III

A strong, herbal smell filled her nostrils, stirring the rest of her body and mind into a tentative state of consciousness. It reminded her of tea. Just not the regular kind that was brewed at home. More the stronger, wilder stuff that her aunt used to mix from various plants she'd pick in the woods.

Her back didn't feel stiff, some sort of cushioned material kept her separated from the ground, making it a less rude awakening. As she opened her eyes and scanned her surroundings, she realised that they became oddly... familiar. Her fingertips moved across the leathery surface she had been resting on. Brown, cracked in places, but well-maintained.

She could hear a clock ticking. An old, majestic timekeeping mechanism, every swing of its heavy pendulum carried a warning of a moment being wasted forever. There was something about the way it measured ticks and tocks that would always make her feel judged. Especially now, as her head felt heavy, and she collected her thoughts with difficulty. The sensation of her mind feeling slow, bogged down by an invisible wall... oh it was annoying, but the more she wanted to snarl at it, the more it seemed to mock and placate her into a numb state of being.

"Ah, good. You're awake," she heard a voice speak out from somewhere in front of her. With her hand over her scars, she looked up, slowly, as if blinded by sunlight and hungover. Except she didn't recall drinking. Where had she been before this? It was all a black canvas. There was a similar couch, a mirror of the one she sat on. The two were separated by a low table. A man was sitting on the other couch. Well groomed, well dressed, with black hair slicked back, clean shaven. His features were sharp, and his hazel eyes, shielded by a pair of glasses, were awake, alert, and like a hawk's, quick to find every detail in whatever he was studying, "You're late, Alystoria."

"My apologies, father, I was..." her mind blanked again, painfully so. It was as if any attempt at recalling information was immediately met with a deeply uncomfortable spike somewhere in the back of her mind, "I lost track of time," she admitted. It wasn't a lie, even though she suspected it wouldn't be enough to appease him.

"Well, welcome back, I suppose," he replied rather flatly and looked back down into his book. It must have been some light reading, for leisure and relaxation. Work was always done at a desk, with a looking glass and a notepad at the ready. Only books that were trivialities in terms of content deserved to be held in his lap, "I trust you've given my regards to aunt Grace during your stay with her," he stated, more than asked.

"Yes, I have, father," she replied and nodded slowly, "I had a lovely time," she added, though the question about how her autumn break was never really came. Perhaps he wanted to know but didn't quite feel the need to ask, since she'd tell him anyway?

"Go freshen up. Dinner will be ready soon," he commanded, looking up for a moment as he turned the pages of his book. Alystoria nodded and grabbed the edges of the couch to push herself off. She groaned and closed her eyes for a few steps, navigating through the house from memory. She was surprised that father hadn't noticed her sorry state. Have there been celebrations? Something to do with the harvest, maybe? A dance? Her mind buzzed and the headache was unrelenting. Once in the bathroom, she leaned against the washbasin and looked into the mirror. Oddly enough, her features did not betray her sorry state of being. She looked focused, awake, and without even the tiniest of shadows under her eyes that would suggest a lapse in judgement the night before.

Her scars were there. Her eyes were a bright yellow-green. She felt the beast inside her, in balance with her human side, but present. Yet father hasn't aged a day. Has he been afflicted as well? But the city, the battle... the invasion. Wasn't it that...

"Hello, gorgeous," her musings were cut short as two freckled arms wrapped around her from behind. She could see the top of the red mane of hair just over her right shoulder as a smaller woman cuddled up to her. She smiled and leaned back so that her head would touch the woman's, "Evelyn. How did you sneak up on me?"

"A lady has her secrets," the redhead replied and scoffed.

"Wait... why are you here? Father doesn't know!" Alystoria tensed up, she could feel Evelyn move away after the statement, "Don't be such a sour piece of candy, love. He's always known. I told him myself... Come, dinner's almost ready."

It was their secret. Their sworn secret. Always meeting away from the prying, curious eyes. Aunt Grace knew, but keeping anything from that woman was impossible. And Alystoria didn't really mind not keeping things from her, because her aunt took things as they were. There was no unnecessary judgement, there were no sternly worded talks. Just a quiet understanding, even of a fact that Alystoria formed a habit of sneaking out to meet with Evelyn. Her father wasn't even aware of her girlfriend's existence. How could she just go out to him and tell him? Was he alright with it? They haven't even been introduced. How odd... Another pang of discomfort in the back of her mind reminded her not to think that much of it. Or think that much of anything, really.

There was an eerie echo to her footsteps on the wooden parquet floor as she made her way to the dining table and sat down, alone. After a moment, Evelyn joined her, giving Aly's knee a small pat under the table, "It's going to be fine. You'll see," she reassured and smiled, to which Alystoria could only smile back and nod.

"Awww, look, John. Aren't these two just the most adorable?" that was a voice she didn't know. It was definitely a woman, and she sounded very pleasant. Warm, and welcoming. Alystoria looked up slowly. Blonde hair, sky blue eyes. They weren't sad, there was a spark of joy in them. That alone was deeply concerning. She wore a white, flowing dress, and held what looked like a bundle of blankets, wrapped in the shape of a cocoon.

"Don't you remember? We're here to see your little brother, Aly," Evelyn reminded, smiling. Alystoria turned to her girlfriend and stared at her, blanking out. She suddenly remembered their brief meeting in that pirate town on the southern coast of the Eastern Kingdoms. How Evelyn kept mocking her. Saying that Aly turned out better than expected after the bite. Not so sickly any more, fortunately. She remembered the embarrassment. The fear that she would be discharged from her unit if any of them were to discover her leanings. Evelyn and her were no more. It's been years. Maybe even more than a decade? Definitely more than that.

They were all smiling at her. Even her father was smiling at her, standing proudly at her mother's side. Their eyes were fixated on Alystoria and the Worgen felt a deep sense of danger begin to sprout in the pit of her stomach like a magic bean.

"Go on, see him," Evelyn encouraged, giving Alystoria another pat on the knee. This one felt much more like urging. She could feel nails poke against her skin, sharp and long, like pins, like nails. She stood up, feeling warmth on her leg as a coppery scent spread in the air, making her let out a growl, stirring her beastly side to alertness, pulling it to the surface.

With every step, she tried to piece it all together. It felt wrong. So very wrong. It couldn't have been the truth. Evelyn bit her, made her into what she was. Shared the curse. They never met that night. She never came home from her autumn break. Her mother... Her mother was a mute. More importantly, and morbidly so... she had been dead for a quarter of a century now. As the realisations began to hit her, she became more aware of her surroundings. Her mother's eyes weren't blue, they were purple, glowing, in a colour that screamed like the most poisonous flowers of the Feralas jungles.

She blinked a few times, feeling tears well up in her eyes every time she tried to focus on their faces. They were blurry, distorted, pulled and contorted into grotesque shapes, different with every blink.

"Come. See. Your. Brother," a heavy, hollow voice commanded. It was nowhere and everywhere at once, and as Alystoria limped towards whatever monstrosity masquerading as her mother, feeling blood trickle down her leg sleeve. It was as if there was a hand pushing her towards it, making sure she complied.

"The potion is wearing off," another voice called out. Suddenly, the dining room seemed like a deep, dark, cavern to her. She tried to look around but was pushed towards her parents, with her mother holding out the bundle of blankets. Instead of a rosy face of a newborn, there was only darkness inside. A light-consuming void. And instead of cute, tiny hands, there were tendrils, uncountable, purple wisps of flesh, reaching out to grab her fingers, began climbing up her arm. The voice boomed inside her mind, "You came here seeking answers, didn't you? You came here for the truth, little fleshling? Very well... Truth you shall have."