THINGS WE LOST IN THE FIRE
The waves from the Veiled Sea rose to greet the soles of Johnny’s boots, its water sodden with the tincture of ash and blood. The hunter’s gaze bore across the wretched waters, his sunken eyes meeting the flames that continued to hungrily lap at the great boughs of Teldrassil. He willed for the fire to cease in its destruction but knew no action would come of such thoughts. He clenched his teeth together, causing what sinew that had become visible through the course of his decay to become taut. He focused his sight back to the beach of Darkshore, his orbs lingering upon each fallen body as if he were attempting to absorb their fading memory.
This is war. The Banshee’s words broiled painfully within his mind. Johnny found himself shaking his head as he attempted to disconnect heart from mind.
No … This is carnage.
He brokenly collapsed upon the shoreline, the bones of his kneecaps digging into the fiery sand beneath his form. Somewhere beside him sounded the soft thud of his gun being embraced by the coast, let loose by his failing grip. An array of emotions rose within his chest, clamoring all at once as if to see which of them would receive the attention they so desperately desired. Rage, for the innocent lives lost upon this day. Fear, for the unknown future that would play as a rebuttal towards this needless violence. Guilt, for the leader of his own kind—and most importantly, the leader of the Horde—was to blame for the desecration of such a sacred entity. Did this define him? Did this define the other Forsaken who too, had waged against this war?
​
A soft, guttural noise broke the hunter from his thoughts. Johnny looked to his left, recognizing the form of his beloved companion, Bjorn. The two had been separated amidst the battle upon the beaches of Darkshore. For a brief moment, the hunter found great solace in the fact his companion had not perished.
​
The undead bear was unmoving, his muzzle facing out towards the conflagration. What remained of his eyelids swept down over his sight as another small groan slid between his mangled lips.
​
He’s grieving, Johnny inwardly thought, the realization gutting him like a knife. The hunter slid himself over to his companion, closing the distance as he gently placed one of his hands upon the shoulder of the grizzly. Bjorn remained still, his large paws planted within the sand as he continued to watch the capital burn.
​
“Teldrassil … a titanic tree filling most of the land that rose so high, the top vanished into the clouds,” Johnny murmured as he settled down beside Bjorn, his eyes beginning to water. Whether it was tears or from the miasma around the pair, he was uncertain.
“Its branches were so vast that they dwarfed kingdoms. The thick crown could have housed an entire civilization—and did.” The hunter’s voice cracked, his eyes slipping close as he tucked his head to his chest.
​
“Once.”
​
The sound of Bjorn’s sorrowful moan rose high above the tattered land, echoing the pain of his kindred spirit.