//------------------------------// // Letters (Act I Epilogue) // Story: Azeroth's Skies // by TerrabreakerX //------------------------------// Dear Princess Celestia, How are you doi I hope this letter finds you well. It feels like it has been so long since I last saw you, but in truth it has been a mere two months. For us, at least. I don’t know what kind of time dilation effect may have occurred when we travelled. Travelled… ‘Flung’ would perhaps be a better word. Flung into a world nothing like Equestria. Oh, Celestia, I hope you never come to see it. Azeroth is a dark, terrible place. I’ve read about so much evil… so much pain. I had hope. I thought we could start small, use all that we had learned, all that you had taught us, to solve a problem practically in our own backyard. And it nearly destroyed us. I thought I we could change things for the better. I haven’t entirely given up on that yet. Maybe, with time, we can. But now I’m resigned to the fact that this place will change us more than we’ll change it. It’s already started to happen, and it’s showing in all of us to varying degrees. I don’t know about our elements… especially Fluttershy and Rarity. I think the others are holding onto theirs for now. But we’ve all become hardened. I think we have to be, just to survive. We still want to come home. We miss our families, our friends, our loved ones. I miss my parents, Shining Armor, Cadence, Spike. Oh, Spike… But now I’m not so sure we should. Are we tainted by what we’ve seen, what we’ve done? We’ll keep searching. We’ll keep our hope alive. I pray we have more than just hope left by the time we’re done. I miss your guidance. I miss you, my teacher, my friend. Yours always, Princess Twilight Sparkle Twilight set the quill down gently, careful not to smear the table with any of the ink from the still-wet nib. She picked up the parchment and examined her handiwork. At least my handwriting’s getting better. She placed it back on the desk, lining it up with the others she’d already completed in that hour. The improvement between them was minor, but if she could have compared it to the first she’d written then the difference would be plain as day. Seventy-seven. Not bad. She didn’t know when she would stop, how many letters she would write. Maybe I won’t stop until I die. She leaned back into the soft armchair. It was nice of Malin to have granted her the use of this pocket study. He said she’d earned it. She didn’t really think she had. She let the tension slip out of her muscles. The aches and pains from the Deadmines no longer troubled her, at least not physically; a month of rest had seen to that. But sometimes she could still feel the blistering heat of the forge, the sting of Captain Greenskin’s spear, VanCleef’s choking grip as he had held her up, ready to end her. And it seemed that the harder she tried not to remember, the more those recent wounds flared up. The minutes immediately after VanCleef had died – after she had killed him – were still a blur to her. She remembered knowing that they were still being chased, desperately searching for a way out, and spotting a large opening in the rock on the starboard side of the ship. She remembered jumping down the ship, one layer at a time, scaring a bipedal fish creature carrying a ladle half to death as they landed at the bottom… and then she was supporting Pinkie as they crossed a bridge and made their bid for freedom. Fluttershy hadn’t wanted to leave, never mind that staying meant certain death. She’d clung to Wilder’s body like a barnacle to a rock, and it seemed that she would not be dragged away, until Applejack had solved the problem by picking up and carrying his corpse over her shoulders. The spear had slipped out as she did so, a fresh spurt of scarlet staining the sky and causing the hunter to break out into a fresh round of sobs, but Rainbow was on hand with some cloth to staunch the wound and provide the noble companion with some dignity in death. He’d just given his life to save their friend, after all. It was the least they could have done. They had made their way through the tunnel, still unsure whether it was even a way out, but with no other option than to hope. Rainbow had held up the limping Rarity, her leg still not fully mended from VanCleef’s savage hamstring. After a good fifteen minutes of having struggled through the narrow passage, constantly feeling like the enemy could catch up with them at any moment, they had finally burst out into the fresh air to greet the early autumn sunset. It was only then that Twilight had become aware of the fact that they had been inside the Deadmines for a mere two hours. Two hours that had felt a lot more like two days. Escaping the mines hadn’t meant that they were safe, and they had hurried down the hills away from the place as quickly as they could, constantly sneaking glances behind, expecting to be ambushed by vengeful rogues at any moment. Only when they reached the sanctuary of Sentinel Hill had they breathed a sigh of relief. Gryan Stoutmantle hadn’t quite believed them when they told him their story – hadn’t quite dared to hope – but nonetheless promised to send his scouts to try to verify their claims in the morning. They experienced restless sleep that night, and more than one of them awoke with a cold sweat, or screaming, from the things they saw in their dreams. They buried Wilder first thing the next day in a small grave on the outskirts of the town, rising at dawn to do the deed and pay their respects. Fluttershy stayed with him till the sun set once more, her eyes either on the ground by her feet or on the marking stones that indicated his sacrifice. The reports had started flooding in during around noon, among them news that Defias outposts across the zone were collapsing by the dozen, of a mass exodus of fugitives from the Moonbrook area, and by the middle of the afternoon Gryan had been confident enough in them to sally out to the base himself with a group of guards from the People’s Militia as security. They made their way into the mines, finding evidence of the Defias’s industry, the juggernaut they had schemed over, and the broken body of VanCleef at the top. Gryan announced their success as soon as he had returned after burying VanCleef’s body outside Moonbrook in an unmarked grave, and apologised for his reluctance to believe them in the first place. The whole town praised the heroes who had come from the north, believing that their fortunes had reversed and sure for the first time in a long while that the next dawn would bring a brighter future with it. But the six hadn’t felt like celebrating. All they wanted more than ever was to go home. Another scroll arrived while they waited, but it brought news of events further afield than the dusty plains. The lost king of Stormwind, Varian Wrynn, had returned, and after some turmoil and confusion in the city he had defeated a plot by some of the nobles to seize power. Lady Katrana Prestor, one of the de-facto rulers of the land in his absence, had disappeared, and there was something vague about the involvement of dragons, too. The message had promised that more troops would be sent to stabilise Westfall in the coming weeks, and to help rout the Defias from the realm. “Wait until they find out you’ve already solved the problem!” Stoutmantle had chortled as he read the message after getting back. He promised that he would inform Stormwind of their actions, and that the newly restored king himself would know their names. They had set off the next morning, limping slowly back towards the capital, towards the closest thing they had left to call home. Twilight snapped out of her reminiscing with a start – I must’ve dozed off, she thought. It was quite easy to do in such a comfortable chair when the fire was so warm and the temperature outside was so low. She realised what had awakened her – footsteps. The sound of someone deliberately approaching the door to her pocket study. She grabbed up her letters and hurriedly set them on fire with but a thought, just as she had all the others she’d written. They burned to a crisp in an instant, and she quickly scraped the ashes into a nearby trashcan. “'sup, Twilight?” Pinkie burst into the room, the door slamming shut over the portal after she pushed her way. “Writing your letters to the princess again?” She had no idea how Pinkie had found out she was writing them, but she’d long since tried to give up on being surprised about anything regarding the pink-haired woman. Perhaps it was just obvious. “Yes. You know me too well. Are you okay?” “Yep! Just wondering if you’re ready to go.” Of course – Twilight had the afternoon off, and she’d arranged to meet up with Pinkie for tea after the priest finished a shift at the cathedral. Did I oversleep? “Sorry, I meant to meet you outside… I lost track of time and, you know…” “It’s 'kay. I knew you’d be in here anyway. We’re not late!” “Good – let’s get going.” They made their way out of the room, Twilight locking it behind them, then began the long trek down the tower together. “How’s she doing?” the mage asked as they passed through the tower’s entrance. Pinkie didn’t need to ask for clarification as to who she was talking about. “I walked her all the way to the district today, but she was as silent as ever.” Fluttershy was spending more and more of her time in the Dwarven District. She’d withdrawn almost completely into her shell, only sitting with them in secluded silence during meals and the evenings. They thought it best to give her the space she wanted to grieve. They had settled back into Elling Trias’s house upon their return. He and his wife were happy to have them back, especially after they heard the extent of the girls’ story, though something small did seem to be bothering him. “Nothing,” he said when they asked him about it. “It just appears that I may owe someone a little more than I thought, now.” They had offered the six paid employment whenever they wanted it, and free room and board too, for their assistance earlier that month had been invaluable and had greatly increased their prosperity. Archmage Malin had also reacted positively once Twilight returned to the tower. “You have defeated a menace that posed a terrible threat to this city and the kingdom as a whole. Be rightfully proud of your actions, and know that you are always welcome in this tower, friend.” She couldn’t work up the courage to tell him how she really felt about it. Outside of such personal recognition, the breaking of the Brotherhood had flown under the radar of many in the city. The nobles rarely concerned themselves with the affairs of the common folk outside the keep, and those who might have benefited from the abating of bandit attacks on the roads were rather more interested in the return of King Wrynn, something which overshadowed VanCleef’s death completely – and suited Twilight just fine. She didn’t want to be a celebrity in a city that still didn’t feel like her own. Returning her thoughts to Fluttershy, Twilight bit her lip sadly. “We just need to give her more time.” “Yeah… still makes you wish you could do something for her though, doesn’t it? “Mm.” “I know!” Pinkie gasped. “Maybe I’ll throw her a mourning party to help her! She seemed to pick up a bit when I threw that “return to Stormwind party’!” Isn't that basically a funeral? Twilight grimaced. “Maybe not the time. And the only reason she perked up was because of the wine that Rainbow gave her… You didn’t see how sick she was the next morning…” They left the Mage District and crossed through the tunnel into the canals. They’d found a café on the southern approach to the Old Town a week before that produced the kind of sweet pastries that Pinkie rated as exceptional and brewed the perfect tea to help Twilight unwind. “Any word from Applejack and Rainbow Dash?” “Oh, yeah!” Pinkie exclaimed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a postcard. “This arrived at the house just after you left this morning.” It was addressed to all of them in Rainbow’s shaky scrawl. “She says they’re both doing fine… They’ve gone south from Ironforge and are currently staying in an inn in Kharanos. “Lots of love and make sure you have lots of apples in for when we get back in two weeks”… that last part was Applejack. Sounds like they’re doing better.” The two had announced that they wanted to take a trip somewhere else – to explore the world a bit more, and get their bodies used to some of the different environments of Azeroth. They’d taken the Deeprun tram north a week ago to Ironforge, capital of the Dwarven people, and were planning on hiking through the snow-capped mountains of Dun Morogh for a little while. The mage suspected that they also wanted to keep their minds off what was bothering them, too. Keep themselves busy, and deal with it in their own time. “Sounds too cold for me though. Don’t get me wrong, I like winter, but I’m happier living somewhere that isn’t covered in snow every day of the year. Staying warm’s so much harder when you don’t have a natural fur coat.” “Speaking of clothes, did Rarity catch up to you about her designs?” “Yeah! She was saying she wants us to model for them again. She’s been showing her designs around, and she’s got some positive responses; I think she said she’s talking to some property owners about renting a store for a day to drum up some interest once she’s put a few together.” Twilight pursed her lips. Rarity was the most puzzling of her friends at present; she was the only one who had been giving the impression of complete stability from the moment they had stepped back into Stormwind – she was the only one acting as if nothing untoward had occurred – and it was that perfect image that caused the mage to doubt that she was. Even Pinkie, who was continuously proving herself to be the best adjusting of the group to their circumstances, was having her off days here and there. Twilight just couldn’t buy that Rarity could cut the throat of someone for the first time in cold blood and then walk around like everything was fine a few days later. She wondered what they would find when the mask finally cracked, and she worried for her friend as a result. “That’ll be good.” she said at last. “I could definitely use the distraction.” And her own problems? The fact that every time she went to sleep she woke up only a few hours later after seeing VanCleef’s haunting visage? She'd killed a man. She'd taken a life to save that of her friend. She'd broken the code she tried to live by, that only a few days, even a few minutes before, she'd been chastising her friends for breaking too. And she found herself okay with that. Because I saved Pinkie. Because VanCleef was a villain, created by both the circumstances he was thrown into and by his own choices. Because he never would have been talked out of his quest for vengeance. She saw that now. She was beginning to suspect that she had been quite naive the past few weeks. That suspicion didn't make her change in thinking, perhaps ideals, any easier, but she was coming to accept it nonetheless. Even putting that aside, she was still yet to make any progress towards getting them to Equestria, despite devoting almost every waking moment – every moment that she wasn’t spending learning from Malin or with her friends, at least – to the problem. Twilight knew that her friends were understanding and that they had things on their minds that they wanted to work out anyway, but she’d hoped to have some idea, some lead by now. Maybe I’ll have some luck when I talk to the king. She’d been promised an audience with him, eventually – he had a lot of matters of state to resolve after his long absence. She wondered how far the “heroines of Westfall” card would go towards getting them and audience with some of Azeroth’s big players, the ones she’d read about in the books – who might be able to call on the kind of forces that would help get them home. Pinkie smiled sympathetically and pulled her into a side-on hug. “Feel free to pop by the cathedral then on Wednesdays. We go see the orphans after lunch; I bet they’d appreciate some of your fireworks. They’re probably getting sick of mine by now.” “Thanks, Pinkie. I appreciate it.” She smiled back as they came into sight of the café. Pinkie really did try hard to keep their spirits up – she made for a pretty good priest, both on the healing side and when looking after their mental well being, and she couldn’t help but feel a little better whenever they spoke. “I hope they’ve made double of those teacakes – I think I might be able to match you today!” So things still aren’t amazing, Twilight thought as they raced each other to the door of the eatery, their feet tossing the last fallen leaves of the previous season out of their path into the canal. Our way ahead may be unclear but we still have our options. If I’m their leader… and definitely as their friend, I need to put their interests first. I swear that I’ll look after them until we get home. And, well, at least we can appreciate how peaceful it is here right now. Far away from the shore, a good hour from the Stormwind docks, a quintet of objects hovered over the sea. They were large, blocky, edged constructs of dark metal, structures unlike anything most of the city would have seen before – except those who were veterans of the third war. They belched great orange clouds of contagion which helped to keep them aloft in balance with the ancient magic and technology that powered them. The civilisation that first built the structures that inspired them would have called them ziggurats. They were better known in the modern world as ‘plague spreaders’. At some unseen command from their distant master they began to float with purpose towards the waiting city as a huge winged monstrosity of bone and ice flapped into place protectively above them. Once, it had been a noble dragon of the blue flight, but no longer. More of its kind appeared in the sky, bearing groups of men and women in darkly coloured robes, and undead of many different kinds. All would serve. All would die. It was time for the invasion to begin.