Achaena's Diary, Page Four

I don't want to talk about it. But I suppose that's when I need to most.

Everything I know has been set upside-down.

My family - my Master - lied to me. They told me that my mother had abandoned me. That she hadn't wanted me, hadn't loved me.

But that was a lie.

I spoke with her ghost yesterday. She told me what they had done. They had killed her. My guess is that the house, where I'd lived all my life - was also the house where my mother lived, and died. Otherwise, how would her spirit have been there in death? So they killed my mother, took her house, and made me into a murderer like them.

And how was I to know? I was young and stupid. I accepted everything the Masters told me as absolute truth. They were all the family I had known - what else could I have done?

An example though - the farce known as "pain training." There was a woman who could get into your head. She did a kind of magic, and inflicted terrible, unimaginable pain, all without leaving a visible wound. Undeniably, it worked, at least for me. I can withstand all but the worst pain indefinitely.

But was it necessary to torture children? Really? I suppose in their eyes, it was; we could hardly be effective if we broke down crying over every little scrape like - like children!

And why children in the first place? Is it because no one would suspect a child in a poisoning? Or a knife in the dark? No - I suspect it is the complete obedience, the absolute loyalty. None of us knew any other life, any other family. We were slaves, worse than slaves, because we loved our Masters. We would have died for them. Looking back, I doubt they would reciprocate our devotion.

As much as it hurts now, though, this betrayal was in the past. There isn't any point in dwelling on it: it belongs in the past.

I spoke with the worgen, Raphael, to try and sort everything out. He's wise, maybe even as much as Kelgrim, and more importantly, I was able to locate him last night. I'm glad, honestly: he just seems more ... real, somehow. It's easier to accept the idea that there might be a few good people in the world when he says it, because - well - because I know that he knows the ugly side of the world. He has that kind of a person inside him, just like I do.

He asked me about what my mother's ghost said.

She wasn't happy with the life that I've led, the kind of person I was raised to become.

So he pointed out that I can be whatever I want, do whatever I want.

I don't know what I want, ultimately, but I know that for now at least, I want to be useful. I've been bored, even practicing every day. My mind and body are sharp as ever - why shouldn't I help in the fighting?

I'll contact Foranth tonight. It shouldn't be hard to pretend to be a few years older. I don't even know that a dwarf could tell the difference.

Achaena's Diary, Page Three

So I was right to check on the dwarf - to alert her father. She was no match for the titanic system she was trying to tamper with: she found herself caught by the machine. Fortunately, Kelgrim was able to circumvent the defense systems and save her.

I guess that means I did the right thing.

Elle is safe, so that's good.

The other thing I wanted to mention though - I got accosted by a dwarf. She's apparently called Mistrel Weaving, though she didn't tell me that at first. See, I was minding my own business, transmuting some living steel. It was in the mystic ward of Ironforge - that area with all that power. She took a minute to tell me how good my work was - for someone my age.

Then, she got suspicious. She pieced together what I was, not that it's exactly a well-kept secret. If the SI:7 knows and follows me around, I think it might as well be a matter of public record. I'm just not that important, especially given recent events.

But this dwarf was paranoid.

She seemed to think I was an assassin sent to kill her, for her efforts in the Siege of Orgrimmar or some such thing. I managed to set her straight - I had no idea who she was or what her organization was about. I guess being dragged around is better than having someone try to eat me.

I even got a job offer out of it. She suggested that I might be able to offer my services to the "Anvil March."

Kelgrim was less than happy about that idea. He says that they're gearing up to make an expedition through the Dark Portal, to fight the Iron Horde.

That does influence my decision.

It will be good to use my talents again.

Achaena's Diary, Page One

Hello.

That's how these things begin, right? A greeting, an introduction, and then I spill my darkest secrets.

But the healer says that this will help. So, let's do this properly.

My name is Achaena. I am a half-elf. I am twelve years old. And I am a monster.

Oh, not like the Worgen, or the San'layn. No curse has made me to be what I am. But I bear no illusions: I am a monster.

But I'm only twelve, the astute observer will remember. What could I have possibly done?

Let's begin at the beginning. An elven woman deposited her newborn baby on the front doorstep of the orphanage. I remember neither my mother, nor the orphanage. I was too young. But I know what happened next.

A group of assassins, my family, adopted me. They raised me, trained me. I learned to fight with all manner of weapons, including my own magical talent. I also learned to brew potions and poisons.

I made my first kill when I was only ten. I've never felt any guilt. Why should I? This is what I was raised for. I was proud; Master was proud of me. He presented me with a set of ten perfect knives, which I carry to this day. They're a part of me, and more importantly, they are my last reminder of him.

You see, it was less than a year later that their scheme was uncovered. I returned from a job to find the house - my home for my entire life - crawling with guards. Everyone I'd known and cared for was dead.

But time moves on. I escaped the guards' notice easily enough, kept out of their way. I pursued legitimate work, even looking after a hunter's pets for a time. That was interesting. One of them was dead - killed long before I met him. I made fast friends with the ghost wolf named Vladik. He is a supremely loyal companion; he rarely leaves my side. The hunter ultimately let me keep him. If there is one person I trust implicitly, it is him.

I've met a lot of people - some of them were even good, I imagine. But mostly ...

There was that warlock who tried to kill me in Dalaran, because I wouldn't kill someone for free. Stupid - no gold, no blood.

He didn't succeed, obviously. Neither did the dwarf who tore a chunk out of my leg.

I'm still alive, but that one was close. I still have scars from those encounters - the leg healed with the help of magic, but nothing can cleanse fel taint permanently.

Even my own friends are - many of them - awful, horribly cruel people.

I think the dwarf, Kelgrim, is probably the best person I've met, and all I do is anger him. Maybe I should try to listen to him - he's old, he's supposed to be wise. But the things he says are so unrealistic.

People are mostly bad. It takes work - hard work - to care for anyone other than yourself. Even those who claim to be altruistic are only doing it to feel better about themselves.

Now I'm feeling bitter.

Maybe I'll burn this page - that's supposed to make you feel better, too.