“Boogeymen” [26] (SYLVANAS NIGHTMARE)
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Quest Objective: Bash old bosses.
~Sylvanas Windrunner, Eversong Woods~
Music. It darted in and out of the bone-white trees like the summer breeze. After everything, music had not forsaken me.
The woods were as I remembered them. Every branch had a graceful curve, housing crimson and golden leaves. The air was warm and sweet.
I walked in and out of shadow. The sunlight danced along the grass, dotted with yellow wildflowers. There was a natural perfection to these woods, a regality. I could never forget, no matter how hard I tried.
I followed the trickle of music. The birds called out like a symphony of bells. The last time I had been here, it was quiet. I could not recall what happened, but it made me grimace—or deepened it. Frowns were long-lasting. I could not remember why, and that was strange. It bothered me, like I was ignoring a dagger in my back.
I recognized the tune. I knew it by heart. Lyrics had not forsaken me. I murmured the words as I trekked along. I knew when I opened my mouth, the birds would stop to listen. They always did whenever I sang. There were others that stopped at the sound of my voice. . .I could not remember them…
I stepped into a clearing bathed in sunlight. A silhouette lounged on one of the pale rocks in the center. They were surrounded by an audience of wildflowers.
I stopped. I knew the loveliness of the lute. I knew the golden hair that shone in the light like the sun.
“Lirath?”
My brother looked up from his instrument. He smiled and waved. “Sylvie!”
I hadn't heard that nickname in a long time. It felt...odd seeing him. Almost wrong. Something happened to Lirath. I could not remember.
My younger brother stood and sprinted out to join me. I stayed where I was, on the edge of the shadows.
“Where’s Alleria? And Vereesa?” He asked.
I stiffened at the mention of their names. “I do not know.”
He scoffed. “Hiding, probably. We should go down to the shore again and pick shells, Suns versus Moons.”
His hair was golden like Alleria’s, shining like a beacon in the light. They were the Suns. My locks were silver, as were Vereesa’s. We were the Moons. We shined in the night.
I didn't offer a response. When it was evident that I wouldn’t speak, Lirath’s mouth opened once again, “So it's just us. That’s more than enough. Those nasty orcs don't stand against two of the Windrunner clan.”
“The orcs?” I said.
Lirath squinted at me. “They keep trying to invade Quel’Thalas. They’re like ogres and boogeymen. They must be stopped—it’s our duty, as rangers.”
“Boogeymen.” I repeated the word. No. I knew boogeymen. Orcs weren't those. They were many things; allies, enemies, but not that.
“Don't fret, Sylvie.” I flinched when Lirath reached out and touched my shoulders. It was a gentle and caring gesture. It was foreign to me.
“I’ll keep you safe from the boogeymen,” He promised.
I frowned—err, my frown deepened—as I studied him. So naive. So hopeful.
“No, you won't.”
A branch snapped across the clearing. My eyes left Lirath for a split second.
Lirath fell into me, gasping. “Syl…”
His body slumped, like a puppet with sliced strings. Crimson gushed from his torso. I felt my legs quiver as they knelt toward the ground.
“Lirath,” My gloved hand covered the wound. There was no arrow, no dagger or sword. No trace of ice or burnt flesh. Just red. Staining my fingers. Tainting the wildflowers.
My teeth grinded together. I was impressed I hadn't ground them into dust, everything considered (I couldn't remember why, of course). I pressed harder onto the wound. Blood drenched my fingers.
“Lirath!” I glanced up, searching for anyone, anything—
Him.
My lip curled up in disgust. I felt heat seep through my body, hot and branding like fire. Rage had not forsaken me.
Arthas Menethil stood at the edge of the clearing, on the line of light and shadow. When he stepped into the sun, the flowers withered and turned brown by his own insulting presence.
“You,” I growled.
I could still see his stupid grin on his loathsome face. He raised his arms, the metal plates of his armor clinking like iron on ice. “Me.”
I gathered up Lirath in my arms. “No. You can't take another. You can't take any more. You’ve already taken everything.”
“I took everything?” There was still that slight tremor in his baritone. Something unearthly. Something that repelled all life and still made me shiver. “No. What happened to loathing all life, Sylvie? I know you better than anyone, living and dead.”
I squeezed Lirath’s torso tighter. My arms were stained crimson up to my elbows. “No you don't!” I spat.
“Don't be angry, Sylvie,” Little rivers of blood spouted from Lirath’s mouth as he croaked. “You’re scary when you’re angry…”
“I think I do.” Arthas stopped before me and placed his hands on his hips, like he was reasoning with a child. He was the child! He was sick, he was the bastard who didn't know when to shut his damned mouth—
“You hated the dead—you loved me, of course—but you hated them. You joined them. You destroyed your own people, the living ones…”
I was weaponless. Grasping at straws and trembling with fury, I yanked a fistful of grass and dirt out of the earth and tossed it at him. “You made me do it!”
Arthas crouched before me. The stench of death lingered on his person like a perfume. “You didn't want to slaughter them. You don't want to slaughter her. You say you hate the living, but you can't lie to me. We’re connected. We always will be. You claim you hate humanity, yet here you are, standing between triumphant death and fading life. You’ve always stood between them, never belonging to either…”
Her? Slaughter her?
I glanced down at Lirath. Lirath was no more.
“Stars, Sylvanas,” Eona was limp in my grasp. Her skin was no longer the bright pink of a summer sky, instead the pale, violet-tinted complexion of Arthas. “You even have dreams about killing me? That is so wrong on so many levels. . .I want a raise.”
I stiffened. I couldn't kill her before. She was too much like…
“WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND THE LICH KING NOW?”
Oh, hell no.
I closed my eyes, inhaling even though the action felt odd. I reserved myself in what little way I could, and looked up again.
I glared at Garrosh Hellscream, standing behind Arthas, “There is a difference between me and this dim-witted moron! I don't have to prove anything to you, monster! You don't control me—neither of you do!”
“You tell ‘em—oh, okay, sure. Leave me here to die.” Eona coughed out a mouthful of blood as I set her on the ground and stood.
“You left me with the check at brunch.” I spat at her. “Taste vengeance.”
“It tastes like iron— bleck! —and rust.”
“Walk it off, Strider.” I turned back to my two enemies. I raised my fists, dripping with crimson.
They spoke as one, together, mocking. “You will never have control, Sylvanas. We will always be there. Humanity will suffer, and it will be because of you.”
I lunged with a shout. I aimed my fist at Arthas’ pathetic pale face.
My arm went through him. I was like a ghost. I was nothing. Just...faded.
I tried to swing at him a few more times, desperately wishing I could slam my fist into his smirk. I lunged at Garrosh. Nothing had changed. I went right through him. Nothing…
“Powerless.”
My nostrils flared. “I am Sylvanas Windrunner. I am in control.”
They uttered one word at the same time. “No.”
I screamed. I scratched and punched and hit.
Nothing.
“Poor creature. Life is agony to you, a disappointment.” A new voice snarled.
“Leave me alone!” I shrieked, and went again for Garrosh’s bald head.
“I can release you. I can take away the pain. All you have to do is release me. ” The voice declared.
I panted as I stood before both of them. There was nothing I could do. It was all nothing—Arthas and Garrosh and humanity. None of it mattered. In the end, there was nothing.
“There is no release…”