The Transformation

The large, beautifully crafted shield lay heavily across Swill’s muscled forearm.

His sword, gripped tightly in his right hand, reflecting the red glinting light

from the unusual sun in Shadowmoon Valley. His body screamed and

rared to charge the scene before him, conflicting with his soldiers’

instinct, which compelled him to wait for the opportune moment for

the initial strike. His breath was heavy, his skin rippled with “warrior fire”,

he looked to his right, where Wanda, his battle mate, had stood only a moment

before.

She had shifted into Bear form, and no matter how many times he’d witnessed it, Swill marveled as if the first time, at this ability of the Druid. The beast, fierce and snarling, was massive and hulking-a silvery-gray thick fur covering a bulk of terrifying muscle and sinew. Her long jaws containing large, sharp teeth and huge canines that promised certain death.

Wanda had turned Feral Blood. The only way she could release the transformation was to kill an enemy in battle, or to be killed herself; there was no other option for those Druids who chose the Feral Blood Path.

The ways of the druid had always been a mystery to Swill; he expressed no desire to give any deeper understanding of them either. He wasn’t uncomfortable around shapeshifters; he simply didn’t care to expand his knowledge of their practices. All he concerned himself with was that Wanda was in command and control of the Feral Blood Path because if she lost her discipline, things would be ugly, in a hurry, for all of them.

He was sure of this one fact- Wanda was deadly, disciplined and second to none in her battlefield, front- line skill.

And as for Wanda- well, for her there had been no other choice.

Wanda stood outside the orphanage with her small, finely shaped nose pressed lightly against the frost-ringed glass, peeking in at the six small people inside. Her presence was unnoticed by those within the Centeroom where the cheery fire flamed and a hotpot of cider and warm mugs appeared upon the low table in front of the settee. It was cold where she stood, but she ignored the shivers that ran trails of gooseflesh up and down her arms.

She had just done the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, in her short 20 years of life. The beautiful, skilled healer brought and gave the four elflings to the matrons, of the Stormwind Orphanage. Wanda held her gaze upon them for a full three minutes, standing in the cold at that window, as to engrain the lasting picture of the six inside the building, to her memory.

She was done.

As Wanda turned, sadly and slowly from the window, for her unknown destination, she felt it happen. It was physical and began as a small hunger in her gut; the hunger became a twist, the twist a knot, the knot a rolling, cramping hard rock. The pain was immense and searing to the core of her being. She doubled over but didn’t fall, her hands gripping her midsection, kneading the pained flesh beneath her cloak. Her breath caught in her chest and she let out a cry, but to her surprise and confusion, the sound of a growling, low roar of a wild animal in pain, and not the squeak of an elf- maid, came from her throat.

Wanda took several stumbling steps forward to grab the railing of the huge spanse of steps that lead upward to the Stormwind Cathedral of the Lightbringer. The contractions of her midsection were making it difficult for her to draw breath; she was beginning to become dizzy. Hand over hand; using the railing for support, she pulled her pained body up one step at a time. Wanda felt her knees weaken and she dropped to the cold, hard stone of the stair. Her body heaving with agony-filled, growling gasps for air as she crawled on hand and knee to reach the platform at the top of the stair. It was all she could bear, she collapsed in a ball, eyes shut tight, pulled herself into a tight bundle all the while rolling from side to side in an effort to ease the deep burning in her gut.

“What’s happening to me!” she cried inwardly.

At that precise thought, a soothing calm response entered her thought patterns as a smooth, low female voice that was warm and healing in her mind.

“Do not fight the path of the soul young druid, you must embrace the change, and know that we are here for you”

With that, Wanda’s world went dark.

She began to awaken as warm hands pressed their palms to her grimaced face and stroked her cheeks until they smoothed, she was no longer on the steps, in the cold. She felt warm and safe, soft down comforters that smelled like spices now covered her from head to toe. She felt no more pain. Slowly Wanda began to open her eyes, still unsure of all the events that had just occurred to her.

As the druid peeked from under heavily lidded eyes, she saw a tall, beautiful woman with long, strawberry blond hair, dressed in shimmering, white, long robes trimmed in light yellow and deep purple. Standing next to this woman was a very, very short man.

Wanda blinked; she had never seen someone so short! He wore a long beard, and was regally dressed in white, loose fitting pants and knee length tunic, which were both, trimmed in pure gold, he was magnificent. He stood straight spined and inspected the young elf’s face intently.

His short legs took two small steps close to her bed, his eyes looking directly in to hers.

“I’m Thorden, head of Stormwind Cathedral of the Lightbringer, which is where you find yourself today lass. I trust Sariseva has brought you to health once again”, he bowed gracefully, his stubby fingers touching his gold waistband. “Now that you’re awake, I shall leave you two to your business.” The Paladin gave Wanda a smile, bowed deeply to Sariseva and turned on his boot heel and left the room.

Sari sat on the edge of the bed where Wanda lay, and noticed they were about the same age, “I’m Sariseva, healing priestess for Thorden,” she smiled lightly, “you were in transition when I found you on the stairs. Tell me what happened to you before this took place, if you’re not too tired.”

Wanda found her voice; it was horse and didn’t sound like herself. She recounted everything to Sari, from the moment the Horde had come to Teldrassil, until bringing the elflings to the orphanage. She was breathless and shaking by the time she was done her tale.

Sariseva was horrifed.

“Never again,” said Wanda, her eyes becoming hard as two pale shards of ice as she stared at Sariseva.  “Will I heal those who I do not protect first.”

Sari nodded in agreement. The two knew at that moment, that they had a bond that transcended their gifts for healing.

“Let’s get you dressed.” Sari spoke as she hopped up from the bed and headed to a beautiful armoire in the corner of the room. She pulled the door open and removed a lovely warm green gown with silver brocade. It glittered and had a light silvery glow about it.

“This gown has a healing enchantment on it that will help you with your unexpected transitions. Nythyx created the gown and then enchanted it just for you.” Sari carried the gown to Wanda.

“It’s fabulous!” Wanda’s face shown with delight. A puzzled look came upon her and she turned to Sari and asked:

“Who’s Nythyx?”