[CE] My Mylarie

Emerald Dream
((Kicking off the Short Story contest! Enjoy))

I dipped the ladle into the warm broth and lifted it. The soup held a meager amount of sustenance I knew, but it was the only thing my beautiful Mylarie could still eat. The liquid sloshed into the wooden bowl as I poured it in, my mind thinking of by gone times, a time before the destruction of Nordrassil, when my people lived forever with little fear of the ultimate absolution that befell the other races. An absolution known as death.

For twelve thousand years, I have walked Azeroth. I have beheld wonders and tragedies that none other than my kin can even recall. Yet in the end, it was that nobility, the power that allowed us to live forever, that the world demanded as sacrifice for its protection. So it was, when Archimonde came for the world tree, a tree I had seen blossom, a tree I had loved and tended with my druid brothers before the Emerald Dream beckoned us to that long slumber, was destroyed. Along with the death of the first Nordrassil went our security from the cold grasp of time. Of all the dragon aspects, many believe Neltharion to be the darkest. I feel, that secretly in the hearts of all the Kaldorei, they believe Nozdormu to truly be the most malevolent for stewarding the foe known as time.

I reigned my thoughts in as I focused my mind back to present and the humble cottage I was standing in. There was no sense in lamenting. What was done that fateful day on Mount Hyjal was immutable. I could do nothing now but toss aside my ancient hubris. I carried the bowl into the room Mylarie was in. While seeing my beloved brought a smile to my face for thousands of years and lifted my heart more than anything when I awoke from the dream, seeing her now invoked a horrible agony.

Her once silky and lavender skin was pallid and ashy. Her hair, as green as the most wondrous hue that the forest could provide, was disheveled and oily. Her face, once peerless and perfect in every way was crinkling with the onset of the rapid aging that now afflicted the most ancient of the Night Elves. I did not think she was ugly however. Mylarie would always be beautiful to me, no matter what cruelty this world bestowed upon her vanity. The pain of the image came from the end I knew would now inevitably come.

"Karoot..." she breathed weakly to me, her glowing eyes fluttering open, dimmer than last I saw them and much dimmer than when we had met all those millennia ago. That voice, as frail as it was, sounded more beautiful to my ears than all of the song birds in the forest of Ashenvale.

"I am here," I answered softly. As I moved to her, her eyes did not seem to follow me and worry grew. I sat on the stool next to the bed and laid the broth down on the night stand. I placed my hand atop hers to assure her I was there.

"I cannot see," she said to me in a surprisingly calm tone, a sentiment I could not echo in my own heart, so I remained silent, unfamiliar with the entire process. Never, in twelve thousand years, had I sat beside a loved one as they died of something so common as time. Now, I had to experience such a thing with the person I loved more than anyone else in the world. A profound sadness gripped my soul as tears rolled down my cheek unrestrained. Why? My mind was unable to step beyond that ever so basic question. I knew I should say some thing, that I should reassure her that things would be okay, that I would travel to the ends of the world if only to have her live one minute longer with me. It was selfish I knew, to desire to prolong her suffering for the sake of my own happiness, but I could not help such thoughts anymore than I stop my undying affection for her.

Her hand slipped from under my own and slowly rose to cup my cheek. Her delicate and vitreous fingers traced my face, feeling every one of my now abundant wrinkles. Time had begun to assault me as well. It was inevitable that I too would die of this ailment known as venerability. However, I would die alone, without my beloved Mylarie to comfort me as I passed. I took solace only in that she did not have to suffer alone herself. It was a meager comfort but it was something and a sacrifice I would make again and again for her. I knew however, that this abdication could only be made once.

"It is the middle of the day," she said to me. "You should be asleep..."

I looked to the thin ray of sun light that ran across her chest, the warmth likely indicating to her the time of day despite her blindness.

"I could not sleep, " I replied as I savored the feel of her touch. It was as loving as it had ever been, not an ounce of her affection for me was lost in her descent. Though her adulation brought me a moment of happy reprieve, it was quickly washed away in a sea of grief knowing that this sentiment would be stolen from me soon.

"You are crying," she announced curiously, the salty tears soaking her fingers. "I-I am to die soon?"

"Yes..." I said, my voice cracking on just that one word as I could feel the life waning within her. "You will not make it through the night I believe."

"I am sorry, Karoot," she said to me, sorrow filling her tone. "I am so very sorry..."

"You have no need to be sorry, my love," I said in reply, what little courage I still had mustered to the surface. I needed to be strong for her, though I felt like a lone Sentinel standing uselessly but firmly before an army of demons.

"I am sorry that I have to leave you behind, I feel so... selfish.. I won't be he-" she began to protest, but I put a finger tenderly on her dry and cracking lips to silence her.

"I left you behind to go to the Emerald Dream for most of our lives. This is the least I can do for you. These years with you since my return have been the most joyous years of my life. Do not tarnish your dying hours with regrets. It will be the most difficult thing I have ever done, but I will continue on with my life as you had to when I was with my brothers in the Dream," I said, and for the first time in my life, I truly regretted my decision that day to combat the Nightmare and leave this woman behind. "You will be with the goddess soon, I wish you to look back fondly on these moments."

While I now regretted my decision to leave that fateful day, the smile that came to her lips was worth whatever regret I would bear for my now mortal life. For the rest of the day, we recalled fond memories of the past until she lost her ability to speak early that eve. It was not long after that she, my Mylarie, passed away.


I kept my promise to move on. For a few years, I spent my time with the Argent Dawn and then the Argent Crusade curing the Plaguelands with my druidic magic from the ravages caused by the Scourge and was met with rousing success. The lands had improved markedly under our stewardship and the greenery of the Eastern Kingdoms had begun to return. Though there was still much to be done, it would have to be done by others.

I was now in the same cottage, in the same bed, as my Mylarie was that tragic day. When my age began to hit me, I retired gracefully from service with the Argent Crusade. I did not wish my fellows to have to experience the same pain I knew from that day, so I at last returned home to live out my dying days in solitude, in the cottage surrounded by the nature I pledged the majority of my life studying and where the fondest years of my life had come to an end.

My sight was gone, just as it had been in the final hours for my love all those year ago. However, I was not as sharp as my beautiful huntress had been. I knew not what the time of day was I felt no warmth upon me, nor could I smell the broth I had prepared for myself the eve before that sat on the night stand. I felt only the cold black hand of time that caused the fermentation of my very flesh.

I lay there, afraid of the inevitable bereavement that would soon claim me. What awaited me in the next realm? Did the goddess truly take us to her side? Was my soul even worthy of such salvation? A cloud of incertitude cast a shadow over me.

That was when I felt the warm ray of the sun across my chest and a hand placed upon my own.

((okay, I've never actually researched worgen/gilneas life...worgen are immoral or were? ))
(( Ummm the story isn't about a worgen. It is about night elves... It is a short story, not an RP post.

"Karoot..." she breathed weakly to me, her glowing eyes fluttering open, dimmer than last I saw them and much dimmer than when we had met all those millennia ago.

Makes it pretty obvious the narrator is a male Nelf named Karoot. ))
02/15/2013 11:11 AMPosted by Rettribution
worgen are immoral or were?

((Debatable. But I'm gonna go with yes. Filthy animals.))
((Hi, my name is Mylarie and I am a Human Death Knight.))

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