The Romancer Greatfather Winter

Episode Two:

Most days, Silithus felt like a barren wasteland, but today, the cultists assured, would feel different. Trapped in the apricot windstone, Zar'teaus needed to believe it. So far, the Twilight Hammer's efforts to help him recover had failed, and he felt terrible.

A muffled plunking on his glass house startled the disembodied entity, and he hurried to draw his wilting flesh back on.

"WHO DISTURBS THE GREAT GOD ZAR'TEAUS?"

"Master, it is just me, Adeiline. It seems you have some mail."

"Oh really?" Zar'teaus asked eagerly. It was Winter's Veil after all. It could be from any number of his old friends and worshippers. But in all honesty, he really hoped it was from Opalbane. He needed it to be from her. Their thoughts were once as one, but recently, she'd been kidnapped from Silithus and he hadn't a chance to make her his high priestess.

"Yes, Lord Zar'teaus. I'll have the summoning robes on in sec, and we can go over the letter as your first activity for today." A few moments of loud chanting later, and Zar'teaus was filled with a white energy that shot through him and expelled him from the burnt orange crystal he called home.

"How invigorating that feels!" he smiled happily, which was hard because his jaw was falling apart.

Adeiline smiled back. She was Undead, and her own jaw looked in much worse condition. Zar'teaus strongly suspected that the director of this camp assigned Adeline as his caretaker just to make him feel better.

"Now, now," Adeiline drawled. Her Common was heavily accented with the gurgling of Gutterspeak, her first language. "What is the recitation? That is not the way to start your day, as the Director says." Then she formed what looked like a gentle smile, but for the holes in her rotted face was hard to decipher.

"I am an Old God. I am Powerful. I deserve to be Worshipped…"

"And?"

"And loved." Zar'teaus frowned.

"Very good, Zar'teaus. You are coming along your twelve steps to godhood nicely."

"I'd be done with this insidious program already if I'd been given my High Priestess! Where is my Opalbane? I can't start up a following without her."

"Zart'eaus, we discussed this in your last session. The Twilight's Hammer cannot let you go back to being an Old God until you are fully recovered. You can't be fully recovered without at least one committed worshipper, and until we can find a suitable high priest for you—"

"But Opalbane was the one for me! I could feel it, Adeiline."

Adeiline reached up and patted Zar'teaus' smoky shoulder. His flesh had begun to rot a century ago, and getting a following was the only way to stop the decay. At least Adeiline and those like her had Lady Sylvanas to bring hope to their chaotic existence. Nowadays, Adeiline had the Twilight's Hammer to guide her. But, for old gods like Zar'teaus, being part of a mere cult would not do. He needed people to worship him, and fast, or the rest of his eternal life was going to be very pathetic and painful.

"And the Twilight's Hammer apologizes sincerely for your loss. We will simply have to find you another high priest if Opalbane is not returned."

Zar'teaus pouted. "Fine. Where's this letter you told me about?"

"If I give you the letter," Adeiline waggled her bony finger at Zar'teaus, "Do you promise to ingest all your prescribed fel capsules, and join the group for recitations this evening? The Director was very unhappy to hear that you were shirking your treatment."

Zar'teaus eyed the letter hungrily and finally sighed, giving in.

"Gooood." Adeiline purred, and handed him the letter. "Now, I'll leave you alone with your letter. Would you like a windstone closer to the sunlight this morning, or perhaps a demonic rune to decipher? I can also get you an encrypted Twilight Text if you wish to know what is going on in the world while you relax."

Zart'eaus only grunted. He was lost in his letter.

Adeiline said something further about the Twilight Hammer being happy to serve all Old Gods, no matter how distraught they were, as long as they were willing to admit they had a problem, because that was the first step, blah, blah, blah… Zar'teaus ignored the rest until Adeiline left.

"She does love me!" Zar'teaus cried out when the Undead woman finally hobbled away.

He reread the end of the letter,

…I'm sorry that we quarreled. It matters little, because after all these years, I still enjoy the kisses we steal, the long naked nights up in the boughs of Teldrassil. Know that I am thinking of your beautiful body each time you wear this hat. Wear it when you need me, and I will make some excuse to get away.

Ever your plaything,

Priestess xxx

p.s. of course I am not going to write my real name silly! We will be together soon.

What was left of Zar'teaus' heart leapt in his chest. "Adeiline! Adeiline! Come here, girl."

Ever dutiful, The stringy haired Undead hobbled back over at her master's beckoning and bowed her head.

"Please do me a favor. Fetch a rare bauble for Opalbane! She's sent me this fine purple hat and this letter. I knew she'd come back to me! She's hiding herself in Darnassus, I think. That is where the letter is from, the Temple of Elune. But, surely, you can see to it that she receives something from me, so that she might have hope?"

Adeiline sighed a hollow, tortured breath but finally gave in. "Alright. It goes against the codes, but it's not the first time I bent them for you, is it master? I'll see to it that something special is delivered to her. Shall I use the spy that is already in place there?"

"Certainly. Evenstar is responsible for getting this letter to me, I'm sure he can deliver mine in turn. Now, go quickly."

Adeiline skittered off to do her master's bidding. Zarteus hugged the tattered love letter to his melted breast and sighed happily.

Later, in Rutheran Village nearDarnassus…

The pale night elf nodded at the strange courier, and hurried off into the shadows to read the instructions:

Evenstar,

I hope this letter reaches you well. Master Zar'teaus is pleased with the latest communication and wishes that you deliver this gift in kind to the priestess. Remember, do not reveal yourself as a Twilight Cultist. Only deliver the gift and leave quickly. Send any correspondence back here to Silithus immediately, as I believe the Master has come to look forward to her letters. I think they keep him in good spirits though he's failed to surpass his twelfth step for the one hundred and fifty seventh time now.

Adeiline.

Evenstar slipped the letter into the breastpocket of his tattered vest, and sighed with relief. Spywork was never easily, especially now that Shadowstep had identified Evenstar and turned him into a double agent. Recently, he'd gotten his various communications mixed up and misdelivered a note from the Priestess Feathershine… or was it a note from Shadowstep to Feathershine? Or a note from the Priestess Opalbane in Stormwind… Evenstar got so confused sometimes. Well, this would be his chance to set things right. Evenstar reached into his vest pocket to retrieve the letter and package that the Master Zar'teaus intended for the priestess.

"Oh no…" Evenstar panicked as he rifled through all the papers in his pocket, "Which one is it?"

A few days earlier, in Eastvale Logging Camp near Stormwind…

Willypearl smoothed the fine fur cap with her fingertips as she re-read the letter from her friend:

Dearest Willypearl,

I write this letter to express how much of a fool I've been. I cannot believe that I have wronged you so cruelly over the years. And it seems that even after things are settled, I managed to take the one thing from you that might have brought you some kind of solace: love. You tried to be my friend for years, and this is how I repay you? My heart is so heavy with guilt and grief, I could not bear to remain silent any longer. Please, accept this handmade gift as a token of my friendship. It would be so nice if there could be a truce between us.

Please respond with your feelings on the matter. In the new tradition of Winter's Veil, I've not signed this letter, but I'm sure you know who cared so much to send it. She is the very Kaldorei who proved unworthy of your love in Silithus, and wishes to Elune that you show mercy.

Always your friend.

"Are you truly reading, when there's so much work to do!" Willypearl's new mother in law, Barillabine Pontier hovered over the young mage's shoulder.

"Mom, do you mind?" Willypearl stuffed the letter into her apron. She had been mending her wedding dress, for about the thousandth time since her fiance's mother Barillabine first saw it. Once, it wasn't modern enough, then it wasn't conservative enough. Then, too white, too short, too long. Willypearl considered herself a nice person, and so wasn't used to such harsh treatment, but even she got the hint in the end. Barillabine and most of Elec's family for that matter, did not want her to wear the wedding dress at all. She didn't deserve to be a part of their family.

"Don't call me Mom," Barillabine complained. "We are not family yet, young lady."

Willypearl sighed, and picked up her needle and thread again.

"Who was that letter from anyway? Not that Night Elf I heard Elec swearing about? What was his name… Obsidian.. something—"

"It's Onyxbane! And that ain't your business. It's between me and your son!" Willypearl flushed a warm mahogany and bent over her work, as if she were too busy to carry on the conversation. Her future mother-in-law frowned at the girl's poor sentence structure and Willypearl was suddenly self conscious of her overpowering Westfall accent.

"Did you cheat on my Elec? Because if you did—"

"It's been settled! Anyways, the letter is not from Onyxbane, it's from his sister Opalbane. She was the very sweetest little thing and sent me a fur cap for Winter's Veil. Isn't it nice?"

Barillabine was actually distracted from her tirade for a moment as she examined the cap.

"It's too furry. Only a dwarf in freezing Khaz Modan would wear something so superfluous."

Willypearl groaned.

"You have such strange friends anyway. Isn't that Opalbane girl the one who got into trouble with the Archmage in Stormwind? How shameful. And the name itself is so ghastly. What kind of a parent names their child something so dreadful? Now, I'm grateful that the Night Elves joined the Alliance, but really, some of their outdated customs—"

"Her parents didn't name her that. When she was eight years old in Felwood, Opalbane's mother got dragged out of the house by demons and brutally murdered. Her father too. Opalbane named herself so as to take revenge for her pale skinned mother, and Onyxbane is named after his dark father."

Barillabine frowned during the brief awkward pause that followed, then quickly pointed out, "You missed a stitch." Which wasn't true, but Willypearl was so flustered by the overbearing woman that she did miss a stitch, almost on cue, and then her future mother-in-law snorted in laughter and left.

"Well, I wish some demons could come to this house and take care of somebody's mother—" Willypearl cursed as she pulled out the stitch. She reminded herself to send Opalbane something nice in return.

Then a few days later in Ashenvale…

"Willypearl made those for you? That… BITCH!" Wisthera exploded at Onyxbane, who looked around sheepishly for a hiding place, or better yet, the Reaper. "After I sent that nice hat I made, and called a truce…"

Onyxbane tried to comfort his raging girlfriend, but she pushed him away hard and he fell to the floor. "And you tried to hide it from me. This is really the last straw, Onyx," She towered over him fuming.