Freedom... I had forgotten what it was like. It seems that life has dealt me a bittersweet hand in letting me remember.
The dry wind blows gently across the plains as I run. It is winter in the Barrens, but there is still so much life here.
Life... something so precious, so unique, it is mine, and with it I am free. Mostly, because I know what is on the other side.
It is life that I pondered these past several weeks, after leaving the frozen confines of Winterspring. I never want to go back to that place. I have considered my burning hatred of the beast calling himself Garrosh Hellscream. When I thought that I'd rather forget about him and live my life, I remembered poor Meekha, and the need for vengence swelled in me again.
Then of course, I thought about Him, the beast that pursues me, the curse that lays claim to my soul. It finally occured to me how he found me so quickly. At first I thought the vicinity of the warlock had acted like a beacon in the twisting nether for the beast to find me. Then I remembered my studies as a fledgeing mage in Dalaran.
It seemed like an age ago, in truth it was. I was a young boy from a noble house in the kingdom of Gilneas. When I was about 10 years old, I was selected by the Kirin Tor for training as a mage. I was quickly assigned to my Master, his name was Kel'Thuzad. I remember him as a cruel man, not a teacher at all. It was a sad fate that I was assigned to him, but one that I embraced. I was a good and loyal student. I remember my Master working on some sort of secret project. He foolishly used me to acquire some of the materials he needed for what I know now was his forbidden work in necromancy. I will admit that sometimes while he slept I would read his texts. Here I was nothing but a boy, barely a mastery of the most simple of cantrips, and I was reading about demonic emanations, corpse reanimation and necromantic possesion. Even then I knew it was dirty, I felt unclean and tainted.
So, it came as a relief to me in my second year as an apprentice that my master was discredited and thrown out of the order. I was left in limbo until the head of the Kirin Tor, Archmage Antonidas assigned me to a new master, Archmage Arugal. I was overjoyed because Master Arugal was also from Gilneas. He was kind and fatherly. He taught me the craft with untold patience. Then, the Scourge came. After the razing of Dalaran I fled with my Master to Shadowfang Keep. He worked tirelessly, day and night to find a way to protect Gilneas from the Scourge. Finally he was able to summon an army to fight for us from beyond the nether, they were the wretched Worgen. It worked for a while, until they turned on us. I think it was sometime afterwards that I acquired the curse.
Anway, it occured to me that the winterfall firewater that I was taking to supress Sylios's control over his own body, was what likely helped manifest the worgen curse. I believe that the Winterfall Furbolg are under some sort of demonic influence, and the potion they carry and consume helps to manifest that influence. Perhaps someday I will go back to help them overcome this demonic slavery.
But, today I will simply run. Not to get away from anything, but to feel life. To feel my lungs draw air, to feel my heart pound in my chest. I will enjoy this time because soon I will give it all up. I know that it is my fate to head back to Northrend, to find Garrosh and to seek my vengence against him. I know deep down inside that I will likely fail, but I cannot suffer evil to live and flourish.
I choose this path for Meekha's sake. Her innocent blood screams for vengence, and I will see that she has it, or I will die trying.
