World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,98

love both. The heart swells to overflowing, and Water flows forth.”

“She should not have died,” Now-Thrall growled. Unspoken were the words: I should have found a way to stop it.

Aggra’s response staggered him as surely as if she had struck a powerful blow.

“Truly? Shouldn’t she?”

He whirled on her, stunned and furious at her callousness. “Of course not! She had everything to live for. Her death accomplished nothing!”

Aggra’s wolf form regarded him implacably. “How do you know this was not her destiny? That perhaps she had done all she had been born to do? Only she knows. Maybe you would not have been moved to the same action, had she lived. It is arrogance to believe you can know all things. Perhaps you are right. But perhaps you are not.”

Her words left him staring in mute silence. He had been racked with guilt ever since the moment he saw Taretha’s severed head lifted in a ghastly display by Aedelas Blackmoore. The nightmares had only served to hammer him with the message: I should have done something more.

But there truly had been nothing he could have done. And now, for the first time, he was forced to consider the idea that maybe what had happened … had been right. Painful, horrible, racking. But maybe … right.

He would never forget her. Never stop missing her. But that sense of guilt was lifting.

“For you,” Aggra continued as he stood silently trying to understand the shift in his soul, “she was the blessing of Water in your life. This time, this female—this, Go’el, was when the element moved into your being.”

He struggled for words. All that came out was, “Thank you.”

The mist began to swirl at the feet of the figures of the past. Although he initially had not wished to relive this incident, now that it was about to slip away, Now-Thrall wanted to cry out, to beg for a few moments more with Taretha, but he knew better. This had been a bittersweet gift from the elements, along with the insight Aggra had given him.

Farewell, dear Taretha. Your life was a blessing, your death not a waste, and there are not many in this world who can say that. And you will always be remembered. I can let you go with peace in my heart, now.

The elements had more to show him.

The mist swirled, obscuring his vision, and then once again he was beholding a younger version of himself. It was winter, and he was with the Frostwolves. He and Drek’Thar were seated by the fire, reaching their hands out to it. Drek’Thar was certainly not young at this time, but his mind was still sharp, and Now-Thrall knew sadness as he watched his friend and tutor. His younger self listened raptly to Drek’Thar as he spoke with deep eloquence about the bond between the shaman and the elements. Snow fell softly. Now-Thrall, even merely watching, felt still and centered, felt the heartache of the recent vision of Taretha ease ever so slightly.

“Grounded,” he said, understanding for the first time where the word came from. “Like the earth. This is Earth’s gift, isn’t it?”

The wolf that was Aggra nodded, and with a hint of her old acerbicness added, “You only now are discovering this? No wonder you are having difficulties.”

This time Thrall found that he was not irritated, only amused. Perhaps, he thought, it was the calmness and steadiness of Earth moving through him. All too soon, it seemed to Now-Thrall, the mists inexorably rose up again, hiding the scene. Thrall understood, though, that Earth was within him now. He could go to this place of peace inside anytime he needed to … and he smiled … ground himself.

There was one element left. He understood by this point that the vision quest was supposed to show him how the elements were already integrated in him, living with and through him. He understood the fiery passion of battle, the loving nature of Water, and the calmness and steadfastness of Earth. But he was curious as to how Air would manifest.

The mist formed, and cleared, and he saw himself in Grommash Hold. It was again late at night, but braziers, torches, and oil lamps provided more than enough illumination and warmth. He stood in front of a table spread with maps and rolled-up scrolls, and beside him stood his old, dear friend Cairne Bloodhoof.

He could not pinpoint this moment, as he had all the others, because this scene had happened in various ways over the