She Only Wanted to Die...

[Chrystal Kaleigh]

“And so passes, Chrystal Kaleigh, daughter of Avira, daughter of Costas. Mother of Jacob, mother of Arabet. Savior of Alterac, Hero at Nethergarde. Queen of Stormwind, and ruler of the Eastern Kingdoms.”

The deep, depressive voice of Jacob Kaleigh sounded loudly across the former field of battle; the land once known as Elwynn. Thousands of soldiers of many different classes were gathered around, all with their heads held low in respect.

They were all gathered around the older woman at his feet, Chrystal Kaleigh.

She lay there on her back, several gashes in her blackened armor, some wide enough to show penetrated skin beneath. Several arrows riddled her body from her shoulder, down to her thigh. Across her chest was a bandolier of knives, many missing, and at her side was the most ferocious looking zweihander to ever exist on Azeroth.

Despite this condition, however, she looked peaceful in her death. For a woman nearing sixty, she still looked as if she were thirty, save for the natural streaks of gray that lined her once perfectly-black hair. Her steel-grey eyes were unclosed as well, staring up at her son. They had tried to close them earlier, but they simply would not comply. She had always spoke in earlier times that when she died, it would be in a state that she could see how proud of her children she would be.

Slowly, Jacob knelt down before Chryste. With the most gentle of motions, he kissed her forehead, and slowly slid away from it, the crown of the Ruler of the Eastern Kingdoms.

“Rest well, our Queen… Our Hero… Our wisdom and strength… My mother…”

Jacob finally rose fully to his feet. It was obvious that his strength was faltering, as he stood her before his deceased mother. The reddened eyes, the shaking hands… But the Captain of the Battlemages stood strong, looking out over the army.

Not a single eye was without tears for the loss of their queen.

She died as she had always wanted to, however. In a blaze of glory. So helpless on her own, but so strong in her convictions. She was on her feet even after the life had left her.

And even more importantly, she was in the presence of her family when she passed. In the presence of the remnants of the Wildfire Riders, who had long ago became “Government Sponsored” problem solvers within the Eastern Kingdoms.

They all stood around her. This battle required the prowess of them all, old and new. This was the big battle of their time. And while they had all survived, a small piece of their soul was ripped from them, and now laying upon the ground before them.

A young woman of incredible beauty stepped forward at the feet of Chryste, her baby-blue eyes set upon the shorter Battlemage. Even in her plate armors, one could see that this half-elven woman was unearthly. Charysa, daughter of Ceil and Tarquin, Knight-champion of the Light, and presiding Bishop of the Church since the death of Benedictus. Her waist-length, golden hair whipped violently in this wind, and her pinkish-tinted skin was slightly reddened, chapped by the burns of the great battle recently passed.

“And with the passing of our queen,” she loudly spoke for all to hear. “On the fifth day of the third month of the year of the Dragon’s Wrath, the church hereby instills power in Jacob Kaleigh, son of Chryste, as acting King of Stormwind and the Eastern Kingdoms until counsel can be held to approve of his worthiness.”

It was a lot like a reverse wave, the entire army bowing down before Jacob, and his deceased mother as he settled the crown onto his head. In his mind, it hurt. He had envisioned the day he wore the crown for so long, but never wished it would have been like this.

It was not time to mourn, however, mourning could come for when he was alone with Charysa in his chambers, and she would allow him to cry on her shoulder as she had allowed so many times before, and hopefully in the future, past their wedding.

It was time, however, to make sure that this day would never be forgotten. It was time for it to be detailed, the past of his mother in detail, and the great things she had done for Azeroth as a whole.

“Scribe!” He suddenly yelled out, summoning forth a scrawny young man in possession of several writing tools.

“Y..Yes, my lord?”

Jacob forced a smile onto his lips and turned to the scribe. “You have been chosen to detail the life of my mother. Use every avenue of information possible to achieve your goal. Do NOT let me down.”

The scribe’s eyes widened, it was a mix of both gratefulness and fear. This was a task with either massive rewards, or dire consequences depending on how well he managed the story. Bowing before his King, he nodded once, and quickly scurried off toward the Royal Library.

…………..

Hidden in a stack of scrolls, books, personal journals, and everything he had gathered that day, the young scribe sat at his table, scribbling aggressively at his scroll beneath the candlelight…

This is the story of our Queen. This is the tale of greatness inspired and created through her life. I, scribe Lonardo Askel DelVittaro bring you this tale in all of it’s known accuracy, so you may all better know the life of Azeroth’s great queen, Chrystal Kaleigh…

[Chrystal Kaleigh]

The Journal:

Beneath the waves of candlelight, Lonardo curiously poured through the pile of tomes stacked around his desk. So many things to search through, so much information detailed upon the history of Chrystal Kaleigh, dating back to near the Third Great War.

Turning to a small box that had been delivered with most of the books, he curiously looked it over, rubbing lightly at the blonde stubble upon his chin. ”Why was this box delivered with everything?”

Glancing about, he gently reached forward, popping the first of two latches on the box. He jumped slightly at the sound of the click, but then took in a deep breath, and popped the second one. Opening the top and glancing inside, his curiosity dug deeper, his eyes spying a thin tome of shoddy craftsmanship settled within.

Gently drawing it out, he took no time to open the book, reading over the contents within. At first, he appeared confused, and then in awe.

”Personal writings from the queen herself? Oh my, this will be key to my own writings!”

And wasting little time, he continued to read over the broken passages, drawing close his very own scrolls.

………………….

It seems that in my search for information on our Queen’s history, I came across a small tome of her own personal writings. Most are broken and unfinished, but give much insight to her emotions and feelings within life. Such an example I shall start my writings with will be the start of her own writings.

Below are those words, written by her hand and read by my eyes, repeated by my hand for you.

My night was spent on the hills overlooking Ratchet last night.
I was too weak for much else than to scream, I even had no desire to fight.
It seems that these screams, so violent and raging, are all I have left of my serenity.
I failed Mavalos, and I failed Halaster.
And now I return home, to find Itera dead on my floor.
It seems as if I have failed my very own son, Jacob, as well.
Curse you, mother, and curse you, father. I’ll murder you both.
Why am I even writing this? Why am I… Oh fuck this, I hate writing.

Oddly enough, the passages continue much in this manner from our queen. But such will come later, as I progress through her history. For now, however, I plan to give minor details of her past, before even her passages were written.

So little of her life was known before this book. The only man alive who knew her story was Halaster Merlot, deceased ten summers earlier this year, alongside Wildfire Rider companions Elyle and Beltar at the battle of Alterac. Thus all that is known are bits and pieces as told by scripts and the word of friends she only somewhat confided in.

It was reported that in her teens, she was abandoned by her parents, prominent members of the one powerful Scarlet Crusade. Wishing to devote their time more to their cause than their daughter, she was shipped away to learn magick in the city of Theramore, the current “Gem of Kalimdor since the fall of Teldrassil.

It was here that she met a man who would one day be known as “Mavalos: the Black Butcher”, a vile necromancer who dabbled in the altering of demonic beings for his own rise to power.

Mavalos seduced the young, lonely girl into his arms. Brainwashing her and leaving her to believe that she would train beneath him in the art of arms; Chrystal was empowered in thought, striving to be the protector and leader of her Lord’s army. It was during this time that our current King, Jacob Kaleigh, was conceived.

I am told that during this time, Chrystal saw many horrors, from the abominations created by The Black Butcher, to the very powers of the Necromancer himself. Her desire to never be alone again kept her close and obsessed with him, however, and she abandoned all logical thought, willing to serve him until the end.

For two years, she trained and honed her skills to perfection, all the while kept under promise by her “love” that she would soon set out to do his bidding, serving as his personal guard; she would be made a Knight.

During these years, Mavalos began to raise his army of abominations, demons sewn from the parts of other demons, infused with life with the sole intent of destroying Azeroth. To this day, his reasoning is still unknown. It was during this time, however, that our queen met a wizard in the employ of the Greymane Exiles, Halaster Merlot.

Over the next year, Halaster took in Chryste, seeing the wrongs instilled in the young woman, who showed nothing but hatred and spite towards him at first. Over time, he showed her the wrongs she was committed, and over this time, her love and obsessions slowly shifted.

In time, Mavalos came to see what was happening, and he attempted to murder Chryste. She triumphed, however, killing her former lover, and destroying his compound. It was then that she settled in with the Exiles, her and Halaster’s secret love blossoming further.

Blossomed to an unhealthy state, it seems, with her brainwashed obsession that was forced upon her with Mavalos seemingly transferring directly to the feelings she held for the Archmage from Westfall. It was during this time that the sanity of our queen began to slip, as because for however madly in love she was, Mavalos had cursed her on his dying breath, inflicting the young woman with a magickal wasting that seemed to affect everyone close to the Queen, but herself.

The day she saw her son faint in her very arms, nearly lifeless, she knew the curse was real, and that finding a cure should be her priority, lest she be forced into reclusion and lonliness for her entire life.

For nearly a year she searched, struggling with the pain of staying clear of her son, and the back and forth intimacy of Halaster Merlot that was so forbidden, yet so desired. On a trip into the Molten Core, she discovered a binding of an encaptured God, and it was then that she knew exactly how to cure her curse.

By freeing Thunderaan, it would only be a simple favor from this long forgotten God, to cure the ails of his liberator…

For months after, she was unsuccessful. She grew more distant from those she loved, and fell into a deep pit of depression and anger upon finding the information that her lover had strayed even further than herself and his life love, Genise, into the arms of a Succubus of an elf.

She became more violent than she had ever been. Angsty, sarcastic, murderous… All the things Mavalos had planned to unleash in her were finally coming out… And that was where the future of our queen would begin.

I have nightmares every night it seems.
Black demons, with eyes of fire scream my name.
They claw at me, tearing my flesh, ripping at my soul.
“Betrayer!” they scream at me, “Betrayer!”
It makes me so angry, I am not a Betrayer. I am only a woman in love.
Light, I want to hurt something. My head aches so bad.
No one seems to understand my pain…
Look into my heart, and I will show you Hell.