Mourning

The night was filled with odd calls and the sounds of unnatural creatures wandering through the darkness. This close to Corin's Crossing it was not uncommon to hear the restless dead as they roamed the ruins of the town they once called home or haunted the twisted forests in the area. Beckyann paid them no heed as she made her way through the blackness, her familiarity with the town ingrained in her memory forever.

A lake lay near the town, the darkness glittering with reflected moonlight. Close to its shore a small cemetery stood, one of the few that had not been desecrated by the Cult of the Damned as they looted the destroyed town during their invasion. It was to the few standing markers that Beckyann headed, her plate armor cracking dead wood beneath her tread as she approached.

The little cemetery was quiet, with none of uneasy spirits that the town itself had. Whether this was by chance or because of the work of the nearby Argent Crusaders who now regularly sent young adventurers to the outskirts of the town to clear it Beckyann could not say. The fact that her former home had become a location where adventures cut their teeth in training brought a smirk to her black lips as she plopped herself down on one of the headstones, staring at the other few around her.

She didn't know any of those who were buried in this particular plot; they had passed after she'd left the town or were buried long after the Scourge invasion. Even so, she studied the etchings on the stones, looking for familiar names and generally brooding, soaking in the quiet darkness of the night.

“You look troubled child,” a soft voice said to her. In a funk already, Beckyann didn't bother to turn to look at the old man that had spoken, catching a hint of shifting robes out of the corner of her eye.

“Just leave me alone,” she said, her voice flat.

She could hear the sound of cloth stirring behind her as the old man went about whatever business brought him to the edge of a haunted town in the middle of the night. When he replied, his tone was still pleasant, “It is my duty to tend to the dead here, to look after the wayward spirits and ensure that those who have not risen at least rest peacefully. Although not my usual role, I can bring peace to the living as well, should they need to speak of things that trouble them.”

“You're talking to the wrong girl,” Beckyann snapped. She felt waspish and angry as she idly dug her boot into the soil, watching little plague worms scurry about after they'd been unearthed. “Just leave me be.”

“And yet you don't sound as if you need to be left here to brood alone in the dark,” the kindly old man said again. “Perhaps the Light guided me here to speak with you this evening, perhaps ridding yourself of the burden would make it easier to understand what troubles you. This is just my opinion of course; I have been known to be wrong before.”

Beckyann rolled her lich-blue eyes, sighing and shaking her head, “No one understands. I don't see why a complete stranger would.” She fiddled with the emblem of the 1113^th that was pinned to her cloak, contemplating the comm system and the voices she'd heard on it recently.

“Try me,” the man said behind her. She could hear him settling into place nearby and realized he wasn't going to go away. Suddenly, something inside her broke, and she found herself wanting to pour out the anger she kept inside.

She opened her mouth, letting the words flow out naturally and trying to come to terms with the feelings, “I recently experienced a loss.”

She her the old man sigh and his reply was typical, “I am sorry to hear of that. Was it someone close to you?”

“It...was my father,” Beckyann lied, unidentifiable emotions building in her. “He was my support. He steadied me and kept me on the path I've chosen to try walking, and then he was just gone. Gone forever, burned away in an instant and he left me alone. Do you understand? He left me to face everything alone just when I was getting used to the idea that I didn't have to be. When I needed him most he fell and taught me again that I will always be alone.”

The old man was silent for a moment, as if thinking about what she'd said. His reply was slow, and still kindly, “It can be hard, to lose someone you love. And yet that is part of life, part of being alive. We will always face losses and hardships, but by choosing to remain on course despite this, we show strength. Do you understand?”

Beckyann grunted, still digging at the soil. After a time she nodded, resignation in her voice, “H-he came back. After I'd thought him gone. I mourned him, and I don't like to feel that way, and then he came back like it didn't happen. I don't know if I can trust anyone again, if I can let them in like that. I don't want to feel like that ever again and he made me feel that way Light damn him.”

“And so now you are angry, but you don't wish to be angry because you actually did miss his presence,” the old man said, confirming what Beckyann had suspected of her own feelings on the matter. “It is alright to be angry, but don't use it as a scourge to wound yourself, or him. Forgiving is part of being alive as well. Forgiving and letting go of the bad so that you can have more of the good. If he is truly back now, then let go of the remaining anger and simply enjoy what you can have. Rebuild the relationship.”

Beckyann scrunched up her nose and sighed again more loudly. Forgiveness and letting go of anger were barely concepts that made up her vocabulary. What she was thrived on anger, on rage and pain and hatred. Not allowing herself to direct that at another person was an incredibly difficult task, especially since the only other person she could direct it at was herself for allowing the anger to take hold. What had Red said...? It wasn't anyone's fault, not his, not hers.

“Fine fine, I understand what you're saying, it's just hard to do,” Beckyann finally muttered. “I tried to hide from him, tried not to let him know that it hurt to lose someone that is actually a friend. Am I allowed to have friends? I asked myself this a thousand times now. Maybe I am, but it hurts too.”

The old man chuckled, the sound kind as he agreed, “Everything can hurt at times. Sometimes though, friendship is the light in the darkness. Remember that as you sort through how you feel.”

Beckyann smiled, nodding at the sentiment. She turned her head to look at the man, to thank him for talking to her about it.

No one was there. The man had simply ceased to be.

“Fel...I'm talking to spirits now,” Beckyann murmured, looking around the cemetery warily. She could feel the presence of the undead around her, in the distant woods and in the nearby town, but her immediate environment was clean and pure. In fact, there was the faintest tickle of Light nearby, just enough to make her shiver.

“Forget this...” Beckyann grouched, rising and walking into the dark night. As she mounted her death charger, she looked back at the peaceful little cemetery in the midst of the haunted lands and she found herself feeling a little better. Maybe she could find a way to sort through her feelings after all. With that she snapped the reins, the undead steed trotting off towards Acherus.

In the dimness behind her, Light glimmered as the spirit of a long dead priest smiled before fading into his final rest. It had been his duty to put wayward spirits at ease after all, and if the departing death knight was not a wayward spirit, he as a spirit himself didn't know what was.