The Preface

‘Start at the beginning.’  I was never good at starting at the beginning.  It’s hard to know where to start when a life has so many beginnings.  I suppose we all have a ‘true’ beginning, that moment when it all begins and life lays out its path, weaving your single, meaningless strand into its beautiful tapestry of fate.

I hardly remember my beginning.  I remember very little at all, and nothing before my life on the streets of Silvermoon City in the realm of Quel’dalar.  I lived with nothing but what I could beg, borrow, or steal.  Under the watchful eyes of the City guard, I was never able to steal all that much.  I must have spent much time watching the Farstriders train, as their motions and teachings remain as clear to me now as my memories of what has transpired this day while others are nothing more than wisps lost to the breeze.

I remember one other thing from my beginning.  I remember I had dreams.  Even as I close my eyes, I can see myself as a little girl, hair matted in sweat and mud, planning my life out.  One day, I was going to leave the streets of Silvermoon City and the woods of Quel’thalas for the realm beyond, those only spoke of by the magisters and in the tomes at the university.  I too would have the fine silks and finer jewelry that the noble women who walked the streets flaunted so openly to those with envy in their eyes.

As a child with nothing, I wanted everything.  I planned to explore every inch of this world, see everything worth seeing.  There were so many people to meet and foods to try, and I was going to find every single one of them.  My young mind was reeling with the possibilities.  I was going to make a name for myself.  I had planned for everything.

I hadn’t planned to die to the Scourge.

I suppose I’m luckier than most.  The Lich King still holds sway over all death knights besides those in Acherus.  All of them, killing without thought, emotion or sense of self, serving their dark master.  A fate worse than death.

Then again, they have no guilt, no remorse.  They are not haunted by every light they extinguished, every anguished cry of the families they slew and the lives they destroyed, directly and indirectly.  Even the other death knights freed from the Lich King’s thrall are wary of me.  They have heard stories of what I have done to the city below, of the atrocities I have committed.  I cannot blame them.

…I am sorry, Eonys.

I have shed the accursed armor gifted to me for my actions already.  In their stead, I have donned my acolyte robes that they had replaced.  It is far from redemption, but as of now it is all I can do.

On the return from Light’s Hope, I found this book in the rubble of a destroyed home.  Its pages, much like my memories, are blank.  I fear that writing in it is all that keeps me sane in these dark times.  I do not know what the future has in store for me, but I do know that I cannot remain here, in Acherus.

My runeblade lies beside me.  I shall not take it when I go.  I shall not let the Lich King’s magic dictate my life.  I may not remember my beginning, so I shall make a new one for myself.  I shall seek my redemption with every path I walk.  For I am Glaciel Frostshadow, Mistress of the Shattered Ice.

This is my story.

–Excerpt from The Completionist’s Grimoire, The Preface

(I’m experimenting with this blog style.  I don’t do much writing like this.  If you’ve got the time, do me a favor and leave a comment.  Let me know what you think.  Can this work?  Would it be better just written normally?  Remember, this is going to have help guides for events, just written as if they were being logged by the above character.  I’d love to hear from anyone with a thought.  Let me know!)