Then and Now

[Wayena]

Then:


The pregnancy had not been easy for many reasons. In fact, some would say that Marr himself had cursed it from the moment of conception. But in the end, things happen as they may and everyone clings to their visions of things as if it's the only one that matters. The only one that is real.

The mother, a cleric of Marr and thus a traitor to her faith in a time of weakness, gave birth to twins, one boy and one girl. The girl looked much like her mother, but the boy looked like his vile father, a disgraceful man who was a threat to all the Knights of Truth had fought and died for in Freeport.

Death followed birth that day. A raid carried out by the Freeport Militia found the mother and her nursemaids, and with no hesitation, killed them. The mother, cradling her newborn son, remained alone.

"Is this yours?" a harsh voice asked her.

"Yes," she responded. She knew she was going to die. She knew her son would die as well. She was weak and had failed Lord Marr with her weakness. She prayed to him, knowing it was futile.

"Is it the only one?" he asked.

All her nursemaids were dead around her, all except for one. She had taken the newborn girl to be dressed as she had done for the boy not long before and had fled out a window when the Militia attacked. The mother did not know this, but she hoped for it anyway. Hoped for something good to come at this time of evil.

"Yes," she said, tears rolling down her cheeks.

The man with the harsh voice nodded and brought his sword high.

"Tell Marr that Lucan sends his regards."

The sword fell. The mother and her newborn son knew nothing more.



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Now:


Wayena sat on the floor of her inn room, meditating before the altar of Marr. Before her lay the five blades of the monk masters she had gained possession of, each one cleaned spotless and lain upon soft cotton cloth. She had come a long way from where she was not long ago, but she still had much to do. She needed to gain the means to reassemble the Hand of Serenity, found in lost documents she would need aid in obtaining.

But she was patient. Not something she could say was part of her nature, but something she had taught herself over time. Not a one of her many teachers could ever teach her patience.

She thought of all the changes in her life and sighed.

Something was wrong.

She didn't know what it was, exactly. She knew things were better now than ever before. She was living a good life in Qeynos, surrounded by many friends, and yet she felt empty inside. She did not know why she felt this way, so she did something her teachers had been able to teach her. She prayed to Marr for guidance and strength. And a little selfishly, she prayed for something to fill this hole inside of her.



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Then:



The nursemaid, an wood elf, carried the small girl child as quickly as her legs would carry her, which happened to be very quickly. Keeping to the shadows and empty places, she made her way out of the city and fled out into the desert of Ro. She could not raise this child, yet the child was now her burden. She knew of a woman who could do this, but she must hurry. The child was so very young and not ready for such travel, but this could not wait.

If the Freeport Militia knew who she was and what she carried, they would both be dead.

She prayed to Tunare as she ran, thanking the Mother of All as she reached the boat that would take her and the newborn girl to Faydwer and more importantly, to the city of Kelethin.

[Wayena]

Then:


The wood elf, after a trip through the Butcherblock Mountains and a scary run in with a band of goblins, eventually made it to Kelethin. There, she met up with Lady Askani.

"My dear girl," she said in her soothing tone, "what have you got here?"

"A human child, Lady Askani. Her mother was killed my the Freeport Militia and the child is without other family."

"Be there no father for this child?"

The wood elf looked down at the small child. "There is and not a more vile man could I imagine. He does not know of her and I thought that it would be best to remove her from his reach."

She swallowed, and held out a piece of worn paper.

"This is all the information about the child and her parents. I seems best not to speak of such things aloud."

Lady Askani took the folded paper and read it silently. Once finished, she looked to the small child with sad eyes.

"We will take this child in and nurture her as Tunare nurtures us all. But one thing must be done first."

With a wave of her hand and an incantation, the small child before her began to change. The pudgy cheeks became more slender, her skin darkened, and her ears changed from round to pointed.

"There now. Much better."

Where a human baby was not moments ago, there now lay a half-elven baby.

"Did you...I didn't know you could..."

"It is merely glamour. To all she will appear as an Ayr'dal and none shall know otherwise. Now, what shall we call you? Oh, I know! I shall give you my great-grandmother's name. Tunare embrace you and her in return, little Wayena."

The baby cooed and the Lady Askani smiled.



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Now:


She can't sleep. It's the dreams that plague her. No, dreams do them an injustice. They seem more like memories of someone's life perversely put on display for her. And so many! Almost an endless stream of lives where she cannot see where one ends and another begins.

"Maybe I can make a potion that gives dreamless sleep," she says to no one at all. Alone, as always, in her inn room in Qeynos, Wayena moves over to her chemistry table and consults her recipe books.

After pouring through the volumes for what seems like hours, she gives up on finding the potion and instead pull out her bag of blades. They comfort her somehow. She wonders how it will feel when the entire Hand of Serenity is completed. Perhaps merely having it will end the dreams. Drive them out of her head.

"Marr, I hope so."

She lays down on her bed, the blades still within their bag and held near to her chest with one arm.

Thankfully, the rest of her sleep is dreamless.

[Wayena]

NOW:

She was wrong.

Wayena had completed the Hand of Serenity and it brought her nothing. False hope as always. And the fire now. Her dreams are filled with it. Her body, her very soul burning over and over again. The world turned white and inside out.

She knew the Hand could be made stronger. She was told so, but it would be a long time until she could achieve such a thing. A task involving many allies and allies were something she found herself in very short supply of these days.

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THEN:

The small child grew strong and proud under the watch of Lady Askani. While she had hoped the child would follow her in the arts of enchantment and illusion, Wayena instead was drawn to the bow and sword of the rangers. Together with friends, they would venture of into the Greater Faydark, hunting down the orcs of Crushbone and bringing back their belts and scalps as trophies.

That is, until one day, they came back with no trophies to speak of, only the limp, dying body of Wayena.

They had walked directly into an ambush. More orcs than they had ever seen had come pouring out of Crushbone, nearly slaughtering them all. It was amazing enough that Wayena was the only one to fall that day.

For more than a few frantic hours, druids and clerics both watched over the little ranger as she lay near death's door, but none could heal these wounds. They were much to severe and seemed to be caused by a dark magic that prevented the healers from having any effect. Lady Askani finally motioned them away and took Wayena back to her home for what everyone believed would be Wayena's final rest before death.

But Lady Askani was not ready to give up on the child she had taken in as her own. After placing Wayena within a diagram of runes, Askani dug through her shelves until she found a book that appeared to be older than the trees of the Faydark. Askani took a place near Wayena's side and opened the book.

"Fear not, little one. This incantation has not been uttered on Norrath in more years than we elves can count, but I believe it is the only thing that can save your life."

She read the book, at the same time motioning with her hands a pattern in the air.

"Oh ancient beings of legend, blood of the Nameless and children of our fathers, I beseech you in this time of great need and call upon your power to give life to one that is dying. Come and save this child from death!"

Suddenly, the world around them began to glow until nothing existed but white light coming in all directions. Wayena lay suspended in air while Askani remained on her knees nearby. A voice spoke.

"Askani of the Faydark, you have called and we have answered. We will grant this boon you seek, but be warned that it comes with a heavy price. Will you pay this price to restore this one you call your own?"

Askani did not hesitate.

"Yes, with all my heart. Please give her life again."

Askani felt the air around her warm and sweat ran down her brow. The white around her blazed into fire and before she could say anything more, Wayena and Lady Askani were consumed by the fire.

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THEN:

Wayena awoke on a soft bed in a strange room. A woman nearby was cleaning several dishes and was startled as Wayena tried to raise her head, felt weak, and fell back onto her pillow.

"Please, do not try to rise. I will fetch the lady of the house to speak with you."

The strange woman ran out of the room, leaving Wayena just as confused as when she awoke. Wayena tried to sit up so that she could better speak to these strangers, but her strength could not hold and she fell back again, this time losing consciousness. When the lady of the house entered the room, Wayena was asleep again and dreaming.

She dreamed of fire.

[Wayena]

THEN:


The room was white and empty. No, not empty, but blazing with light. So much that there was only white to be seen. And hot too. Like the world was burning.

"Where am I?", Wayena asked the room. She expected no answer, but the cloaked figure that appeared to come from within the white answered anyway.

"The place you are has no official name that I know of. I call it the White, Hot room. Seems to sum it up quite nicely."

Wayena stared at this figure cloaked in darkness, all the while light burned, and yet didn't, all around her.

"Lady Askani?" she asked in a small voice.

"No. Lady Askani was a fool and has paid the price for her foolishness. The spell she cast was one of truly ancient power and in the casting, it consumed her body and soul."

"Then who are you and why am I here?"

"There, now you ask the important questions. I am your guide for the times you are here. And here is where you come each time you die."

Wayena didn't know what to say. She thought for several moments, finally asking, "What do you mean? Am I dead? Is this the way to Tunare's plane? And what do you mean each time?"

"You do not know what has been done to you. And each time you die, you will come here and ask me these same questions again. And each time I will tell you. Do you wish for me to tell you now?"

"Yes."

"You are a nothing. A no one. A soul born within the walls of Freeport that had the unfortunate fate of being born to enemies of Lucan D'Lere and thus were they put to death, along with your twin brother. You were secreted out of Freeport and brought to Kelethin, where Askani took you in, cast a glamour on you so that you would fit in with the elves, and raised you as if you where her own."

"Wait, you're saying I'm not an Ayr'dal? I'm not a half-elf?!"

"No, you are not. You are human. Born to two human parents. You were led to believe otherwise and would most likely have believed so all your life had you not died."

The guide, as the cloaked figure had spoken of itself (herself? Wayena thought), paused for a moment, then continued.

"Askani thought herself very skilled in the magical arts and in comparison to those around her, she was. But in the great tapestry that is the creation of the Nameless, she knew nothing. And this lack of true knowledge cost her when she cast a spell to save your life, a spell she herself did not even know the outcome of. All she knew was that the spell would bring about rebirth in those that were dead. When the spell was cast, she was swept up in the effects, as she would have known she would be, had she fully translated the spell. It called for a trade. A life for a life. To make the binding complete."

"I'm sorry, but what do you mean by binding?"

"Your soul has been used to bind a force of creation that is older than the world you were born upon. A creation of the Nameless older than the gods worshipped upon Norrath. Wayena, the power of the Phoenix is bound upon your very soul and because of this, you will never die."

"But you said I'm dead now, that I will return here each time I die? If I can't die, how does that make sense?!"

"Because the power of the Phoenix is the power of rebirth itself. Each time you die, you will return here and here you will be reborn into the world you know. Each time you die, for as long as the binding is in place."

"And this Phoenix, what does it have to say about all this?"

"The Phoenix says nothing. It embodies an aspect of the Nameless that is part of the foundation of creation itself. The Phoenix acts as it will, guided by a sense of where it is needed, not by anything we would perceive as thought. Even here, in the White, Hot Room, itself an embodiment of the Phoenix, is a place of flame and rebirth, meant only for the Phoenix, but now meant for you as well."

"Wait, then how have you come to be here?"

"That, child, you will learn in time."

Wayena waited for the cloaked figure to speak again, but it did not. The silence seemed to last forever in this room of flame that burned brighter than the sun, but burned her not.

"So, what happenes now?"

"Now? Now you will be reborn and you will forget what you have learned here. It is that way each time. Perhaps in time, you might remember some of it, but it will seem like a dream at best and a nightmare at worst, both quickly forgotten again. As long as the binding holds."

Wayena wished to ask something else, but the figure disappeared and the white light of the flame seemed to fill her eyes and enter her mouth and begin to burn her from within. She screamed in pain as the flames enveloped her once again.

"Birth is always painful, no matter how many times you experience it."

Wayena did not hear this. She was already gone.

[Wayena]

NOW:

If anyone asks her, she will tell them that she quit the monk order because it failed on it's promise to fill the empty hole inside her and bring peace to her mind. She will not tell them the truth, that she failed in her every attempt to master their arts, she failed to bring balance to her chi, and she was almost literally kicked out of the monk temple. They told her that she was a bad influence on the rest of their students, that she let her anger overwhelm her instead of her reason.

And then they had the gall to let Suvari into the order. She is nothing but a backwoods nobody that Wayena didn't even know she was related to, and here she comes walking into Wayena's life making everything she struggled to master look easy. Wayena hated her and barely knew her.

But that was the anger again. Wayena needed to suppress it and find away to function without it. Once, she had thought she could use her anger as a weapon, but is had been a long time since she was a bruiser in Freeport foolishly worshipping Rallos Zek.

How could she be wrong about so much? Well, she wouldn't be wrong about this. This time, it's back to basics and back to what brought her more completion and happiness than anything she could remember.

After gathering her things, she slung her pack onto her back and headed for Kelethin to speak with the Sylvan Hunters.

It was time to reawaken the ranger within.

[Wayena]

Then:


Wayena went on to have many different incarnations over the years. She stood the front line against evil as a half-elf warrior. She spread torment as an Erudite shadowknight. She moved through the shadows as a woodelf rogue. She battled on the moon as a Vahshir beastlord. She was both good and evil and sometimes, somewhere in between.

Each time she would die, she would return to the white, hot room and speak with the guide before returning to Norrath. Never did the incarnations follow her there, however. In the room, she was always human. And she would always forget her past incarnations when she assumed a new one and would always forget what was said in the white, hot room.

But though the guide had told her that it would always be so, even the guide did not know everything...




Now:

Wayena arrived home, throwing her bow and quiver to the side as she entered the door. Her dagger and short sword were likewise flung off as she neared her bed. She quickly removed her chainmail armor, laid down on the bed and began to cry.

When the worst of the tears had passed, she cleaned her face, ate a small meal, and returned to sit on her bed and pondered what had happened...

She had entered into the guildhall, where Zerzal, Bella and others were looking very downcast and saddened. She had inquired about what was wrong. "Did someone die or something?" she had asked. Then she was told that Ralas had been accused of killing someone, a paladin's son. Wayena had seen death seemingly without number and was not phased by the news, but did wonder about why they were discussing bringing Ralas to justice about it. He was not there to defend himself (something Wayena did not approve of) and Wayena understood that in this world, sometimes you had to get blood on your hands. It was almost inevitable. But Wayena's protests of innocent before guilty seemed to go upon deaf ears, so she angerly bolted out of the guildhall and went to see her friend, Xanilai.

However, when Wayena arrived, angry almost beyond control, she found a disturbing scene. The door had been kicked in, the lock broken, and Xan's belongings scattered across the floor. Wayena had not seen her for some time, assuming Xan was keeping herself busy with her studies. Xan had always seemed to be looking over one shoulder at all times, and Wayena often joked about it with her, but Xan never laughed.

"My brothers," she had told Wayena. "They will come looking for me. To leave Freeport was one thing, but they will never let me leave our family."

Wayena had never believed her brothers would be stupid enough to attempt anything here in Qeynos, but Wayena now had proof otherwise, for there in the bedroom floor, lay Xanilai Morningstar, Tier'dal Illusionist, escapist from Freeport, dead.

[Wayena]

Now:


Always things to get in the way. To muddy things up! Always...

These are the thoughts Wayena has. But really, it was her own doing as much as anyone's. Aphellona had been sending her poems, beautiful poems that touched her heart in a way she though would never be done again. Not since a long time ago, when the man who fathered her child (why can't she remember his name?) had been in her life. (Or the child's name? Why is it all a fog in her mind? And what had happened to the child? So much unknown and out of reach.)

But Xanilai was dead. Her friend, who had come with her from Freeport all that time ago. Wayena fleeing to find something to fill the void in her heart and Xan looking to flee the wrath of her brothers. They were never great friends, but Wayena understood her in a way no one else did and it had always conforted Xan. But there was no comfort now. Only the silence of the grave for the former Tier'dal coercer.

And for Wayena, there was anger. Always anger. Some days she wondered if it was all she was. Anger incarnate.

But Aphellona's words had cut through the anger. Made her feel special. Made her feel she was something more than a fighter on the field of battle in a war without end. And did she feel something for Aphellona? She searched herself and found she did. Wayena always had a soft spot for Tier'dal, even when they had belittled her in the streets of Freeport or cast their hateful gaze her way. Something deep inside her knew things about them that only they knew. Secrets...

But then there was also Apollonja, twin sister of Aphellona who had once confided in Wayena her desire for the ranger. Wayena had told her in no uncertain terms that she wasn't interested. Yet, here she was flirting with her sister. And enjoying it! Surely this would be a blow to Apollonja, but how was Wayena to explain something she could not find the words for?  How to explain a feeling deep down inside, where only primal emotions reigned? Perhaps it was something in Apollonja herself that had turned Wayena away from her? Something that Aphellona did not have.

Perhaps....but nothing Wayena could put her finger on.

And Wayena was torn in two. A blossoming in her heart and a rage that threatened to engulf her. To love or to seek revenge. She could not ignore Xan's death for her own gain. Nor would she. Even in death, she is still her friend and friends look out for each other...

[Wayena]

NOW:

Failure.

Failure in everything.

Over and over in her head, these words turned. She had tried to find piece with the monks and failed. She had sought out the Hand of Serenity, reforging the blades with her own two hands, and had given it to Suvari without a second thought. She could not look at it without thinking of how she had obsessed over it and how it failed to deliver what she convinced herself it could bring.

And in love, she failed. She did not speak of Aphellona, not to anyone. Her business, she would have told you. Nothing you need to know about. The failure had made her feel cold and empty inside. And angry, of course, but only with herself.

Xanilai's death has gone unanswered for. She believed that Lucifyre, Xan's older brother, was responsible, but she could not locate him anywhere she looked. He was no where to be found in either Freeport or Neriak. And none of her contacts had seen or heard anything either. Another failure.

But Wayena wanted to succeed, but in the wake of so much failure, how could she? She wanted to run to her guildmates and rally the banner of war, but that is not her way. She needs help, but she will never ask for it.

Pride. Stupid, pig-headed, stubborn pride.

As much as her anger, it will be her undoing. Wayena has no need of enemies. She has the best enemy of all. Herself.

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THEN:

The white, hot room was always waiting for her. And so was her guide. Her name came to her, as it always did (Wayena) and so did something else. Memories of the life she just left behind. A life of darkness and betrayal in the city of Neriak, studying necromancy with the Tier'dal, whom she had been one of.

Her guide gave the same speech she did each time. Wayena knew it as well as her guide did, and she felt a bit suprised by that.

I'm starting to remember, she thought to herself while her guide droned on.

Wayena said nothing of it. The guide again told her how she would never remember the conversations that took place here. Never even remember the white, hot room until she saw it again. But the guide was wrong, and Wayena knew for the first time that her guide wasn't all knowing as she appeared.

So, she said nothing of her kept memories. Tucked them back into the depths of her mind and prepared for the next stop on this never ending road she traveled. Only next time, she would remember the white, hot room. She promised herself that she would. And once she remembered enough, she would confront her guide and make her answer for whatever it was Wayena could jokingly call living.

Soon, she would have answers.