The Maelstrom (part 1)

To most it is merely an unending storm in the middle of the Great Sea dividing Kalimdor from the Eastern Kingdoms. Boats and zeppelins go around it and still face a raging sea that some fail to survive. Learning to fly after learning raven form is difficult enough, but it was all I could do to maintain flight through the wind and rain. I finally landed on a small island near the Eye. This would generally be considered a bad idea, but the Maelstrom has been raging for thousands of years. Any kind of brush and rubble that could possibly be blown in my direction has long since escaped the island's shores. The only thing threatening to knock me off my feet onto the hard, smoothed rocks was the wind and the sharp pellets of rain.

I felt stronger. Magic was in no short supply here. I knew immediately that this was because of the Well of Eternity. Millennia ago, the ancient ancestors of the Kaldorei discovered this tremendous source of magical energy. They built an empire around it and almost worshiped it. It wasn't long until such vast use of these energies attracted the Burning Legion and my old friend Sargeras attempted for the first time to enter into our world and destroy it. The ensuing war resulted in the destruction of the Well of Eternity which drew 80% of the land on Azeroth deep into the earth which was then covered by the great waters of the sea that we now know.

In ten thousand years, the raging storm has not stopped. The well has created a rift deep under the ocean. Some believe that the well still exists in some form deep beneath the rift. I know it does. I can feel it. Even here on the surface I can feel its power surging through me. The unending storm is a testament to its omnipotent energy.

It's difficult to focus on casting when the storm rages around you. The incantation must always be precise; a task that is difficult when the wind battles your voice for dominance. But there was no where for me to go on this island. Nowhere on any island in this area. Nowhere but down. And for that I needed a water breathing spell. I spoke the words of power clearly and loudly. My voice felt lost in the wind, but I could feel the power rushing through my lungs, changing them. They were ready to process water.

As I stepped into the tempestuous sea, I caught a brief glance of something in the distance. Far off in the ocean, a serpentine figure slithered into the water. It was no secret that the Naga make their home here, but so close to their home, they are rarely seen at the surface. Were they expecting me? Or was that a lucky scout? I don't usually believe in omens, but when the water was chest-deep and I dove in, gasping a bit to accommodate the circulation of thick water, I thought I saw the ghost of a tortured soul long lost at sea.