17 - My Past, Present & Future
The prickle of static intensified. It ebbed and flowed under my feathers, creating goose-bumps on my flesh. My quills felt as though they were vibrating - tiny, but insistent little tremors deep in my skin. It was becoming uncomfortable.
I scanned the rooftops and buildings to the southwest of my location towards Cathedral Square. I couldn't see anything which could be the source of this strange affliction. Yet, somehow I knew whatever was reaching out to me came from somewhere within that sector.
My stunned avian kin were beginning to recover from my earlier frost attack. Some flew away, perhaps afraid of my ability. Others eyed me suspiciously, aggressively.
Then I felt it. A tug. It was not another bird attempting retaliation though. It was magic. Powerful magic.
I glanced down around my feet. The husks of kernels were bouncing on the surface of the feeder as if a rhythm was being steadily beat out on the wood. I watched, unnerved yet strangely exhilarated by the grain dance.
Quite suddenly I was overwhelmed by an echo. Voices, both recognisable and unfamiliar, vacillated around me. An image of the Dark Portal floated in front of my eyes before merging with faces I knew; Ocel, Drew, Erik, Modera, Kalecgos, Illidan - and Sarah.
Countless, nameless others shimmered in the background, their shapes wavering between stable and tenuous forms. Then all started to spin at a mind-boggling speed turning into a kaleidoscope of blurred colour. I flinched as their pitches altered; crying, wailing, shouting, screaming. Then a brutal, deafening lull followed.
The unusually loud pitter-patter of grain dropping back to the feeder surface brought me out of my trance.
I surveyed my immediate surroundings. All the birds had flown. I was the last one standing.
My body was just recovering from the static invasion when another, more persistent tug pulled at me. The spiculum started to build once more. Again, sounds, voices and images rushed past me then double-backed, flowing over me, through me.
My breath caught in my throat as suddenly everything went dark. I blinked rapidly, panic gripping my body. Dark grey, misty brown shapes surrounded me. Stone, metal. It all started to shift, rise, restructure. As it reverted to its former glory, so did I.
I saw myself as the Archmage Khadgar again, standing at the entrance to the Dark Portal. I was staring at Sarah. Her hair was all tousled, dirt smudges on her face, her clothes dusty and torn. But still she was beautiful. I saw her mouth moving, forming my name. Forgive me, I uttered before everything reversed and I was once more encased in darkness.
More violently still, I was jettisoned from this vision and spat out onto the seed littered feeder. I stumbled. Failing to keep my balance I toppled over and hit the floor of the flat roof, landing on my injured wing. My cry of pain seemed to reach out across the city. I swore I could hear the guttural screech ricochet off every nearby building and beyond.
The phenomenon, it appeared, was not yet done with me. I could sense a shift in its power. My body started to tremble, feathers flexed, pulling at my skin again. I pushed up, spreading my wings. As I rose into the air, a shooting pain in my left scapular caused me to bank. I plummeted a few feet before righting myself seconds before I nearly smashed into the wall of a nearby building. Flying was suddenly a most difficult exercise, and I panted as I strove to maintain altitude.
I could feel the magic drawing me. I could not ascertain, however, whether it was due the affiliation I possessed with sorcery or something else which steered me towards Cathedral Square. All I knew was the need to go there was critical.
More worryingly was the fact my thoughts were becoming irrevocably muddled. My self-awareness of only moments earlier was in jeopardy of being somehow corrupted, distorted. One moment I knew with the utmost clarity who I was, then seconds later, I had no recollection. Back and forth it went, the memories becoming frayed at the edges, my identity vanishing from the recesses of my mind.
A voice, faint and distant spoke to me. Remember, all is not lost, Khadgar. I clung to the words of my dear, late friend, Ocel. The image of him whispering to me in the Dark Portal shimmered and wavered, threatening to be extinguished altogether. But his voice had reached me.
I had a goal to aim for and I could not lose sight of that. I had to adhere to the path. So I kept repeating the words in my head – All is not lost. All is not lost. All is not …
My vision misted over. Exhaustion was setting in as I crossed the boundary into the Cathedral Square.
Again, I felt the dynamics of the magic alter. I was losing control. It is, without doubt, the strangest thing to experience; knowing that everything I had learned over the years, all that I had strived to achieve; faces, names, places I'd been to and relationships I'd built, were being eradicated from my memory, piece by piece. And there was nothing I could do about it. That plane between awareness and ignorance was one of the most bizarre places I had ever found myself and it was also one of the most frightening.
All is not lost. All is not lost.
Another strange side-effect of this magical pull came in the form of astral projection. Everything suddenly blurred. My vision beheld two ravens, my substantial self and another diaphanous version.
They flew together for a moment then pulled apart and I found myself looking down on the back of my injured self. Some of my memories thankfully had been transposed to the ethereal raven, so a small portion of my identity remained. It was then the real me felt the unmistakable grasp of an ancient power.
I was snared, captured, drawn to the window of the house overlooking Stormwind harbour. For all my left wing's injury from an arrow shaft had opened anew I fought against the pull of whatever was luring me towards the building. The pain, however, was excruciating and starting to take its toll.
There was no way I could maintain this furious effort any longer. Although I knew I would drop like a stone as soon as I stopped using my wings, I was too exhausted to care. Resigned to the fact I was either going to receive more injuries or at worst, die, I gave in to the lure of blissful oblivion.
To my utter amazement, I did not fall. My wings remained spread, they neither flapped nor folded, and yet my body moved relentlessly towards the window.
Realisation dawned - I was riding a wave of magic. As I neared the opening, I saw azure light pulsing, growing steadily brighter. I could hear it too; the unmistakable thrum and throb of an ancient, powerful magic- its sound almost tangible. It reached out from the building, beckoning me to partake of its power, to bathe in its ineluctable charm.
I neared the open window. In that instant, my memory cleared somewhat and I recognised my study! It was from here the magic stemmed and its caster was an enormous purple-skinned humanoid; a night elf. By all accounts an extremely powerful one too, whom I did not recognise.
What little energy I had left was waning yet I tried once more to pull away, to take back control. My experience had drained me however and I was left scuffling on the balcony, all to no avail.
As my body crossed the entrance to the room, the elf looked up. His eyes were amber, full of fire and fierce determination. He stood in front of a circle of runic symbols. They spun on the floor like a spinning top, pulsing, rising and falling with each chant I heard him utter.
My heart started to pound again; exhaustion gave way to fear once more. In a last desperate effort, I tried to break free of what dragged me towards the amber-eyed man, but it was pointless. He had me in the grip of a summoning spell.
I was suddenly and brutally slammed on the ground within the revolving symbols. Also drawn within that circle was my spiritual raven. Once more I was whole.
In the background, I thought I heard a woman scream but dismissed it as the pain in my left wing overtook everything else I sensed. But it was nothing compared to what I had yet to endure.
My entire body began to elongate, expand. I could hear and feel my bones breaking. Torturously, they knitted back together before breaking yet again as my body continued to distort and grow. The excruciating torment repeated itself over and over.
I cried out for the agony to stop but the amber-eyed male continued chanting over the thrum of magic, his harangue intensifying with every magical utterance. Somehow, I recognised the words. I knew the incantation.
The brief surprise gave way to another agonised screech as I felt my skin rip and peel off my muscle and bones. The avian contours and rectrices were absorbed into my torn flesh and replenished by new growth of both skin and feather which altered yet again to - cloth! My body felt like it was being turned inside out.
If this did not stop, I was going to die for sure.
Not only was my body ravaged by the physical alterations but my mind was being flooded with all my memories again. They crashed together like a stormy sea rushing against an unforgiving rock face; throwing up visions and snatching them back, over and over. I was bearing witness to my past, present and future in the most brutal transformation.
My torso and limbs literally burned as they re-formed, lengthened, stretched, fleshed out. Vertebrae expanded, popping audibly as they formed the human spine. I thrashed violently upon the floor. It was physically and emotionally impossible to remain immobile during the process. I prayed to Elune to render me unconscious but she did not heed my pleas.
My legs felt the most excruciating pain of all. The musculature rippled and pounded beneath the repeated laceration of flesh. Veins, tendons, ligaments all went through my barbarous cruciation. The continual absorption and emergence of new plumage was akin to thousands of small serrated blades wheedling through and over my body.
Wings which in effect were a bird's hands, contracted and realigned, the snapping of bone and osseous matter turning my morphing appendages into tortured claws. As my upper and lower arms developed, gradually my hands took on their human form.
By the time my facial structure began its transformation, exhaustion was finally starting to offer me a means of escape. The nicitating membrane of my avian eyes was consumed by my tear ducts and ciliary muscles gave way to the human iris and lens.
Vaguely, blinking slowly, I remembered watching the night elf, illuminated by the azure spinning symbols. His enormous physique loomed over me.
My now human mouth managed the smallest of smiles as I saw he held Atiesh in his hands. He pounded it on the floor, keeping up the ancient spell. Once, twice, three times.
The room then hushed. Runic symbols stopped spinning. The elf quieted.
I lay panting, covered in hundreds of loose feathers. As the intense pain had eased, I assumed my body was fully transformed, but I did not have the energy to inspect myself.
Deep aches still lingered in every joint, every muscle and bone serving a very real reminder of what I had just endured. I swear even my hair hurt at that point. The floor beneath my ravaged body offered only slight relief in the coolness of its wooden boards. I think I whimpered.
I was utterly drained and in dire need of sleep. Someone touched my head. I groaned, pulling myself out a foetal position. The movement caused the feathers to shift and tumble from by body.
Sounds nearby stirred me a little. "No!" I heard a woman whisper. "This cannot be!"
I groaned, relief washing over me. I knew that voice; that wonderful voice. "Sarah." I managed before I felt consciousness slip from me.