Page 2: The Box

(( New to being posted, older chronologically ))

Leiral asked me to sleep with her. She was having nightmares too, after our trip. Thoughts of her brother, as I am having. Unlike me, she does not know if her brother is alive or dead. Her fear speaks through her dreams.

Unlike myself. I could not shake myself of the idea that it was Oromet who spoke to me, if I was not simply gone mad. I'm not sure why I thought it... it wasn't like him to be vindictive, and I would hope my own twin would not hold my survival against me when he fell... but it felt as though it were him talking to me.

Somehow.

Uzil wasn't very pleased that I was going to spend the night in the inn with Leiral. He understood it was for our own comfort, that we were both afraid, and that it made sense for us to be together and disturb only our own bad dreams and not be constantly waking Uzil up. Still, he was lonely, and insecure. Of late he had taken to clinging to me, until I felt smothered with his love. My nighttime fears were not helping.

Only a few days, and nothing helped. The nightmares continued to harry me. Indeed, I felt like a deer driven toward the waiting jaws of his packmates by a wolf, nipping at my heels, slashing and drawing blood but never doing me a serious injury. 

It was under this circumstance, exhausted and afraid and with a mind that felt stuffed with wool, that I went to the mailbox and found a package waiting for me there. It was wrapped in brown paper, and the paper smelled odd. There was twine wrapped around it. I still can't fathom the hows of it.

There were three things inside.

My dress. My dress. The one my mother made me, the one I was wearing when I met 'Rima, the one I loved so much and put away so carefully. It is creased and a little musty from the cedar wardrobe, but... it is my dress.

Dried flowers. Not just any flowers. Blue and gold, from the gardens outside Silvermoon that I'd loved so much. Flowers from a certain bouquet, that I kept and dried. 

And a note. A little scrap of parchment with two words written on it. In a faint, but achingly familiar hand.

Come home.

I had no idea what to do. I took the box and went to sit on the log near the pond. My mind was churning. How was it possible? To be haunted, yes... but this?

Sylarne found me. I had been hoping Leiral would be with him. I knew he had been back to Silvermoon, to Quel'thalas and Lordaeron. I began to question him closely. How does Sylvanas appear, now? What are the Forsaken, really? Are there elves among them? Is it possible that those of us who died - and I saw him die! - may not have remained dead?

It was possible. He told me of the risen Rangers that Arthas and Sylvanas had brought to their side. About the wandering dead of what is now called the Ghostlands. The Rangers... they brought back the Rangers... and some of them still cling to life... un-life, I suppose.

Oh, Light. Did they do that to my brother? Has he been awake and suffering all this time and I never knew?

Sylarne told me that I should not go alone, should I choose to answer the note. It may well be Oromet, but he had never been cruel before, or hurtful, or vindictive. The Sylvanas on the throne of the Undercity is not the Lady Ranger I once knew and loved, and undeath changes them sometimes. I could not be sure it was safe.

I knew it would not be safe. I was more worried about the safety of those who might accompany me. I remembered the dreams... Sylarne's eviscerated body... Leiral burning and screaming.

Leiral arrived. I showed her the box, told her what was in it, explained what it all meant. Like Sylarne, she did not think I should go alone.

I could not explain to them how much I did not want them with me. If my brother had terrible things to say... I did not want anyone else to hear it. If he was angry and wanted to hurt me... I did not want anyone else hurt for it. I did not want... anyone to take him from me. He was Oromet, my Oromet, my twin, my other heart. But they would not heed my fears.

"If failure isn't an option in your mind, you don't have to deal with it," Leiral said with a grin. "Fear drags you down. Fear paralyses you. I don't have time to live my life in fear."

"Tenacity," said Sylarne solemnly. "I've faced death. I've been trampled by it. I still stand. I will continue to stand at least until my work is done. Regardless, you will not go alone when the time comes."

I asked them where in the Undercity the orb was that led to Silvermoon. Far from the Queen, I was relieved to hear. I would not have to look upon her, not yet. We talked a bit more... about how my brother might be feeling, what he might want. Why he shows me so many deaths every night. We talked and talked. But I already made my decision.

I embraced them both when they left for the night. Tightly. I might not see them again.

Tommorrow I was going to find my brother, alone.