#too crunchy for the kaldorei so she became zombe (accidentally)

[kottkrig]

To Embrace The Shadow: Omen of Death

Sister Zala, a restless undead elf and the only one accustomed to the wilds, continues the search on her own.

World of Warcraft | Original Characters

Light Angst | Found Family

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Zala avoided other people in the coming days. The murderers had finally been dispatched, and she witnessed their leader die in the same inferno that he used on his victims, but vengeance wasn’t enough to calm her. He could have died a thousand deaths, and it still wouldn't be enough. Ater all of the bloodshed was over, and her ears were ringing from the silence that followed, she just felt hollow.

She would never be able to forget. They hurt what few friends she had, they scarred her reflection with holy fire, and in her time of need, took away the person she loved the most.

Out of the three, she had been the most eager to bring that invisible raven out of Lafayette’s vision, insisting that it must be a sign of the Shadow Mother. The others agreed with her, seeing no other explanation for its incredulous presence, but when they managed to coax the bird out, it snubbed them by escaping the forest. Returning home with nothing but another reminder of their loss, Zala left Lafayette and Cletus to their papers and prayers, while she slipped out into the night.

Being a restless young woman, she chose to continue the hunt alone. If anything, it was an excuse to distract her from nightmares about witnessing her mentor being immolated. As a ranger, most of her tasks were relegated to the outdoors, and people didn’t question her when she left for a while, as long as she eventually reported in. It usually took her mind off of things to scour Deathknell, but all that she could think about was that raven. It was too overt for it to just coincidentally be the only thing from the Void to watch over the lake.

Lafayette and Cletus kept their objective a secret, but days of nothing dragged on, and the two were talking about shifting focus when the raven was nowhere to be found. It was probably just some strange critter they took from its home realm, they told her, and it was now soaring freely on the mortal plane. Irresponsible if true, and out of their reach, regardless.

She was the only one who refused to sit still. She berated the others for being so placid, accusing them of giving up, but they reiterated that they were duty-bound men and worked on solving the mystery when they could. Cletus had become twice as busy, and Lafayette couldn't see most of the time, so she had to be their scout. The three of them were still a unit, and she was going to fill the role that only a ranger could play.

Zala watched the skies, convinced that the raven would show up. More days of scouring western Lordaeron, more nights of returning home with nothing to show for, except bags of nature’s resources to cover her tracks. She was getting increasingly disheartened.

Until one night, when she finally found it. The raven had chosen a branch high above her usual route, as if it was waiting for her. That was what she told herself, at least. She didn’t try to capture it. Although undead now, Zala was still an elf, and knew best to be careful with nature and its inhabitants. But in her mind, this was no ordinary bird. It must be smarter than just walking into her simple traps.

She wanted the raven to know that she was there for it, but she was running out of excuses to constantly leave the village, and couldn’t afford to lose her quarry. She tried speaking to it, addressed it as she would her mentor–minn’do–and while it didn’t respond, it didn’t fly off either. Every time she could head outside, she found the raven, watching her. She was allowed to get closer with time, sitting under the trees where it rested, but when it was offered her hand, it shied away. Zala respected its space. Frustrated as she was, she kept on trying. In her eyes, this was the furthest any of them had gotten.

When it was close enough, she noticed that the raven had indigo eyes, and she could sense the familiar presence of the Shadow on it. The clergy often used ravens as representative motifs, or they were manifested through their spellwork; Zala had conjured Shadow Ravens herself in the past, utilizing them for her practice.

The bird didn’t make as much as a single croak, but it stayed with her longer and longer. It must be a sign. Minn’do must be using them to catch Zala’s attention, and it worked. Her determination was showing progress!

More days passed. The ranger would regularly run through the woods around Deathknell, and the raven would follow. Zala smiled with all of her fangs on display when it trusted her enough to join her patrols. She dashed past the mine to the northwest and headed for the hills, using her catlike agility to swing herself up a tree that reached high above the valley. Choosing a sturdy branch, she sat with her back against the trunk and her legs swinging in the breeze. The raven landed a few steps further out.

They watched over Lordaeron together. This land had become her home, one that she chose herself, among people who spitefully prided themselves on being anomalies. The Forsaken were a strange people, known to be leery and macabre, but they were traits that she shared with them. She wasn’t comfortable with all of them–especially not the military–and Lordaeronian forests were measly compared to Kalimdor, but she had come to like the creepiness. The other undead elves she met here were more relatable than any living.

Zala was unlucky in life and never found kinship with other Kaldorei. Many tearful days she left behind her, enraged over the injustice of being born under a roof where you had to be loud to be seen. She was made to worship a goddess that picked favorites even among her favored people, and Zala was not one of those privileged few.

She knew that she wasn’t easy to love. Her limited control had her berated, ignored or thrown out, until she couldn’t take it anymore and stopped begging for scraps of approval. At times, she didn’t even mean to act out, feeling as if she was piloting a body that defied her will, and her living family chose their deity above their difficult daughter. Love, as she knew it, was conditional. When she became undead during the Fourth War, little of value was lost, as no one would be missing her.

All of this, she had confided in Mother Lucretia, and with the matron’s guidance, the elf found comfort in a different kind of darkness. There was no conditional love from the Shadow of the Void; it wasn’t a prejudiced deity. It just was. Endless, chaotic, unforgiving. Anyone could behold the maddening abyss, but you had to work on your resilience against its whispers to tap into it. Zala often struggled, but she had a patient mentor; and at last, she had something to work for. Someone to make proud.

All of this, she retold for the attentive raven. Every time she reminisced on her life, the pain was becoming less difficult to deal with, as she now had a family who accepted her flaws. Despite their promises, however, she was worried that their patience would inevitably run out.

Confessing her woes brought a lump to her throat. She was robbed of her minn’do‘s guidance, and she was drained from trying so hard all the time. Practicing the Forgotten Shadow’s second tenet, Tenacity, was exhausting when she feared disappointment wherever she went. She cursed under her breath and descended the tree. She had to return to the clergy with another empty report, and while each failure hurt, she was going to force herself to keep trying. Minn’do would have encouraged her to keep trying.

Zala jumped when the raven flapped down right next to her. She offered her arm, and the bird landed face to face with her.

Indigo eyes met her red. This was the first time that they had come in direct contact. It leaned forward and inclined its head. Zala felt compelled to do the same, and the raven closed the distance by connecting its forehead with hers.

Then, she heard it. It was quiet and weaker than she knew, but it was unmistakable. Inside her mind, the Shadow reciprocated her tenacity, and returned to her the voice that she had been chasing day and night.

“Thank you, Sister.”