Daughter of Azeroth

73 | THE MAN NOT THE ARCHMAGE

The next morning, depressed and listless, Idira wandered around the fortress, exploring. A part of her had been afraid to explore any sooner, despite Khadgar's reassurances. What if she opened a door and found something terrifying? She had decided to wait until she could better protect herself should she need to. Since she had learned almost all the spells from the path of frost, she was certain she could manage most things.

She followed the corridor to the opposite end of the library, where it terminated at a towering stained-glass window, black-dark from the non-existence of light outside it. She worked her way back along the lengthy corridor, opening each door, apart from one. That door stood halfway down the corridor and was warded and locked so well, even she couldn't open it. Curious, she pressed her hand against the solid wood of the door, sending out tendrils of frost to sense what might be behind. Something dark and dangerous stirred within, calling to her, hungry, beckoning, its magic so powerful, ancient and corrupt, Idira shuddered in revulsion. She drew back, uneasy, eyeing the door, realising more than ever that Khadgar was not a man to be trifled with; a man of dark secrets.

She backed away from the door, regretting having let whatever lay within know of her existence. She threw up an additional ward, just for good measure and pressed on, determined to put the locked room out of her mind. Several more bedrooms presented themselves to her, all similarly furnished. Then, a comfortably appointed office, filled with bookshelves stacked with scrolls, paperwork, maps, decrees and documents from the life of the Guardian Medivh. She went in, curious, spending most of the morning absorbed in reading through the private correspondence of Azeroth's once-Guardian. She had just begun to think about leaving when she spied a recessed drawer in one of the side tables beside the fireplace. Within, she found a plain leather-bound tome tied closed with small leather straps. She unlaced the ties, discovering the private journal of Medivh during the time he struggled to move on after his forbidden affair with the Horde emissary Garona. Feeling a little ripple of pleasure to find such a rare treasure, Idira sank down onto one of the upholstered armchairs, and pulled her legs up underneath her to read.

It was a long time before she finished. She got up and tucked the book back into the drawer where she'd found it, trailing her fingers over the smooth surface of the top of the table, her thoughts replaying Medivh's words, some of them terribly romantic. Medivh might have been corrupted by the Legion, but by the Light he loved that woman, perhaps beyond reason.

Idira's thoughts crashed to a halt. Khadgar had been under Medivh's tutelage when Garona had had her affair with the Guardian, and by the look of the notes in his journal, Medivh hadn't handled her departure well. Perhaps Khadgar didn't want to go down the same tortuous path he had seen his mentor travel. She thought of Medivh's final entry where he vowed never to love again. He had signed it in blood. She shivered. Karazhan might have been a place of great magic, but it was also furrowed with sadness, loss and loneliness.

Back in the library, she drifted along the stacks, lonely and despondent, thinking of Khadgar, and of Medivh's journal. She sensed the Kirin Tor's leader would not be coming back again, at least not until she had learned all she could; at which point she suspected he would only stay long enough to portal her back to Dalaran. Once there, she expected he wouldn't waste any time returning to his rarefied, privileged, protected world, and she would be sent back to her life living on the periphery of his.

Morose, she leaned back against one of the stacks and stared up into the tower's heights, watching the flickers of arcane energy spark and extinguish continuously, an endless dance. She conjured wine, hoping it might ease her pain. It didn't. It only made her miss Khadgar more. As she sipped the ruby liquid, an uncomfortable thought took root: her whole life had been focused on finding and meeting Khadgar, the unfolding circumstances of her life's journey seeming to validate her belief that her life and her Light would make more sense once she did. Granted, her evidence for her belief had been limited to the events which led her to him, including their bizarre connection through her Light, even while he was stranded on another planet. But now, six days after she had stood on his balcony with him, nothing was any clearer, rather, she found herself cut adrift.