Beckyann's flight took her out the long way in terms of returning to Acherus. She had been at a dig site close to Ironforge, looking in on her gnomish partners who were handling the work on the ground in setting up the camp. To return to the hold, she'd decided to fly in over the Western Plaguelands to scout out the patrols she'd assigned for the day's duty roster; easier to kill two birds with one stone as the old saying went!
As she passed over Andorhal, Beckyann noted something strange amongst the ruined buildings of the city. Although it was now in Forsaken hands and had the beginnings of a major Horde base sprouting up within it, there were still many skeletons of the original buildings scattered across the landscape. One of these, a grain silo, was flickering with a strange purple light. Curious, Beckyann directed her undead gryphon down towards the ground, ignoring its hisses of protests.
She landed near the structure, dismounting and drawing her runeblade, approaching cautiously. The source of the light, and the apparent cause of the weird visual distortions around the structure, appeared to be a small golden object laying in the dirt near the structure's base. Beckyann approached warily, checking for enemies before kneeling down to examine the object. It was a golden hourglass, the magic contained within it intense enough to make it hard even for a Death Knight to stare at directly. She hesitantly picked the object up, feeling its power pulse against her palm.
"You should take care with that," a voice suddenly cautioned her. Beckyann whirled, runeblade pointed instantly at the source of the sound, her eyes narrowing as she took in the form of a Sin'dorei standing a few feet away.
"And who are you to advise me such?" she demanded.
The blood elf frowned, shaking his head, "I am not what you think I am. I am of the Bronze Flight, and the object you hold in your hand is something I've been searching for these many weeks. My spells finally allowed me to part the wards around it so it would show itself, and now I find you here with it when it should be safely removed from this place."
Beckyann rolled her eyes, looking down at the little hourglass again, "And what is it that it is so important to the Bronze Flight? Why should I just trust your word?"
"Miss...that object is one of the anchors we use to travel between one place in time and another," the not-elf said cautiously. "It has great power, but can also be used for great folly. The past is not something to be toyed with, as altering it can change the future in ways we cannot imagine. Please give it to me."
"Change the past...?" Beckyann said, her eyes widening as she looked at the immensely powerful artifact in her hands. "I could...I could fix everything. I could undo the harm I've done, save the lives I took through my carelessness."
The elf nodded, solemn, "You could, but you cannot foresee what that would do to the future, miss. People are meant to die sometimes. Sometimes lives have a purpose, even if you cannot see it. Changing that to assuage your guilt will not help anything."
Beckyann looked at the elf, glaring, "You can't know that. You can't know that anything is meant to be!"
He shook his head, nodding, "No, you're right I can't. But I can show you what could be. See for yourself before you decide to use such a powerful object so recklessly. I will grant you the vision of but a single course that your fate could take amongst endless possibilities. Observe."
Before Beckyann could open her mouth to protest, the elf brought his hands up and spoke a word. Time seemed to freeze in place, and Beckyann had a glimpse of countless magical bubbles of possibility flowing all around her. One of them drew near to her, its silvery sheen glittering as it approached. As the bubble of other-space surrounded her, Beckyann found herself thrust into a different place in time and a possibility that might or might not come to pass.....
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She stood on a hill, looking at the distant flames that danced along the horizon as far as she could see with glowing blue eyes that had seen thousands of years of combat. Behind her sat a quiet village on a world so distant from the one she'd been born on that it was best not to contemplate how far fate had taken her. Through magic and the endless expanses of time, she'd fought for first the Alliance, and later the Army of Light against the never-ending threat of the Burning Legion. And now she found herself here, in a distant place that no one would remember, a place that the evils that lurked in the darkness would soon burn to ash.
"We should flee, General," a voice said behind her.
Beckyann didn't acknowledge it at first, merely staring at the approaching flames in the distance, spotting a shape in the distant smoke that must have been immense. She reached up to her cloak, caressing the pin that lay there, the rank insignia of a General of the 1113th, one that was once worn by her dear friend Redamous, gone for so many years now. There was a faint crackle of static, the comm system in the pin still active even though no voice had spoken across the line for countless centuries now.
She sighed, thinking back on it. Remembering where each one had fallen, remembering their faces, their names, the battles they had won and lost together. Forever engulfed in war, her soul had seen horrors the likes of which a person should never be forced to witness, had felt the pain of existing in undeath and the loss of the few people she cared about. She was so very tired now, and yet there were always more enemies to face, more threats to the innocent.
In the distance a roar rose up, reaching Beckyann and the few living men standing behind her even from miles away. The voice of a greater demon, one that lead this particular group of Burning Legion soldiers that would soon wash over this place where the Army of Light had failed to hold back the darkness. She could see the creature now, its immense form visible even from where they stood. It spelled certain doom for the survivors in the village behind her, for the men, women, and children that could not defend themselves. It was the end of all things for this world at least.
"General..?" one of the men said again as they all stared at the distant figure, knowing their doom approached.
In that moment, Beckyann realized she could go on no longer. Her soul had reached its limit, and the time had come. Voice firm, she never looked back at the men as she began to walk away from them, issuing her last command, "I will give you five minutes. Get the villagers to the portals and evacuate them. And good luck."
"But Ma'am..." one of the men started to protest, but Beckyann had already walked away, her footsteps steady now that she'd made up her mind.
She called out, and a speck appeared in the sky, her undead gryphon landing beside her. For once the creature did not hiss at her, did not try to bite her as if it sensed that something was different. She nodded at it, and it bowed its head so she could mount. She murmured to it as she took up the reins, guiding it into the sky, "This is the last time, and then you are free."
For such an important moment in her life, the trip was oddly short, the distance between the village and the edge of the fireline where the immense demon walked eaten up in only a few minutes. As she drew nearer, she could see that the creature was hundreds of feet tall, with a flaming blade in its hand that could crush the entirety of the settlement she'd just left. She knew in that moment that her decision was indeed final; there would be no victory in such a battle, no glory. She would die, and her estimate of five minutes might even be generous.
Even so, it had to be done. The innocents behind her deserved one last service. The lives that she had taken so long ago cried out for one last penance.
And so she directed her gryphon to fly towards the creature, bringing it far in the air above the demon. She had no idea even what it was, only that it was a general amongst its kind, leading thousands upon thousands of lesser demons behind it. She brought her gryphon to a halt, making it hover above her target.
"Farewell, and rest in peace," she murmured, patting the gryphon on the back. She released the spells binding it, and with a sigh its spirit departed, the bones falling away around her, making her plunge towards the massive creature below her.
Beckyann fell, her cloak flaring out behind her, her golden hair flapping in the winds of her passage as she held her runeblade steady above her, her eyes never far from the creature as she plunged towards her demise. She would strike one last time, make penance for what she'd done this one final moment, and then it would be over.
Beckyann would never see the change that came over her as she fell. She would never notice the way the stormy clouds of ash and soot that had covered the sky in the armageddon that was consuming the world seemed to part above her. She could feel the rays of sunlight as the slanted down from the heavens upon her, but she would never see or come to know what those witnessing her last battle would later tell.
The sunlight illuminated her in her fall, glittering on her silver armor and setting almost a halo above her head. As it shone down, her sacrifice was accepted, the Light finally touching her after the countless centuries of darkness. She would feel a burning sensation as she fell, assuming it to be the rage she felt at facing death finally, but those who saw her would know what it truly was.
Magnificent golden wings of Light spread from her back, trailing behind her and burning away her cloak as she fell. Golden Light played along her arms as they held her runeblade above her head, bathing her in a holy glow and running up her weapon, which sparkled with the power of the Light as it granted one gift to its lost daughter. As Beckyann fell, the pain began extreme, the burning sensation eating away at her as the Light roared to claim her.
Later, when all was said and done, many would report seeing an angel fall from the sky, sent by the Light to save them from the Burning Legion. They would tell a tale of the beam of sunlight intensifying, enough so that the massive demonic general would pause, looking up and flinching from its intensity. They would tell of that falling figure slashing out just a single time as it fell like a meteor, the slash glowing with Light so powerful that they had to look away.
They would tell the tale of seeing the creature's immense head separate from its body, of its corpse falling back and crushing hundreds of its minions and sending its armies into disarray and flight, buying the civilians all the time they needed to flee to safety and granting the Army of Light enough time to reinforce their positions, driving back the darkness.
Finally, when the men who had been overseeing the evacuation were able to advance on the position where the creature had fallen, they would report finding a set of armor etched to look like bones, filled with nothing but dust, with a sword buried in the soil beside it, the name 'Eastberg' carved on its hilt.
One man, a paladin, later reported that when he knelt beside the blade to examine it, he saw a ghostly green-eyed girl in a powder blue dress. In his memoirs he recounted seeing the ghost smile at him once, true happiness on her face before she faded away into nothing.
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Beckyann gasped, staggering back against the grain silo as the vision played out, her eyes wide with shock. She shook her head, staring down at the little magical artifact in her palm, denial in her voice, "No...t-that can't possibly be w-what happens to m-me.."
The elf looked at her, his face solemn, "It could be, or perhaps you will walk another path, but it is a possibility. You cannot know what you were meant to do until you do it. If you change your present, you change those possible futures. You could destroy yourself, or harm countless lives without realizing it. Think on it before you decide what to do next."
Beckyann stared down at the hourglass, understanding now how truly great and terrible the power she held in her hand could be. After a moment she nodded, her voice quiet, "I see now. No one should be allowed to tamper with such a thing. Fate is fate, and it must run its course. I have seen to my path for this long, so I will see it through to the end."
Before the elf could say anything, Beckyann dumped the object out of her palm and onto the ground. She stomped on it with one of her boots, smashing the immensely powerful but physically fragile object to bits beneath her tread. As it failed, she could feel the magic around her fading, and knew it would no longer tempt her.
The elf gave a groan of irritation, and Beckyann merely grinned and turned, walking away, "Have a good day, dragon."
Fate would decide the future, not magic.
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