To Fulfill A Prophecy

I dreamed of him.
I have not dreamed in....forever.
And not of him, ever.
Yet there it was. 
I woke immediately, knowing the voice I heard in previous days, the sword being drawn from its sheath, the thoughts so foreign, scrolling through my head, were no accidents, no imagination of my own, they were most real.
I counted back the days, remembering what the voice had said...no not the voice, not any voice.....his voice....."at first light, on the fifth day..."
That had been three days ago....nights, as we refer to them, we Kaldorei being creatures of such darkness, our eyes being too sensitive to move about for long in the harsh heat and glare of what humans call day.  So.  Two more to wait.
"At dawn.  Look to the east."
I want to believe, I want to stand among those who do, shoulder to shoulder with the most honorable of my people, and even if it is with the last breath I take, look into his face, and believe.
I do not want to fail.
But even so, I doubt. 

I am strong,
I have discovered that in these last two, almost three years since I've been without him, stronger than even I dared to believe, but I still do not know if I am strong enough.
If anyone is.
If I see only his spirit, his likeness, will that be sufficient, to cause me never to doubt again, to strengthen me to the point of total belief, even if he is not flesh and blood, elven though it be?
If I see him and cannot touch him.....cannot stretch out my hand to his own....hold him within my arms, even as he does for me....kiss him upon that mouth of perfection as if I own him....will it be enough?
Will he know with such a touch the secret I have hidden from him all these years, if I share such tenderness of flesh with him?
Or will he think me wicked beyond the sacred trust Elune has placed within me, and not understand.
Understand how sometimes when I looked upon him, it was not the look of a mother upon a son, for how could it be, if it was not the mother who looked upon her son, but upon someone else's?
How only two alive had sworn to keep the secret and take it with them to the OtherWorld, and how one had already done that, so deep within the talons of Ysera's grasp in the Emerald Dream he did sleep?
How I am the only one left to know the truth, and how the truth gnaws at me from the inside out, like Ash'tala when she gnaws upon some bone she has found, growling and spitting at it, persistent in her pursuit, until one day I am sure there will be nothing left of me, like her bone;  not lust or longing or even regret, for a love I always carried for him, a love that was nothing like a mother's love.
Nothing like what he thought.
Nothing like what the whole world thought.

He asked me once long ago if I had dreamed of him, and when I replied that I had not, he answered, well, you will.  One day.  Sooner or later, everyone does. He warned me I ought not be surprised when it happened.
He would appear, he said, before me, dark and menacing, sadistically smiling, not with mirth, but with evil.  It would not be a good dream.  It would not be restful, pleasant.  Peaceful.
It would be troubling.
I think he had forgotten that it would occur, so long had it been.
I think it surprised him as much as it did me, that it even happened.
But it did.
And the biggest surprise of all was that it was nothing like what he told me.
Does he know that?
Does he know what I dreamed?
Did he send it to me, from beyond the Bridge, from the Emerald Dream, where all the dreamers sleep and all the sleepers dream?

Is that why I heard his voice?  As a prophecy?
Is this his time? 
Dare I to hope......our time?
Is that why in two nights time, I will made an escape of the guard and Garuk and all around me, and make my way east....at dawn....with the song of hope deep within my breast?

The Calling

"Look to my coming, at first light, on the fifth day....
At dawn, look to the east..."
It is a voice known to her, so familiar, so precious, that suddenly and without warning rings out in the darkened chill of her chamber, sweeping away all other thoughts from her mind as she lays upon the bed, leaving only these:

what seems to be is always better than nothing
and nothing at all
is what a fool believes

it's hopeless
you know it
the battle is fierce
the enemy is crafty, his numbers great
his strategy a one-on-one fight and it appears to be working
many are called, many will die
only a radical few will remain
bright
white
who was the first man behind Christ to enter paradise?
a thief to the world, to God he was Beloved
rock, paper, scissors
honor trumps them all

so much death
what can men do against such reckless hate?

ride out......
ride out with me.....and meet them....

ride with the one who says,
"When my time comes
even if I am old and grey,
I want to be standing, and dignified
Yes
I am a child of God
that is my prayer
let me have that kind of strength, that kind of courage..."

This you already know, just as well as you know who said it.
You hear nothing that does not already beat within your heart.
Despite what you think, you do have one.
Intact, beating, throbbing with life, full of love.

What can you do about it?
That is not the question.
It only matters that you stand up.
Be one of His.
Claim Him and be not afraid.
"It is not up to us the times we live in. It is up to us what to do with that time."

The voice comes to her again, softly, soothing, singing, suggesting.
"You just gonna lay there?
Or are we gonna go out and meet them?"
The room is filled with the sound of metal's hiss as if a sword is being drawn from its scabbard, as the voice accompanies:
"For you my Queen!!!"