Song: two different songs with the same title- Samsara by The Tea Party and Samsara by Hoenix & Epic Music World
A/N: All right, real talk: this story started to feel like an obligation instead of an escape. Which is horrible because this is a passion project, it's supposed to be a thing that makes me happy, but of course our brains can't let us have nice things, so I had to stop, recharge, and chill until I had the desire to write again. (Which is the nice thing about personal projects. You don't have to grind them out.) I'm fired up again and can't stay away from this story. I keep it in the cloud so I have access to it at work, at school, on the bus, etc.
Also: I am back in school. When I wrote Frostblood, I was finishing a biology undergrad (surprising no one, I'm sure lol). I was lucky to score a job before I graduated and I've been working in a biological science field since then. It's been great, terrible, mind blowing, boring, exciting, and utterly insane in turns. Like, I worked for a dude who won a freaking Nobel prize (it was only for 6 weeks as I was covering for a coworker who was recovering from surgery, but hell yeah I'm gonna roll that story out for the rest of my life). But it's a really physically demanding job and the only way to get a less strenuous job in the same field is to take a supervisory role. I gave it serious thought and I just can't. I love being hands on. The other unfortunate truth is that my job and skills are really specific. There are roughly a dozen places in Canada that I could work and I've worked for two of them. However, I'm in the privileged position to go back to school for a new career that won't include 'must be able to lift 50lbs above your head' in the job description and will be hands-on, just with information instead of physical objects. So I have term papers/projects again and they have to take priority. I'll do my best!
Content notes:
- a bit of blood
- some clinical nudity
- Eilidh's name is pronounced AY-lee, rhymes with Hayley
- deer antlers grow anywhere from 1 to 4cm per day depending on species
Ascension. Ysadéan didn't expand on her word choice, nor switch to Darnassian for a more nuanced explanation. To her it can only mean one thing.
They found Jaina in the space she had designated as the Citadel's future library. She and Martin Starkweather stood together at a wooden table with several large sheets of paper unrolled across the surface. The magical brace glowed in solid lines around her and Kel'Thuzad could see her grip clenched on the head of her cane. The architect/Death Knight was making sweeping gestures above the plans while trying to keep his other hand over his Wolvar assistant's mouth.
"-one staircase here instead and open this area-"
The Wolvar bit his hand. "Orchid think staircase better here!" She had to stand on tip-toe to reach the table and smacked a claw onto the paper. "Here better. More light!"
"We talked about this. The mezzanine would need another support column."
"Wait- Orchid has better idea." She pointed upward. "Make window in ceiling."
Jaina and Martin looked up.
"Would that be feasible?"
Martin rubbed his chin. "Well, theoretically it would work. We'd need time to cut through the roof, but structurally, it's sound."
Orchid folded her arms over her chest and looked smugly at Martin.
"But the roof is almost four feet thick. It will take a month or more to cut a large enough opening and that would set the overall construction back."
Jaina turned to Kel'Thuzad. "Would you like to make a skylight?"
"I have no opinion one way or the other."
"No, I meant would you like to blow a hole in the ceiling? Per Martin's instructions."
"I would be delighted."
Jaina turned back to Martin. "That solves that then. Please excuse me."
She crossed the floor, leaning hard on her cane with every other step despite the brace, and when she reached them, she grabbed Kel'Thuzad's elbow for support.
"Thank you, Ysadéan. Please excuse us." The druid nodded and went to join Martin and Orchid. "My room. Can you teleport us?"
He did so without question, but when they arrived he turned to her.
"Jaina-?"
She let go of his elbow and mostly-fell to sit on the floor. He held out a hand to pull her up. "No, no. I'm okay here." She laid her cane across her knees and took several long, even breaths. He knelt in front of her.
"Ysadéan told me… Well, nothing really. She was a bit cryptic."
Jaina held out her hands. Her skin was colourless, moonlight pale. Somewhere near her wrists, her blood turned sluggish. He could hear the thump of her heart pushing warmth into extremities that needed less and less oxygenated blood to move and thrive.
He met her gaze, wide-eyed. "Oh."
"I thought it would hurt more," she said softly. She looked at her palms, then turned her hands over and studied the back. "It was the portal. I went from teetering on the edge this morning to… this."
"Can you still feel your fingers?"
She nodded.
"But it feels as though they belong to someone else and I'm just inhabiting them." There was no fear in her expression. "I suppose it's not that odd. Everyone dies in little bits. Parts fail and the rest goes on as best it can." She looked up. "How long will it take now?"
"If you let this progress naturally- a few weeks." He paused and when she said nothing, he continued. "I don't recommend that. From all accounts, it's terrifying."
Jaina's gaze unfocused on her hands. "We should hurry it along then. Get this done as soon as possible."
"Get it started as soon as possible. I- and Ysadéan- will take our time."
She didn't move. "What do you need from me?"
"I? Only yourself."
"And Ysadéan? I know what your work entails but I have little idea about hers."
"She can explain the particulars better than I."
"Yes, but she has a habit of saying disturbing things without preparation so if you have some idea, give me warning."
Kel'Thuzad hesitated. "She'll want blood… and permission to give you part of herself, as she did for Zaphine."
"What do you mean 'part of herself'?"
"She carved pieces of her antlers into Zaphine's missing bones."
Jaina sat back. "I'm not missing anything."
"I believe she wants to replace something."
"A bone? She wants to replace a bone?"
"Yes."
"Absolutely not. No. I won't allow it."
Kel'Thuzad nodded. "Very well." He watched her expression. "I have all the necessary equipment in my room. We'll begin whenever you choose, but the sooner the better."
Jaina looked down at her hands again and made a dry chuckle. "She was right after all. I had less than a year."
He wanted to touch her but something in her demeanour told him not to. "Neither of us expected Orgrimmar. Had you been more conservative with your use of magic, your condition would not have progressed so rapidly."
A little ghost of a smile touched her lips. "My compassion will be my undoing? You were right too."
"I don't view this turn of events as your undoing."
They were both silent for a while and Jaina continued to stare at her hands.
"There are people I need to talk to. I need to explain." She levered herself up with the cane. "A week. One week from now. I don't want to wait any longer than that."
Kel'Thuzad got to his feet and smoothed his robes. "A week, then."
Anu'Shukhet strode across the cooling tundra with eerie silence, broken suddenly by her sharp hiss of annoyance.
"And you think now, as undeath claims you, my friendship will end?"
Jaina, beside her on a Death Charger borrowed from the Citadel stables, hadn't time to stammer out a response before Anu'Shukhet continued.
"I would be offended but you are so prone to worrying over the opinions of others. Even those of your friends."
"No! I- no. Yes, I am- regarding the opinions- but not your friendship. How did you know?"
"You are dying. You have the choice. It is what I would choose."
Jaina pulled her horse to a halt. "You would? But your kingdom's history-!"
Anu'Shukhet also stopped and turned to face Jaina. "And your people's history? You are not like your predecessors. Neither am I." She lowered her head as much as she could until Jaina could see her green eyes beneath the edge of her armour. The Nerubians' visual acuity was minimal; she did it only because she knew humans looked each other in the eye. "I would die for my people, Jaina. If I had the chance to rise again and fight on, I would do so." She raised her head and shook herself, rustling her vestigial wings. "My people would have their opinions. Most believe that undeath renders a person devoid of kindness and honour. I have seen otherwise. I would prove otherwise."
"That is what people think." Jaina nudged her horse to follow as Anu'Shukhet started off again. "Many people are going to judge this choice. I worried that you would judge me."
"I only judge your constant fretting. That will not change. Ah." She stopped and ran a sickle claw across a trackway of various footprints. "Magnataur."
Jaina had some moral discomfort about accompanying the Nerubian as she hunted semi-sentient species like the magnataurs.
"I thought we were out here for mammoths."
Anu'Shukhet grumbled. "They taste the same." But she turned away from the path and continued across the tundra. "When first we met, I did not understand your constant worries about what others thought of you. Your actions speak for you. Others should listen. But they didn't listen." She rasped her mandibles together in thought. "I began to understand. My people are proud; we are ancient and wise and fearless. But this is not how we are perceived by the surface-dwellers. We are beasts to them. They look at us and see animals, not people."
"That's their mistake," said Jaina. "And their loss. If anyone took the time to speak with you-"
"They don't. We don't. And the assumptions continue. Imuruk taught me to look beyond our traditions. Then you came and I found-" She cocked her head sideways, trying to make eye contact and failing. "-a tiny, soft, fierce friend. I care not what form you take, Jaina." She raised her head again. "But I will need to inform my soldiers so there are no 'diplomatic incidents'."
Jaina smiled. "I appreciate your foresight."
"I am still a little hurt that you didn't invite me to that siege."
"Shukhet, you wouldn't fit in the catacombs."
"I heard there was a great machine guarding the gates…"
Jaina had seen Anu'Shukhet go up against enough dragons- and armoured dragons- in the past year to know that it would have been a well-matched fight.
"Nevermind the machine, you could have opened the gates." What would the army of Kor'Kron have thought of that?
"I expect an invitation next time."
Jaina put her hand over her heart. "You have my solemn word." She held it there for longer than necessary.
Counting down my heartbeats.
The ride took almost everything out of her. Jaina's body wanted to collapse but her brain was straining in a half dozen different directions, all but one of them too profound to contemplate without gazing into the endless night sky for several hours.
Instead of meditating on her future place in the wider universe, Jaina made her way slowly down to the lab.
The apprentices had the ivory flowers of Jaina's dismantled cloak spread over an entire table in the lab. She paused at the door, remembering the first time she brought Kinndy to see it, and tried now to see it from her eyes. It really is something. Jaina hadn't built a place like this for herself in Theramore. Most of her research there was theoretical and if it was practical, it was the sort of magic that didn't threaten to severely damage the surroundings (and the caster).
The macabre things in the lab belonged to Kel'Thuzad, of course. Jaina wouldn't have the sort of tools he brought, found, or made, nor the variety of bones and other things that she made him keep in opaque jars. Some of the books wouldn't be in any morally upright library- Oh wait. Nevermind. They are.
But the vast majority of this was hers. She'd brought her things from Theramore, changed and fixed some of them, filled many new notebooks, built tools that she needed for her own experiments, bought things she couldn't make, been gifted an assortment of odds and ends by travellers and new friends, and picked up interesting souvenirs from places she never expected to visit.
Kinndy threw her head back and kicked her heels against the leg of the bench in frustration. "We're so close! Why isn't this working?!"
Soffriel had three fingers keeping three separate places in one book while he poured over another with furrowed brows. "I have a new theory-"
"Let's hear it."
"The cloak is made of four pieces- two sections of fur and two sections of fabric."
"Yes…"
"Let's make it in four pieces rather than attempting to make and unify all four at once."
Kinndy sat up and began to rearrange the blossoms. "Okay, so-" She noticed Jaina and her expression lit up. "Jaina! Can you tell us- are we on the right track? Come see what we have so far!"
Jaina did her best not to stagger as she approached the table and immediately sat down beside Soffriel. There was a white rat with softly glowing red eyes perched on his shoulder. It paid no attention to Jaina.
"What's your reference?"
He showed her the cover of both books.
"You're on the right track." She tapped one of the books. "This one is better. The other gives a good description of the theory behind reintegration but less clear practical directions." Beneath the spread of flowers was a detailed synthesis array. "This is beautiful work, you two."
Kinndy broke into a huge smile. "Is it the right one?"
Jaina nodded. "It is."
Soffriel had stopped reading. He was staring at her hands. When he noticed her watching he quickly turned away, then slowly, cautiously, back to meet her eyes.
She held out a hand to him and he took it with both of his.
"I've made a decision," she began. The tone of her voice shifted Kinndy's attention from the flowers to Jaina. "Both of you know what's happening to me and where it will lead. There are only two paths available to me and I've chosen to accept Kel'Thuzad- and Ysadéan's- solution to the problem." She gave Soffriel's hands a gentle squeeze. "I refuse to leave you."
Kinndy inhaled a sharp, faltering breath. "I kinda figured," she whispered. "I wish you could stay- alive- but I understand. It's just… I wish you didn't have to do this."
"I wish I didn't have to do it either."
Kinndy hopped up on the bench on Jaina's other side and hugged her arm. Jaina pulled Kinndy close against her side.
If someone told me three years ago that I would willingly choose undeath, I would've been aghast. And angry. She remembered the version of herself that the Heart of Y'shaarj had showed her. She would be horrified.
"So are you gonna be… like an actual lich?"
Jaina could see Kinndy struggling to picture that.
"No. I'll be like Soffriel: my own soul in my own body."
"How does it work? The- y'know, the process."
"Well…" Jaina gathered her thoughts. "Since the power is pushing me towards undeath, we're going to speed it up. I won't exactly die-" She swallowed. "My body will stop living, but my soul will remain here, with Kel'Thuzad and Ysadéan's help. They have experience in the matter and I don't. They will prepare my body according to my wishes, then guide my soul back."
It was the gentlest explanation Jaina could deliver. Kinndy didn't need to know the specifics. Soffriel, however, had almost certainly witnessed the resurrection of other Death Knights. Jaina herself tried to push aside some of the details; how the requests she made would be accommodated, how the necessary magic would be forever joined to her body.
Soffriel twined his fingers between hers, cold skin against cold skin. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
"How long will it take?"
Zaphine's resurrection was the nearest comparison to the process Jaina would undergo and it had taken Kel'Thuzad and Ysadéan several days. They had finished her resurrection in one long session.
"I'm not precisely sure. At least three days."
Kinndy snuggled closer.
"It's peaceful." Soffriel murmured. "That place between life and undeath- it's… quiet."
"Zaphine told me she saw her mother there."
Soffriel nodded. "Someone came to me as well. I didn't recognize him and he never told me, but his presence was comforting. He urged me to stay, here, in this world, to finish work left undone." He shrugged. "I have no idea what he meant."
"Your dad?" Kinndy's voice was gentle.
"No. I can't remember my parents but I'm sure they're still alive. I am sure of that at least." He looked down at Jaina's hand clasped with his. "In that place, there is no fear. Before- after- yes- maybe. In the transition, there is… serenity."
Jaina considered his words. Zaphine's experience was not the nightmare I've heard from so many. And Ysadéan had contributed nothing but calm and empathy to the process. I would like a calm place to rest for a little while.
Kinndy let go of Jaina but stayed beside her. "I'm going to be way out-numbered. Three undead people- and sometimes Zaphine so that's four."
"You live in a necropolis," said Soffriel.
"Okay, yes, but still."
"You have many living acquaintances here," he continued. "Perhaps some of your friends from Dalaran would like to visit?"
Kinndy's expression brightened. "I'd really like you to meet Petra. She's been so busy testing her uncle's new propeller design and I've been so busy-" She waved her hands. "-doing this. Oh! Eilidh's doing graduate work on light energy. Maybe she'd be interested in the aurora! And I bet her brother would love to see a Runeforge. He could bring Wauruk and Moonpetal- and she'd bring her sister, who might bring her apprentice, who might bring his son- well, maybe a six-year-old would be scared..."
Jaina and Soffriel shared an amused glance. "That's not even a quarter of Kinndy's friends," whispered Jaina.
"Do you have any druid friends?"
"Technically Dawnblossom is a druid but she works as a herbalist. Hmm. I don't know her very well but she might have friends who are druids. I'll ask Darragh to find out." She leaned her head against Jaina's arm again. "I'll miss reminding you to eat. And bringing you muffins."
"Just wait. Soon you'll be so involved in your studies that I'll be the one bringing you muffins."
Jaina had never used much in the way of tack when she rode any of the frostwyrms but now she didn't have the strength or reaction time to fly without support. Fortunately, she was not the only person who occasionally rode them and someone had come up with a simple but effective belted saddle. The skeletal soldier standing guard at the eyrie gave her a hand up onto Caligion's back.
He waited silently for her command.
Take me to Dalaran.
Jaina let him fly a wandering scenic route. From high above, she watched the sun surface at the edge of the distant horizon. Dark shadows retreated down the icy flanks of the mountains until the valleys and glaciers were ablaze with pink morning light. As they travelled south, she began to see trees and animals below them, then roads and smoke from the chimneys of villages tucked into the sheltered parts of the landscape. They came over the crest of one final peak and Dalaran floated before them, bathed in sunrise.
She bid Caligion circle the city a few times, spiralling down until their shadow flitted over rooftops and roads.
Krasus' Landing was mostly deserted at this hour, save for the stablemaster, a mail carrier, and a motionless figure in Kirin Tor purple. As Caligion touched down, Jaina saw it was Modera.
The elder mage approached her as Jaina unbuckled the straps keeping her in the saddle.
"Good morning, Lady Proudmoore."
"Good morning, Lady Modera."
"A lovely time of day for flying." She raised a hand and cautiously laid it against Caligion's bony snout. He allowed the touch. "And a majestic mount."
The frostwyrm arched his neck and fanned his wings. Jaina chuckled.
"He is, indeed. Would you be so kind as to help me down?"
Modera's brow furrowed when Jaina's balance faltered.
"Are you unwell, Jaina? Your hands are terribly cold."
"I'm afraid I'm not in the best health at the moment."
"Let us get you a cup of tea, then."
Jaina didn't feel it necessary to conceal her frailty anymore. The support spell glowed around her and she relied on the cane for stability. Modera didn't stop frowning, not even after she had welcomed Jaina into the Violet Citadel and got her ensconced in a plush chair and a shawl.
"What brings you to Dalaran while you are ill?"
Jaina cupped the tea between her hands. She knew it was hot but it was a distant sensation, neither pleasant nor unpleasant.
"My own death."
Modera sat up, face full of concern. "Pardon me?"
"I've been dying since I became the Lich King. I didn't know until some months ago." She met Modera's eyes. "I've looked. I've looked and looked for a way to survive. If I had a few more years, perhaps I could find a way to remove this curse or banish it entirely or something. But I don't have years. The only thing I know with certainty is that if I die, someone else must take my place."
Modera was silent for almost a minute. "If you die."
"Yes." Jaina nodded. "I had two choices: I could die and the power would pass to someone else- someone that I could not choose or prepare." She paused. "My greatest fear is that it would be someone close to me, because that is how I got it- I couldn't let go of Arthas."
Modera's expression softened for a moment and then her eyes widened.
"My greatest fear is that it would be Kinndy." Tears stung her eyes. "Or Soffriel." She swallowed hard. "Or Kel'Thuzad."
"That is an atrocious possibility."
"It doesn't matter now." She straightened up and set the teacup on the little table beside the chair. "I had another choice." She thought of Anu'Shukhet's words to her. "I would give my life to protect those dear to me. I would give my life to ensure the safety of this world." She paused long enough that Modera shifted in her chair, worry written in the lines of her face. "So that is what I will do. But I have the chance to rise again and continue-"
"Surely you don't mean…! But you do, don't you?"
"The power will stay with me if I am made undead."
Modera dropped her teacup but managed to keep it from landing in her lap with a quick rush of sparkles. It broke against the tiled floor and for a moment there was only the echo of shattered porcelain between them. "Oh, Jaina…"
Jaina waited, hands folded in her lap.
"Who else knows?"
"Kinndy, Soffriel, Kel'Thuzad, and a woman named Ysadéan. I sent letters to King Anduin, my brother, and my mother. I imagine the ones to Anduin and Tandred have arrived by now. Khadgar knows I'm dying, but not about my choice."
Modera pressed her fingers against her lips and looked away. "And Kel'Thuzad will be the one to-?"
"He and Ysadéan."
"Who is she?"
"A Druid of the Antler. They- or at least those she represents- are an order of kaldorei necromancers. Their methods are very different from what we know of necromancy, Modera. To them, resurrection is a sacred act, done with kindness and reverence. She gives it as a blessing."
Modera raised her eyebrows. "I've never heard of such a thing. Are you sure she is what she says she is?"
Jaina nodded. "I've seen her work firsthand."
The elder mage fell silent again.
"There is no other way, Modera. I wish there was."
"I wish that too, Jaina." Modera stood up. "I suppose you came here to tell Khadgar."
"Yes. I don't mean this to be a secret." Jaina levered herself up with the cane in one hand and the arm of the chair in the other.
Modera offered her hand to Jaina for support. "Come. Khadgar takes his breakfast at the same cafe every morning."
They left the Violet Citadel arm in arm and Modera kept her pace slow. It was slower than Jaina could move but she appreciated the gesture. As they walked, Dalaran woke up around them. It was a school day and there were students in ones and twos heading for class. They weren't just novice mages. Dalaran had grown to encompass more than magical education; there were students of all sorts, from scholars to blacksmiths to city guard cadets. Most of the students were focused on either getting to their studies on time or finding creative ways to cut class.
"Emaira!" Modera shook a finger at a teenage draenei girl caught tucking her Kirin Tor novice robes into her satchel. "The campus is that way."
Jaina bit down on a smile.
Modera escorted her to a bustling cafe snug between a jewellers shop and a law office, neither of which had opened their shutters for the day. There was a short line inside and when they didn't join it, they got a scowl from someone that looked like she might be the lawyer next door.
"Ah! Lady Proudmoore!" Khadgar waved at them from a small table near the window. Half the shop turned to look. The other half was focused exclusively on getting breakfast. "I thought I recognized that frostwyrm."
"Good morning, Archmage."
Modera patted Jaina's arm. "I'll leave you to it, then."
"Thank you for your kindness, Lady Modera."
"Thank you for your candour." Modera left with a shallow bow.
Khadgar offered his untouched fresh coffee to Jaina. "Not quite the cup of lightning your kitchen serves but it's a contender."
"Ooh, thank you very much." Again, she knew the mug was hot, but the temperature didn't affect her. She brought it to her lips and sipped. "That's good."
"So, what brings you to Dalaran at this hour?"
"The end of my journey," she said. "Metaphorically speaking."
Khadgar put down his fork. "I thought I sensed that. I had hoped I was wrong."
"You sensed it?"
He nodded. "Yes. I'm sure you'll find the technical aspects of the ability fascinating, but that's not important right now. Give me your hand." Jaina extended a hand to him and he cradled it between his own. "How much of you is still alive? I can't discern the specifics yet. More study needed, you know."
"There's always more to study." She pulled up her sleeve. "Everything above my elbows and knees is still alive."
Khadgar leaned closer, brow furrowed. "Hmm…"
She traced a finger across the base of her bicep. "Here."
"I don't see it. How fascinating! I mean- you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean. It helps to think of it as heat exchange between tissues rather than a line between life and… something else."
"Ah! Yes, I see now." He remained focused on her arm for several long seconds. "I can guess why you're here, Jaina, but I would like to hear it in your words."
"I've chosen undeath."
A tiny smile curled the edges of his lips but it was an expression of sadness. He let go of her forearm and ran both hands through his short hair, then leaned his elbows on the table. "Modera knows?"
Jaina nodded. "I feel it's right for me to inform the Council myself. I was one of you."
Khadgar picked up his fork again. "It seems the Council of Six sheds members like autumn leaves."
"Well, you can be sure Modera will never retire. And she's much too level-headed to dabble in any sort of unseemly magic."
"Perhaps it's time Dalaran had a mayor like a normal city."
"If Ansirem hears you, he'll add you to his voluminous blacklist."
Khadgar arched an eyebrow. "Ansirem is a valuable member of the Council and I respect his ideas."
"I'm sure it's in alphabetical order. You'll be just below Kael'Thas and Kel'Thuzad."
"Light save me."
Jaina nursed the coffee and watched people of every species and walk of life coming and going in the cafe. "You come here every morning?"
"Mhm. The food is much better than what I can cook or conjure, and anyone who needs me can always find me here."
As if on cue, a young dwarven woman in Kirin Tor purple slipped between the other guests and approached the table. Jaina recognized her as one of Kinndy's friends. She glanced at Jaina and sketched a brief curtsey.
"I'm sorry to bother you Archmage, but Aurandar's got 'imself stuck inside a teleportation circle."
"At this hour? It's barely past dawn."
The dwarf nodded.
Khadgar gestured to Jaina. "My friend here is much more experienced in the nuances of arcane travel than I. Jaina, would you like to take a look at the young man's predicament? Give the early risers an impromptu master class?"
Jaina looked up from her coffee to Khadgar, then the dwarf, and back.
"I'd be happy to." She got to her feet, cane in one hand, coffee in the other. "But I'm taking this with me."
She nudged the feedback spell to strengthen the magical brace. Shoulders back, chin up.
"You're Eilidh Blackforge, right?"
"Aye, that's me."
"Kinndy counts you among her good friends."
"How is she?"
"Busy and studious, as she should be. Indomitable, as she has always been."
Eilidh nodded. "I heard- beggin' your pardon, Lady King, you know how gossip spreads here-"
"Yes, I do." Jaina stifled a sigh. "What did you hear?"
"Kinndy went to Orgrimmar with you?"
"She did."
Eilidh's eyes widened. "Magni's beard! I thought it was nothin' but chatter!"
"For once, the Dalaran rumour mill got it right."
They reached the Dalaran Academy of Magical Arts and Sciences, and Eilidh led her through well-remembered halls, up to the third floor, where senior novices and graduates conducted their studies. The early hour meant there were fewer witnesses to the student's plight, but considering the rumour mill, everyone would know the details by the end of the day.
Other than the distressed blood elf inside the circle, there were seven other students, ranging from a Worgen first year to a bearded human man wearing a graduate's sash. Everybody looked up when they entered. The grad student's eyes widened but none of the others seemed to recognize Jaina.
"Where's the Archmage?" The blood elf snapped in frustration.
Eilidh put her hands on her hips. "This is Lady Jaina Proudmoore. Show her some respect, Aurandar! She's here to save your daft arse."
There was a brief silence, then the Worgen piped up. "Good morning, Lady King!" He gave her a big, toothy smile.
"Good morning, everyone." Jaina crossed to the charcoal circle of runes on the floor. "Aurandar, is it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"What were you trying to do?"
"I was trying to travel from my apartment to this room."
"Did it work? Did you arrive here from your home?"
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"Have you tried to return to your apartment?"
"Yes. I can't."
Jaina walked into the circle with him.
"Whoa! How-?"
She ignored the question and pointed her cane to a line of repeating symbols near Aurandar's feet. "This was a smart piece of spellwork to include in your circle." She turned around to face the other students. "Can anyone tell me why?"
A human girl with a mane of tiny black braids approached the circle and frowned in concentration.
"It looks like a guardian spell? The kind mages put on their doorways? Sort of?"
"You're on the right track. It's a form of protection. If there's any sort of problem with the rest of the teleportation spell, this will stop the circle from functioning. It keeps the caster safe from unpleasant consequences. Right now the protection spell is not active, but if Aurandar tries to leave, you'll see the runes light up. This is why you can't teleport back to your apartment. What does that tell us?"
Eilidh spoke up. "Whatever's gone wrong with the spell is happenin' at this end."
"Exactly right. Aurandar, tell me the difference between teleportation and a portal."
He straightened up and folded his hands behind his back. "Teleportation is the art of magical travel in one direction over a limited distance. Portals allow two way travel between large distances."
"Excellent. What's the third form of magical travel?"
Two of the other students put up their hands, but Aurandar replied immediately. "Summoning. The caster opens a one-way portal at their location for the purpose of moving multiple people in a far distant location to the caster's location. "
"We'll use a short-distance portal." Jaina walked out of the circle. She sketched an oval shape in the air with her cane and a glowing copy of the oval appeared beside Aurandar. "Come on."
He stepped through without hesitation and appeared in front of her.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. Who wants to stick around and see why Aurandar got trapped?"
All of them clustered closer.
"Excuse me, I have a question, please, Lady King." The Worgen raised his hand.
Jaina turned to him. "What's your name?"
"Isko Martinez."
"Nice to meet you, Isko. What's your question?"
"How did you walk in and out of the circle?"
"Yeah!"
"I made a portal to get in and another portal to get out."
"What? That quickly?"
"But I didn't see anything…"
"Why didn't you teleport?"
Jaina turned back to Aurandar. "That's a good question with an easy answer: I'm better at portals. It's personal preference. Also, I didn't want to disturb your teleportation circle. Did you base the design on a particular set of spells or did you work this up entirely on your own?"
"I mostly used my class notes…" He paused. "...and your notes from your time as a graduate student. I based the protection spell on one from the Sojourner's Guide to Extraordinary Navigation."
"Ah, that's one of my favourites." She walked to the edge of the circle and pointed with the tip of her cane. "This is a mistake with a simple fix. See here, where you incorporated the protection spell within the arrival runes?"
"Yes, I- oh." Aurandar bowed his head for a moment. "There should be a line of separation between the protection and arrival spells to allow the protection to dissipate upon successful arrival."
"Good!"
"I forgot one line. Ugh."
"Re-work it and try again."
Aurandar glanced at her and hesitated.
"Right now?"
"When is your first class?"
"Two hours from now…"
"Then you have plenty of time to re-work it." She broke the protection spell with a wave of her hand. The magic faded into Aurandar's careful charcoal drawing on the floor. "There we go. Ready for another try." She folded her hands on the head of her cane and smiled at him. He glanced sideways at the cluster of other students.
"Yes, ma'am."
He set his satchel on a nearby table, removed a mage's writing kit, and selected two thick charcoal pencils.
"Can I stay and watch?" asked the girl with the braids. "If that's all right with you, Aurandar."
"I don't mind."
Eilidh, the grad student, the girl, and Isko also stayed. Jaina found a chair and settled in to watch. Aurandar relaxed after a while, consulting with Eilidh, and joking with Isko. The young Worgen's energy reminded Jaina of Kinndy. All of the other students seemed to know and like him.
The grad student and the girl approached her. "Lady Proudmoore." He made a deep bow. "My name is Kahlil Viklund. This is my sister, Subira. Our brother, Farhan, was aboard the Skyfire. He was among the heroes who finally brought Deathwing down in the Maelstrom." The siblings glanced at each other. "I never thought any of us would have the opportunity to thank you in person for what you did that day. The Light has blessed our meeting. On behalf of our family- Thank you."
Subira bowed too. "Thank you so much."
"You're welcome. Please, thank your brother for finishing the battle. What he and his fellows accomplished will live forever in Azeroth's history."
"I will tell him, Lady Proudmoore."
"Is your brother a mage as well?"
"Yes," said Subira. "It runs in the family I guess. Except mamma. She's a baker."
Jaina smiled. "Someone has to feed us when we get too involved in our studies. What are you studying, Kahlil?"
"Inscription. I hope to be a scribe one day."
"What about you, Subira? Are you thinking of doing graduate studies?"
"I don't know yet. It's hard to pick one subject to focus on."
"Oh, I understand that feeling. I used to wish-" I used to wish I could live forever and study everything. "-I could pick more than one graduate project. But there's life beyond grad school. You can study other things once you finish up your formal schooling."
Khalil hugged Subira against his hip. "See? What did I tell you- even the greatest mages can have trouble making up their minds."
Subira rolled her eyes. "I know."
"I have a question, Lady Proudmoore."
"What is it?"
"How did you make a portal without drawing a circle?"
"You'll learn the theory in the next few years, Kahlil. Performing complex spells without a diagram is its own specialised area of study."
Isko popped up beside the siblings. "That's why mages carry spellbooks," he said with confidence. "To remember all the circles, spellmaps, runes, and stuff."
"You're right. Mages have books on hand so they don't need to memorise all of the written elements of spells."
"Why don't you have a spellbook? Have you memorised every spell?"
Jaina shook her head. "Oh, no, absolutely not. I have many spellbooks at home." She thought for a moment. "Tell me- can you sing? Or play an instrument?"
Isko shook his head, but Subira nodded. "I play the flute."
"I can sing," added Eilidh.
"Can you read musical notation?"
They both answered 'yes'.
"Think of learning magic like learning to make music. First, you learn that the symbols on the page correspond to specific sounds. It takes time to memorise what each symbol means and how to produce that sound with your own voice or instrument. Once you've memorised the symbols and their correct sounds then you learn how to combine sounds into a melody. After that, you can start playing or singing new songs by reading new sheet music. And sometimes, you become so familiar with melodies and songs that you no longer need to look at the notation. It's set in your memory, and your voice or your fingers know what to do to create that music." She pointed to the teleportation circle. "I know my travel spells backwards and forwards. It was my major field of study when I was a graduate student and is still one of my favourite topics."
"But portals need mathematics."
"I like mathematics."
"You could make a tonne of money calculating stuff for other mages."
Jaina chuckled. "Back when I was a student, I used to do exactly that."
There was a sound of boot heels on stone and all of them turned towards the door.
Khadgar, Karlain, and Ansirem appeared in the hallway. "Lady King. Please, join us."
Isko looked up at her. "Are you in trouble?" he whispered.
"I hope not," she whispered back. She turned to the rest of the students. "A pleasure to meet you all. Good luck with your studies."
"Thank you, Lady King!"
Jaina kept her expression carefully neutral as she left the room. Once they had rounded the corner into an empty hallway, Khadgar cast a portal to the innermost chambers of the Violet Citadel.
The Council arrayed themselves in a circle around Jaina. The room filled with deafening silence.
Jaina folded her hands atop her cane. Guess I'll start. "We have been taught to fear undeath. And with good reason! The Scourge made war against all of Azeroth, Arthas destroyed this beautiful city, and many good people were lost in the battles against his unholy forces." She turned slowly as she spoke. "That is what we know. That is all we know. But it is not all that exists." Jaina didn't pause as four out of six brows began to furrow. "I have learned there is another path to undeath, one done at the request of the resurrected, done with consideration and kindness. I know. I know how that sounds. I've seen it and two days from now-" She took a deep breath. "-two days from now I choose to take that path."
The silence continued for a moment until Karlain spoke. "We all know where this path leads, Lady Proudmoore. If you do this, you will be lost to us."
Jaina said nothing.
"No," said Ansirem, "if you do this, you will abandon us. You took vows when you joined the Kirin Tor. Do you remember them? To be honourable in person, righteous in battle, and virtuous in study, for the betterment of our people and the continuance of our legacy. Virtuous, Jaina. Virtuous in pursuit of knowledge and in character."
"I came here so that you would hear the truth from my own lips, not from city gossip." She bowed. "That is all I have to say."
Jaina turned toward the door but Kalec and Ansirem moved to block her path.
"I can't allow you to do this," said Ansirem. "Though it pains me to face you in earnest. Truly, Jaina. Don't do this."
Kalec shook his head. "There is no path to undeath that will not lead you to ruin. Please, rethink your choice. We can help you find another way."
"No."
"Gentleman." Khadgar folded his hands into his sleeves. "Let Lady Proudmoore pass."
Vargoth spoke up. "You approve of this action, Archmage?"
"It isn't our choice to make."
Neither of them moved.
Ansirem and Kalec seem to want a confrontation of some kind.
Oh, do they now?
I'm tired of this.
"Doing nothing at all is tantamount to approval, Archmage."
"What would you have us do, Kalec?" Modera stepped into the conversation. "Imprison her? For how long? Kill her? You know what happens if we do."
Ansirem turned on her. "You too, Modera?"
"I have faith in Jaina," she said. "What is it you intend to do here?"
Kalec caught Jaina's gaze. "Imprison her until we-"
A portal flared to life at Jaina's side. It was a gleefully sinister combination of coiling black tendrils and sickly green light and a black mist flooded through it ahead of Kel'Thuzad.
"Hello, old friends and irrelevant strangers."
He offered his elbow to Jaina. She took it and turned her gaze on Kalec and Ansirem. "Goodbye."
A hastily-formed fireball bounced off the shield surrounding them.
Kel'Thuzad cackled. "You know where to find me if you want to continue this conversation."
"Must you be so dramatic?"
The portal folded around them and they exited in the Citadel's lab.
"Admit it. You enjoy my drama."
Jaina snorted in response.
"And did you know Kalec is a dragon in disguise?"
"Yes, and yes it makes me like him considerably less. Oh! Look at this!"
On the table lay 3/4 of Jaina's cloak, black fur on the outside, Stormwind blue on the inside. There were still white blossoms gathered in a tidy pile on the fur, ready to be transformed into the last section of fabric.
"Not bad for a first try." Kel'Thuzad stroked the fur.
Jaina picked up one of the flowers and the soft petals transformed into the weave of smooth, blue fabric. She rubbed it between thumb and forefinger.
"Sometimes I forget…" Jaina dropped the square of fabric and it bunched up into an ivory blossom again. "I forget what we are. How easy this is. And where we started. I remember the first time I turned a teaspoon of water into a lump of ice. And the first time I picked up the spoon without touching it."
She held out her hands to Kel'Thuzad and he took them in his. "This thing we're about to do… it's going to be like that. Another first; something I'll never experience again."
"Well, hopefully never again. Resurrection gets tedious after the fifth or sixth time. Maybe seventh? No, sixth. Definitely sixth. Yes. After that it's just inconvenient. And frankly embarrassing…"
He's babbling. He's performed a resurrection hundreds of times and now he's nervous.
Jaina pulled him into an embrace. "You're right. I do enjoy your drama."
Kel'Thuzad pressed his nose against her temple, and murmured, "I knew it."
Once she had her arms around him and he returned the hug, she didn't really want to let go. Apparently neither did he. The moment stretched into a good minute, and then another, and bit by bit they relaxed into each other. Despite his height and strength, Jaina felt like she was the one holding him up this time.
Kel'Thuzad straightened imperceptibly in her grip.
"I'm going to put a bell on you, boy."
Jaina peeked around his shoulder to see Soffriel, caught mid-tip toe, entering the lab.
"Er. Sorry."
They parted with mutual reluctance.
"Shall I retrieve Caligion from the Dalaran stables?"
"No, you certainly shall not."
Jaina sent the frostwyrm a telepathic command to return to the Citadel.
"A shame. I think some of my old friends wanted to catch up. Perhaps they'll take me up on the invitation."
More nervous talk. Well, mostly. "If any of the Council visits, it will be for tea and stilted conversation only."
"Hmph. Soffriel! I have an assignment for you." He crooked his finger at the night elf and they headed to his workbench.
Jaina eased herself down on the bench facing the incomplete cloak.
So many firsts; and more to come.
Jaina fell asleep in Kel'Thuzad's chair, beside the stove, feet propped on the jar of rats. She woke up to a soft touch on her shoulder and found a bright pink blanket tucked around her.
"Lady Jaina."
Ysadéan leaned down to brush a lock of Jaina's hair behind her ear.
"You should be in your bed."
"I know." But I like it here.
"Let me help you."
Ysadéan walked her through the Citadel, one arm snug around her waist to support her, gentle despite the strength Jaina felt in her grip. They arrived at Jaina's room and Ysadéan helped her to her bed.
"I know you are tired, but I have a request."
"Yes?"
"I wish to give you a gift before the ritual."
"Kel'Thuzad told me you wanted to replace one of my bones."
"No, no." She shook her head. "He told me you do not want that, so it will not be done. Let me show you what I wish to give you." She stood back from Jaina and untied her flowing over-dress. The soft material slipped off her shoulders to pool in faintly glowing folds on the black stone. Beneath it she wore an intricate crocheted dress over another ankle length gown. She plucked at the hem of the crocheted dress.
"This is what I would give you. One of my sons made this for me, from his blood and my own. I wish to make one for you, from my blood and your own."
"It's lovely," said Jaina. "Your son did a beautiful job."
Ysadéan smiled. "It is more than lovely." The threads of the dress began to glow. The glow spread and took on the shape of shimmering translucent armour around her body, from her toes to the fringe of her veil. She held out one arm.
"Please, touch it."
Jaina did so, uncertain what to expect. The glow was solid under her fingertips. She tapped it. It was rigid as steel.
"Here." Ysadéan produced a tiny dagger from a sheath on the back of her left hand. "Try it. Go on."
Jaina gave Ysadéan's light-wrapped forearm a hesitant poke. The point of the dagger met a solid object. Jaina gave a more insistent poke. The light resisted without a flicker.
"It will protect you from magic and from physical weapons. It can be weakened, but never broken."
Jaina gasped. "That's amazing. How-?"
Ysadéan shook her head. "Perhaps someday I will teach it to another. For now- listen. There is a saying among my people: 'a deer wears no armour but their own skin'. Some think this means we wear no armour." She reached down to pick up her over-dress and the light faded back into delicate thread. "Those who believe we go unarmoured see only lovely robes." She smiled as she re-tied the dress. "And most of those who have seen our armour cannot speak of it. This is what I will make for you, if you accept."
"Ysadéan… I am humbled by your offer. I would be honoured to accept such a gift. Thank you."
"Now then. Your blood."
Jaina shifted her weight. "How much blood do you need?"
"Whatever your body can spare."
"I'm afraid that won't be much."
"More than you think. You need less and less now. Shall we begin?"
"Right now?"
Ysadéan nodded. "I will start as soon as I can."
Jaina took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Tell me what you need to do."
"I need your arm bare to the shoulder."
Jaina removed her long tunic and pushed back the short sleeve of her shirt.
"I am going to cut here." She touched the inside of Jaina's upper arm. "You will feel nothing and it will leave no mark. Raise your arm."
Ysadéan's little dagger was so sharp Jaina probably wouldn't have felt it even if the druid-necromancer hadn't already numbed her arm with magic. The cut was quick and confident. Ysadéan caught Jaina's blood on the tip of a drop spindle that looked like it was made of bone and Jaina watched, mesmerised, as she spun the trickle of blood into bright white thread.
"What else do you make with blood?"
"I myself make only thread. Others make metal and from it, they craft jewellery and sacred objects." She nodded to her left hand. "My knife is one such object."
Jaina glanced to the little dagger in its sheath. "May I ask whose blood-"
"All of my children gave some of themselves to create it. It is my most treasured possession."
"How many children do you have?"
"Twenty."
"Twenty?"
"Fourteen were carried or sired by me. Six are-" She cocked her head. "-adopted. That's the word, yes? Like Kel'Thuzad."
"That's right."
"Six of them are adopted. Twenty is not many children. Kaldorei live long lives."
"That's true. Are all of them Druids of the Antler?"
She shook her head. "Oh, no. Of my two eldest sons, one- Setsoé- followed this path. He is a spinner and weaver like myself. He made my armour. His brother and sister- how do you say- three children born all together?"
"Triplets?"
"Triplets. And the word for two children who look alike is twins, yes?"
"Yes."
"Twins, yes. My eldest sons are twins; Setsoé and Etoé. Their sister- Ysarai- was born minutes before them and does not look alike. She is a poet and bard. Etoé guards our home in Val'Sharah. My next oldest, Santh'Arah, chose my path as well and took our greatest blessing, the same that I will give to you..." Ysadéan reeled off all of her children, one by one; she spoke all of their names with affection and pride.
"And you? You are old enough to have children, yes?"
"I am but, no. I don't have any. There was always something more immediate. Kinndy wants kids though, so I'll be someone's eccentric aunt in the future."
Ysadéan smiled. "Her children will be well-loved."
"Very."
Another minute passed in silence between them, then Ysadéan drew back and coiled the end of her glowing thread around the spindle.
"That is all I can take." She tucked the spindle into her sleeve. "You are well enough to wander these halls if you must but I would rather you spend the next two days as peacefully as possible. Now, I recommend you sleep." Ysadéan stood and held out her hands to help Jaina to her feet. A soft green glow climbed Jaina's arms in flourishing vines. "Our ways are not yours but we believe your final nights of rest should not be taken alone." She cupped one hand against Jaina's cheek. "Shall I fetch Kel'Thuzad?"
"No, thank you."
Ysadéan dipped her head in acknowledgement. "Your ways are your own, of course."
Jaina walked the druid-necromancer to the door. "Thank you for all you've done, Ysadéan."
"As always, it is my honour, Lady Jaina."
Jaina closed the door behind her.
Robes made of my own blood.
Jaina returned to her bed and flopped down on her back.
She closed her eyes, put two fingers against the pulse in her throat, and held her breath until she felt light-headed.
I miss my body working and looking like it should. Walking without minding every step, bending my knees, getting up from a chair without mental preparation, waking up rested, having clothes that fit...
For a long time, she lay with her fingers resting on her throat, eyes shut, and let her mind wander. None of her thoughts were cohesive or persistent. Eventually, without her guidance, her thoughts settled on Kinndy, the cloak, the young mages in Dalaran, and how much learning they had ahead of them.
I wish I could live forever and study everything.
Her pulse jumped.
She shouldn't be excited. What she was about to do was a sacrifice. She told everyone it was a sacrifice.
But she was excited- eager, almost impatient- and when she admitted that, she also admitted to an overwhelming sense of relief.
Her heart pounded.
I'll have years to study. And travel! Jaina's studies had taken precedence all her life and when they hadn't, there was always some conflict, some battle, some developing situation that demanded her attention. I want to go back to Pandaria. I'd love to see all of Ironforge, not just the front gates. And I may never be welcome in Darnassus itself but maybe I could walk a little under the branches of Teldrassil…
There were so many places on Azeroth that she wanted to see.
I'd love to visit Orgrimmar, as it should be, with normal people going about their lives. The Horde tolerated the Forsaken in their cities and they were almost exclusively human. Why not Jaina too?
I could ask Roxie to make a list of her favourite parts of Azeroth! I could visit Outland! Jaina sat up. I'm going to make a list.
Soffriel entered the lab to find the lamps and stove lit, and Jaina behind the desk with Kinndy's pink blanket draped around her shoulders. Balanced on her finger was the dagger that he had taken from the Scholomance. She looked up and smiled.
"Good morning, Soffriel."
"Good morning."
She seemed ready to say more but broke into a dry cough, dropped the dagger with a clatter, and reached for the steaming mug of coffee beside her. Another cough shook her and some of the coffee splashed onto her hand. She took no notice. After a few mouthfuls, she cleared her throat and held up the dagger again. I think this is the only weapon I have ever seen in Jaina's hands.
"Where exactly in the Scholomance did you find this?"
Soffriel frowned. "It was in the room with the hidden library, stabbed into the wall through a painting. There were several other knives beside it but this one is obviously well-made."
"Well-made and magical." Jaina held it up and pointed to a small, round white stone set in the cross-guard. "What do you make of this? I thought it was a pearl at first."
Soffriel pulled up a chair and peered at the dagger. "No, not a pearl." He took the knife from her and studied the decoration. "...it's bone." He handed it back to her.
Jaina nodded. "I think so too. And if that was all it was, I would write it off as a typical necromancer's embellishment."
"But?"
"Last night, Ysadéan showed me her armour."
Soffriel's eyes widened.
Jaina made the circular motion that activated the dagger's shimmering, magical gauntlet. He remembered the last time Jaina tried it; the armour it gave her was golden, a human style, and a little bit extravagant. Now, her gauntlet was sleek dark metal, with silvered edges.
"This spell is similar to Ysadéan's magical armour. Do you think there may have been a Druid of the Antler among the Cult of the Damned?"
Soffriel's eyebrows rose and his ears pricked forward. "That might explain why the adventurers who attacked the Scholomance would leave such a fine weapon behind. Perhaps they saw this dagger in the hands of its owner and wanted nothing to do with it afterwards."
"I assume all of your people are somewhat familiar with the yadrassil'elah."
"In ways, yes. Many know the rhymes that tell of them, but not everyone believes they exist. They're a-" Humans have a word for this. "-a fairy tale to some. But most of my people know they're real, even if they've never met one. Rhymes and stories often start with the truth."
Jaina leaned back in her chair. "The Scholomance was a long way from Val'Sharah."
"But not that far from Kul Tiras."
"What?"
Soffriel picked up the dagger and balanced it on his finger like Jaina had done. The blade and grip barely teetered back and forth. Beautiful. "Ysadéan's people have history with your people. She tells it better than I could."
"What kind of history?"
"An amicable one. She was very excited to learn where you came from."
Jaina's brow furrowed. "She's said nothing to me."
"Perhaps she thinks you know already."
"Perhaps." Jaina's voice was full of doubt. "I'll ask her later." She nodded toward him. "How's your rat?"
The rat in question was perched on Soffriel's left shoulder, motionless. "I have done little in the way of upkeep with her, so far. Kel'Thuzad's magic is…" He searched for the right word. "Fastidious."
"He does have an eye for detail." Jaina fought down another cough. "Have you given her a name?"
"No, not yet. I was going to wait until I knew how to give- or allow- her to have a natural personality. But that will be some time."
"Naming a thing endears it to you."
Soffriel plucked the rat from his shoulder and held her up to study her. She was an albino but the preservative in the jar had dyed her fur a cream colour. Her feet, nose, and ears were a greyish-purple. "Are there spells to make the skin pink, like a living creature?"
Jaina paused before answering. "Yes. They're not necromancer's spells though and might be outside the scope of your magic. But it certainly can't hurt to try. You'll have to retrieve the book for me. Third bookcase to the right side of the stove, second shelf from the top."
Soffriel knelt and unbuttoned his boots. When Kel'Thuzad gave Soffriel his new robes, Ysadéan had matched the gift with a pair of boots- more like tough, knee high slippers that accommodated his claws. Shoes made by non-kaldorei tended to forget they had clawed feet.
"...have you been climbing the shelves?"
He stopped. "Er. Yes. There's a lot of equipment to navigate and the ladder is cumbersome."
The ladder looked like it's original purpose may have been to scale fortress walls during a siege.
"That's true."
"I've been very careful." He set his boots aside. "What's the title?"
"Spelltinting, 6th Edition. Purple spine with white writing."
He found the book and pulled up a chair beside Jaina.
"Let's see…" She consulted the table of contents. "I just thought of this- we might be able to integrate one of these spells with those that animate the rat. Depending on how the colouring spell works."
"I didn't know there were so many ways to change one's appearance with arcane magic."
"Not nearly as easy as it must be for a druid. If you can shapeshift into a bird, changing something like your hair colour must be a snap."
"Ye-"
Hair colour. Oh, I remember-
"Soffriel?"
"My hair." He pulled a lock over his shoulder and ran it between his fingers. "In Moonglade. Sitting with- I was very young. They were telling a story, I think. I wasn't listening. I knew all of them- older druids, but there was a tauren with us this time. She was little, like me. She said she'd never seen an elf with white hair, and I said I'd never seen a tauren. She had white hair too." He fell silent, absorbed in the memory. "I don't think I've ever changed my hair colour."
He could see Jaina in his peripheral vision, lips pressed tightly together. She blinked rapidly several times.
"Yes." He straightened up. "It is much easier for a druid. Please, show me these spells?"
Jaina composed herself and flipped through the book.
By the time Kinndy arrived (with muffins), the rat looked convincingly alive.
"I can pair the colouring spell with this one here-"
"-integument support?"
"Yes. Then when you repair that spell, it will automatically renew the colour as will."
Soffriel smiled. "Thank you." He touched the rat's nose. There was a small, hairless mark across her muzzle. "I think I will name her Scratch."
"I like it."
"Oh, she's so cute!" Kinndy bounded up beside his chair. "How did you make her look so cute?"
"Jaina did some spelltinting."
"Well, she's adorable now. Can I hold her?"
He handed Scratch over to Kinndy, who made cooing noises and petted the scar on her nose.
Jaina claimed a muffin.
"I think we're ready to finish your cloak." Soffriel moved over to the worktable. It was covered with black fur, blue fabric, pale flowers, and the chalked and charcoaled synthesis array scribed beneath them on the wood.
"Wait, not yet." Kinndy handed Scratch back. "I want to firm up some of these lines-" She scrubbed out a small section and re-drew it with painstaking care. "-they got a little smudged. Okay. There we go."
Jaina turned to him. "Soffriel, will you do the honours?"
So far, Kinndy had been the one to activate the arrays on the other three pieces of the cloak. Soffriel had done his share of the research, learned the function of every rune in the spellmap, but the actual casting leaned more into arcane territory than his fledgling necromancy powers.
"I will try."
"You got this," said Kinndy. She was standing on the bench beside him, vibrating with excitement. "You can do this."
"It isn't a matter of will. It depends on the limitations of the magic I was given."
"I know. Now push those limits!"
Soffriel opened and closed his hands once to crack his knuckles- a nervous habit, not a necessity- and laid his palms against the bottom curve of the array. He focused on the intent written into the runes and lines, and reached for the ever-alien magic attached to him. I can do this.
He didn't try to mimic what happened when Kinndy touched the spellmaps; he couldn't. Instead, he thought of the sparks that set off a chain reaction in carefully plotted weaves to animate muscles and bind joints. He found the right place to set that spark and pushed.
The array flared to life beneath his fingertips, so brightly that it startled him and he drew back. But it was enough. Crimson light raced along the carefully drawn lines until every part of the spellmap shimmered and tinged the cream-coloured petals pink.
Kinndy gasped.
The flowers swirled up in a glowing vortex, and fell back to the table in one unified black sheet of fabric.
"Crap. We got the colour wrong. But you did it!"
Soffriel touched the fabric. It felt like the other piece. "That's easy enough to fix." Before Kinndy could reach for it, he pushed the little spark of magic through the array, but in reverse, moving the magic out until it faded with a tiny pop. The fabric unravelled into soft white thread that tied itself up into pale blossoms again.
It took a moment to change the description from black to blue, and Soffriel activated the array again, this time with the correct result.
"We're so close. Okay, you do the outer part and I'll do the inner part."
Together, Soffriel and Kinndy began the process of changing the array into one that would unite the last piece and finalise the whole cloak. While they worked, Kel'Thuzad showed up. He gave a brief greeting, circled Kinndy and Soffriel without comment, and went to the closed shelves along the side wall.
"Does this look right?" Kinndy pointed to her work.
Soffriel compared it to the spellmap they had worked out in her notebook and nodded. "It looks right."
Kinndy finished her part first and hovered at his elbow while Soffriel laid in his section.
"Wait- wait, I want to re-draw this part-"
"Kinndy, it's fine."
"No, it has to be perfect."
"It's our first attempt. It won't be perfect."
"Yes, but- Just give me the chalk."
Soffriel relinquished the chalk.
While she fretted, he glanced over to Kel'Thuzad. He was sorting through a metal tray of various tools Soffriel recognized. Non-invasive weave placement. I guess Scratch will be getting a companion. Then it occurred to him-
…those are for Jaina.
-and he froze.
Blood and a stone table- an altar. One arm hanging over the edge. Bound to the altar at throat and ankles-
Jaina put a hand on his arm. "Great work, both of you! Are you ready for the final step?"
"Yes," replied Kinndy, with slightly less confidence than usual. She looked up at Soffriel. "Wanna do the honours again?"
"Y-yes."
-the physical bindings weren't necessary. Something heavy and dark coiled inside the corpse and held it down. Ribbons of yellow-green light-
Soffriel blinked and pushed the images away, forced his focus onto the four pieces of material and the array beneath them. Instinct made him draw a deep breath before laying his hands on the array and he saw Jaina glance at him. Kinndy was too intent on the cloak.
Again, he sparked a flow of energy into the array. The lines lit up but now they flickered like firelight. Soffriel concentrated. Kel'Thuzad pushed the spark to activate weaves already laid but pulled when laying the original spellwork. The synthesis array was technically already laid but it was working on a target four times larger so maybe it needed a bit more than just a spark. Soffriel extended his will along the pathways full of waning light and pulled it back to the beginning, paused to re-shape it in his grasp, then pushed again along the smouldering lines. This time they blazed with solid light and the four pieces of Jaina's cloak lifted, tangled, twisted, then relaxed and flopped onto the table.
Kinndy squealed in delight. Jaina picked it up and swirled it around her shoulders. It was a bit too long, a bit asymmetrical, and the seams between fur and fabric were a little bumpy but it was a cloak.
"Yes!" Kinndy turned to Soffriel and opened her arms, but waited for him to initiate a hug. He leaned in. "We did it we did it we did it!" She let go and turned back to Jaina, who was checking the seams. "What do you think?"
"This is excellent work for a first try." She was rubbing the fabric between her fingers. "The consistency in this weave is fantastic. That must have taken some time to design and replicate."
Kinndy pointed at Soffriel. "That was all him."
Kel'Thuzad prowled over to judge their work. He lifted the cloak off Jaina's shoulders and held it up, frowning, then settled it back around Jaina.
"Pay attention to the dimensions while Jaina is wearing it. You have an advantage in your height difference; each of you will register the relative length differently and a combined estimate will be more accurate." Soffriel caught a brief flash of pointed teeth; a thin smile there and gone. "Not bad."
"A better understanding of the fit will also help smooth out the seam between the inner and outer parts. Ready for your second attempt?"
He nodded. She laid the cloak on the table, passed her hand over it, and their work fell apart into a heap of coins.
"Wait what!" said Kinndy. "Metal?"
Jaina chuckled. "Show Kel'Thuzad your results in two days."
"Two days, oh my god."
"Let's get to work." Soffriel began separating the coins by size and material. There were three different kinds of metal and six sizes. "I don't think the sizes matter. But weight will…"
He struggled to keep his mind on the task at hand, but his attention kept wandering over to Jaina. She knows what those tools are and what they're for.
The memory intruded again.
-an orc woman. A ring on the middle finger of her hand that hung over the side of the altar. The remains of her clothes in chopped tatters trailing down to the floor. Those tools-
"Soffriel."
He looked up and met Kel'Thuzad's gaze.
"Focus."
He nodded and turned back to the coins. Jaina knows what will happen to her. She is at peace with it. She isn't afraid. She trusts him. Of course, Ysadéan would attend her as well, but still… That trust… Jaina wasn't just putting her body in Kel'Thuzad's hands- she was trusting him to help her soul- her very self- move there and back.
And on Kel'Thuzad's side was a responsibility just as immense; she was his King and, more importantly, his friend. Ysadéan disparaged Kel'Thuzad's indifference, how he enjoyed the work but cared nothing for his subjects, and as such, they feared and hated him and his craft. They were projects to him, experiments, a means to an end, and all for his own gain.
But not this time.
Kel'Thuzad stood at the foot of the metal table in his room and straightened the sheet of raw grey silk draped over it. This preparation had none of the ceremony or artistry of Ysadéan's ritual; Kel'Thuzad's tradition was all practicality. The resurrected themselves were art enough.
In the Scholomance, there were ten such rooms, all with the same metal table, trays of tools, and a half dozen seats for students or observers. They were kept spotless by students assigned to the maintenance rota. Most of the tools were surgical instruments or repurposed arcane equipment but there were some necromancer's tools that were specially made. The Scholomance didn't have a proper metalworker and relied on a particularly talented blacksmith for unique devices.
In Naxxramas, Kel'Thuzad had metalsmiths, jewellers, glass workers, carpenters, stonemasons, an endless supply of unskilled labour, and time to draft and test new equipment.
All that remained was this room and the laboratory. Everything he had successfully commissioned and tested was here, within his sight. He needed so little to practise his craft, now that he had perfected it.
Everything Ysadéan needed she kept in her sleeves. He had figured out that the sleeves of her outer robe were double layered, with the outer part made of a thicker, heavier fabric. The pockets were sewn to the inner sleeve so that neither the stitches nor the outline of the items she kept inside were visible. It was a clever design, which he had half a mind to copy (and improve).
He didn't know where she was but trusted she would show up when she was needed.
Until then… Kel'Thuzad didn't meditate, per se, but he did let his mind wander, unfocused, at times. This was one such time.
He had wanted this from the beginning. From the moment when his acolytes brought him back and he reached out for his King only to find someone else, someone powerful but terrified by their power, someone alive. His memory of the fight where he first met Jaina- in his humbling disguise as Kazimir Frostblood- was printed forever in vivid colour and emotion. Jaina Proudmoore! He knew her of course, peripherally. She was barely out of her teens when Antonidas expelled Kel'Thuzad from the Kirin Tor.
In some other reality, she might have been his apprentice. If he had been more secretive with his research, less excited, perhaps, played Kirin Tor politics no matter how distasteful he found them. It would have been so satisfying to coax her away from Antonidas. Would she have stood with Kel'Thuzad before the Council as they denounced him? He knew now that her moral compass was firmly fixed, no matter what sort of magic composed it. No amount of persuasion would bend her to his cause.
Curiosity would though.
Still, her curiosity wouldn't hold her through grave robbing and reanimation.
This Jaina was his only Jaina.
That thought pushed his memory back further, to a time when he was young and painfully out of place in Darnassus, a futile crush, heartbreak, and humiliation. Later experience taught him it wasn't love; it was admiration and jealousy, but he had no other way at the time to frame his feelings except romance.
And his first love? Ah, what a strange emotion. He didn't recognize it. It drew him away from his studies and into the streets of Dalaran, where he would walk, pretending he wasn't going to the same shop every time. He wanted to bring gifts and spend hours talking to the target of his affection. He was obsessed. He was charming and witty with anyone, but for the first time, he wasn't trying to get something; he wanted to be liked. So he visited the shop more than necessary and bought things he didn't need. (Not entirely true. It was an alchemist's shop and Kel'Thuzad did need reagents.)
He knew where they lived, shopped, what they read, who their friends and family were, and envied those inconsequential people who got to be so closely and casually in their life.
He found inspiration where he least expected it: in a law textbook that he had mistakenly borrowed from the library because he was distracted by his emotions. Kel'Thuzad never had any interest in law. It was contrived and then tested against the random acts of individuals. What kind of system was built on outliers? Ridiculous.
However, there was a sliver of paper sticking out of the pages. He couldn't resist. And he found the strangest turn of phrase: 'natural objects of bounty'. It took him some further reading to parse the meaning. It meant people that one cared about. Natural objects- were people. Bounty- in this context, it didn't mean a reward; it meant a gift.
People who were a gift to your existence.
People that existed in the same time and place as you purely by chance, and enriched your life.
That revelation was accompanied by another, horrifying one: such a person would be in your life for a limited time. Perhaps they would move away, or find love elsewhere, or die. They would only be a gift to your existence for so long.
Kel'Thuzad wanted to spend as much time with that gift as possible and when he made a straight-forward approach, he discovered that his attention was immediately and ardently accepted- and returned in kind.
His interest returned to the present; this room, this table, and these tools. Icecrown Citadel was far distant from the alchemist's shop but the desire to hold on to Jaina was the same.
Kel'Thuzad knew that no one was truly immortal. The elves of Azeroth were born guaranteed a long life but they weren't immune to misadventure. Even the gods could be slain- as Malorne had been. Even the Old Gods like Y'Shaarj could be killed and their magic used by mortals.
Undeath and the cycle of resurrection was truly the closest existence to immortality.
Kel'Thuzad turned away from the table, considered the pile of books on the chair in the far corner, selected one, and returned to the stool beside the table to read.
He didn't get far. Jaina's mental presence touched his, seeking permission for contact.
What is it?
Are you ready?
Yes. I thought you wanted to wait for morning?
I forgot the word 'blue' for five minutes. A devouring fear accompanied her thought. Everything else has progressed so quickly. I don't want to lose my memory.
He set the book aside.
I'm ready.
Jaina didn't tarry. She teleported into the room with a little 'pop', barefoot, wearing her night clothes. "I think Ysadéan must be in the Emerald Dream. I couldn't see her anywhere in the Citadel or beyond. I left word with Soffriel."
"Not to worry. I can begin without her."
Jaina looked at the table. "Okay. Good. That's good." She didn't move. "Give me a second." She took a long, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. Her eyes unfocused on a point somewhere past his shoulder. "All right. Let's do this."
She was out of her clothes before he could offer to help. Of course she folded them and cast about for somewhere to set them. Kel'Thuzad took them.
"Do you want help?"
Jaina swallowed. "No." She hesitated, turned to face the table, and heaved herself up to sit on the edge. The glow of her eyes brightened and gave her skin a pale blue cast. She swung her legs up and sat in the middle of the metal table, legs drawn up to her chest, and arms wrapped loosely around her knees. Kel'Thuzad could see every rib and vertebrae, and the breadth of her collar bone from shoulder to shoulder.
She met his eyes. "Will I still be able to dream? Afterward? When I sleep?"
Kel'Thuzad set her clothes on the pile of books. "Yes. It won't be the same, but yes. Lie back."
"Wait." She struggled to breathe. Her lungs were failing as her blood circulation slowed. He could hear her heartbeat, steady and stubborn, forcing thickening blood through her cooling veins.
He didn't press her. Jaina knew what was happening in her own body.
"I feel like I'm giving up."
"You're not giving up. You've chosen a new way to fight."
"Yes, but- I… I never… There's so many things I wanted do." She grimaced.
"You can do them." He rounded the table and stood beside her.
"It won't be the same."
"You're right. It won't. It will be strange for a while. Your body will change but your mind won't. Your brain will tell you to breathe. You'll want to eat. You'll sleep when you're used to sleeping." Her heart was pounding now, partly because it had to and partly from fear. "And then… you'll realise you aren't breathing. That you haven't slept in days." She leaned against his side and rested her head on his shoulder. "No hunger. No thirst. No pain."
She nodded imperceptibly.
Then she grasped his sleeve with heavy fingers. "Kel'Thuzad." He put an arm around her to keep her upright. "I can't bear it anymore," she whispered. He felt her muscles go slack and the full weight of her slumped against him. She was so light, just skin and bones and adamant will.
"Lie back."
She made no move or protest as he gently laid her down on the table.
"Okay." She was still holding his sleeve. "I'm ready."
Kel'Thuzad hesitated for the briefest moment, worried that something would go wrong with the process, though it never had. Then he pulled, as swiftly and cleanly as possible, and Jaina's hand slipped from his sleeve to the table top.
Kel'Thuzad stood still for a moment, looking down at her face. The pink of her lips was already fading.
Natural objects of bounty.
First, he went over her from head to toe, looking for and mending small imperfections- a fading bruise on her shin, a papercut, the sort of minor annoyances the living dealt with. There were features that Jaina wanted to retain: the writer's callus on her right middle finger, the scars on her face and abdomen, and the little anchor tattoo on her ribs below her left breast. It was a simplified Proudmoore family crest, placed where it couldn't be seen but close to her heart.
Ysadéan tapped at the door an hour into the process.
He let her in without a word.
Her antlers, which had just begun to branch the day before, were now a foot longer, sported three growing tines, and beginning to curve backward. Jaina was right. She must have been in the Emerald Dream for some time. She was holding something wrapped in soft leather, tied loosely with a green ribbon.
"Put it over there." He pointed to the book pile with Jaina's folded clothes on it.
She did so and took a seat on the stool opposite him. For a full minute she was quiet and still, watching his hands. Then, from her sleeves, she withdrew a spool of pale thread and a bone ring with a narrow, blunt spike that extended beyond the tip of her finger when she put it on. She leaned across Jaina's body and whispered,
"Finally, Kel'Thuzad, your work will love you back."
Jaina got to her feet. She was standing on something she couldn't see, in formless darkness. It felt like the in-between place where she had claimed- and re-claimed- the Helm, but it wasn't a place she created; it was a place that already existed.
She turned in a circle, studying the nothing. She looked down at herself and saw she was clad in everyday clothes: pants and shirt in a muted lilac with black embroidery, underclothes, her favourite ankle boots. Her clothes fit! She raised her hands and found them pale, but the beds of her nails were a living pink.
Something about her body felt different though she couldn't say what it was.
The nothingness gained some form and illumination. Jaina stood on a rocky beach, back far enough from the water that her feet stayed dry. Fog obscured most of the view but Jaina recognized the smell of the place, the sound of lazy early morning waves. She was outside Boralus, beyond the docks and the city wall, in a cove where she and her brothers had played hide-and-go-seek once.
Only once. The memory was burned into her mind.
Derek told her not to go into the woods. Eight year old Jaina did exactly the opposite and went off to find a hiding spot in the woods. There were bragging rights and candy on the line for the winner. They'd never find her if she climbed a tree and she'd stay near the edge so Derek couldn't be too mad.
She got lost almost immediately. It was like the forest swallowed her; one moment she could look back and see the cove between the trees, and the next moment the trees obscured each other's trunks, closed around her like the teeth of a wild creature. At first she was sure she could turn around, walk back the direction she had come, and find her way out. She examined the ground to find her own scuffed foot prints but either she had walked too carefully or she was looking in the wrong direction. She tried to orient herself with the sun but the forest canopy was too thick and the light too diffuse. By the time Jaina admitted she couldn't find her way back, she was well and truly lost.
Suddenly every sound set her on edge. It was so quiet that the shifting of boughs and whisper of wind made her jump. She gulped back panic, balled her hands into fists, and yelled.
"Derek! Tandred!"
The wall of trunks and boughs suffocated her voice.
"Help!" She called out but every time she did so, her voice became smaller and smaller.
Then she heard rustling behind her. It was not the wind. It was intermittent, as though something was moving and pausing and moving again.
Jaina whirled toward the sound. It stopped. Then it started again, coming closer, and in the muddle of brush and tree trunks, she saw a dark shape.
Jaina ran, heedless of direction. The thing ran after her. It darted to her left- Jaina swerved right. It rustled through brush close on her heels and Jaina doubled her effort, struggling to save her breath for running instead of crying.
She didn't dare look back. It didn't seem to be faster than her, but it was persistent and kept trying to flank her on one side or the other. Jaina ran on, leaping away when it rustled closer.
And then suddenly she could see between the trees again- the stony shore and the ocean beyond! Jaina almost tripped over her own feet in relief.
"Derek!"
She threw herself into the light, the smell of water and sound of waves, and both of her brothers ran in from different directions.
"There's something chasing me!" She managed to gasp out. "Something is chasing me!"
Tandred dropped to his knees beside her. "Are you okay?"
Derek jogged a few steps towards the woods, hand on the dagger sheathed at his hip. After a moment watching, he turned on Jaina.
"I told you not to go in there! How could you be so stupid? You could've gotten lost! You could've gotten hurt! Or killed! What were you thinking?"
The memory went fuzzy from there; Derek berating her, Tandred reassuring her, and Jaina crying.
Now, here, in the non-darkness, facing half-remembered water, Jaina heard something rustle behind her.
"Jaina."
She didn't recognize the voice and turned around.
At the edge of the foggy woods stood a black figure. Its darkness bled into the shadows behind it, obscuring its shape, and at first Jaina couldn't identify it.
It took a step toward her and separated from the shadows.
It was a deer; a black doe with luminous purple eyes.
"Ysadéan?"
The doe shook her head. "No. My name is Athainne."
"I don't know you."
"We never got to meet. I saved your life almost 30 years ago."
Jaina furrowed her brow. "It was you? That day in the woods?"
A deer could have easily over taken a child and now Jaina understood why the creature kept flanking her; Athainne had herded her back to the cove.
"Yes."
"But why chase me?"
"I wouldn't have chased you if you had paused a moment to see me clearly. I would have carried you safely back to your brothers." She turned to look over her shoulder. "One of the others paused."
One of the others?
"Why are you here?"
"Who were you expecting?"
"My father. My brother. …Arthas."
"Ah. You are burdened by their deaths?"
"I… in some ways, yes."
"But not so much that you need to see them."
Jaina was silent for a moment. "I suppose I don't."
"And they don't need to see you."
"...oh. I… well. Why are you here? I don't know you."
"You see who you need to see, regardless of whether we know each other."
Jaina thought of Soffriel and the man who told him he had unfinished business on Azeroth.
"Why do I need to see you?"
"To know I am here. To know I was there."
"I mean no offence, but that's not terribly helpful."
The doe's ears twitched down. "Yes, I suppose you're right." Her ears perked up again. "I can show you. May I?"
"Yes, please."
The doe changed form and now a violet-skinned night elf woman stood before her. She wore an open vest of green leather a few shades darker than the colour of her hair, and a long, layered kilt.
She held up one hand, palm facing Jaina.
"This is faster than speaking."
Jaina pressed her palm to the druid's. For a moment nothing happened. Jaina became aware that the druid's hand was cold, that her chest didn't rise and fall, and saw no pulse in her throat. She realised that she herself wasn't breathing and drew a panicked breath.
The scene changed.
Jaina stood between the black doe and a pure white stag. She was small, too small for a grown woman, and looked down to see she was not a woman at all but a speckled fawn. She wasn't alone; another fawn watched her from beneath the doe's belly and one more approached her from behind. They both regarded her with wide, glowing eyes, one violet like the doe, the other a blue-green.
This is how it was and is.
History unfolded before them in wordless clarity. Jaina watched Kul Tiras rise from a simple settlement to a mighty city-state, watched the line of her ancestors shape the course of its growth. Another history ran parallel to it: the tale of the Druids of the Antler, how they landed at what would become Boralus, mingled with her people… and taught them.
There had always been whispers of Kul Tiran druids but Jaina had never met one. She knew the Gilneans had druids among them and now she understood that it was her people who shared their knowledge with their allied kingdom- but not all of that knowledge. Those that chose the path of the yadrassil'elah kept their craft secret. Here were her people in Athainne's mind, humans that could manipulate the magic of nature; humans that could shape-shift; humans that could walk in the Emerald Dream; humans that laid their beloved dead in sacred earth, suffused the corpses with all the strength and persistence of nature, and woke their willing spirits.
We of the Antler are sentinels and guardians. Our place is at the edges, with ready eyes and whispered gifts. We are ever your allies, our Kul Tiran children. Ask nothing of us- we will come to you when you need us and when you think you don't.
The glimpse of history faded and then, slowly, so did the doe, the stag, and the two fawns.
Jaina was alone again, pondering what she had seen, but not for long.
"You!"
She recognised her own voice. Jaina turned and found the woman from the vision Y'shaarj showed her- her own self, white hair with a blonde streak at her hairline, fierce with anger, lip curled in disgust. A liquid shimmer of blue-green magic accompanied her for a moment, then faded.
"Are you dead?"
Jaina's other self faltered for a moment. "No. Are you dead?"
Jaina paused. Her other self seemed willing to hold a civil conversation, at least for the moment. "Undead."
Her mage-self hissed and turned away. "Why am I plagued by this nightmare?" She scowled back at Jaina. "I don't know who- or what- you are but you are not me. I would never be you."
"You wouldn't. I am." Jaina cocked her head. "Are you real?"
"Of course I'm real."
"What happened on your ship seemed- when I returned to my own world- plane? Reality? Whatever it was, your manacles left marks on my wrists."
Her other self hesitated. "I don't believe you."
"I don't care if you believe me or not, but it happened to me." She chewed her lip. "Or did it? This could be a manifestation of my own psyche. The marks could be subconsciously self-inflicted..."
"A vision with delusions of reality. That's new."
"What of Y'Shaarj? In your world, what did you see when the Heart caught you?"
"The Heart? I'm told it was destroyed."
"You didn't participate in the siege?"
"I brought the Alliance navy."
"And you didn't venture inside the city?"
Her other self narrowed her eyes. "Into Orgrimmar? No."
"I did."
Her other self turned away again, then back to Jaina. "And your friend? The one my marksman shot. Did he die of his wounds in your delusion?"
"You can't kill what's already dead. You scared him though. Or I did. Hm. He was with me in your world and returned to ours with arrow holes in his chest. A shared delusion isn't impossible- the psychic link would account for that- but why would I make him think he was mortal?" Jaina looked up. "You could help me figure this out."
"Why?"
Jaina gestured to the nothingness around them. "What else are you going to do while you're in here? If you're me- but more angry-"
"I have good reason to be angry!"
"Yes, we do. Theramore."
"Yes, Theramore! The Horde took my home, my friends, my apprentice!"
Jaina put a hand over her mouth. "Kinndy…"
"Yes!"
Jaina took a step toward her. "In my world, Kinndy is alive. She survived Theramore. She's my apprentice- no, not a necromancer. I'm teaching her strictly the magic we learned in Dalaran."
Her other self wore an expression of such anguish that Jaina's first instinct was to comfort her, but she knew herself well enough to stay silent and let her sort through her emotions alone.
"I want to believe you," her other self whispered. "I wish there was a world where Kinndy is alive."
They were both quiet for a long time (or so it felt).
"Do you remember the iron lantern?"
"The one that Antonidas turned into a plant?"
Jaina nodded. "Kinndy's working on that assignment right now. I turned my fur cloak into coins. They already have a good grasp on the necessary spells."
"They?"
"Soffriel. My second apprentice."
Her other self closed her eyes for a moment. "If you are real, then the universe is a cruel place. You sound happy. Happy being this-" She waved at Jaina from head to toe. "-why do you get to be happy?"
She's so lonely. "I worked for this. I had no one at first. Only the dead for company. But I made new friends- the kind that you wouldn't dream of- and they make me happy." She paused. "You don't have any close friends anymore, do you."
The other looked away.
"Will you take a piece of advice from me?"
"Advice." She snorted. "I must be losing my mind… What's your advice?"
"Go to Pandaria."
"Pandaria? Why?"
"It's beautiful, for one."
Her other self made an expression that Jaina recognized as wary curiosity.
"You'll like it."
"You've been there?"
Jaina nodded. "I took a vacation. I was invited, after Orgrimm-"
"Shh. Shush. What is that-?"
Jaina heard the dull tinkle of tiny bells.
Another light appeared in the non-dark. This was purple, the shade of Athainne's eyes, and both Jaina and her mage-self fell silent as the glow brightened.
A humanoid shape appeared within the soft light.
Her golden hair fell past her waist in a cluster of braids; she wore simple clothes in muted blue and green, protected by armour made of leather and fire-hardened wood. On her head she wore the skull of some sabre-toothed cat, crowned with carved wooden antlers, and a necklace of tarnished silver bells.
But all this only registered in her peripheral vision as Jaina stared in open-mouthed amazement at her own face framed by those long, polished fangs.
"Who are you?" Jaina's mage-self demanded.
"She's me. She's us."
The new Jaina looked from one to the other. "We are… we."
"There is no we."
"Oh, stop. Clearly there is."
"Somebody wake me from this senseless dream."
"Are you sure you're dreaming?"
Her new self held up a hand. "She is. We've always been good dreamers, haven't we?"
Jaina nodded slowly. "You're right. We have been. Are you dreaming?"
"No. Athaire bade me meditate. I was not expecting this."
"Athaire- the white stag. He was here earlier, with Athainne. They showed me the history of Kul Tiras."
Mage-Jaina's angry expression softened. "The Wild Gods? I saw them too."
One of the others paused… Jaina turned to her new self. "You're a druid, aren't you?"
"I am."
She and mage-Jaina shared a look of surprise.
"That day in the cove- when we went into the woods and got lost- you didn't run. You met Athainne."
"Yes." Druid-Jaina looked between them. "You are... A mage of the Kirin Tor?"
Mage-Jaina looked just as stunned as Jaina did. "Yes, I- but a druid?"
"We're Kul Tiran. It's in our blood as much as arcane magic." She turned to Jaina. "And you?" She narrowed her eyes. "You have the air of the yadrassil'elah about you."
"She's the bloody Lich King."
The druid gasped.
Jaina looked between them. "If this is a delusion, it's a fascinating one."
The druid recovered quickly from her shock and began to creep closer to Jaina. "Imagine… Me! A necromancer! Athainne would be elated."
Jaina took a step back. "Yes, but also a mage. What are you doing?" Her druid-self reached out and touched Jaina's hair.
"Look at us. The Lich Queen."
"King," said her mage-self. "It's a specific epithet written into the magic." Jaina turned away from the druid, eyebrows raised. The mage glowered. "It's obvious."
Her druid-self was examining her clothes now. Ysadéan is just as touchy- is this a druid thing? Soffriel kept his hands to himself.
"Sometimes I feel a breath of the arcane." The druid circled her. "It whispers to me. But I've never answered it. Perhaps I should."
Jaina could see her mage-self fighting a losing battle with curiosity. "You're saying… If you can feel a kinship with arcane magic, then I could- No, I've never felt any connection with nature."
"Yes, you have. When we sail, we feel the ocean." The druid took Jaina's hand. "Oh, you're so cold now. Just like Athainne."
"And you? Are you…?"
"One of the Antler? No. I respect Athainne and Athaire but the truth of their craft upsets me." She leaned close to Jaina's face. "But you're no nightmare, are you?"
"I try not to be."
The mage snorted. The druid turned away from Jaina and closed in on her mage-self. "Who is the Lich King in your world?"
"Bolvar Fordragon. Why?"
"Our path split first with me, in the woods with Athainne. It split again at the fall of the Lich King."
"What about your world?" asked Jaina.
"There is no Lich King anymore. First it was Darion Mograine, then it was Kel'Thuzad, then it was Tirion Fordring, and then Lady Sylvanas destroyed the Helm of Domination."
"Destroyed it?" Jaina followed the druid who was now taking the measure of her apprehensive mage-self. "How?"
"I don't know. I wasn't there."
Jaina pointed to the scars on her cheeks. "This is what the Helm did to me when Deathwing tried to kill me with his breath. The Helm burned me but didn't melt. Even the Aspect of Death couldn't destroy it."
"Deathwing?"
"Of course it wasn't destroyed. Death can't end undeath."
Jaina watched her mage-self leaning away from her druid-self's inspection. "But it can be destroyed. You said Lady Sylvanas did it?"
"Yes. She killed Tirion in the process."
"Was Tirion alive?"
"Clearly not, if Sylvanas killed him."
"No, she means was he alive or undead before Sylvanas intervened. He was alive."
The druid plucked at the golden streak in the mage's hair. "Don't touch me." She swatted the druid's hand.
"I'm sorry. The differences between us all are so intriguing."
"Tirion was alive?" Jaina hurried after the druid. "He was a living Lich King?"
"Yes. He held onto his humanity for six months but when Sylvanas found him, he had nearly succumbed to the Helm of Domination."
"Six months… Perhaps his devotion to the Light was too much antithesis to necromancy and sped up the process..."
"He fought it with everything he had in him." The druid sighed. "He was certain the Light would protect him. He begged for the Light to save him, but in the end…" Druid-Jaina shook her head. "When Sylvanas came for the Helm, he had nothing left, not even his faith."
Oh, Tirion. "That's awful."
"And you?"
"I?"
"What happened when you took the Helm?"
Jaina was silent for a moment. "Do you want to hear the whole tale? It's a long story."
"Time is mutable here," said the druid. "I want to hear your tale."
"I don't."
Druid-Jaina put her hand on mage-Jaina's arm. "You're staying."
"You can't make me-"
"I can, but I'd rather not have to. Please. It isn't coincidence that we're here together. We're meant to know each other." The mage bared her teeth, ready to argue. The druid leaned close to her and her eyes burned with violet light. "You're dreaming, Jaina Proudmoore. We are we but I am a dreamwalker. You are not. You will stay until I release you."
Jaina raised her eyebrows and met the mage's faltering gaze. "Don't look at me. I'm just as helpless as you in here."
The mage shook her off and huffed. "Fine. Tell me how you became so corrupted and happy."
"Yes, please."
"All right. Here we go…"
This telling wasn't like the one in Pandaria. This time her audience asked questions, conversed among themselves, and judged her every choice. It took an uncountable length of time. When she finished, the mage looked even more disgusted and the druid was running her fingers over the bells on her necklace, deep in thought.
It was then that Jaina realised they were not alone. Behind her two selves was a third figure, dressed in white, hands cupped around a candle as she listened.
"Ysadéan?"
The woman took a step forward and Jaina saw she was following a pale blue thread of light. It ran from Ysadéan's toes to Jaina's, but it wasn't the only thread. Two others extended from beneath Jaina's feet- one purple that led to the druid and the other blue-green leading to the mage. They all noticed the threads at once; the druid knelt to touch them and the mage took a step backwards but the lines of light followed her.
"Hello, dear child. Would you like to return?"
Jaina looked from the mage to the druid. "Yes. Take me home."
Ysadéan closed the distance between them without moving and held out one hand. In the other, the candle rapidly melted down to only a flickering wick. Wax dripped between her fingers.
Jaina took her hand.
The last thing she heard was the druid whisper, "Goodbye, sister."
Jaina came up from the colourless in-between like she had taken a deep dive into dark water.
She made a rough gasp and then lay still, somewhat confused. She expected to feel the beating of her heart in her temples. Instead everything was quiet. Quiet and dark.
She opened her eyes.
The first thing she saw was a black ceiling. She was briefly distracted by the texture of the stone, the tiny imperfections and how the light reflected differently off of them. She blinked.
The second thing she saw was Kel'Thuzad.
She smiled. "Hi."
He leaned over her with a smile of his own. "Welcome back."
