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| Details |
| Author: | Aly |
| Summary: | Ralaea's experience inside the Whispering Gulch. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
It was a mining operation, they had been told. In the words of Sapper Steelring, “A bunch of Explorer’s League lads seem to have gone, uh… bonkers while diggin’ up stuff in the Whisper Gulch just to the north. They’re attackin’ anyone tryin’ to get in.”
That was the first bad feeling. Ralaea had heard of stories like this one. About young men in Tirisfal who ran away to join a mushroom colony and were never heard from again. And a woman who picked up a crow’s feather on the way home and became obsessed, collecting until there were enough feathers to consume her entirely. She looked to Ben.
“Right. Okay. Well, we can have a quick look,” Ben said, offering her a bundle of explosives.
She wondered briefly if Ben had heard the stories too. Maybe not. He was from the South. “So we're bringing strange stuff here.” It wouldn’t be the dumbest thing they’d done all day, but still… Ralaea gave him a look behind her goggles. He probably didn’t see it.
“Today is our day to bring inadvised substances into the Keep. I guess. But let's check this sh*t out, anyway. If we got dwarves lost down there.”
A rescue mission, then. Part of her knew. Knew that they were lost, more than lost. That their efforts would be in vain. That they would be putting themselves right into those stories she so feared. But if there was even a chance to save them…
Ralaea took a deep breath. It would be fine. Her squad was with her, and they were all smart, dependable people. They crossed two rickety wooden bridges. How long had those been there? The Alliance had only arrived fairly recently, but these looked oddly aged. As though they had been there forever, abandoned by whoever came before. After winding around a steep drop off, they arrived at the entrance, a sloping canyon held in place by a set of large metal beams. Again the feeling hit her. The feeling of something ancient. The metal was showing signs of rust and wear, and she knew it had been here longer than she had lived.
A feeling of wrongness followed her into the gulch, even before they saw the first dwarf. At a glance, it looked like a normal mining operation. She said as much. They kept moving forward. Deeper. Closer.
Lena approached a dwarf before Ralaea could stop her. “Hey there! You running into any problems…?”
Then Ben. “Hey. Sir?”
“Now that you know the truth, I can't let you leave!” the dwarf shouted, swinging his mining pick at them wildly. They scattered. The truth? What truth? The only truth Ralaea saw was maddened dwarves shouting nonsense.
But it continued with the next one. “Ahahaha! I must find the secrets!”
And the next. “The truth shall set you free. Like us, you will be with IT forever!”
To her horror, it was exactly as she had suspected it might be. Just like the stories. The bad feeling grew stronger, especially when they began to collect the ore. Just being near it caused a faint ringing in her head. Holding it felt like something scraping and scratching at her mind. Similar to the vision sent to her by the Naaru, she felt seen. By what, she couldn’t say.
And then, the whispers began.
Tell yourself again that these are not truly your friends.
It spoke directly into her mind, and her skin prickled, sensing the presence. She turned around, but there was nothing there. Only dwarves. And rocks. And shadows. Her feet followed Ben. Her blades cut down their attackers. What was she doing here again? Following Ben. Like always. Ben knew where they were going. What they were doing. She focused on him.
Distantly she could hear the others. They were talking, but she couldn’t understand them somehow. The presence lingered, seeing her. Reading her.
It WAS your fault.
She saw the Lich King again, shimmering in the spirit world, standing over Ben as she was forced away by the val’kyr.
She could have reached him. If she’d given it everything she had, rushed in there, she could have saved him.
The ashes of Lordaeron surrounded her, staining her tear-soaked cheeks. Prince Arthas, his white hair flowing from beneath the black hood, passed in front of her. Close enough to grab. His head turned towards her, the hood like a reaching void, ready to devour her. She saw his face, and did nothing.
It was her fault. How many people had died because of her? How many more would follow?
More dwarves fell to her blades. She continued to follow Ben, but he felt further away somehow. As though he were slipping into the shadows of the gulch.
Somewhere ahead of her, she heard Ace. “It said… it said they're going to kill us.”
It would. She squinted in the shadows, trying to keep up.
“Rae. Hey. Rae. You with us?” Ben’s voice. She tried to find her own, but the darkness had swallowed it up. She nodded. I’m here. I’m still here. I trust you all. I hope you can trust me.
“Rae…” Paluuva was there as well. Ralaea wanted to ask her who IT was, what they were doing, and how to make the voices stop. STOP! She screamed silently at nothing. She had to leave. Danger danced all through her vision. Deepening shadows. Laughter. Bright flashes, stronger scraping.
Another outside voice broke into her thoughts. “You cannot leave… IT mustn't find us!” The panic stricken dwarf fell before them.
But he was right. They couldn’t leave. If they left, IT would find them. Everything would get worse.
Give in to your fear.
It was so loud now, so close, like it was coiling around her mind, caressing her arms, breathing on her neck. The sensation startled her, and she dropped one of her swords. It disappeared into the dark. No! No, I need that! She dove for it, scrabbling around until her hand met the hilt. There. Safety. Why did she need it again?
A faint glimmer of light appeared in the darkness and she focused on it. The words of a prayer in a language she didn’t understand. A sliver of warmth fought against the gleeful gloom. That’s right. To protect. She needed her sword to protect…
Kill them all… before they kill you.
Herself. They were going to kill her. It was her fault, after all. She failed them, and they knew it. The light vanished, and they were swallowed by murky twilight. Her blades felt leaden. Why was she fighting dwarves? She needed to protect herself. Escape. Flee deeper. Hide from them and from IT.
"You know I will look after my people. You know it. No one here is in danger from anyone else of us." Ben was right beside her again, and she felt her whole body tense. She heard his words, but they sounded like poison. Like a broken Naaru’s chime. But still… Something in her fought. He knew she’d failed him. She had to make it up to him somehow.
She heard Lena, distant, distorted, as though she were speaking underwater. “Rae I did not even summon a demon today, cause I thought maybe we didn't need it.”
Maybe they did need it. Maybe it could have done something. Ralaea was willing to try anything to still the chaos in her head. Deeper. She had to go deeper.
There is no escape. Not in this life. Not in the next.
Despair, strong, and damp, and heavy wrapped around her like clothing. No escape. Not for any of them. Not ever. She wanted to break down. To sob, and wail, and give in to everything. She heard Ben’s voice again, like a broken accordion, but she couldn’t tell what he was saying.
Snatches of conversation drifted in around her. First Paluuva. “Calm… Find a way in…”
Then Lena. “…summon demons… Rae… I… need…”
Ace. “…the Light.”
Ben. “…the Light…”
Paluuva again. “…the Light…”
A cold, twisted chant. Ralaea wanted to recoil into the shade, but her feet kept following Ben, as though strings were attached. Suddenly, a familiar grey coat tickled her face and Widow was there, nudging against her and scraping his hoof against the ground impatiently. Without even thinking she grasped the reins, pulling herself into the ram’s saddle. Widow ran. Flames and shadows flashed around them, and she had no idea where they were going, but Widow knew. After all, he was sent to protect her.
In the twisted darkness, white hair flowed from beneath a black hood, but she felt no fear. This man was not the dread prince, but an old, close friend.