Biara's elegant boots
bit deeply into the hard-packed snow of the mountain's top. Her hands
reached out, grasping the hard frozen rocks before her as she made it
the last few paces to the summit. She'd been climbing the mountain along
the Alterac range for half the night, and her goal was finally in sight
as the day began to dawn on the snow capped peaks around her.
Cut off from the rest of the Horde forces in the valley below, she was the sole survivor of a band of champions sent to secure a watchtower amongst the winding passes of Alterac Valley. The Alliance had struck in full force, and after a brief but fierce struggle the Horde had been scattered, leaving her behind enemy lines. She'd dared not open a portal lest the magic of its creation or the light of its glow be seen or felt by her enemies, and in the blackness of night she'd began her ascent to find safe haven from her enemies.
She reached the relatively level snow-covered rocks of the mountain's peak just as the sun crept over the crest of the surrounding range. She paused for a moment, the freezing cold air of the peak swirling snow around her, the only motion visible her cloak as it fluttered behind her. No mist formed from her breath; her magic kept her body colder than even the frigid winds that haunted the lonely peaks. The silence of the snow, the stillness of the land and the drifting clouds that formed along the rocky surfaces far in the valley below her all brought her to a state of calm she'd not experienced in some time.
Biara stepped to the edge of a steep cliff face, the valley below thousands of feet distant. She looked to the east, watching as the golden glow of the sun grew brighter with each passing minute. Around her, her magic pulsed in time with her heartbeat, the whisperings of the lichling that she was connected to stirring in the sound of the wind rushing past her ears. She frowned at the noise and shook her head.
"No, let's have some peace for a moment. I'm alone, I can have at least that much," she murmured.
Her hands reached up, unclasping the catch of her cloak. The red fabric fluttered wildly and was ripped from her hand by the wind. It tumbled away, the sunlight making it almost glow as it faded into a tiny spec heading for the valley floor far below. Biara raised her bare arms up, her ivory skin glowing with the rays of sunlight slanting across the neighboring peaks. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She let go of her magic.
The thrum of power faded, the whisperings of the lichling died away to nothing. Her bracelets, her rings, the hum of her battlestaff, all fell into silence as she stopped powering them for a moment. The glowing wards on her face dimmed so much that the light of the dawn overpowered their glow, making them almost invisible if any were there to observe them. Instead, her perfectly smooth skin was seen, a jagged red scar running across her cheek that the wards normally hid standing out sharply. It's red color had never faded, despite the years that had passed.
Her eyes opened and they were a sea green, the fel power in them dim as she let her magic die down. She lowered her arms, her breath giving off a cloud of mist in the cold air. The light of the sun warmed her skin as she watched it play across the layers of clouds beneath her and sparkle on the undisturbed snow all around her. She inhaled, letting the scents of the mountain air soothe her as she watched the day begin in silence.
The elf standing on the cliff was, for a time, no Magistrix. She was no warrior, no politician. She had no fears, no worries, nothing to weigh down her heart. She was just Biar'athiel, greeting the dawning of a new day as she might have a hundred years previously. Although she had grown, and her body had been scarred by her many mistakes, her eyes glowed with the wonder of the little girl she had once been, taking in the rising light almost as if trying to calculate its path across the sky.
The moment would stretch into an hour, and then a second hour as she stood her silent vigil alone. Many thoughts would play through her mind during this time, many fears and worries, would be expunged. Many hopes and dreams, lost now to her, would be laid to rest beneath the snows of that peak. She stayed, letting the sunlight sustain her until the very real need for her body to feel warmth would finally intrude on her solitude. Until it was time for her to sheath herself in the armor of her magic once more, and step from the peak through a magical portal, returning to her duty, to her responsibility for the Sin'dorei.
Long after she had gone, an errant wind blew a red piece of fabric into the air again, whipping it about as if a child played. A child, a soul, that would never completely be forgotten, no matter what the years brought.
Cut off from the rest of the Horde forces in the valley below, she was the sole survivor of a band of champions sent to secure a watchtower amongst the winding passes of Alterac Valley. The Alliance had struck in full force, and after a brief but fierce struggle the Horde had been scattered, leaving her behind enemy lines. She'd dared not open a portal lest the magic of its creation or the light of its glow be seen or felt by her enemies, and in the blackness of night she'd began her ascent to find safe haven from her enemies.
She reached the relatively level snow-covered rocks of the mountain's peak just as the sun crept over the crest of the surrounding range. She paused for a moment, the freezing cold air of the peak swirling snow around her, the only motion visible her cloak as it fluttered behind her. No mist formed from her breath; her magic kept her body colder than even the frigid winds that haunted the lonely peaks. The silence of the snow, the stillness of the land and the drifting clouds that formed along the rocky surfaces far in the valley below her all brought her to a state of calm she'd not experienced in some time.
Biara stepped to the edge of a steep cliff face, the valley below thousands of feet distant. She looked to the east, watching as the golden glow of the sun grew brighter with each passing minute. Around her, her magic pulsed in time with her heartbeat, the whisperings of the lichling that she was connected to stirring in the sound of the wind rushing past her ears. She frowned at the noise and shook her head.
"No, let's have some peace for a moment. I'm alone, I can have at least that much," she murmured.
Her hands reached up, unclasping the catch of her cloak. The red fabric fluttered wildly and was ripped from her hand by the wind. It tumbled away, the sunlight making it almost glow as it faded into a tiny spec heading for the valley floor far below. Biara raised her bare arms up, her ivory skin glowing with the rays of sunlight slanting across the neighboring peaks. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She let go of her magic.
The thrum of power faded, the whisperings of the lichling died away to nothing. Her bracelets, her rings, the hum of her battlestaff, all fell into silence as she stopped powering them for a moment. The glowing wards on her face dimmed so much that the light of the dawn overpowered their glow, making them almost invisible if any were there to observe them. Instead, her perfectly smooth skin was seen, a jagged red scar running across her cheek that the wards normally hid standing out sharply. It's red color had never faded, despite the years that had passed.
Her eyes opened and they were a sea green, the fel power in them dim as she let her magic die down. She lowered her arms, her breath giving off a cloud of mist in the cold air. The light of the sun warmed her skin as she watched it play across the layers of clouds beneath her and sparkle on the undisturbed snow all around her. She inhaled, letting the scents of the mountain air soothe her as she watched the day begin in silence.
The elf standing on the cliff was, for a time, no Magistrix. She was no warrior, no politician. She had no fears, no worries, nothing to weigh down her heart. She was just Biar'athiel, greeting the dawning of a new day as she might have a hundred years previously. Although she had grown, and her body had been scarred by her many mistakes, her eyes glowed with the wonder of the little girl she had once been, taking in the rising light almost as if trying to calculate its path across the sky.
The moment would stretch into an hour, and then a second hour as she stood her silent vigil alone. Many thoughts would play through her mind during this time, many fears and worries, would be expunged. Many hopes and dreams, lost now to her, would be laid to rest beneath the snows of that peak. She stayed, letting the sunlight sustain her until the very real need for her body to feel warmth would finally intrude on her solitude. Until it was time for her to sheath herself in the armor of her magic once more, and step from the peak through a magical portal, returning to her duty, to her responsibility for the Sin'dorei.
Long after she had gone, an errant wind blew a red piece of fabric into the air again, whipping it about as if a child played. A child, a soul, that would never completely be forgotten, no matter what the years brought.
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