor screeched, bowled Jaina over onto her back, and-began to enthusiastically lick her face.
"Dog! Dog! Leave it! Hae-ai, get! What'd you even-get into out-oh, she better have a damn pulse..."
"Oh thank the gods." Jaina pushed herself up to her knees and looked in the direction of the voice. There was a familiar looking Troll crouching next to her with a familiar train of mules being guarded by a sheepdog nearby, the wiggly raptor prancing eagerly at his mistress' side and looking delighted with himself for his discovery.
It gave her enough incentive to stand; she shuffle-walked past Ihz and wrapped her arms around Millet's neck, since of the two of them Millet would respond better to Jaina's need for physical comfort.
"Good to see you too," Ihz remarked. She walked over cautiously and gripped Jaina under the arm as she swayed. "I know some Forsaken who don't look that much like a corpse. Are ya-don't blink, Lady." She paused, glancing between Jaina's eyes and pinching the back of her arm.
"Ow!"
Ihz swore under her breath. "You need to sit down, last time I saw dat kinda dehydration-You know you're concussed, aye? Lucky it's been cold or you'd have heatstroke by now...forget drowning, miracle you didn't die just getting here…"
Concussed? Well that explained her decision making process of late.
"I think I did for a little bit," Jaina's voice was muffled by Millet's neck. "But maybe I was only mostly dead."
Ihz gave her a dubious look. "Stories always get outta hand, everyone knows dat, but they all seem dead certain you sacrificed yourself to save Orgrimmar." She rifled through Barley's packs and emerged with a spare waterskin. "Drink, Lady. Slow an' careful."
"They're not wrong." Jaina turned to face her, still leaning against Millet as she realized if she let go she would actually fall over. Cool, clean water almost drove her anxiety from her mind, and she needed an irritable slap on the back of the hand to remember to slow down. After several minutes of careful sips, she finally managed to remember what she'd been saying. "I-I need to get back. Before… gods know what happens."
Ihz's lips almost twitched. "Well," she allowed. "If you got back today you could have worse timing, if you tried real hard. Could be crashin' someone else's funeral." Whatever Jaina's expression did at that information, Ihz winced and gave an affected shrug. "I got an invite for some damn reason."
Jaina stared blankly at her, then glanced around. "And yet you're leading a mule train through the barrens." That was...typical.
Ihz's eyebrows twitched upward. "Lady, if ya be half the woman I think you are, you know someone's gotta get on with the job. Survivors need water filters an' bandages more than one more troll to watch an empty coffin burn."
Ihz could be counted on for that, and Jaina nodded once; supplies would be critically needed after the attacks, and as she'd been sharply reminded over the past few days, any delay in a source of clean water could be deadly. As for the pyre, Mother wouldn't be happy about that. She'd want to give Jaina a proper Kul Tiran burial at sea. Jaina herself was torn on the idea, but that was a problem to worry about later. Much, much later. "I just need…"
"To drink that damn water."
Jaina took an obedient sip and gestured vaguely. "I barely had enough energy to make it this far. I can't even make a flame. If you can get me to the Crossroads I should be able to get back to Orgrimmar, somehow. I don't want you having to go too far out of your way."
Once, she would have suggested Triumph Point, but that had been obliterated in the early days of the war and the Horde outpost built there abandoned as part of the compact in exchange for the Alliance vacating similar conquests.
Staring at her like she'd grown two heads, Izh shook her own. Then she walked over and unceremoniously picked Jaina up and put her on Millet's back. "Rest. An' I thought my mules were stubborn... Try an' keep some field rations down while we move, see if ya can't rally enough t'get out of my hair."
"I love you too, Ihz."
They traveled for about an hour, Jaina drifting in and out as her efforts in the marshes caught up to her. It was a little terrifying how badly she'd overexerted herself and the way her body kept wanting to crash. At one point she braced herself against Millet's neck, ducking her head against a wave of lightheadedness, and her left hand drifted to press over the mule's powerful shoulder. A faint blue glow flared to life against her fingers, reacting to what little magic she'd recovered-an old brand she didn't recognize..
Magical brands were not unheard-of for expensive, high-bred prize stock; Quel'thalas chargers or Ironforge war gryphons. But there'd been only one city that used them routinely, after Jaina had banned heated iron. Jaina stared at it, then looked at Ihz's back ahead of her as a few stray tears ran down her cheek. Suddenly, she loved Millet even more.
Finally, she tried to eat again, the spiced jerky difficult for her to chew in her current state. Ihz seemed to notice Jaina struggling. Picking up her bow, she drew an arrow and loosed it without dismounting, striking a scorpid through the eye.
Jaina sighed at the display and decided that none could ever know the harrowing tale of Jaina vs the Crabs. She'd never live it down.
The scorpid stew was bland and gentle on her empty stomach aside from having too much salt; intellectually Jaina knew that helped the body absorb fluids faster, but it was still agony after so long with the taste of the ocean in her mouth. It did prompt her to down a second waterskin, so maybe it served a dual purpose. It was still a lot tastier than her burnt crab, and she devoured it with the same gusto she had earlier, practically inhaling the food. She finished by draining the broth from her bowl, tipping her head and leaning back as she did so. When she finished, Ihz simply took the bowl, refilled it, and returned it. Jaina wiped the back of her mouth, then ate that too.
With a full belly Jaina almost felt human. She could use a nice bath, but this would have to do for now. Ihz rebuffed her offer to help clean up and pack her cooking supplies, so Jaina got to her feet, steadying herself on Millet. "How far to the Crossroads from here?"
Ihz wiggled her hand, briefly patting her scarred grey mount. "With just Thorn here, an' you riding pillion, walk and a trot, without the train...could make it by morning. But we got nowhere to leave the string till the Crossroads anyway an' I wouldn't ditch the cargo even if it wasn't relief supplies...could be another day, maybe two. Those be heavy packs. They're not machines."
Nodding, Jaina looked down at her hands, then lifted them. The air in front of her rippled, a small tear forming. She thought she saw a figure, but the portal collapsed on itself. "Damn it."
"Steady on, Lady." Ihz's voice was gentle enough that if Jaina had been any less emotionally drained, she would have resented being spoken to like a spooked horse. "Easy. You're helping no one that way."
Jaina rubbed her chin, then looked back along the mule train. There had to be something here she could use and she felt like an idiot for not asking sooner. "Ihz, do you have any herbs in your shipment?"
Ihz tilted her head as though Jaina had asked a very stupid question. "Aye...Who wants to know?"
"I need some stranglekelp, kingsblood, and something to mix with. I'll make sure you're compensated."
Wordlessly, Ihz tossed her a pouch.
(The very lovely Kiska courtesy a friend from the long ago vanilla wow)