Chapter 704

Chapter 704: A Familiar Place in Some Sense

The next morning, Jesse woke up very early. He sat on the bed, staring blankly at his surroundings.

Even though the bedroom in Quel’Thalas was as exquisite as a garden fit for fairies or angels, its soft crimson bedding perfectly accommodated his every comfortable posture. Layered purple curtains blocked the view outside, offering a sense of security. The room’s light, pleasant fragrance helped him sleep, unlike Molofeel’s crude hypnosis.

Yet he still awoke early.

Fresh pastries and fruits sat on the table. He picked up a grape-like purple fruit and popped it into his mouth. It tasted sweet and tangy without bitterness, carrying a hint of orange scent. He didn’t know what it was.

Just as Sylvanas had said, the elves prepared a lavish breakfast. Besides the pastries and fruits, various sauces sat nearby, seemingly made from natural ingredients.

But for some reason, he felt no appetite.

Leaving the room, he stepped onto soft grass and smooth tiles. Bathed in sunlight, Windrunner Village had shed the previous night’s melancholy gloom. Yet it remained eerily quiet, like an uninhabited place, though far cleaner than any ordinary abandoned village.

At least the colorful Striders by the stables were tended, adding a flicker of life.

Greed slept in another building, his snores inaudible here. Vereesa, Sylvanas, and the other Farstriders were likely busy at Windrunner’s Tower—after all, they didn’t sleep at night.

Standing alone, gazing at Windrunner Village, Jesse felt an indescribable emotion.

Of course, he felt sorrow for the Orcish pillaging and slaughter that had befallen this place—Vereesa’s family. The desolation also stirred a touch of loneliness within him; it was hard to remain unaffected.

But more importantly, he sensed something else—an unexplainable, strange feeling about this place.

In fact, since arriving last night, the trees, houses, fences—the whole scene—had felt eerily familiar. He knew it wasn’t from the game.

He closed his eyes, listening: the wind, a faint melody from some distant instrument, indistinct voices drifting down from Windrunner’s Tower high above, and the stream.

Yes. The stream.

Jesse realized where he’d seen this.

He walked involuntarily toward the water’s sound. Passing through a patch of forest, he moved further from Windrunner Village until he reached an unnamed garden.

Beside the garden flowed the small stream—the very one from his Deathwing nightmare.

He pulled off his boots and stepped slowly into the water. The icy chill instantly made him feel as if that terrifying man had seized his soul again. His whole body tensed.

Almost reflexively, in his daze, he drew the Azuresong Mageblade. It gleamed in the sunlight like brilliant crystal as he pointed it at his right arm. But the scar… had faded to resemble an ordinary burn mark.

Jesse glanced around. No ghostly approach. No shadowy energy. No terrifying illusions. His reflection in the water remained familiar: messy, thick, dark hair; a young face; a frame not particularly strong, yet far from weak.

This wasn’t a dream.

He hesitated, then heard a voice behind him. "Jesse, what’s wrong?"

He turned. Vereesa stood there. He hadn’t noticed her approach. "Why are you holding that sword?"

"I…"

Jesse looked at the demon sword raised in his hand, suddenly unable to explain.

"What did Deathwing do to you, Jesse?" Vereesa stepped closer to the water’s edge. "Aren’t you going to tell me?"

Jesse hesitated, looking down at the stream. "The night Krasus found me, Deathwing invaded my dreams. He brought me here."

"Here?" Vereesa asked. "Why?"

"In that dream, I was a useless old man," Jesse said. "Too frail to walk properly. Ancient, brittle—like a skeleton. I fell in this water and almost drowned. See? It barely reaches my knees. Just like the dream."

"Was I there?" Vereesa asked.

"Yes." Jesse nodded. "You looked much like you do now." Vereesa stared at him, silent.

Jesse gave a self-mocking laugh. "Of course, I knew that wasn’t really you."

"I understand. Come here, Jesse." Vereesa reached out her hand.

Jesse sheathed the Azuresong Mageblade and waded back to shore. "Am I fake now?" Vereesa asked.

"No," Jesse said.

Vereesa took his hand, lifting her chin to meet his eyes.

"The dream me wouldn’t dare look at you like this. She’d fear you’d see through her. She’d hide from your gaze because she knows you, Jesse Seso—a powerful shadow master who sees through all illusions, shattering every lie woven by Black Magic…"

She was right. Even now, Jesse couldn’t recall the dream-her’s face clearly—only a blurred, chaotic reflection in the water.

"Don’t face frightening things alone anymore," Vereesa added.

"I won’t," Jesse said.

Vereesa rose on her toes and kissed him. Her warm lips felt utterly real. Jesse’s heart pounded. No more veils. No more ambiguous whispers.

Deathwing was dead, he told himself. The mark was pierced. The nightmare was over.

He met her lips, pulling her close. They kissed deeply, passionately, until they lost balance, gasped, and tumbled onto the bank. Laughter spilled out, bright and shared.

After a moment, Jesse asked, "Where’s your sister?"

"She went north," Vereesa said. "Preparing for my promotion ceremony." Jesse glanced toward the Sunwell’s light in the north. "Then…"

"Then…" Vereesa raised an eyebrow, playfully pushing him onto the pebbles. "Here?!" Jesse lay sprawled, startled.

"What’s wrong?" Vereesa teased. "Scared?"