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"-. April 1, Year 579 of the King's Calendar .-"

The very first time the Light filled you, it was a revelation.

Probably not the sort of revelation I'm undergoing though, thought one Wayland Hywel. Which is to say, myself. While I had no doubt that many of the people around me were attending the Archbishop's visit hoping for some manner of enlightenment about their path in life, I doubted any of them experienced that revelation inwards and backwards. Certainly not so far backwards as to recall an entire eon of being happily dead, never mind a life before that, on a different planet in a different time that somehow turned the most grand and grim visions of Azeroth's future into trite entertainment.

Not that I was one to talk, considering how much time I devoted to said trite entertainment before need and want made me grow out of it. After a decade or three. Out of a total of nine and change. It might have taken longer if the lore didn't completely lose the plot mid-way through Northrend. The retcons and inconsistencies in literally everything reached critical mass and just kept going, to the point where even the eternally incompetent Bronze Dragonflight couldn't scapegoat everything. And that was just the things shown on screen. By the time I stopped playing games, the entire lore of Azeroth had become a meme unto itself. Of the 'this is proof we're in a simulation' variety.

Now I was inside the simulation, so to speak. Wasn't that lovely?

I wasn't upset though. I'd chosen this all by myself. I hadn't been bored, exactly, but after an eternity of self-actualisation in the Boundless Ether – which did not, in fact, lend itself to the emergence of almighty interdimensional corporate slave traders or random omnipotent bastards with arbitrary capacity for unchallenged tyranny matched only by their childishness – I'd finally finished elucidating every last grain of inner meaning. I was ready to explore outer meanings again for a while. Why not by venturing into the neighbours' burning house to help put out the fire?

Sure, these particular neighbours were the neighbourhood's busybodies that peeked and snooped and stuck their nose through everyone else's business until they convinced themselves they could shape the world to accommodate their desires instead of the other way around. But imitation was the sincerest form of flattery and the consequences of ignoring reality had already gotten the Titans killed, so I was willing to forgive them. You don't kick a god when he's down. You especially don't kick a god while his soul is being tortured into post-mortem insanity by the one big disaster that isn't the sole consequence of his own actions, never mind an entire family of them.

"The sermon is over, boy."

A plated boot stepped into view… actually it had been there for a while. I suddenly realised I was kneeling in the middle of the… not empty street, Strahnbrad's streets were almost never empty, but positively barren compared to when Alonsus Faol was holding his sermon and casting his glowing blessings of wisdom on all and sundry from up on the church balcony.

Hours ago.

"Lad, are you alright? Do you need a hand up?"

I blinked and looked up at… "Knight Uther." That's right, Uther Not-Yet-The-Lightbringer would have had to be active for decades before paladins were first invested. And for him to be a direct disciple of Alonsus Faol, the man would have had to be in his service in some manner. Why not as a member of his guard? Though on that note… "How can I help you?" What I really wanted to ask was what the heck are you of all people doing out here corralling a spacing out teenager? But then I saw the man's face and realized he was barely in his thirties right now. He also looked positively taken aback, even awestruck for some bizarre reason. It was a jarring look on a face so manful and that beard looked positively exalted with not one shadow on it – oh. I'm glowing. The Light's Blessing that Alonsus Faol had cast on the gathered crowd hadn't left me. Or, rather, the Light had come back in force after it did. This must be why everyone else is giving me such a wide berth, I thought. Though I think my parents, at least, would be different.

They probably meant well, though. They weren't particularly pious, the people of Alterac were more materialistic than the other kingdoms in general, despite Tirisfal Glades being practically next door, but they were true believers. They wouldn't want to interfere with whatever work the Light was enacting upon their flighty only child.

Uther shook himself and seemed unsure whether to feel worried or amused. "I thought I'm supposed to help you, lad. Unless this isn't you prostrating yourself in a bid to be accepted as an acolyte? I dare say you've a fair chance of being accepted, though you might need to travel a ways if the local parishes aren't to your taste. I can't imagine any of them turning you away."

"Oh no, I'm going to be an engineer." I made the decision on the spot because Enlightenment was useful like that. I rose to my feet feeling light and strong, the Light suffusing me with all the strength that could rise in mankind, before it finally began to fade now that Enlightenment was complete and a-ta-ta-ta-ta, where do you think you're going? We've not even begun to make a better future!

The Light stayed.

Which was good because the enlightened thing to do without any power backing me up would be haring off into the mountains to become a hermit.

The glowing eyes were a waste of energy though. Better if it went to something more useful like enforcing the flexibility of the eye lens and the rest of the – there we go, at least my eyesight wouldn't hold me back, and with more practice it may even get better. No small thing in this time and place when the dwarves and gnomes still kept to themselves. Did humans even have the notion of microscopes? In this world without the smaller races being forced to share their technology on account of being made refugees – never mind the various more advanced things humanity itself should have had by now, like electricity and materials science – telescopic vision and literal seer powers may yet bridge the gap. Well, one of them. A small one. Hopefully the Light's utility didn't need too many hoops jumped through to figure out, or I'd have a tough time giving mankind the technological edge in time for the orcs.

At least the Light had been quite intuitive so far. But then, it would have to be, wouldn't it? The first paladins completed their training in just a few weeks, never mind the insane progression rate of 'adventurers'. For all that could be trusted, which was not a lot considering the nonsense that was the so-called warrior class.

But this was just one of the theories about the Light's mechanics that I needed to verify now that it wasn't mere fantasy. I looked at the knight. At his familiar face. The complete lack of mystic glow and grey hairs had 'opportunity' written all over it. "Knight Uther, what is the Light?"

Sir Uther was surprised. He also thought my question was theological.

It wasn't.

Neither were the next twenty five.

"-. .-"

Not entirely contrary to what I had expected, Sir Uther did not, in fact, shoo me away in annoyance when my questions started going over his head. Instead, the man bid me and my awkwardly trailing parents to follow and led the way straight to the Archbishop himself.

Well, more or less. We had to wait for the Clerist Preeminent to finish his one-on-one meetings with his many petitioners. But that was alright, the Archbishop didn't visit Alterac every day, and Strahnbrad was ultimately just a stop on the way to Alterac City. Sir Uther 'distracted' me by asking me about myself, and the man was even willing to reciprocate for as long as it offered a reprieve from my 'dauntingly erudite approach to interrogation.'

His words.

I already knew that Uther would have been over sixty years old during the events of the Third War, so I was unsurprised to learn he was already a knight at the age of thirty-one. I was a bit surprised at how it happened, though. The man had been given by his parents to the Old Monastery in Tirisfal Glades – the eventual headquarters of the Scarlet Crusade – to live as a monk because they had too many children. It was practically the opposite of how Alexandros Mograine ended up there. Also unlike the future Highlord, Uther didn't stay.

"I don't begrudge my mother and father, and truth be told I'm starting to think I'll come around to that way of life, but as a young man I chafed. I left in search of adventure, and I soon found it. Mercenary work can pay quite well, and courier work was an embattled profession that soon acquainted me with the whole of Lordaeron and many of the people that keep it running under the surface, as well as the many elements that seek the opposite. I can only thank the Light that when I inevitably misjudged my patrons, his Holiness – still a mere cleric then – took pity on me and prevailed on the local marshal to enlist my 'help' to undo my foolishness. Unravelling a doomsday cult wasn't anywhere near what I expected, but it certainly gave me a better eye for who to take jobs from. Soon after, the marshal offered me a temporary military commission to put the mess behind me. His Holiness never said so, but I'm convinced he interceded on my behalf for that as well. That commission soon turned permanent and now, here I am."

Is that personal experience why you're going out of your way to humour me right now? 'Adventurers' didn't come out of nowhere after the Third War, it turns out. "I'm surprised you're still a guard then, is the knight title as empty in Lordaeron as it is here? You could go to Stormwind though..."

"I'd be lying if I said that didn't figure into things, but in truth I find more meaning serving among people than against trolls and beasts of unknown lands. Besides, though I've certainly mustered the grit for it, I do not actually want to leave Lordaeron."

Achieving the Knight rank technically elevated you to nobility, but Lordaeron – like most of the other Kingdoms of Azeroth, as the continent was currently known – had long since parcelled away its territories, so it was just an honorary title these days. The only exception was Stormwind, which was the only human kingdom not entirely surrounded by sea or allied polities. Conveniently for the Wrynn line, this practically meant that the most competent men of every generation got a big parcel of land on the frontier, which they then spent their own blood, sweat and gold pacifying of beasts and trolls and murlocks and whatever other dangers. A lot of young men left the other kingdoms in hopes of better prospects down there, and they in turn were dwarfed by the ambitious locals, and so Stormwind grew larger and more prosperous with each man that climbed through the ranks. It was a shining story of success that no one had expected of such a far-flung country, especially one whose closest neighbours were Gurubashi troll tribes and Dark Iron dwarves.

It was also a story that the other kingdoms' nobility was doing everything they could to make sure wasn't repeated at home, because every new noble meant a threat to existing holdings. Also, ennoblement via the military path meant their loyalty was to the Crown first, not any other lord. Which meant the King of Stormwind had much more power in practice than all the other human kings.

The irony was not lost on me.

"Is that what you're thinking of doing?"

I came out of my introspection. "Pardon?"

"Stormwind, lad, are you thinking of seeking your fortunes there? The dwarves and gnomes are on the way if you're serious about taking up more unusual crafts, though I'd still recommend a ship."

"Not at the moment." In fact, despite my nebulous overall aims, my mind was considering more eastward directions as well. Also… "I need to make a few things to leave for the family, and build up some coin."

Uther looked between me and my hand-wringing parents that continued to not muster enough courage to barge into our conversation. "That's more thought than I put into things at your age."

Since I was only thirteen, that wasn't the ringing endorsement Sir Uther clearly intended. Then again, fourteen was apparently old enough to be a guard at the Stockade. On the one hand, questionable age of consent for job hazards. On the other hand, this world was clearly better about not forcing its youth to waste our best years regurgitating information we'll never use in real life, while shut in a room with a stranger who controlled everything about our lives up to when we get to sit, stand, speak, eat, sleep or take a shit, in a mockery of the system of indoctrination that the greatest fallen civilisation in Earth history only forced on slaves.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

No, those weren't unresolved issues. You can't achieve enlightenment if you still have unresolved issues. But the thing about resolved issues? They're still issues if no one does anything about them.

For better or worse, that issue, at least, is well out of my hands now.

Too bad Azeroth had even bigger issues looming on the horizon, most of which would be made worse by the very kingdom I was reborn in. In the immortal words of Terry Pratchett, in Alterac there were two types of people. One, the peasants, craftsmen, artists, bards and even the rare noble who had to do things and were often quite human. And two, the other lifeforms. Unfortunately, the other lifeforms controlled everything. It was impossible to exaggerate their baleful stupidity. And Kind Aiden Perenolde was practically the worst of the lot, for all that he could still pretend humanity. Deathwing's mind magics would barely need to do much, when the time came.

Not that you were allowed to say any of that.

I can't stay here, I decided. The world doesn't have time to waste on oppressed underdogs.

Movement ahead. Uther stood from the pew where the two of us had been sitting and waiting. "Your Holiness."

"Uther. And this is the child from outside?" Seems that kneeling in the middle of the street for hours gets around fast. "You were right about him being an aspirant then?"

"No, Holiness, he… Actually, you should just talk to him."

"Indeed? Then I shall."

Finally, the Archbishop of the Church of the Holy Light stood before me. Alonsus Faol. He was a short and stout man with a large, groomed beard and a friendly face. Light brown hair that would probably seem blonder if not for the contrast to the golden shimmer in his hazel eyes. The only reason I couldn't see him playing the part of Greatfather Winter was because his beard wasn't white yet. But then, some flour could fix that right quick. "Archbishop." I bowed my head but maintained eye contact and didn't kneel. "I didn't request this but am thankful nonetheless that you are willing to giving me a moment. I might need a bit longer than that, though, so if you're short on time I'll just leave you be and go home."

"I always have time for meaningful petitions, especially those so well-spoken."

Alonsus Faol's presence was… actually very pleasant. Just watching him created a sense of peace and clarity. He was no poser. It seemed that the Church of the Holy Light really was no false doctrine put in place just to mentally and spiritually enslave the populace for self-aggrandisement and coin. The Light was deeply invested in this man. "Let me preface this by saying I am not here to question the theology of the Church of the Light, so if it sounds like I am it's not my intent."

"Even if you do, that is fine as long as your own ears are not closed."

Not an ideologue either. "All the same, I'd rather not waste time with dogmatic debate that will not change anything, I already believe that you are not as prone to confirmation bias as the local preachers, but you also have the advantage of reading ahead."

Alonsus Faol sent my parents a glance far too commiserating, but when his gaze returned to me it was neither indulgent nor reproachful. "I will endeavour to let unintended slights pass. The Light, in the end, is a power of peace."

Cannibalistic ogres, blood sacificing trolls, Dark Iron dwarves and Odyn begged to differ, but I easily let that go. Napoleon may have been right about the churches of Earth when he said they were there just to keep common people quiet and prevent them from rising in revolt. But that didn't apply here. For all that people in my previous life loved to deride the Light as amoral and hypocritical zealot fuel, they also loved to deride the Church of the Holy Light for being pacifistic, even blaming the massacre of the Northshire priests on that instead of, oh, the psychopaths who butchered them. But see, it wasn't pacifistic. It never had been. The founding values of the Church of the Holy Light were sacrifice and courage, the Three Virtues were respect, tenacity and compassion, and the librams that Alonsus Faol gave to the first five Paladins of the Silver Hand weren't just the two about holiness and compassion, but also of protection, justice and retribution. Two out of three, three out of five, four out of seven, seven out of ten, those were actually pretty good slants for self-determination and anti-tyranny.

What the Church was and had always been was non-militant, and honestly, I was fine with that. The fact that the religion wasn't spread at sword point was the main reason why I didn't hold it in contempt like all the organised churches on Earth. And it wasn't like Azeroth had invalidated this non-militancy – even opposing war sides that weren't human avoided harming priests, like in the Gnoll Wars.

It said a lot that it would take an army of literal alien invaders to wreck that balance away from virtue and towards ideology. Honestly, the very idea was offensive.

"Do take your time, lad," Alonsus Faol dryly told me.

An eon spent dreaming real dreams has left me prone to them even awake, it seems. "Archbishop, what is the Light? Is it a form of matter, energy, or a force? Some of them? All of them? None?"

The Archbishop's eyebrows climbed right up. "I understand your preamble now, but that is something – child, can you read?"

That the man could so earnestly ask that without it sounding insulting or even awkward was frankly impressive. "Yes."

"I see, apologies then, I wasn't sure because the answer to this question is the first thing related in the Holy Book. The Holy Light is the Primal Force of Creation, the endless, shimmering sea of energy situated outside the barriers of reality, the most fundamental force in the cosmos from whom all things were born. Before life began and before even the universe existed, there was only the Light, a boundless sea of living energy, swelling across all of existence, unfettered by time and space. As the ever-shifting sea expanded, pockets of various shades and brightness appeared, until the Light's shades manifested as the many realms of the Cosmos. That is why there can be no pure Light in the world without unmaking it, but shades of it can nonetheless manifest in the form of the holy arts. So, to answer your question, the Light is equally matter, energy and force, as you were right to suspect."

Sounded like the Chaoskampf if you started reading it in the middle, after the gods or whatever came out of the Ginnungagap already went through the big bang, or whatever other word you used for the primordial Chaos. Seemed that the Church didn't know or didn't admit knowing about the Void to just anyone. Probably the former, or there would have been more tensions or cooperation with Dalaran, perhaps enough to put up an actual fight when Archimonde broke it. "What kind though? In matter form I guess it would be crystals or reagents, but energy and force? Radiant energy is a given, but the Light can literally undo sprains and bone warps, and can affect emotions and cognitions and be affected by them, so if it can affect biology all the way to neuroplasticity, is Light energy also kinetic, elastic, chemical, electrical? If it's a force, what kind of force? Creative, generative, motive, transformative, regenerative? There are spells to purge swellings and infections, which basically means the Light is breaking things down and accelerating the chemical reactions of tissue purge, does that mean it's also a destructive force? And since it's a force, what does it act on? Matter, energy, other forces? How much does it use existing potential energy as opposed to itself? Does the Light just tell reality to sit down and shut up, or does it transform into other forms of matter and energy to make things happen within natural law? If I use the Light to enhance my strength to – dad, give me that cane, will you, you haven't needed it in months, thanks – if I use the Holy Light to overcome my natural limits and do this."

The hardwood cane snapped like a twig.

"Does that mean the light just unlocked my biological limits and I was always technically capable of doing this? Was it just a mental trick, or did it transform into adrenaline? If it wasn't just biology, did I do more than my best self would have managed? Did it unleash the potential energy I already possessed, or did it turn into additional potential energy? And if the Light can heal something as complex as a human body without you knowing what you're doing, shouldn't it also be able to repair things if I throw it at this cane and want it fixed up really hard?" I was going to have to try this at some point, why not in the most controlled circumstances I was likely to see for a while? I wanted the Light to cast forth and heal the cane.

The Light cast forth in a flare of gold.

The snapped halves, alas, remained separate halves. They did look very pristine and polished now though.

Everyone was staring at me, which was just as well. "If the Light responds to emotions and can heal something so much more complex like a living organism, why didn't this work? Believe me when I say I feel very strongly about this."

Alonsus Faol, bless him, gaped at me. Briefly, but it happened. The man closed his mouth, looked in something very close to amazement between my parents and me, cleared his throat and said. "Perhaps your faith is not strong enough."

"Irrelevant, the Light is a provable and verifiable reality, faith is unnecessary." Now everyone was torn between being astounded and aghast. "And if the failure was on my end, then why did it beautify the wood? Does that just happen and the Light has a personal sense of aesthetics? I suppose it's not out of the question, probity and beauty are tightly entwined, ugly art is the first sign that culture has been given into the hands of degenerates. If faith isn't strictly required and certainty is already in supply… maybe the key is to have a real need?" The Light within me swelled. "Well, a starting point at least." I looked at the positively fascinated Archbishop and held out the snapped halves. "Could you fix it?"

Alonsus Faol shook his head in bemusement, a reaction much more contained than the naked shock of almost everyone else there. "I've found that certain material tools and symbols can serve the Light or help one call on it for various purposes, but I've yet to see the Light serve crude matter in turn. It has been theorised that the Light can heal the living because we are more than crude matter and the soul retains a memory of the body's wholesome state. But I'd be wary of anything that assigns limits to the Light, especially human ones. Your deduction about the catalyst being true need is a better path to walk."

Maybe morally, but practically? Odyn didn't need to cause all-destroying blasts of disintegration to 'test' the adventurers that were only there to solve all his problems. "Well, at least I got one thing right."

"… Perhaps more than one." The Archbishop turned away and I was expecting him to end my 'petition' right then and there, but instead the man gestured to the nearby pew. "Uther, Turalyon, please turn one of the pews around, it seems we shall be here awhile."

"Yes, Your Holiness."

Turalyon too? That's who the Archiboshop's constant shadow was? I didn't recognize him at all. Granted, he at least was a priest from the start, but really? I guess I can also confirm that the Holy Light works atemporally because Synchronicity is the only logical explanation for this. And now I had to wonder just what I'll get up to in the future that would resonate backwards so blatantly.

"Now, child," Alonsus Faol said as I took the seat across from him. "Since you put so much thought into your queries, it behoves me to equal the effort. I'll need you to begin by explaining to me the terms you are using. I believe I can deduce most of it, but it serves to be sure. Before that, though, I do have a rather important thing to ask."

"Okay?"

"Are you aware that being able to wield the Light without undergoing our Rite of Investment is literally unheard of?"

Oh dear, that was rather unheard of before the Second War, wasn't it?

Wait a second, am I a heretic?