Beckyann Short Number 18

Beckyann pulled on the reins of her deathcharger, causing the dead animal to stop short. It turned it's head, hissing at her in irritation but she paid it no heed, her eyes looking past it and towards the golden glow ahead of her on the road. Even through her tinted glasses she could sense the power that she was approaching, and it made both her and the deathcharger uncomfortable.

She bit her lip, uncertain as to what to do next. With no answer forthcoming, she slowly slid from her saddle, taking care to keep her dress orderly as her boots touched the tainted soil of the plaguelands. Not three feet ahead of where she'd dismounted the ground was changed. The dry, brittle grass and decayed plant-life gave way to an expanse of green grass and healthy looking plants that ran all the way up to the gleaming white stone wall ahead. Beckyann took it all in at a glance, understanding that the power of the Light at Light's Hope Chapel had allowed the land to be healed of the infestation that it had suffered from when the Scourge had been at their strongest in the region.

Hesitantly, Beckyann pulled the letter she had received from Frederick from a pouch, her shaking hand holding it up again as she read and reread the words that had been put to paper by the man. She looked past the letter to the gleaming structure ahead. She knew he'd be there, amongst the Argents. It was where the document originated from.

But should I follow through on this? Should I really go there to speak to him? CAN I even go there? 

It was a quandary that had been nagging at her mind since she received the letter. Was it a wise idea to reconnect with the past? Was her unlife an existence that allowed for friendships and relations from her time alive to be reborn? Or was the pale shadow of what she was a barrier that she should never attempt to penetrate? They were questions that were not easily answered, even by those with far more experience than she had. What was a country girl to think of with such weighty matters on her mind?

And yet, Lenneth had been kind to me. She had indicated that her own brother was as I am, and that she still valued the fact that she could connect with him. And the Argents I've met at Hearthglen have been accepting, even if I can't fathom why. None of them have scorned me. Perhaps I CAN do this?

Beckyann nodded to herself resolutely. She would go forward and find out if it were possible. She would find out if the dead could live amongst the living and remain connected to those they'd lost. She reached out and patted the side of her deathcharger, ordering it to stay put in a low tone. Predictably the beast attempted to bite her hand and was rewarded with a swift cuff to the side of its head. She paid the creature no further heed as she began to walk towards Light's Hope, her thoughts on the past.

She had not gone five feet before the pain began. At first it was subtle, like too much sun on a warm summer day. It made her feel warm where she normally was cold, and the fact that she could even identify that there was a temperature change should have been a warning sign. A few more steps brought the first hints of pain as her undead form was punished for treading upon sacred ground. She grit her teeth, forcing herself onward, understanding the price that she was required to pay to go to such a place.

But Light's Hope was not just a holy place, it was a sacred place of the Light far more powerful than any other place she had ever visited. The very ground itself had repulsed the efforts of her entire legion when they were Scourge, and there was little difference in that power now. Although she came with no ill intent, Beckyann found the searing agony of the place more than she could bear. After a few more steps she faltered, standing on the road trembling with pain.

She saw figures approaching from the opening in the stone wall; a patrol of Argents going out to aid in whatever efforts they were working on at the time in the plaguelands. As they approached, she could make out their gleaming armor and white tabards and hear the banter between them. They saw her after a few minutes, their voices falling silent.

"Miss, do you need assistance?" one of them asked, concern in his voice. He was a human, a knight much taller than Beckyann. She found herself unable to answer, her voice robbed of its power as she was wracked by the Light. She shook her head slowly.

The Argents had paused in front of her, and now all of them had the same worried expression on their faces. Beckyann would have laughed if she'd been able to get anything out of her mouth that was not a scream of agony. The irony of having these holy men and woman concerned over her well-being was not lost on her. The leading knight spoke again, his tone holding the same concern, "You do not appear to be well Miss. Do you need us to escort you to the chapel? I'm sure the healers there could tend to whatever ails you."

This time Beckyann DID manage to bark out a laugh, imagining the utter torment that she would experience if she were brought TO the chapel to be healed by a Light wielder. She shook her head, her hand coming up to push her glasses up to rest in her blonde hair, exposing her baleful eyes. The Argents all blinked in surprise and then nodded knowingly.

"Maybe you should turn back Miss. Sometimes the grounds can harm your kind," the Knight said. His tone was still compassionate, and for some reason it made Beckyann feel a flare of fury deep within her.

It isn't fair.

She shook her head, brutally bringing her mind and body under the dominance of her will. Speaking past the agony, she croaked out a few words, "Came to see. Frederick Lightstone. S-sorry. Shouldn't have come. Can't go on."

A particularly nasty jolt of pain shot through her and Beckyann brought a hand up to her face. When she looked at it, it was covered with blood that had begun to run from her nose, the diseased, brackish fluid sticky on her fingers. The Argents began to look even more concerned, a female High Elf stepping forward and gently grasping Beckyann's arm.

"Miss, please. Take a few steps back. I believe Captain Lightstone is near the chapel with his wife at the moment. I can send someone to come fetch him if you'd like to see him," the elf said gently.

Beckyann's eyes widened in surprise.

Wife. He's with his wife. Why did I assume...? Why did I think that he wouldn't move on? I'm dead. I left his life. Of course he would find someone. He didn't write because he still loved me, he wrote to assuage his own guilt. Maybe a part of him still loves the girl that died, which is why his letter was so soft spoken, but he has moved on. As I should have. I should not be here.

I should not be anywhere.

Suddenly irritated, Beckyann wrenched her arm free of the elf's grip and turned, stalking back towards the polluted ground further away from the Chapel. The Argents stared at the strange woman, watching as her dress stirred up the dust of the plaguelands. When she was safely far enough from the ground to regain her composure, Beckyann turned, wiping the rest of the blood from her face. She looked at the Argents and spoke softly, "Thank you for your assistance, but I do not wish to disturb Captain Lightstone. I merely wanted to ensure that he was well. It sounds as if all is in order here. I will be on my way now. Good day to you."

With that she grabbed her saddle and pulled herself up, mercilessly digging her heels into the flanks of her deathcharger, tugging on the reins and heading towards the pass that would lead to Acherus. Behind her, the Argents exchanged looks amongst themselves before they shrugged and continued their foot patrol.

The human that had first spoken to Beckyann watched as she rode away, shaking his head slowly. As he turned to join his companions, he murmured softly to himself, "That poor, cursed thing."