The headaches were growing worse. Myzzi and I tried to research what could be causing them. It didn't take us long to figure out it was tied to whatever happened the morning I couldn't remember, the first day I was ill.
I noticed my memory wasn't as good as it had been before, either. Myzzi says I was starting to forget things, even little things, that were unusual. Trying to think back more than a few days was a strain, and having an accidental "blurt" triggered a massive spike of pain.
No one really noticed to slight increase in misfiled papers, forgotten deliveries, or little accidents around the office.
Time and again, I went to the Clinic in Orgrimmar, wondering if I dared seek any help. At last I did, speaking to one of the doctors there, Knowles. They tried to diagnose the problem, and came back with news: I was tainted with fel magic.
There was a trace of fel magic in me, anchored by blood magic that tied it directly to my own life force. Worse, it was interacting with my particular memory in a way causing it to mutate, and somehow, spread. It affecting more and more of my memories, and the memories of those around me. Being in close proximity to me was a bad idea.
Yotingo, a troll shaman who worked for the AAMS, attempted to cleanse the corruption from me. It didn't work out well. The curse had been designed to counteract being cleansed. I passed out, and when I woke up, I remembered nothing of what had happened in the past year. The curse had taken away all the new memories I'd gained since originally receiving it.
A new tactic was tried. There was a mage there, a Forsaken man named Raoul Zharikov, and his companion, a blood elf named Vanyris Spellsong. They took us to Dalaran, where Raoul said it would be easier to work their magic. I can't really go into the details of what they did- not sure I really understand it, anyway- but they were able to draw the curse out of me, slowly.
That's I guess when I recited the overheard conversation to Myzzi. The curse wasn't able to erase my memories, but only suppressed them. Cane Guy was a warlock; he'd done his best to make sure I couldn't remember anything I'd heard that morning, or anything about him, ever. Maybe he even meant for me to die from getting sick, who knows.
However, I still couldn't remember anything. Myzzi did her best to help me adjust and tell me everything she knew about our new lives. Memories resurface now and then, filling in gaps. They can be triggered by tiny things, such as the smell of the ocean. They can be nice recollections, like a few memories of fishing on the beach.
But also- a lot of nightmares.
It's slowly getting better. I don't flinch at every touch anymore, and the constant headaches are gone.
There's still things I can't tolerate. Embraces, closed spaces, anything the keeps me from moving, triggers the flashbacks. And imps... no. Never.
I'm not sure if they're still looking for us out there. The last time I picked up a Goldwick candle, it didn't have the Waxworth logo on it. I buy one whenever I can, just to help out Pop and Ma a little bit.
The warlock... Cane Guy. He did come looking for me once, sending Renzly to kill me. She's his daughter, it turns out. Raoul stepped in again to help, and I'm not sure what happened, but Renzly sent a letter saying the warlock was "taken care of."
Renzly... she's the reason I started this journal. I've started to remember more about my time in Azshara, and she seems to be in a lot of it. If she is the daughter of Cane Guy, why did we spend so much time together? And why aren't we anymore?
I have only seen her once since I lost my memory in Orgrimmar, at a tavern in Ratchet. While we had spoken briefly before, I hadn't actually seen her, as there was a rather thick door between us. But when she came through the door of the tavern, I knew who she was. She looked haunted.
The curse still lingers. I'm pretty sure I'm not in danger of losing any more of my memories. At the same time, though, I can tell my memory's not what it used to be. I can't memorize things the way I used to. I have trouble remembering what happened a few days ago. Names slip my tongue. I have... what I think most people have. A normal memory. My gift's gone. At least it means I'm not 'blurting' things the way I used to.
But if I have a regular memory, then that means I can forget things like a regular person. I don't want that. I don't want, years from now, to have forgotten a friend I had made today. I can't do that. Not again.
And if that means that every now and then I'm going to have to force myself to sit down and write things on paper, then so be it.
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