This ends the Winter Veil Doll stories. Thanks to all you guys who have read along this season.
Part I
I saw ghosts this Winter Veil. Hardly the first, mind you. I remember as a little girl my father taking me to Auberdine for the first time. The excitement of finally seeing the big city was unbearable. However, once we arrived I hid within the folds of his cloak. Dwarves lumbering about with food clinging to huge beards, female warriors twice as wide at the shoulders as I was tall and people my size but with worn grown-up faces…. all that paled after the ghost.
Daring myself, I braved the dock that stretched as far as my eyes could see just outside the inn where my father was purchasing a holiday bauble for my mother. Unseen, I witnessed a dwarf clad in broken armor speaking with a night elf who’s name was Cerellean if I remember correct. Suddenly, the apparition materialized right before my eyes. Over the hammering of my heart, I heard this beautiful phantom console her lover, caressing his face. When he fell to the planks, sobbing, I fled to my father and buried my face in his cape. I had seen enough.
That was every bit of two thousand years ago and why that moment stands in stark contrast compared to rest of my obscure childhood eludes me to this day. Recalling memories a mere few hundred years old takes rigorous contemplation. This is why my pilgrimage into Winterspring is, I feel, the reason the spirits so easily found me.
Suffering the burial of my beloved husband in the ravaged forests of Ashenvale only weeks after our child’s birth, I made a difficult decision; to forego my calling as a priestess and raise my darling girl from the safety of a small village. We were… I mean to say, we are poor. I honed no trades that thousands of others hadn’t already exploited, bloating the auction house beyond its capacity. Though the two of us weren’t homeless and starving, night elves that endure to my age or beyond can feel that kind of peril approach. Picture a warm, still day in late November. However, the plants lie dead or dying and the sky is one huge menacing cloud and you understand my meaning.
I sold raw materials of Teldrassil, barely earning enough silver to purchase lodging near Dolanaar, not to mention food better than fish or stringy meat. Now in her twelfth season, she humors her “old†mother, assists me with a smile, all the while looking out the window at the young adventurers that pass by daily. She constantly hints of immortality and asks of my life when I was her age. Distressed, I have little advice and worse still, no tangible memories. I may as well tell her there is no past and future.
With that troubling thought, my maternal alarm sounded. I could almost feel my daughter succumbing to a meaningless existence; a demise that would take centuries to unfold.
That was NOT going to happen.
Winter Veil was just days away and masking my intentions, I told Shea that I would be on the road for just a little while. I would be back in time for the holiday. She suspected deception in that way children can during Winter Veil and asked no questions, but nodded knowingly. I would be unable to buy her anything this year; we simply didn’t have the funds. With the little bits and pieces I could afford to store away I spent weeks making a gift for Sunashea, as I do every year. It’s a dismal feeling, seeing your child watch her peers playing with toys she’d never have, the hope on her face shrouded by the truth.
The hard northern region of Winterspring is little more than the stuff of tales to recent generations. Goblins, having abandoned it for more congested realms, were the last civilized race to attempt taming it.
Why I was drawn there is simple really… the snow. This land knows no cycle of life, only the shift of snow and time. The trees, towering in my youth, stand even taller, as if their boughs are nourished from the roots of heaven itself. No one ventures here unless it is in passing, high above, en route to Hyjal Peak. Dismounting in midflight so as to not draw the attention to my scarlet gryphon, I levitated down through the white flurry where Lake Kel’Theril once stood. Only blunt tips of ragged pillars still challenge the wind, the rest buried under age-old frost. The Highborne, once a pock on the wounded land, now manage only to confuse wayward trespassers long enough for them to yield to an icy slumber.
Dazed from my freefall into this bitter malice, I staggered east to escape their song. Their frigid weight melted away with each plunge through the virgin snow. The peaks and valleys were somehow foreign to me, hundreds of years having blinked by since my last Winterspring stay. Lost, I wondered how one could live so long and still play the fool; would my search for history and eternity be leaving my daughter an orphan?
Seeking shelter amongst lumps of cracked stone before the winds could whisk the life from me, I started at the sight of a transporter hood jutting from the deep, hard-packed snow. I was encircled by the ruins of Everlook.
“That’s the first thing you got right today, sweetheart.â€
I almost turned on the unexpected voice before realizing it came from directly in front of me. The owner smiled and bowed five paces from my freezing face.
“I know you, goblin,†I said just loud enough to hear myself above the gale, “Didn’t you once transport wares through Darkshore?†The one I addressed nodded and regarded me kindly.
“Right again, but the next question will cost you an elves hand.â€
The past flared before me; a tiny me, recovering, but now jumping from my toasty bed and running to the mail carrier, my arms anxious for an embrace.
“A-Atnas?!†I cried out. I was suddenly flushed in the warmth of a comrade long thought lost.
“Yeah, yeah,†the flickering goblin complained, “Pay attention kiddo; tear these panels off, they should burn nicely. Don’t mess around with this. Your clock needs winding, like, ten minutes ago.†Another memory surfaced: This forgotten friend explaining that a fire is both ritual and art to that little me. Sleepily, I cast my holy nova spell, pounding the snow down in a wide circle until my mana rattled depleted. I tore off metallic parts of the dilapidated transporter and constructed a makeshift grate. All the while, the goblin laughed and joked about the trouble I caused him as a little girl. In less than a half hour, he had saved my life… the trickster. My body, responding to the heat, began to shake violently.
“It’s okay Beth,†I was assured, “just kick back and let your temps adjust.†The phantom’s eyes never left me. Just as I stopped hitching in my breath and regained some feeling to my fingers and toes he stood and held out his hand.
“I came to Winterspring to evoke my past so that I may share it with my daughter,†I said, no longer shivering, “it is beyond my vision and pains her even more than it does me. Is it you, my friend, delivering this precious Winter Veil gift?â€
“My fee…†he replied, holding out one faded hand. I held out my own and the warmth there was replaced with a longing… an urgency. I was drawn away from the nurturing flames back into the cold and began to move south without coaxing.
“I passed beyond the walls of Azeroth long ago, wee one,†I heard my companion, who was no longer there, say, “I am now once again a part of your memory. If you can conjure me so easily then you can stir up some more goods. Keep your pace and I will keep my eyes on you as I have since that Winter Veil night when you first watched over me.â€
It was not dark but it may as well have been. The blinding sunlight off the hillside snow made it impossible to see a route, much less my destination. There was no longer anyone by my side, if there ever was…
But what was I thinking? Of course there was. How else could I explain the slender box I now held under one arm, its vibrant strips of blue ribbon snapping in the air? It felt empty.
Part II
I continued south, the frigid air somehow held at bay from my inadequate armor, but I could feel the drain. Through my crystallized breaths a black shape soon manifested before my intended course. I passed it by, sensing (as one knowing she is caught in a dream) that this was no mere mortal. I felt to speak first would be blasphemy, this much I was certain.
“May I join ya?†the stranger asked. The roaring empty hum of desolation departed on her words. I heard nothing but her voice, as if it were I thinking to myself. Instead of feeling violated, the sensation was of a lifelong friend whispering through cupped hands.
“Please,†I managed to utter, “I’m afraid I have no destination to speak of, but your company would be most welcomed.â€
“Den you and I will be makin’ a fine party.†As I expected, she didn’t struggle through the drifts, but instead glided to my side and continued on. In comfortable silence we made our way for a short while until curiosity got the best of me.
“Your language is primitive Darkspear, is it not?†The specter laughed and as snow tumbled from the limbs of nearby trees, I felt my chill break away. The cowl that darkened her features couldn’t hide the delight I knew was on her face at that moment.
“Does dis troll look dat ancient, night elf?†With that, she threw back her hood and shook free her mass of blue braids. It was as if a waterfall suddenly discovered it had no boundaries. By appearances, she couldn’t have been more than twenty or thirty years old.
“I know you are much older than you appear, spirit,†I answered breathlessly, unable to look away from eyes like brooding sunsets over open water. She stopped walking and held an incredibly powerful-looking arm out to stop me as well. The tips of her fingers grazed my breastplate and the revelation before me was both terrifying and wondrous.
I was awash with a humidity that stank of flora and decay. Weaving between a howl of destruction sang the harmony of priests. All I could see was a lone figure in the distance then the world fell white.
“Shessuna… How was it I forgot you?†I sighed and threw my arms around her. I feared she would vanish as I did so, but no, she returned my hug with heartfelt energy.
“It be easy to forget dos ya love once enough clocks break down Beth. It be no fault on you. Many also forget dat special times such as Winter Veil are a time to stir dos memories back to da surface.â€
Through her ghostly locks I watched sleet blasting off the precipice before me: Frostwhisper Gorge. It was several days on foot from ancient Everlook to this now deserted corridor facing Darkwhisper Gorge… impossible.
The troll’s hands, humming with a magic my senses reeled before, were now wrapped gently around my wrists.
“Ya said you have no destination, if dat not be immortality den I don’t know what is,†she said and the biting winds died on her words. Snowflakes that struck like melting shurikens now held themselves aloft so that they may touch and cool my brow.
“I don’t understand. Can one not have a purpose that has no end?†I felt her grip weaken and the realm began to return to something familiar.
“Beth, my sweet sister, as long as ya be havin’ a purpose you can never perish.â€
Edited, Dec 17th 2012 12:15am by matrigs