Secrets, stories, and collections of The Winter Priest

Secrets, stories, and collections of the Winter Priest, Sefira Snow.

I watched him, as he walked away.
He smiled in the sunlight. The gold afternoon played on his sandy hair and twinkled off his silver glasses.
And I watched him, as he walked away.

That was my earliest memory.
    I’m a night elf, it’s true. But I am old, and our times have long past. We hold on, reluctantly, to time. We hold on, with a desperate and a clutching hand. It is a futile effort. We hold grasp and we fight and we breathe in. We will be long gone when it is time to exhale. Lives are short. We take time for granted. And I know time.  Time is an old friend of mine.
    We keep our secrets, as if they were keepsakes and trinkets-- to be shared and bought and traded like a commodity. I’ve held me secrets close to my chest, intimate and raw.  Like my heart.  It is time now, that I disclose these secrets in this diary.
That night,
    He moved in a yellow bedroom light, the air was wet with sound. He was a black silhouette shape.
The ground drank a slow, swamp leak. The lake was knifed with light as he opened the door to head outside.  A string of carnival light lit like lightening bugs across Duskwallow’s trees.  A boat drifted by, like a lit birthday cake sliding across the mirror black water.
    I’d never forget him, not for years and years, and we are a long lived people indeed.  

I’ve taken three vows in my life. My first vow, I can not remember when.  My first life is fragmented and shattered. Time never existed, and when it did, it was just broken partials spaced and meaningless except in the brightly colored moments themselves.  I rarely speak of my first life. It is my first secret.  
My tribe, that is what we called out family, are the Keepers.
    For ages, or perhaps not ages, perhaps it was just for a brief moment. I am not entirely sure. Time is funny that way, isn’t it? My tribe and I kept secrets safe in the sandy passages of time.  There were sometimes many of us, and sometimes there were none at all. We all wore dresses of the moon. I was able to keep mine when I was born into second life.
We were lead by Andormu, and Nozari and the Bronze Dragonflight and our master, Nozdormu. I wish I could tell you much more about my first life. But it is very difficult to remember. I just remember him.
Him, the man I saw.
But I also remember when things changed. Time… shattered, and became lineal. Time used to leap and morph and twist and turn backwards, then, it became a line. It was like being born a second time.  It was like I had died, and my lifeline had gone flat.
But I had watched him, as he walked away.