Beckyann sat alone on a stone bench
behind the Cathedral in Stormwind. The small garden area around her
had winding paths that lead onward into the cemetery, but could also
access the cathedral's square if one went in the opposite direction.
She enjoyed sitting in this spot when she wanted to gather her
thoughts. It was, in a sense, a crossroads. It was the line between
the living and the dead. It felt wonderfully appropriate for her to
use it when she needed to think.
She looked down at the small, tattered
spellbook in her hands, her scourge-blue eyes scanning over the
intricate runes inscribed on the page. It was another necromantic
text that she had managed to liberate from one of the many crypts
that the Cult of the Damned had once used to base their operations.
Although most of the knowledge in it was comprised of spells she'd
long since known, it never hurt to brush up on the basics and see
another spellcaster's point of view on the magic.
As she fretted over a particularly
poorly written passage in the book, a shout and a giggle interrupted
her train of thought. She carefully placed a bookmark in the
spellbook before closing its cover, looking up to find the source of
the disturbance. The area in which she sat had a gazebo near it, with
benches lined around it in such a way as to serve as a handy spot for
weddings and other ceremonies. There, sitting within the gazebo, was
a man and a woman. In their early 20's it seemed, the two were joking
with one another, their faces alive with joy and the pleasure of each
other's company.
As Beckyann studied them, the man
suddenly reached into his pocket, pulling out a necklace that
sparkled in the dying light of the day. Even from where Beckyann sat
she could tell it was valuable, and the woman's eyes lit up as her
hands covered her mouth to hold back a squeal of delight. In a
heartbeat her arms were wrapped around her lover's neck, and the
sight stirred something deep in Beckyann's subconscious.
The death knight's eyes grew distant as
a flash of memory returned.
*****************************
*The Woodbury Manor, Brill
outskirts. Pre-plague.*
The carriage had
stopped in front of an ornate pair of gates, the driver pulling
sharply on the reins to keep the horses steady before he slipped from
his seat and made his way to the carriage door. With a smile, he
opened the door and lowered the steps to allow the occupant of the
conveyance to step down.
With a grin,
Beckyann nodded at the driver, her blonde hair glinting in the pale
light of a winter's day, her footsteps unsure in the thick snow that
had fallen in the region. The driver came around and handed her a
small bag; the entirety of her belongings, before he tipped his hat
once and climbed back into his seat, urging the horses on. The
carriage rolled away, leaving the young mage standing in the snow
covered lane, two Woodbury family guards watching her from their
posts at the gate.
Suddenly nervous,
the young woman swallowed once and then began walking towards them,
attempting to build her own courage internally. As she drew near, she
abruptly stopped and reached into the pocket of her mage's robes,
pulling out her letter of introduction.
“Good day sir,”
she said hesitantly, “My name is Beckyann Eastberg, and I'm here to
begin my work as the magic instructor for Woodbury Manor.”
The guard eyed her
over critically before switching his gaze to his companion.
Wordlessly the other guard nodded and then turned, trotting off
towards the large manor house in the distance. The first guard
returned his steady gaze to the young woman before speaking, “We'll
send for the Captain and he can review your credentials Miss
Eastberg.”
Beckyann bit her
lip and nodded, shifting from foot to foot to ward off the cold.
While she was wearing the full robes that the mages of Dalaran
typically wore, she didn't have enough coin to afford an overcoat or
anything else to keep her warm. She began to shiver, looking
enviously at the thick fur cloak that the guards had been issued.
The minute
stretched on to two, and then five, and then fifteen before she saw
figures emerging from the manor house. By that time her teeth were
chattering, but she willed herself to stillness as two men
approached. It was the original guard followed by a man in heavier
plate armor, a cloak draped over him and his long black hair tied
back. He moved with the confident grace of an experienced warrior,
but despite his size and armor, a warm smile graced his face that was
almost infectious.
Beckyann found
herself grinning like a fool as the man walked up to her, offering
her a polite bow before speaking, “How may I help you Miss?”
“I-I, that is...I
have t-this,” she sputtered, blushing a little before thrusting the
letter of introductiion out towards him. He took it with another
charming smile, his blue eyes scanning over the words on the document
and checking the seal on the bottom.
He nodded at her,
looking her over, “Ah! You're to be our new magic instructor!
Excellent! The Family has been quite excited for your arrival. Some
of their heirs show potential and it is never too early to get them
started in their learning! But, Light, how rude of me! You look to be
freezing!”
Without another
word, he'd taken his cloak off and wrapped it around her. She was
enveloped in the warm fur, the scent of steel and weapon-oil thick on
it as she buried herself in it. Peeking out of the opening of the
cloak's hood, she grinned up at him, “Thank you SO much! It's
absolutely freezing my Lord!”
The Captain grinned
and shook his head, “None of that 'lord' stuff Miss, that's for the
Family only! The name's Frederick Lightstone, Captain of the Guard
for the Woodbury family. You can just call me Frederick.”
Beckyann offered
him a shy smile as she nodded, “The name's Beckyann Eastberg. You
can call me Becky.”
“Becky! That's a
lovely name. That'll do just fine,” Frederick replied with a laugh.
“Now then, how about we get you out of this freezing snow and put
you down in front of a fireplace while the servants set your room to
order.”
She nodded her
agreement and he stepped forward, a hand reaching out to take her bag
from her. As his hand met hers on the handle, it was like a spark of
electricity passed through them. Beckyann found her face flushed as
the handsome guard captain took her bag and then offered an arm to
escort her inside. As she slipped her arm in his, she dared to shoot
another glance at him, only to catch him staring at her in
bemusement, as if he'd found a rare and valuable treasure lying on
the snowy road. His look only made her blush harder, and as the two
walked towards the manor house, she felt her heart racing.
She knew then and
there that she'd found her destiny, and that the greatest adventure
of her life was only just beginning.
*******************************
The memory ended
and Beckyann jerked upright, her spellbook tumbling from her lap and
the bookmark coming free. The couple that had triggered the old
memory had moved on while she'd sat lost in thought, and she was left
only with the warm spring breeze and the distant sounds of the city
from the other side of the cathedral. Behind her, the graves sat in
stony silence, her place still marking the line between life and
death.
Deep in her chest,
Beckyann felt an almost a crushing weight as emotions that she could
barely understand flowed through her. She took in a great, sucking
gasp of air before shaking her head and bending down to pick up her
spellbook. As she came back upright, another gust of wind flowed over
her, and she felt something on her face. Her hand came up and away,
and she stared at her fingertips in stunned silence.
The fingers were
wet with tears.
Her hand dropped to
her side and she sat, staring at the gazebo where the couple had
been, not daring to move or even think. Not wanting to come to terms
with it. What she was feeling was for the living. It was not her
place now, not where she belonged.
It was for the living!
In a hurry, she
gathered her things and ran into the cemetery, her footsteps fading
quickly and leaving the little garden in peace once more.
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