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-...-
Anduin came to feeling lighter than usual.
His mind felt empty, his vision blurry, but as he stood up, collecting himself, he began to pick up on his surroundings.
The stone flooring below him was old and beautiful, with dull greens and golds and blues and dark grays. It was also broken, cracked, and destroyed.
As the world came into focus, he blinked a few times, and picked up on small spots of red decorated among the flooring. Taking a closer look, kneeling down, he realized that the floor was not painted with dots, but was splattered with blood.
Fresh, sickeningly deep red, blood.
He followed the path of the splatters to their origin, and what he saw he did not expect.
A body.
Crushed between the flooring and a large, stone bell, was a body. The body was small and thin and motionless. The only movement was the mournful winds pushing the body’s ruffled blonde hair against the cold stone flooring.
Anduin watched as blood continued to seep across the flooring, and drip down from the blonde hair.
At first, his memory was fuzzy, and he wondered who it was so broken before him. But the wind picked up, grew louder, and he realized that the body below him...was him.
Memories flashed through his head, of the events that had just occurred, and he cried out, grabbing at his head. His heart raced and tears came to his eyes and-
Or at least it felt like they did. Anduin felt his emotions race at the memory of his actions, felt as though he could cry at his failures, and felt anxious about the unknown ramifications of his death. But he was not alive, and his existence was not inside a body. He had no real heart to race, no real tears to cry, and no head to grab.
He tried to look at himself, but found just the faint outlines of a humanoid form, and a large glowing ball, similar to that of a wisp, where his chest was.
“Do not be afraid.”
Anduin flinched, turning away from the body to face whoever spoke. Approaching him, from seemingly nowhere, was a large, blue-skinned woman. She glowed softly, and wore white cloth and golden plating, and had large fluffy wings. She towered over him, and yet she was only intimidating because Anduin was scared.
“I’m-” He spoke without thinking, his soul shaking in terror. “I’m dead!”
The woman looked at his soul with pity. She nodded, looking from Anduin to the body without showing any other emotion.
“Do not worry, child, death is not an end.” She said. “It is time to leave your past life behind. You will find a new purpose in the Shadowlands.”
She reached out gently to guide him, but Anduin stepped back. He’d registered that where he stepped was on debris from the bell, but his ghostly form went through the rubble like it was nothing, and Anduin felt himself break down further.
“I can’t be dead!” He looked away, shaking his head. “No!”
The woman’s face just looked at him, as if she’d seen it before. Denial. Shock. Like it was part of her daily routine.
“Dear child, you-”
“I need to stop Garrosh!” Anduin continued in his panic. “I need- I need tell my father about his plans!”
“That is all behind you now. You need not worry about the living anymore.”
“It’s my responsibility!!” Anduin yelled. “I dragged the Horde and Alliance here! I need to save Pandaria from their war! Please! I- I can’t afford to fail them!”
Guilt. She’d seen that too. And the way she looked down upon him made him angry.
“You!” He pointed at her. “You can revive me!”
The woman shook her head slowly, but all he saw was silent mocking. How dare she not understand the importance of this. What was she here for?
“You have to!” He begged. “More innocents will die If you don’t! Please! Listen to me!”
“Calm, dear child.” The woman spoke, but was cut off again.
“I’ll do anything! What do you want!?” Anduin tried to think of what he could do, what he could say, to get her to consider. “What will it take for you to revive me!?”
“I cannot simply revive you,-”
“Why not!?”
The woman held his shoulder gently, feeling the distress within his soul.
“We all must face our time, and it is not my judgement that can determine your path.” She said. “It is my job to see you to the Shadowlands comfortably, so that you can be judged before the Arbiter.”
Anduin breathed heavily, his soul projecting the sounds and expressions that it knew from living. The only reactions his soul knew. He searched the woman for any other emotions, but found that her touch had somehow calmed him.
No, he’d listened to her words, and realized his actions had cost him more then he’d ever know.
He felt his spirit fall, felt sorrow and sadness swell inside. He’d failed. This was it. He would have no choice but to move on, and he’d never know how Pandaria’s story continued.
The woman watched as fake tears swelled within the ghostly figure’s fake eyes. He watched as Anduin realized he’d left behind his father, and that his father would find his body, and that his father would not recover from that. His father would likely bring the Horde to it’s knees, and Anduin hated to think what future the citizens of Azeroth, of both factions, faced because of this.
“Your world will not be lost without you, child.” The woman said. “I see you care greatly for it. Know that you have the potential to continue serving those of your world should the Arbiter and Archon deem you worthy.”
He tried to think positively, that maybe his father would take to heart his son’s words of peace and would try to mend the broken factions once Garrosh was brought to justice. But it was a difficult vision.
“The Arbiter. Will they be able to revive me?” He asked, weakly, already giving in to the fate he’d secured himself.
“That is but a question for the Arbiter herself.” The woman saw the boy calm, and smiled. “Come, it is time we leave this-”
It happened so quickly.
Something in the wind, flying down from dark mists within the ghostly sky. It was quick, far too quick. Neither Anduin nor the woman had noticed in time to stop it.
A spear, colored dark with greys and silvers, penetrated the blue angel leading him away. It stabbed her chest, the dark energy within the weapon seeping into the woman’s body and spirit. Anduin fell back, watching as the woman gasped and cried out in pain.
She went from calm and nearly robotic to a crumbling mess of pain and cries, and her screams grew louder and more echoed and hoarse. Anduin watched as she burst into a blinding light, and when he could see her again, she was holding the dark spear, and she was silent.
She stood up, tall, shoulders high.
She was no longer blue and white and gold. She was dark silvers and grays.
And she stared down at him, emotionless again.
The woman radiated dark energy, energy Anduin did not understand, nor did he recognize. But he knew that it was wrong. Whatever just happened, whatever he’d just witnessed, was not supposed to happen.
The dark mists swarmed around her, and around them, and the bell and the body. Anduin saw her eyes flicker to his body.
“You.”
She spoke, her voice deeper and carried a strict tone. It frightened him again, sending a chill through his soul.
“Stand.”
Anduin did as told, his ghostly body standing from the ground.
“You have a purpose beyond the Archon and the Arbiter’s understanding.” She said, an echo in her voice, as though a greater, darker evil spoke through her.
“What-” He gasped out. “What’s going on?”
“The Shadowlands is not ready for you, Anduin Wrynn.” She continued. “You must return to the realm of the living until you are needed again.”
Anduin looked wide-eyed, shocked. But...she just said he couldn’t. What changed? Why couldn’t he go? Why wasn’t he happy about this?
He had little time to react, however, as the dark angel stepped over, closer to him and his body, and began to channel a strange looking magic.
A dark looking power flowed from between her hands, and connected with his corpse. He watched as the magic seeped within his mortal form, causing him to glow. As the magic was channeled, his soul felt itself being pulled back towards the body. He felt himself being called back into life.
And his last thought, before his soul’s consciousness blurred and went dark, was that he knew this was wrong.
He was supposed to be dead.
-...-
He awoke slowly.
He felt a nearby warmth, and heard soft breathing to his side.
Groaning, he tried to shift his head, his body, but all that he felt was pain. He tried to blink a few times, to get a clear look at his settings, but even doing that hurt badly.
“Anduin?”
He hear a familiar deep voice, lined with worry and hope. He forced his head to turn, and saw a figure sitting beside him. Long dark brown hair fell over the figure’s shoulders, into clarity, and he realized that it was his father.
“Anduin!”
Varian, too, realized that Anduin had woken up, and the relief in his voice was clear as well. What Anduin couldn’t see was the older man’s tears, and the red in his eyes.
Anduin was confused. Why did everything hurt, and why was his father so sad? He’d not seen his father cry in...ever? He couldn’t remember. He tried to remember, but failed, and then tried to think back on what the last thing he could remember was.
He could only feel distant visions, of a dark gold and green and gray flooring, and of splattered blood. His blood?
He didn’t know.
But in those visions, he felt something wrong.
He looked up to his father, who was celebrating his son’s survival, his son’s life, and Anduin knew that this was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
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