Read Online The Well of Eternity by Richard A. Knaak - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard A. Knaak
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your heart and mind, for they are the links that most bind you to the mortal plane. See? This is how it is done…
Malfurion touched at his heart with his thoughts, opening it like a door and willing his spirit free. He did the same with his mind, although the earthly, practical side of any living creature protested at this action.
Give way to your subconscious. Let it guide you. It knows of the realm of dreaming and is always happy to return there.
As Malfurion obeyed, the last barriers slipped away. He felt as if he had sloughed off his skin the way a snake might. A sense of exhilaration filled him and he almost forgot for what purpose he was doing this.
But Cenarius had warned him to remain focused and so the night elf fought the euphoria down.
Now…rise up.
Malfurion pushed himself up…but his body, legs still folded, remained where it was. His dream form floated a few feet off the ground, free of all restraints. Had he so desired, Malfurion knew that he could have flown to the stars themselves.
But the Emerald Dream lay in a different direction. Turn again to your subconscious, the demigod instructed. It will show you the path, for that lies within, not without.
And as he followed Cenarius’s instructions, the night elf saw the world change further around him. A hazy quality enveloped everything. Images, endless images, overlapped one another, but with concentration Malfurion discovered that he could see each separately. He heard whispers and realized that they were the inner voices of dreamers throughout the world.
From here, you must take the path by yourself.
He felt his link to Cenarius all but fade. For the sake of Malfurion’s concentration, the demigod had been forced to pull back. However, Cenarius remained a presence, ready to aid his student if the need arose.
As Malfurion moved forward, his world turned a brilliant, gemlike green. The haze increased and the whispers became more audible. A landscape vaguely seen beckoned to him.
He had become part of the Emerald Dream.
Following his instincts, Malfurion floated toward the shifting dreamscape. As Cenarius said, it looked as the world would have looked had night elves and other creatures not come into being. There was a tranquillity to the Emerald Dream that made it tempting just to stay forever, but Malfurion refused to give in to that temptation. He had to know the truth about his dreams.
He had no idea at first where his subconscious was taking him, but somehow suspected it would lead him to the answers he desired. Malfurion flew over the empty paradise, marveling at all he saw.
But then, in the midst of his miraculous journey, he felt something amiss again. The faint discord he had sensed earlier increased. Malfurion tried to ignore it, but it gnawed at him like a starving rat. He finally veered his spirit form toward it.
Suddenly, ahead of him lay a huge, black lake. Malfurion frowned, certain that he recognized the foreboding body of water. Dark waves lapped its shores and an aura of power radiated from its center.
The Well of Eternity.
But if this was the Well, where was the city? Malfurion eyed the dreamscape where he knew the capital should have been, trying to summon an image of it. He had come here for a reason and now he believed that it had to do with the city. By itself, the Well of Eternity was an astonishing thing, but it was the source of power only. The discord the night elf felt originated from somewhere else.
He stared at the empty world, demanding to see the reality.
And without warning, Malfurion’s dream self materialized over Zin-Azshari, the capital of the night elves. In the old tongue, Zin-Azshari translated into “The Glory of Azshara.” So beloved had the queen been when she had made her ascension to the throne that the people had insisted on renaming the capital in her honor.
Thinking of his queen, Malfurion suddenly beheld the palace itself, a magnificent structure surrounded by a huge, well-guarded wall.
Malfurion touched at his heart with his thoughts, opening it like a door and willing his spirit free. He did the same with his mind, although the earthly, practical side of any living creature protested at this action.
Give way to your subconscious. Let it guide you. It knows of the realm of dreaming and is always happy to return there.
As Malfurion obeyed, the last barriers slipped away. He felt as if he had sloughed off his skin the way a snake might. A sense of exhilaration filled him and he almost forgot for what purpose he was doing this.
But Cenarius had warned him to remain focused and so the night elf fought the euphoria down.
Now…rise up.
Malfurion pushed himself up…but his body, legs still folded, remained where it was. His dream form floated a few feet off the ground, free of all restraints. Had he so desired, Malfurion knew that he could have flown to the stars themselves.
But the Emerald Dream lay in a different direction. Turn again to your subconscious, the demigod instructed. It will show you the path, for that lies within, not without.
And as he followed Cenarius’s instructions, the night elf saw the world change further around him. A hazy quality enveloped everything. Images, endless images, overlapped one another, but with concentration Malfurion discovered that he could see each separately. He heard whispers and realized that they were the inner voices of dreamers throughout the world.
From here, you must take the path by yourself.
He felt his link to Cenarius all but fade. For the sake of Malfurion’s concentration, the demigod had been forced to pull back. However, Cenarius remained a presence, ready to aid his student if the need arose.
As Malfurion moved forward, his world turned a brilliant, gemlike green. The haze increased and the whispers became more audible. A landscape vaguely seen beckoned to him.
He had become part of the Emerald Dream.
Following his instincts, Malfurion floated toward the shifting dreamscape. As Cenarius said, it looked as the world would have looked had night elves and other creatures not come into being. There was a tranquillity to the Emerald Dream that made it tempting just to stay forever, but Malfurion refused to give in to that temptation. He had to know the truth about his dreams.
He had no idea at first where his subconscious was taking him, but somehow suspected it would lead him to the answers he desired. Malfurion flew over the empty paradise, marveling at all he saw.
But then, in the midst of his miraculous journey, he felt something amiss again. The faint discord he had sensed earlier increased. Malfurion tried to ignore it, but it gnawed at him like a starving rat. He finally veered his spirit form toward it.
Suddenly, ahead of him lay a huge, black lake. Malfurion frowned, certain that he recognized the foreboding body of water. Dark waves lapped its shores and an aura of power radiated from its center.
The Well of Eternity.
But if this was the Well, where was the city? Malfurion eyed the dreamscape where he knew the capital should have been, trying to summon an image of it. He had come here for a reason and now he believed that it had to do with the city. By itself, the Well of Eternity was an astonishing thing, but it was the source of power only. The discord the night elf felt originated from somewhere else.
He stared at the empty world, demanding to see the reality.
And without warning, Malfurion’s dream self materialized over Zin-Azshari, the capital of the night elves. In the old tongue, Zin-Azshari translated into “The Glory of Azshara.” So beloved had the queen been when she had made her ascension to the throne that the people had insisted on renaming the capital in her honor.
Thinking of his queen, Malfurion suddenly beheld the palace itself, a magnificent structure surrounded by a huge, well-guarded wall.
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