Epilogue: Fate's Wide Wheel

"…And that…is pretty much it, Ninos." Zackel Wintersoul said, as he put his empty mug down. The Legerdemain Lounge had grown considerably quieter over the long period of time Zackel had been telling his story to the young priest that he'd shared a table with (which was a lot, all things considered, and with the fact that Brewfest was due to begin soon, the mage could only wonder how loud and chaotic the Lounge and its fellow organizations would be then). Zackel had originally taken the seat he was in based on the fact that the priest, one Ninos Silverstream, looked fairly non-threatening, and the last thing Zackel had wanted in the cross-faction bar was a fight. As it had turned out, the awkward-looking (in a relatively good way, but still notable) young man had done his own read of Zackel, deciding that he looked like someone he could trust enough to ask a question of soon after they'd made introductions.

Said question had ended up being one of a very personal nature. After deciding not to walk away (the mage having gleaned himself that if Ninos was asking HIM this, he probably didn't have ANYONE he could confide in, a feeling Zackel had his own experiences with), Zackel had managed to get some details out of the priest over the nature of his question with a little skilled prying (and then told Ninos to be more careful about who he shared such information with). Despite its rather off-putting nature, the priest's story had struck a chord. Ordering a fresh drink, Zackel had begun to tell his own.

Several hours later, night had fallen, and the story was done.

"…Uh…so, what happened to the ogres?" Ninos said.

"Oh THAT…well, my storm confused and rattled the Syndicate enough that they decided to bug out, so I saved them…but by doing so, I ended up making myself their leader. AGAIN." Zackel said. "It took me another three days to talk my way out of it. What I did in the end was claim that as the Crushridge leader, it was my duty to explore the wider world and bring back wealth and glory to the Clan, and that a substitute leader would have to serve in my place until I returned. Once I sold them on that, several of the ogre men fought to see who was the strongest, and I declared the winner the leader in my stead and finally got out of those thrice-damned mountains."

"So you abandoned them then?" Ninos said. The mage gave his fellow Alliance member a wry look, causing the priest to stutter an apology. The mage closed his eyes as he rolled them: the read Zackel had gotten on the boy (as he didn't exactly strike Zackel as a man yet, despite being of age) was that he was nice, and seemed to have a decent amount of power and skill, but his social skills were lacking and he tended to occasionally blurt things out that were even stupider and/or inappropriate than what Zackel himself could say at times. No wonder he'd ended up in the fix he'd asked Zackel for advice/help for (or, for that matter, that he'd asked Zackel, then a complete stranger, for said help. There were more than a few Alliance members and even more Horde members that would have strung the priest up before tarring and feathering him for what he'd done, so considering he'd blurted it out to someone like Zackel…The Light DID work in mysterious ways).

"Could have…didn't. Like I said, a fool." Zackel said. "I went back a few months later, mainly due to the fact that I picked up this big axe I couldn't use and I thought it was too well-crafted to go to waste. I basically spun some bullshit that I wanted to explore the world more and that a true leader of the Crushridge would be the one who wished to stay and look after his fellows, and I handed the axe over to the leader, Fuduir I believe his name was, said he was now the true leader, and then I left again. From there I had more adventures and troubles, though technically I also had those in my trip when I finally left…but those are not really relevant. Eventually, as promised, I made my way to Northrend. And here I am now, in my new robe, talking with you."

Zackel leaned back in his chair, weariness beginning to settle on him. Between that, and the fact that as nice as his newly acquired clothing looked, with its blue, purple, and grey colors and semi-plate like design, not to mention the whole seething with incredible magical power aspect, it was still new and had caused him more than a few constant itches. Ninos wore something similar, though his robes had brown in their different color scheme instead of gray. Considering what Zackel had gone through on his trip across Northrend to get his robes, the mage could only wonder how Ninos had gotten his. Though based on some of Ninos' comments, it could very well have just been by going out with combat types and hiding behind them while keeping them alive.

"And did you find Rielle?" Ninos asked.

For once, Zackel was rather glad about Ninos' naivety. It kept him from noticing the subtle reaction Zackel had when Ninos asked him the question. There had been one crucial difference between the story Zackel had told Ninos and what he had experienced. While he had been vague on some of the more intimate details, the only part he had deliberately left out was the last one.

And so, he lied.

"It has…proven difficult." Zackel said, rolling his shoulders. "But whether I do or not…it's not pertinent to the question you asked me. You told me about Kaileni, and all that stuff that happened in Stranglethorn…and you wanted to know something about it all. Whether it could possibly mean anything, or work in any way. So I told you about what I went through. With myself and Rielle. What you do with that information is up to you."

The young priest had no reply, instead nervously fidgeting with his hands.

"…Ninos, look." Zackel said, leaning back in and putting his own hand on top of the priest's. "You opened up to me…probably WAYYYY too much considering we just MET…but that's another story and another lesson, for another day. But it's all pointless if you're lying to yourself. I had to learn that lesson the hard way, and I wouldn't wish that experience on anyone…no matter what the lie covers. It just isn't worth it in the end. So…Ninos, it WAS consensual, wasn't it? Because if it WASN'T, if you're trying to spin it, then a random stranger in a bar is NOT who you should be speaking to."

"…Yeah." Ninos said. "I might not have exactly jumped in feet first…but once my shock wore off a bit, I…I participated. It wasn't rape."

"…All right." Zackel said. "Well if that's the case…well, I'm not one to make assumptions about your life and whatever you experienced, Ninos. Nor am I the one to tell you exactly what you're feeling means, especially considering the likely…difficulties of such a relationship. Especially if she just saw it as a fun experience to share and doesn't have the deeper resonance you're having. Rielle and I, we may have had our differences we had to overcome…but she wasn't a tr-"

"Please don't say that out loud." Ninos said.

"As you wish." Zackel said. "Though one thing you need to ask yourself, Ninos. Are you more bothered by what people would think of her race, or by the fact that if you ask the average Alliance male, they'll say that females like that all have faces that could stop clocks?"

"THEY DON'T, SHE WASN'T…!"

"Ep ep ep. I know Ninos. I gathered that from your description. I suspect you'd be better off if she had been. Yeah, it's shallow, but everyone needs to grow out of that their own way. Besides, maybe by her standards, she IS ugly…but she's not here, so I won't debate her motives or how she might feel. And I really shouldn't debate yours."

"…Yeah." Ninos said.

"You wanted help, I offered help as I saw fit. I told you my story. Considering my experience and yours, maybe we were meant to cross paths. But I have to get back on my own. As will you."

"…I really don't know if I like the looks of mine." Ninos said.

"Then change it. And accept there are some things you might not be able to change. Once you figure that out, the rest falls into place sooner or later." Zackel said, standing up and tossing several gold pieces on the table. "Good luck. And if whatever happens with you and Kaileni ends in regret, well…that's the gamble. You may regret it more if you don't try."

"…Yeah." Ninos said again. Zackel sighed inwardly. The kid really was pretty decent, but he had problems Zackel couldn't help him with beyond what he'd already done.

"One more thing…I know you probably don't like keeping this inside you. But, and the fact that I am repeatedly stressing this should give you more than enough of a clue…you lucked out with me, Ninos. Be very careful who you decide to talk to this about."

"Yeah yeah." Ninos said, waving Zackel off half-heartedly.

"Well…perhaps see you around then." Zackel said, heading for the door.

"Yeah." Ninos said. Zackel accepted the monotone of the repetitive responses: the priest was likely turning inward to try and find answers. Zackel paused in the doorway, glancing briefly over his shoulder.

When he looked away, he finally let the mask fall away from his features. He hadn't liked his deception, but considering how twisted up Ninos was over his own experiences, Zackel had figured that it would be better to present his story with its slight omission then tell him the whole truth. In his heart, he hoped that Ninos' past and future ended up working for him, one way or another.

When all was said and done, at least he wasn't a fool.

The Hero's Welcome inn had similarly cleared out as Zackel stepped into it, most of the guests having retired to their rooms. Zackel vaguely returned the wave of the assistant innkeeper as he headed upstairs to his room.

"Rielle? The Draenei, right?" The bare-chested man said. Zackel had been completely floored when he'd met the man, Commander Zanneth, and found actually DID walk around outside in the Northrend winter without a shirt. A small part of Zackel's mind had wondered how much food the Alliance leader went through every day to keep the metabolic fires burning in him to that degree.

"Yes, that's her." Zackel said, leaning against a table in the man's tent.

"Yes, I remember her. Mainly because I thought she went AWOL." Zanneth said, peering over a notice.

"She told you what happened?"

"Maybe. I don't remember. When she turned back up, the Horde had taken this structure and I was in the middle of organizing a counter-attack. A successful one, as you can see." Zanneth said. "I didn't really care about her supposed 'banishment' due to some issues she had with some mage, I needed strong arms. She provided them, helped take the mines back."

"And then she left." Zackel said with some resignation.

"No, actually. She hung around for some time after that. Apparently the mage she had a disagreement with had cleared out weeks before she got back, and she decided sticking around instead of futilely chasing him was a better use of her time. I appreciated it. I lost a fair number of good soldiers when they went to go investigate that Ulduar location. Though considering I hear they helped beat back an Old God, it's probably a good thing they went…"

"She went to Ulduar?"

"No, that incident was pretty much finished when she returned." Zanneth said, signing something on his paper before looking at Zackel. "However, something new has come up. The Argent Dawn is, well, WAS holding a tournament to find elite soldiers. She left to try and gain entry to that, about two weeks ago."

"A tournament? Where?"

"Far north of the Icecrown region." Zanneth said. "You sure you aren't interested in staying here? She might return, and I never turn down help."

"Sorry Commander." Zackel said, getting up off the table. "But I was never one for fighting with people we should be trying to make peace with."

"If that's how you feel." Zanneth said, and returned to his work, speaking no more as Zackel left his tent.

Despite how many adventurers and warriors that were traveling through Dalaran, the inn was fairly quiet as Zackel pulled out his key and opened the door. Moonlight streamed into the room through the window, but all that did was illuminate the emptiness of it. Zackel considered the bed a moment before turning towards the basic desk instead, sitting down and leaning his staff against the wall.

A moment later, it slipped and clattered against the floor. Zackel sighed as he leaned over to pick it up: at times like this, he missed his old red-gemmed staff. Maybe this new one, with its circular top adorned with feathers, was technically far stronger, but it was also top-heavy, something Zackel hadn't yet gotten used to. Then again, maybe that was what you got when you picked up the leftovers of the fallen…

"Can't you see I'm busy?" The gnome said, bent over a massive desk covered with papers and other bureaucratic paraphernalia.

"Sorry, sorry." Zackel said. "I was just trying to find your combatant records and I was directed here…"

"You mean the Trial of the Crusader records? HA!" The gnome said. "That was a disaster from the start! First that idiot Fizzlebang somehow summons an eredar lord, then that ravening nut bag Hellscream turned our peaceful coalition into another pissing contest, and just when you think it couldn't get any worse, the thrice-damned Lich King turns up and opens up a sinkhole beneath the coliseum! The whole place nearly fell right into the ground! Worse, he had one of his most powerful servants down there! Every single organized attempt we had in place to get data went right out the window! I think half the people who got pulled out of that hole alive hadn't even properly entered, they just jumped in to help!" The gnome said. "I'm sorry, this isn't your fault, but I feel like I'm wasting my time on a pointless endeavor here."

"…can I try and look through some of your records then?"

"Sure, if you want." The gnome said, producing a pipe and lighting it. "However, since you seem to be looking for someone, I can give you one bit of advice…"

With the staff more carefully placed, Zackel interlaced his fingers and stared at the wall in front of him. Remembering just what he had left out telling Ninos. Remembering…

He hadn't expected to find it until he did. He'd gone up to the graveyard as a means of elimination, refusing to believe it could be anything else. The refusal had lasted until he saw the name on the stone.

He didn't really remember falling to his knees. All he remembered was reaching out and touching the rough stone, so cold beneath his hand. Tracing the name there, not wanting to believe it.

Many had come to the Trial, to prove themselves worthy of fighting the Lich King. Of showing their strength. And in turn, many had not come back alive.

The world played no favorites, and gave no exceptions, in the matters of such things. All there was, was what there was. And that was that.

"…I'm sorry…" Zackel whispered, feeling the tears start to fall. Feeling Rielle's name beneath his hand, just one stone among many. Feeling all the possibilities fall apart, all that could have been, all that he'd thrown away. He'd gambled and lost, and this time, the responsibility lay solely with him.

"…I'm so sorry…" Zackel said, lowering his head. His tears fell to the snow beneath him, more heat to be swallowed by the coldness of the land.

In that moment, in that chill, Zackel thought he would never be warm again.

Except, Zackel now realized, that was not the way it should have been. He'd alternated the last week or so in his life between throwing himself into tasks given by the Argent Dawn to earn some of their rewards, to cloak himself in stronger threads and armaments so that he could survive, and raging and despairing over what the point of continuing was. Eventually, he'd grown weary in all aspects, and returned to Dalaran. He'd gone into the bar, planning to drink until he didn't feel the pain any more.

Then Ninos had come along, and Zackel had been briefly drawn out of his state by the unexpected strangeness the priest had brought him. Despite himself, despite his pain, Ninos' story had made Zackel recall his own.

In recalling it, over these past few hours, Zackel had realized the vital truths in it. He couldn't go down this path again, no matter what had caused it. If he did, he would stand to lose even more than he had. And that would be more than terrible. It would not be…

A knock came at his door. Zackel looked up from his mournful introspection, before standing up to open it.

Before he touched the knob, a sudden, impossible hope ran through him.

Until he opened it and saw the gnome standing there. The ethereal glint faded away, swallowed back into the reality of life. Zackel swallowed down the lump in his throat and looked at the gnome, who he didn't recognize.

"Yes?"

"Sayyyyy…" The gnome said, clearly intoxicated. "I saw you walkkin by, and I hadda know…do you purposely color-coordinate your armor and your weapon, and what does…"

Zackel firmly closed the door in the gnome's face. For a few seconds, he leaned against it, before a bubble of laughter spilled out from his mouth at the random absurdity of it all. At least the gnome hadn't asked him how he'd gotten his hair and his cloak to merge.

"Maybe I should switch up my follicle color…" Zackel said, making his way back over to the table, ignoring the gnome's sputtering yells outside as he sat back down, the gnome eventually going quiet.

For some time, he stared at his hands, at the faint scars on his knuckles and what they represented. He wondered that, in time, if he'd realize some even crueler possibilities of what had happened to him and Rielle, and why they'd separated, never to meet again. Maybe he'd subconsciously been afraid to fall in love again and had pushed her away. Maybe she herself had been scared of the intimacy and had readily accepted his logic of why they had had to part. Or maybe there would be no such answers, the only reason given being the cruel spokes on the wheel of fate.

But, as he'd sat there and spoken, he'd done what he should have done before, when he'd found the grave. He'd remembered.

All the things that had brought him to that castle, and all the things that he'd taken away from it…

At what he'd wanted, and what Rielle had wanted. How they'd know what that meant.

How they, for all they had gone through, had managed to mean something to each other. How each, burdened with their own regrets, would likely not want the other to return to that weighted, muted life. There was so much more in the world than that.

Even if some of the comforts ended up being so cold.

"Don't you dare do anything to disappoint me, mage."

Zackel remembered the words. He remembered the times, the games, the discussions. The feel of her body in his hands, of her lips against his. Of her self-assured smile and confident eyes. At the dear heart that lay behind them.

He had to. For her.

"…I won't." Zackel said, holding up his hands. "I won't disappoint you…or myself. I won't…do something so stupid. I promise…I promise."

The chill energies surged up, ice blooming into being above Zackel's hands. The flower took shape before him, its bud opening up into a perfect gem of ice.

"…I miss you." Zackel said, looking at the flower. "But I'll do more than just that. I will…"

Slowly, the flower began to spin. Zackel watched it, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

"…da dah…dah dah dah…dah dah dah dah, dah dah…"

Some ideas seemed so great for their time. Some stories seemed so marvelous. But nothing ever ended the way you thought it would. And all great love stories, after all, were tragedies.

Sometimes…that was just the way the wind blew.

"…goodbye."

"Some say love it is a river
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed

When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong

Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed
That with the sun's love
In the spring
Becomes the rose."

THE END...?