Searching for the Past – Alternate Ending

The following is brief excerpt of and an alternate ending for the piece Searching for the Past. This ending would have brought the story to an early end so was passed over in favor of the actions that propelled the story forward.

Her sadness only lasted what seemed like seconds. The next thing she knew, Tirmanel had slammed her against the wall and drew his axe to her throat.

“LIES!!! I can believe who I once was… but being married to you!!! I can only believe so much.” Tirmanel hissed.

Their eyes met at this range. The stares each had were like that of two sides of a coin. Naerityah looked at him with fear and love, searching his soul for who he once was. Tirmanel glared at her, looking at her with nothing but hatred, but still searching for the truth in her words.

Naerityah closed her eyes, knowing her fate was near. After several minutes, she opened them. Tirmanel was no longer at her neck. Instead, he was on the floor, holding his head, as if writhing in pain. She wanted to go to him, but feared a similar incident would occur. After several minutes, he spoke.

Nature’s Power

The moon was full and lit the glade where Tatia bathed in the small pool.

A crackling sound and a flash of blue light alerted her to the arrival of her lover. She stood and turned to face him, water sheeting off her body. The summer breeze quickly dried her off.

Arioch stood still as she sauntered towards him, letting down her hair to tumble about her shoulders.

He raised an eyebrow in appreciation of her lithe figure as she approached. He paused before moving to embrace her, there was something different about her tonight, an air of assertiveness.

Arcane Touch

Arioch slipped the straps of Tatia’s gown over her shoulders, easing the sheer fabric over the swell of her breasts and again over the fullness of her hips, letting the garment fall to the forest floor.

She reached out to help relieve him of his clothing but found he had already disrobed through magical means. He winked at her and she giggled; she was becoming more at ease with his rather casual demonstrations of his abilities.

His arms slid around her, lowering her to the ground.

Death Awaits

The words hit Tirmanel’s ear like a shard of ice. Even for a soul that could feel no pain, Tirmanel was nearly stung. “We are always alone” echoed in his ears, taunting… torturing him.

“Maybe you are, youngling, but I know who I once was,” Tirmanel said indignantly.

“Knowing who you once were means nothing. I am sure it helped in your meeting with your old friend, the priest,” Inítrí growled, still clenching Tirmanel’s ponytail.

No Peace

Tirmanel’s skin crawled as the death gate collapsed behind him. It always felt like something tried clinging to him as he passed through, damned souls trying to gain passage back to the world of the living.

With the war in full swing in Northrend, the necropolis hanging in the skies over the Plaguelands was deserted. Faintly, he could make out the sounds of shambling corpses on the upper level tending to the rune forges. The only beating heart in the entirety of the structure was Tirmanel’s own.

Searching for the Past

The Ghostlands were as gloomy as ever. The smell of rotting flesh emanating from the Dead Scar made most hold their noses. The chill of the air here made even Northrend folk wear their coats. None of this bothered Tirmanel. Even if his senses weren’t dead, it still wouldn’t. Tirmanel was on a mission. He wanted, no, needed to recover who he once was. He knew he was once a Night Elf Druid. He knew he was old, possibly even from the time of Malfurion Stormrage. He needed to know more. He had received a tip from an old friend in Darnassus, Tatia, that he may find out more from a priest named Naerityah.

The Meeting

Tatia sat alone in the glades of Ashenvale, grateful for the solitude. Normally relishing in the heat of battle with her allies, she was thankful to be surrounded by the green countryside of her homeland. Her recent encounters with the lieutenants of the Lich King had made her weary, longing to reconnect with the lands that she called home.

As her delicate fingers brushed across the lush greenish blue grass, the druid in her sensed something unnatural. It was as if the very power of the arcane had swept over the area. As she turned on her seat, she was blinded by the intensity of the sun that was showing off the source of the arcane power.