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Nyalla's Story

I grew up in Darnassus, Teldrassil’s great city, like most of my kind. From my earliest memory, in fact, I have been surrounded by the riot of color that makes my homeland so distinctive. I remember climbing trees explosive with vibrant golds, greens, and pinks. I remember the days we would throw ourselves, myself and the other children, onto our backs in the beds of purple wildflowers that blanketed the soft green mossy ground and stare up through the canopy at the hazy sky.

Our bare feet would patter as we raced along the white cobbled pathways, over the vined terraces and gracefully arched wooden bridges that we all took for granted as a part of our environment. We would splash gaily in the clear blue pools, chasing toads and causing ripples with our legs, watching them and wondering if they would go on and on forever. Oh, for the innocence of childhood again; to take for granted that my world would ever be the same, going on and on like ripples on the water.

From an early age my calling was clear. I lived, not with my parents, who had died shortly after my birth, but with Ahraine Eyesbright, an elderly and well-respected druid of the Cenarion Enclave. My parents had been druids both, and from my very infancy it was clear that I was to follow the same path. I batted at toys from my bassinet with a velvety paw; I climbed trees gripping bark with tiny claws. In spite of these feral predilections however, I knew my cause lay not with the shifting in and out of form but with the healing of the earth, the curing of ills and nourishment of the spirit that was Ahraine’s specialty.

I was an avid learner. Like most of my kind, when I set my mind to a task I accomplished it with accuracy and alacrity. Lessons were enjoyable to me. Sitting on a cushion in Ahraine’s treetop home, I learned how to speak to the trees and plants; I learned how to twist vines with a thought, how to draw upon the healing energy of nature to mend wounds, how to hasten time so that an injury that might have taken a month to heal on its own took mere seconds. Like any druid, I learned to become part of nature itself, shifting my own shape to that of various woodland creatures; the saber cat, the bear, the sea lion. How quiet my time was, and how pleasantly spent, listening to Ahraine’s deep melodious voice, another ripple in the water of my life.

Eventually it was decided that I needed to see the world, to experience life outside of Darnassus. I was excited; my parents had been travelers, explorers for the Cenarion Expedition. Such wanderlust was considered unusual, but not unwelcome. Nor did it seem particularly unexpected; in all regards, it was said, I followed in my parents’ footsteps exactly, particularly my mother’s. I often wished I could have known her, but her face, and that of my father, are simply featureless pictures in my mind, associated with perhaps a snippet of a lullabye here or a soft word there. My family was Ahraine, and she and I lived happily together. She spoke well of my parents, even though like everyone else, she did not seem to know how or when they had died. Perhaps, in retrospect, that should have been more of a mystery to me than it was, but at my young age, knowing so very little of the world except that it was huge, it seemed to me that people could indeed disappear like that, right into thin air.

Ahraine took me through Darkshore to Ashenvale, on the western edge of the continent Kalimdor. The town we were headed to, Astranaar, was in need of healers, she said. Ashenvale bordered the Hordelands and served as a place of rest for the border soldiers who manned the outposts to the south and east. It was near an active zone, she told me, but not so close as to put either of us in any danger. Our trip was to be a short, safe one, a month at most, and there, Ahrain said, I would become more adept at walking the Emerald Dream, something all druids must know, and something that hitherto I had only done in flashes and bits, catching glimpses while casting spells, seeing through otherworldly eyes on occasion while shifting forms.

I can still remember the exhilaration of my very first hippogryph ride. Nestled just behind the enourmous wings of the bird-horse, my hands twisted carefully in the thick feathers, mindful of not breaking any shafts, I clung with my knees as the animal’s muscles bunched beneath me. I felt the release, like that of a coiled spring, as we leaped from the roost, the rush of air as we plummeted, and then the odd feeling of weightlessness as the hippogryph’s wings snapped open, caught the updraft, and lifted us impossibly high to soar across the vast ocean. Once again I watched the water and once again I found myself contemplating the ripples as a boat sailed over the waves. The pond was bigger now, and the ripples much larger, but I had little time to contemplate the significance of that observation as we turned and caught yet another draft upwards.

The days passed quickly in Astranaar. I was first entranced by the lush, verdant greens of Ashenvale but I took to them as easily as I had to the azures, pinks, and golds of Teldrassil. It seemed to me that Teldrassil’s magic pervaded Ashenvale regardless of the distance away, and when I told this to Ahraine she simply smiled quietly and mentioned once again the Emerald Dream.

The Emerald Dream, the spectral realm, was as yet a mystery to me. Druids spent lifetimes walking there yet I had only seen snatches of it. Ahraine seemed unconcerned, so I followed her lead. I was to get a quick education in this realm myself, however, shortly before our departure from Astranaar.

I was returning from the woods, the village in sight, a brace of quail in one hand and a basket of herbs in the other. Among my many duties had been hunting for provisions, something every resident of Astranaar contributed to. Coming around the trunk of a wide, ancient tree, I stopped and stared at the sight before me.

Astranaar was under attack. It must be… plumes of billowing smoke rose from what I could see of the village, over a hill and across a bridge. Provisions forgotten, I shifted my shape to that of the saber cat and ran as fast as I could, toward the village. Before getting there I came across a fallen figure, one of Astranaar’s sentinels, covered in blood. Shifting out quickly, I took the time to lay a healing upon her before resuming my headlong run into Astranaar itself.

There, inside the village, was naught but confusion. The beautiful buildings were afire, elves ran back and forth, some armed, some injured, some simply disoriented. I could feel strange magic flying through the air, and all at once my only purpose was finding Ahraine. As I crossed the main path toward the healers’ lodge, the thundering of hooves stopped me in my tracks. On instinct I slipped into the smoke, calling upon my own prowess to shield me from whatever was coming my way. Even so I was bowled over by the close passage of two Tauren, the enormous bull-like Horde who occupied the Barrens we bordered. They passed by, either ignoring me or not seeing me and I recovered, shaken, and dashed into the lodge.

It was completely destroyed. I fell from my form, found myself on my hands and knees surveying the wreckage of what had been a simple infirmary. The injured had become corpses and the healers were among them. Frantic now, my breath catching in my throat, I clawed my way over them with shaking hands, turning them over one by one, wincing away from sightless eyes and mouths that gaped in endless horror.

I finally found Ahraine, propped up in a corner, her stomach ripped open by the talons of a beast I had never seen and could only guess at. I thought her dead, but as I began to keen softly, covering her wounds helplessly with my hands, she opened her eyes ever so little.

“You must leave,” she whispered, her voice faint. “You must hide, Nyalla.”

“Be still, mother,” I replied, my hands beginning to glow with soft, green, magical light. Ahraine pushed them away and smiled slightly.

“Find the Emerald Dream. You will be safe there, even as you are.”

Heavy footfalls descended behind me, and I turned to see a hideous creature, what might have at one point been a night elf, but now hunched over and gangly. Tusks protruded from its mouth and its long ears were pierced several times over, the earrings dangling against matted locks of bright orange hair. The troll spotted me and advanced, long fingers curling around the handle of a blood-covered mace.

I felt Ahraine shudder behind me, but I had no time to see her in her final moments. The mace came whistling down and I closed my eyes. There was nothing but a rush of air as I groped about with my mind, caught a sliver of green light, and traced it as I’d been told to do, following it into a world I’d previously only glimpsed.

I found myself whole, on my knees, in the middle of a lush green clearing surrounded by water on both sides. Even the very air seemed to hang with emerald green motes, and with a start I realized my entire body, not simply my dream-self, was here, in Ysera’s realm.

I raised my hands; they were still covered in Ahraine’s blood. Holding them away from myself I moved to the water’s edge to dip them in and realized that I was still in Astranaar… or the spot Astranaar had been built on. Gazing out across the lake I watched in wonder as a wind I didn’t feel moved the branches of the trees. A dark fog descended, moving out across the water.

I lowered my hands then, into the water, unknowingly. I didn’t feel the coolness of it. I was in shock, too surprised and too amazed to realize what I was doing. The cloud of black fog traveled toward me and it didn’t occur to me that here, in the Emerald Dream, such a cloud was completely out of place.

“You.”

I jumped and turned, coming face to face with a green-haired night elf. I looked around, but it had to be she who had spoken to me, although her eyes were closed.

“You enter my realm unbidden, druid. In living form.”

The black cloud crept up behind me, and now I could feel its chill. “I… I’m sorry,” I stammered. “But Ahraine…”

“Silence.”

The woman’s eyes seemed to move beneath their lids, and I knew she was taking my measure somehow. I simply knelt there, tears running down my cheeks, the chill of the black cloud raising my skin and the hair on the back of my neck. It would engulf me soon and I was beyond the point of caring.

Just as I could feel the very edge of the fog at my back the green-clad woman spoke once more.

“No. Not this one.”

And moved. Quickly, before I could even see it coming. A flash of green; a dragon’s wing, cupping me from behind, sweeping me away as the blackness touched me, filled my head with endless screams and nightmares. A strange song, and eerie voice, rose and brushed the screams away and I opened my eyes once more.

I was in Astranaar again. No smoke. No fires. No one at all. I rose unsteadily, regaining my feet. The town was full of corpses. The survivors, if there were any, would be off to Darkshore. Weaving on my feet I staggered but held myself upright. Pressing my hand to my chest I felt something cool and hard there. I looked down to see an emerald on a chain around my neck. Brushing my fingers against it I was filled with calm, a counter to the strange darkness that swelled inside me.

I was changed. Something had happened to me. Something had touched me, and someone had saved me. I looked around me, and the darkness inside compelled me to move my feet, away from the bodies which should have been burned or buried, away from the resting place of my beloved mentor and surrogate mother.

The emerald on my chest thrummed and I raised my hand to it once again. It agreed with me. I should walk away. But my feet didn’t take me to Darkshore, to find the survivors of this attack. They took me down into the wilds of Ashenvale, into the unknown.

As I stepped across the bridge my bare foot encountered something warm. I looked down to see it in a pool of blood, still fresh, unable yet to soak into the stony ground. Where my foot had disturbed it, it rippled, like water, away and out, infinite miniature waves that radiated in crimson from my passage.

I didn’t look back.