Alone I sit on the white marble stone of the moonwell. Despite the cold of the morning air, I prefer to not wear clothing while I meditate. I stare into the swirling pool of glowing, mystical water. Sometimes it reveals visions of other places and times.
It is yet another quiet afternoon in the mystical valley of Moonglade. It always feels like spring in this place. Despite the constant change of seasons all across Azeroth, it never changes here. There is always the smell of new life and new growth. I have often wondered if this valley exists because of the druids who call it home, or do the druids exist because of the promise of balance and harmony this place teaches its inhabitants.
I am a Cenarion Dreamwarder. Long ago I devoted myself to the Order of Cenarius, and I have lived an ascetic life here ever since. I gave up my sense of self, possession, and even my own name, to devote my life to my job, which is to watch and tend to the countless druids who live, and slumber in the Stormrage Barrow Dens. I am not alone in this task. There are others who live as I do. In fact, across the northern reaches of Kalimdor there are several dens such as this.
Today, as I sit by the moonwell in meditation, I can't help but think about a strange word that has come to my ears. A little over a month ago a dying tauren said the word "Meekha" to me as he entered the barrow den for his long sleep.
This word Meekha translates several different ways. In Kaldorie it means peace, in draconic it means tenacity, and in orcish it means favored one. But, these diverse meanings matter little to me. The truth is that I heard this word in a prophetic dream long ago.
I had this dream while I was young. I was meditating near a moonwell as I am today. In it, I saw a war erupt in the deserts of Silithus. Great hordes of scarabs were pouring out of Ahn'Qiraj with the intention of devouring the world. But, in their way stood a massive beast. I know now that this creature was a druid in bear form, but unlike any that I have ever seen. This bear would kill the scarabs by the dozens with its powerful swipe, and its roar would shake the very ground, making the mindless invaders pause in their tracks.
I watched this battle continue for some time, wondering who would come to help this brave soul. Finally a flight of bronze dragons descended from the sky and called out to the beast, Meekha they called it.
After I awoke from the dream I researched the name Meekha in the archives and found no druid bearing such a name in all of our history. So, I concluded that this dream is of the future, instead of the past.
That is why when the tauren said that word, I was startled. Perhaps he had experienced the same vision as I, and perhaps he will find its meaning in the Emerald Dream. I look forward to talking to him about it when he awakes.
In the distance I hear a horn blow from the towering cliffs of Nighthaven, it is the fourth one today. It usually means that an Arch Druid of the order has come to Nighthaven. If so, there must be some sort of meeting being adjourned.
"Keeper, please forgive my intrusion into your meditation time. But, one of the sleepers has emerged from the dream." one of the other wardens says as he approaches me.
I stand up and turn in time to see a filthy looking night elf in a tattered shroud emerge from one of the dens. I immdiately recognize him as Sylios Leafwalker, an Arch Druid of the order. He entered his slumber when I was still young and could remember my own name.
I quickly put on my robe and jump down from the edge of the moonwell. Sylios walks in a daze across the verdant green ground.
So many times I have seen them, those who emerge from the dream. They seem like zombies in a strange way, barely even able to recognize the world around them. It is part of my job to talk to them and see them off in the right direction where they can transition into life outside the dream.
"Master Sylios, we are pleased to see you again in the land of the waking world." I say to him
He continues to walk stiff legged towards the archway leaving the compound. I walk with him trying to get his attention. Sometimes those emerging from the dream can become violent if they are approached the wrong way.
"Master Sylios you have awoke from the Emerald Dream after a great many years."
The ragged night elf stops in his tracks and stares blankly at a wandering deer in the gardens. Moments seem to pass slowly as I gradually see recognition wash across his dirty face.
I approach him closer and he turns to looks at me.
"Master Sylios, much has happened in the world since you entered the dream. Let me take you to Nighthaven to meet with the other elders."
Suddenly, a twisted look of dark rage comes across his face. His fists ball up tightly and a faint growl rises in his throat.
"My name is Calmfury!!" he yells at me in the language of the tauren. The sound of his voice echoes in the forest, leaving a stunned silence to all those who inhabit this place.
I step backwards, fearing that this creature will attack me.
With the graceful motion of a master shapechanger, the night elf turns into a tawny savannah cat, and darts off into the nearby woods.
Never in all my centuries of watching over the sleepers have I witnessed such an emergence, and I hope I never will again.
