Patrol

The wind howled across the barren red dirt, swirling into miniature cyclones before settling back again into the terrain that spawned them. In the distance, green lightning flickered in the sky as some pieces of the torn world crumbled further, disintegrating into what could only be the nether. Celessiel watched the distant display, her cold blue eyes missing little detail despite the glaring fel light that illuminated the plains of Hellfire peninsula. Many called this place a living hell, but the thought merely brought a smile across her face, her blackened lips curling into a smirk.

She had much more personal knowledge of what hell was like.

The patrol in Hellfire had thus far been uneventful, and quite useless. When Celessiel had returned to Silvermoon for the first time, she had not expected to be given accolades for her deeds in attempting to hold back the scourge. She certainly didn't expect anyone to remember a simple Quel'dorei girl who had presumably perished during the invasion itself, never to be seen again. What she encountered though was also beyond her expectations; her own people had feared and loathed her. They had given her spiteful looks and shunned even speaking to her. She could not hide who she was, or what she was. A simple pair of goblin made sunglasses would hide her eyes, but would never ever hide her strangely colored skin, or warm the air around her even a fraction of a degree. To them all, she was a monster.

She shook her head as she continued to scan the horizon for threats. Not entirely a monster, there were a few within the city who understood that she wanted to help, that she wanted to do more for her people. The unnatural life she had been given could be a curse, or it could be a great gift if set to the right purpose, and there were some who could bring themselves to accept that. Celessiel smiled again, patting her right hip and the new tattoo that resided amongst the runes there. A rising sunburst inked in black on her gray flesh, the marking peeked just above her belt, a sign of new hope.

The officials of Silvermoon had recognized that she could be put to some use as well, although they were hesitant to allow her to aid within Eversong itself. They didn't want her NEAR people, so her aid would have to come in service outside of Quel'Thalas. They had sent her far away to distant Hellfire to look for lost pilgrims and surviving Sin'dorei who wished to return home but had lost their way. While it stung to be sent away, Celessiel knew she could make a difference here, and perhaps one day more would accept her if she could aid Quel'Thalas enough.

Beneath her, her undead gryphon stirred, as if disturbed by something. The death knight patted it gently, soothing it and trying to calm it. Something had upset the creature, which still acted very much like a living thing. It was bound to her, not by force, but by choice. Its spirit had returned to its dead body to aid her when she had called out to it. She would NEVER use her power to enslave another as she herself had been enslaved, even the spirit of a beast.

Behind her came the sudden sound of steel striking flesh, and a mortal cry of agony. In an instant Celessiel had dropped from the gryphon's back, runeblade drawn and at the ready. Cold blue light flowed across the blade as her power manifested itself, ready to strike down whatever threatened the small orc encampment behind her. What she saw as she turned made Celessiel pause in horror.

A kaldorei death knight stood amongst the orc guards, brutally cutting them down. His runeblade flared as it carved through flesh, stealing some of the spirit of each of his victims and freezing their bodies as they died. Celessiel watched in horror as the butcher continued, cutting down three more orcs in quick succession. The bodies lay in the red dirt, their wounds covered in frost. She had seen such sights more times than she cared to remember, and had been forced to inflict such injuries on the innocent by the thousands.

Time froze for a moment as he looked at her, his cold gaze matching her own, blue for blue. His gaze roamed over her form, taking in her gray hue and snow white hair, her scars and the bared runeblade held tightly in her fists. A vile smile crept over his face, and he extended a hand as if to invite her to join in the slaughter. Celessiel's head shook slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"The weak must make way for the strong. The Alliance and Horde are at war," his voice grated. "The Knights of the Ebon Blade are on both sides of the conflict, although we do not assault one another where possible. Join me in the slaughter. It's not like you can stop me anyway."

He was right of course. She could sense his power from where she stood, like a frigid wind flowing over her skin. She was still able to feel such things, and his very existence in Hellfire cooled the normally heated air. Again her head shook, with more conviction this time. "No."

He sneered at her, "Then join the weak and die a second time alongside them eventually. I care little. Suffer well Sister."

With that he turned and summoned his deathcharger, riding off into the distance, its hooves crushing the fallen bodies of the orcs as it left. Celessiel's gaze stayed on him until he was a distant spec, swallowed by the mirages of Hellfire's rising heat. Her blade stayed in her hand, the runes on it glowing.

"I am NOT your Sister," she whispered defiantely. "I will NEVER be one of you. I will never allow myself to become the corrupted things that you are, and let my soul join my body in vileness."

Slowly she sheathed her runeblade, walking towards the wounded orcs. There would be little she could do to aid them; her very touch would inflict more harm than good. At least though she could stay with the dying until they breathed their last, and give them what comfort that afforded.

"One day every single creature like you will pay," she said to the empty plains of Hellfire. "These Knights cannot have two hearts and minds. They cannot be on two sides of a war, or they will continue to slay the innocent with the darkness that has been forced into each of us."

She fell silent, no one there to hear her words. She looked down at the dead orcs lying amongst the wreckage of their camp.

One day this would be ended forever.