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kottkrig · 8 months

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From The Ashes

A Darkfallen night elf experiences Hallow's End for the first time, and witnessing the burning wickerman makes her question her place with the Forsaken.

World of Warcraft / Original Characters

Hurt/Comfort, Found Family

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It was the first proper Hallow’s End after the Desolate Council had been reformed and Lordaeron was reclaimed by its people. The Forsaken’s prime holiday marked the day when they broke free from the Scourge, celebrated with the symbolic burning of a giant wickerman. It was built on an older human iteration, which represented change and ushered in the darkest months of the year. Shorter days and longer nights were fortunate for the undead, even more so for those who followed the Cult of Forgotten Shadows.

Zala, an undead night elf, was only introduced to the holiday when she was taken in by the Cult a few years ago. Holidays had been something she shied away from, even back on Kalimdor where she certainly wasn’t observing anything practiced by humans, nor would she have cared for its revival when the Banshee Queen ruled. To her relief, that woman’s reign was no more.

The Capital City courtyard was packed around the wickerman. This year, the Desolate Council would hold a speech to inaugurate a new era for their people. Zala was initially just interested in the trick-or-treat festivities – it was an excuse to prank people and to gorge on so much candy it made even the dead sick – but this ceremony had her curious. During Hallow’s End, you would cast a branch into the wickerman’s flames and let it burn away the sorrows that the branch represented. You painted your face with its ashes, and in that moment, you sent a message to the world that you would not cower for anyone who called you a monster. You are not a mindless ghoul; you have free will, you embrace the Shadow, you are Forsaken. Zala wondered how people felt about that sentiment in the modern era, considering the things she knew about the overthrown Queen who first preached those words. Tonight, she had the opportunity to witness the reception herself.

There were many other undead elves – Darkfallen, as they were collectively called – who waited for the ceremony. Half of them were rangers patrolling up on the city walls. Zala considered watching with them, as the battlements up there were a good vantage point for watching the courtyard. But she was not enlisted with the rangers, and did not dare disturb them.

She didn’t particularly enjoy masses of strangers, and chose to stay near the Forgotten Shadow. The Cult kept to the side on a higher step, where they could clearly be spotted by those who sought the Shadow’s embrace. Now and then, people came up for blessings, but Zala preferred that others do the preaching. She sat in the back with one of the cultists she knew best; Brother Lafayette.

“There are more Darkfallen up there,” Zala described for him and pointed at the patrolling rangers. ”Maybe six or so are Kaldorei… or were. I think I saw a few more in the crowd.”

“Oh, how good of them to join us. Do you see anyone you know?”

“No… maybe some. I’m gonna stay here though.”

Lafayette was small and frail, and had to rely on just sensing the wickerman’s warmth if the cultists in front of them didn't move. He was too meek to force his way through, but Zala didn’t mind sitting with him. He had a calming aura that she appreciated.

She was curious about other Darkfallen, having spoken to a few when she chose to join the Forsaken, but she stayed with the Cult so much that she rarely met with outsiders. Besides, she knew she was difficult company as a troublemaker to both the living and the dead, with an ingrained fear of rejection that was hard to shake. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what they thought of the meaning of this day.

She and most others like her never were mindless undead of the Scourge, and instead fell to the war machine of the very people they now stood amongst. The Forsaken of today openly rejected the person who orchestrated the worst of the war, but even if they did, Zala avoided the military who once followed the Banshee Queen. Merely the mention of the infamous name made her tense. Other fallen night elves all had different reasons for choosing to shun Elune and join the Forsaken, and Zala had only barely overheard their stories. Her own was conveniently about fleeing a loveless life and showing spite against a deity who never answered any of her prayers. The Shadow, on the other hand, she could tap into through strength of will and without begging for attention.

The Desolate Council finally made their appearance. Zala and Lafayette listened to their grand speech about survival, about free will and family, about a future together in a world where the living outnumbered the undead. They had survived yesterday, they were still here today, and they would survive tomorrow no matter what. As they set the wickerman ablaze, the crowd erupted in cheers.

“For Lordaeron! Power to the Forsaken!”

The cultists in front of them joined in praising when the enormous fire cast even greater shadows behind every soul around. Lafayette clapped his skeletal hands for the ceremony, preferring to make little noise when participating. Zala, however, was distracted as she watched the burning. It was a monumental sight and its warmth reached every corner of the courtyard. Her thoughts went back to the Fourth War.

Zala never saw the world tree burn. She died by the Darkshore border before she could witness it, and awoke to a val’kyr flying above her with the corpse of Teldrassil looming behind it. After that point, she remembered only rage over the injustice of life; she lived as a lonely, burdensome Kaldorei, who enlisted with no motives other than desperation for belonging. She had no family, no friends, no one who wouldn’t become fed up with her issues. No one would miss her if she died, and when she did die, what she then became was reviled by all of Kalimdor and the goddess that loomed over its forests. She was so resentful, and so alone. What care did she have if she was made into an abomination against life? Their prejudiced deity never favored someone as unimportant as Zala in the first place. If she was killed again, she still had nothing to lose. Until she was found by the Cult of Forgotten Shadows.

She glanced up at the other Darkfallen. How many of them had witnessed the world tree’s fall? What were their reasons for shunning Elune? How did they feel about standing by the Forsaken and witnessing this smoldering spectacle? Zala was frustrated with the lack of closure. Not all of them could have related to her specific circumstances, and what their faces said was too difficult for her to read at that distance, but she did see a few rangers whispering to each other. One left their post. Many questions popped up in Zala’s head, all of them heavy, and she felt frustrated when she couldn’t pass the load on. The shouting around her made it difficult to concentrate.

Lafayette seemed to have noticed her lack of input on the ceremony, as he tapped her arm and asked her if everything was okay. She leaned down so he could hear her.

“I’m okay, but… can I leave? I feel weird.”

“I think we can get a permit to leave as we’re not doing much,” Lafayette replied, “do you want me to go with you?”

Zala nodded before she could think about it. They excused themselves, with her elbowing them through the crowd and out of the city. Only when they stopped downhill, away from the guards stationed at the gates, did she feel relief. It was strange, as she didn’t believe it was related to the burning. Why would it be? And yet… Lafayette waited for her to start, but when she didn’t find any words, he took the initiative.

“It’s okay if you changed your mind. Crowds are often overwhelming… is that what it is?”

It was also true, but Zala shook her head. Her unease couldn’t be because of guilt. There was nothing to feel guilty about, and Lafayette knew why it was the case for her, but she couldn’t shake the thought of the other undead night elves. They stood out here. They had their high elf cousins among the Darkfallen, but they were not the same.

“I feel out of place,” she said, “everyone is cheering about being free and united, and all of those things, but it wasn’t like that for me. We’re different from you guys.”

“You mean other night el–... Darkfallen like you?”

She nodded. Lafayette went quiet for a minute and mulled over his response, as it would probably be a delicate one. He was such a careful little dead human, slight of frame and more than a foot below her. He hid behind the black mop on his head and avoided the gaze of the scads of people who towered over him. But when Zala came to him, he always smiled at her. Whenever she got riled up and teased people a little too far, he was someone who seldom retorted and instead tried to withdraw, and that did make her feel guilty. She didn’t enjoy wrestling with someone who wouldn’t fight back, and he was kind to her when she was upset, even when she shouted mean things at him. Zala feared that he would eventually get fed up with her mood swings, like everyone before him.

“This is pretty new to you, isn’t it? Maybe you are feeling disconnected because it's a holiday with human origins.” Lafayette fiddled with his sleeves. “But the symbolism of Hallow’s End should apply to any Forsaken. The Darkfallen are outcasts like you, like all of us here in the grand scheme of things. None of us asked to become undead and dwell in the Shadow, but here we are, embracing it.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t killed and raised by people who are now just walking around you.”

Zala didn’t mean for it to sound harsh when that fact didn’t make her as distressed as it probably should have – the exceptions were for Banshee loyalists who might yet hide in public, as well as her fear of orcs. Being around orcs would take time to get used to, and she was glad that the Cult rarely visited Orgrimmar. Zala couldn’t claim to see eye to eye with those who might recall Teldrassil at the sight of the wickerman, who might bemoan their undeath, when her own life had ironically become better after she died. She knew she was an outlier, and this was a bigger deal for others who lived as night elves.

Lafayette took more time to give her another response. He didn't seem upset, nor did he reach out to try and reassure her. This wasn’t something he could relate to, and she believed that he respected their differences. Or he was anxious, which was just as likely.

“You’re right,” he said, “how does it make you feel? What are you thinking of?”

Urged to keep on digging, Zala groaned at what she had to do. She was never good at identifying her feelings, instead suppressing them under anger until it swamped her and she broke down. Their mentor taught them to face and utilize their emotions, but Zala often struggled and backed out before she might start screaming. It was dangerous for someone who embraced the Shadow to lose control, as they risked falling into the Void below it. She sat down with her back thumping against a sign post behind her, and Lafayette knelt down nearby.

“I’m not like most of you guys–... like other Forsaken, or other Darkfallen. I don't know if they miss Kalimdor, or what they feel about Elune.” She frowned at her own conclusion. “That pain I already felt ages ago. I should relate to them if they feel it now, right?”

“Yes, that sounds reasonable. Have you asked them how they feel?” Lafayette’s tone was as compassionate as ever. “There must be reasons why they’re with us, and why they chose to attend the ceremony tonight. You didn’t stay with the rangers for very long, so you wouldn't know if you don't talk to them, right?”

Zala felt a knot in her dead stomach, and it wasn’t from eating candy. Shunned, criticized, belittled. Discarded for being nothing but a burden, a pest, a mistake. It always ended that way, so she hid from confrontations before it happened. She hid from most of the Forsaken, from the Darkfallen, from the rest of the Horde. She hid from the Alliance, from the Kaldorei, from the goddess who never heard her pleading. The Cult would reach that point with her some day, like everyone else did, and she would be alone again.

“I’m afraid of rejection.”

“I don’t reject you.” Lafayette reached out, but didn’t touch her yet. “You don’t mean to disrespect if you approach with good intentions to connect… and you can always apologize if it doesn’t go as planned. Me and our other Siblings in the Shadow, we’re here to fall back to.”

“They always reject me! They’re going to think I’m annoying and loud, and… I’m making all of this about myself when it was supposed to be a celebration for everyone!” The knot in her stomach grew and she bent up her knees.

“You won’t know if you don’t try, right?”

“Stop asking me all these stupid questions!”

Lafayette flinched when she snapped at him, and Zala froze. She did it again. He’s going to pull away and leave her out here until she’s become exhausted from wailing, and comes back home with her tail between her legs. How many chances did she have before she was cast out from yet another home?

“I’m sorry,” Lafayette said, “I want to help you, but I can only do so much when this is unique to you as an elf. If it’s frightening to approach the rangers, I can go with you if you want. They’re not as scary as they seem, just reserved.”

Zala was still stiff as a board, her red eyes wide, long ears tilted up.

“What if they recognize me? Will they want me there after I ditched them?”

“They might ask about it. I will support whatever you want to do, and like I said, they’re reserved when they're a minority within a minority. Don’t take it personally if they seem cold.” Lafayette then gestured to himself. “Besides, I’m also curious about the ones who were night elves. Having you next to me would ease my own jitters.”

“Because we’re bigger and stronger than you?”

“Yes.”

"I can throw you over the wall if I feel like it."

"Yes, I know. Please don't do that." He cleared his throat, and finally placed his bone hand on her arm. "Zala, you know more about their circumstances than I do, and we could help each other.”

Even when she yelled at him, he was still kind to her. Zala wondered if was sincere, or if he did it out of fear; Lafayette was known to do both to de-escalate any tension he’s part of. Either way, it worked to pacify her, and she knew deep down that what she wanted was connection, which was what he offered to her. Zala rested her arms over her knees. She looked him over; this skinny dead human, who would fall if you clapped his shoulder too hard, who spoke to her like he would take an arrow for her. He smiled, black eye sockets creasing at the sides; there were no eyeballs left in his skull, but he always saw her when she came to him.

“I just want to know why they chose to stay here,” she finally said, “if they felt forgotten by Elune, like I was my entire life.”

“If they also felt… Forsaken?”

“Yeah!” Zala grinned. “Except you are all small and slow, and don’t even have any fangs or claws to climb with.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be short for a night elf?”

She could have hissed at him if she were in a feisty mood, but Zala just cackled. It was so rare that he fired back at her teasing, and her reaction seemed to please him in turn. The racket up in the courtyard had calmed down, but the wickerman was still burning. Zala got up and offered Lafayette a hand to spare his creaky joints the effort. They faced the hill leading up to the gates, him waiting for her to decide, and her decision was to check with him first.

“We could do the branch thing,” she said as they began walking uphill, “and burn up bad memories. Also do the ashes.”

“I would like that. They’re serving drinks after, and there are buckets of candy around if you can stomach any more.”

“As long as food is free I can always eat more!” Zala patted her stomach. “The question is if you can before I get everything.”

“Oh, no, I can't,” he laughed, “I don’t have a whole stomach left. More for you, Sister.”

#world of warcraft #undead #forsaken #darkfallen #undead night elf #character: zala #character: lafayette #hallow's end #kott writes #aka I try to make a nelf darkfallen concept that works #meanwhile the others are still ???? to both me and her #either way I love her and him they are my darlings

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