The moment my fingers grazed over the crimson wings of of the hand-folded insect, I knew that this was different. Something had changed. It was clear whom it was from and I can envision it in my mind’s eye. The Monk sitting alone in his room, door latched, violet eyes heavy with fatigue but alight with purpose. Slender, knowing digits creating impeccable folds in the Pandaren parchment in slow yet earnest fashion. The image was vivid; powerful. This wasn’t something to be read in the bustling building of the Registry, or within the hollow walls of my all but abandoned home.
It’s time I took that trip.
The ascent to the training ground’s peak was a difficult one, treacherous even. With no way to requisition a Magister capable of transporting my behemoth of a flying companion, the trek had to be made mostly on foot. My heart weighed heavy with each step, with each soft groan to pass my lips as I searched imploringly for a way to ascend up the rock face preceding the training grounds. The endeavour made me think back to when Rook had to make the same trip before his Trials. Had he used the same footholds I had? Did he have a much easier time ascending into the Peak? Likely.
There were mutterings from the Trainees scattered through the grounds as I wormed my way into the Peak proper. I had never set foot here before, and what I had the privilege to witness was something utterly beautiful. The fresh snowfall had embedded itself betwixt the stone slabs that made up the ground of the Peak; covered the swooped roof of the centre pagoda; lined the rope handholds that acted as a banister for the swinging bridges. Even the massive rock effigy of the White Tiger looked calmed with a thin layer of flakes dappling his snout and brow.
Clean.— no, refreshed was a better word. After catching my breath on the outskirts of the training grounds, I chanced a venture into the centre pagoda. I was greeted by a friendly yet calm air, a few Pandaren trainees had sought refuge from the falling snow inside and were speaking in quiet tones to a male who I guessed was a Master here. is that the right word? Entering the building fully, they paused to glance at me but there was no animosity, no revulsion. A pregnant pause hovered between us all; a verbal stalemate, if you were.
”Excuse me?” My words were nervous and shaky; I spoke to them in Orcish and waited to see how they would respond as I had not learned nearly enough Pandaren from the scrolls Ao had brought me.
”Yes?” The Master queried me back in the same language and a layer of anxiety fell from my shoulders. “Little one, you must be freezing from your trek up here! Come inside.” He beckoned me over with a paw and I obliged hesitantly. Upon approaching the small group, a younger looking Pandaren’s nose wrinkled up slightly; nothing would ever hide the scent of blood and Fel from my person. I could hear him whisper to his Master: “Master Hight, she does not belong here.” My gaze was cast downward at that.
”Young one,” he replied to the trainee whom had spoke, “Have you not yet learned the importance of acceptance? This Elf seems to mean us no harm and has likely travelled many miles to our Peak of Serenity.” My eyes flickered up to the soft eyes of Master Hight and he bowed his head gently; the trainee sighed and wandered off, likely embarrassed.
”Thank you, sir. I did not expect to be treated with any kindness here.. in a place reserved for those versed in the way of your teachings.” The Master chuckled boisterously,
”Kindness will be offered to any who come here peacefully. However..” He appraised me a moment and I could make no effort to hide my face, “It appears that you are not here to simply chat. Your eyes hold a certain emptiness, but I can see the undercurrents of determination to them. What is it you seek?” His acumen caused my breath to catch for a moment as I sought for any way to form a rebuttal.
”My wish.. is to simply walk through your grounds.” He thought on this for a few moments before replying in a hushed tone,
“I hope you can find what it is you are searching for.” With that, he motioned to the archway with a flourish and bowed his head once more.
My cheeks had become wet with tears before even coming to the end of Rook’s letter. Am I really so blinded by rage that I could not see past the bare minimum of his intents? Am I so jaded and cynical that I must respond to everything with ire? With malice? He had worn his heart the same as I, but I was just too ignorant to see it. Perhaps I did not want to. The hatred in my heart must be removed for anything to bloom there; to come to fruition. That is why I cannot move forward.. why I cannot look to the future, the hatred containing my heart has disallowed me from looking anywhere but back for nearly two-centuries.
'I'm content with who I am now, Ace. I am. .. Are you?'
A single choked sob bubbled in my throat.
No, Rook. I don’t think I every have been.
Every word he wrote was true, I have just been too damn blind to see it for what it really is.
I am not expendable.
I am not replaceable.
I am a friend, a sister, a protector of what I hold dear.
I am not a machine manufactured for the slaughter. I have evolved.
I am not a remnant of an unscathed Acalinia Bloodsworn. What I am is a grown-up version of that little red-headed girl whom used to spend her days digesting books and watching her sister with adoration.
Tragedy does not have to make you brittle and hard. These events must be put behind you; they must be released lest they weigh on your heart and mind.
Thank you, Rook Dracone. For opening my eyes.
