The Shattering (short story)

The Shattering
This short story was written by Freethinker, from the point of view of his paladin Haleth.

"The Horde is - not - our priority!" Haleth exclaimed furiously. "The very world we live on is being torn asunder, and you worry about the Horde?" Some nodded in agreement, others clacked their tongue. He hated councils like this. High-ranked officers in all their fake dignity, doing what they did best; sending men to their deaths in a never-ending conflict built upon old wounds and years of hatred. Even now. "Well then, Paladin, what do you propose we do? Wait to see how Garrosh sends his Horde to kill us all? We can stop them and finally free the world of this filth.""I'm not going to watch you start yet an other conflict while we have so many other things on our minds!" He left the keep and breathed in the cool evening air. There was nothing he could do. He had no authority whatsoever. Slowly, he wandered through the city, past the people who were busy with one of their many daily rituals. Shops closed, children went home, taverns filled. Not a sign of the confusion and fear that filled their hearts. The stone statues of heroes gazed protectively over their valley, over weary travellers returning home and others setting out on adventure. Haleth walked past one of the guards, who recognized him instantly. He was lucky; many citizens were stopped and questioned, a result of the new security measures.The skies had darkened and were illuminated only by blue rays of twilight. The profile of the glorious Stormwind, the peak of its cathedral the most prominent feature, was outlined clearly against the skyline in the distance. Behind him a waterfall clattered with its peaceful violence; Elwynn had never failed him. He lay in an improvised bed of moss and weeds, unable to pay for a resting place in the city. Since Arthas's fall, he had resorted to teaching young Paladins, yet their training concerned him more than what could be paid in return. He shifted his body with a grunt, his armour attached to him like a second skin; he dared no longer take it off. Its colour had faded, the golden radiance of Light was lost. What once was hope and glory, had been vanquished by shadow and doubt. His mind filled with many thoughts, he closed his eyes.

His sleep was soon interrupted. He looked around him; wild animals fled in panic. He looked up; the skies were red, the colour at its brightest over Stormwind. He jumped up and summoned his Charger, and rode like an arrow fired from a longbow back into the city, through the streets, across the canals, over the bridges, to the harbour. A crowd had gathered at the overlook, and he instantly realised why; a ball of fire, brighter than the sun, had appeared on the horizon, its terrifying aura colouring the now no longer dark night.

Without a second thought, he unsheathed his sword and whispered a prayer, yet as the fire came closer and closer, he realised the futility of his actions. Enormous as it was already, its reflection on the ocean revealed that it was still far, far away. What was it? The speed with which it approached was more frightening than what it actually was. Below, people fled the docks, making for the overlook's ramps; enormous waves shattered on the stone pavement, the destructive force of water heralding the fire to come.

An immense roar thundered over the city. It was a dragon. It was the dragon. And then, time came to an instant halt.

With one flap of his mighty wings, he propelled himself upwards, over the Cathedral, only to instantly soar down again. The park was obliterated with one blast of his fiery breath, and so were its inhabitants. He left, over the trade district and the Valley of Heroes, disappearing into the night. All watched in awe and terror. That was it. The mystery explained. Everyone now knew what they were up against, and what their and the future generation's lives would look like. Their destiny had unfolded itself faster than anyone could ever have feared.

A heart-breaking scream pierced through the night, and restarted time as fast as it had stopped. Haleth sent his Charger under the harbour's archway and was nearly blinded. An immense inferno burned the skies where the park had been, threatening to engulf the entire city in flame. All knew that it was too late for those inside. Some fled while others hurried to the scene; cowardice and heroism, or intelligence and foolishness? Powerful mages fought the fire with all they had and succeeded; yet although the city was not destroyed, its morale was. Everyone came to realize that which had been impossible to accept. Stormwind wasn't invulnerable. The bastion of human pride, weak and vulnerable under the shadow's darkness.

The next day, the fire had died down, leaving only smoldering remains. The sea tides had taken away the horrors of the day before.

It was -only- one district. The death toll would -only- be so low. People would never learn. Death is never merely a number. Each number of that dreadful statistic represented a life lost, a family torn apart. Hopes and dreams shattered under the overwhelming weight of the world's darkness. Such a loss was insignificant to the world; yet, to a few, it was that loss that faded out the rest of the world.

Only one thing was certain. War. Deathwing had returned.