Restraint

Biara knelt in the soft grass before the statue, her eyes closed in meditation as she communed with the spirit of her father. It had become a weekly activity, sometimes even daily, and it brought her peace to come to this quiet place and simply breathe. Her father couldn't answer her, and she didn't expect him to, but saying things to him, telling him of her troubles and of the experiences she faced helped her release more tension than she'd realized. It was odd to think that murmured words to the dead could do so much more to soothe her than the words she exchanged daily with the living.

A warm breeze stirred the fabric of her dress as she completed her meditation. Even the ruins of Silvermoon contained a haunting beauty to them, and her sea green eyes soaked in the sight of the sun sparkling on the outline of the statue before her. Ruined though all if it might be, it was a reminder of the power that the Sin'dorei could attain once more, and it gave her strength to come here and, for a time, be Biar'athiel instead of the Scion of House Dayfire.

It gave no sound as it streaked through the soothing breeze within the ruins. The arrow flashed through the space between archer and target in a heartbeat, an assassin's tool hurtled with deadly intent. The force of the arrowhead striking her in the back threw Biara to her hands and knees. She stared in stupid amazement as her blood splattered the stones at the base of the statue, not understanding what had happened until the burning pain welled up from the wound, ice trailing after it and streaking through her veins. Poison.

Weakly Biara struggled to get back to her feet, whirling around to see several dozen figures approaching. A few of them were wearing the uniforms of her House guard, while others were Wretched, herded from within the ruins by magical prods and enraged enough to tear a person to pieces. The Sin'dorei that had shot her with the arrow was amongst the group, abandoning his bow for a sword as they approached their target.

Daser Grimm was right. Assassins lurk within my own House. Again someone seeks to take my life, to put an end to House Dayfire and ruin the potential that Silvermoon has for greatness. Again I am forced to defend myself against my own people in addition to the threat of the alliance.

It was more than she could stand. The weight of it all made her sink to her knees as the group drew closer. Her every effort was thwarted time and again. Her own people raised blades against her, or failed to stop the incursions of her enemies. Her own loved ones abandoned her, or stayed their hands while she was forced to deal with the consequences of a weakened Silvermoon.

She whispered onto the wind, "I'm so sorry I didn't believe you Grimm. I'm sorry about everything...."

The group was mere feet away from her, blades gleaming as they closed in for the kill. The Wretched snarled, their jaws snapping as they sought to get away from the prods, understanding that they had to go through this mere slip of a Sin'dorei to escape the torment. The poison pulsed within her, fire and ice mixing through her blood, making her weaker, making her vision blur. She just wanted to lie down, for it to all be over. To surrender.

Surrender...

It was not in her nature. No matter how many times they came for her, she would stand against them. No matter how many of her people were slain, she would be the shield to protect the rest. Forever more, until the very end.

"I'm sorry father," she said in a small voice. "I must break the oath I made to you. I pray that you will one day forgive me, and that when we meet at last, you will not turn away from me for the things I've done."

She rose to her feet and power surged through her as she released all of the restraints on her magic. All of her frustration and anger, her sorrow and hurt was unleashed as the magic tore free of the tight bonds she kept on it. Her arms rose above her head, the pain of the arrowhead embedded in her shoulder blade a distant dull ache compared to the pure joy of magic surrounding her. The temperature plunged and ice coated the grass around her and the surface of the statue behind her as an icy barricade of magic formed over her.

For an instant, as she held the power in her hands an image flashed to her mind of her mother. She saw the Quel'dorei, standing in almost exactly the same spot, surrounded not by treacherous foes, but by innocents. She saw her mother's magic, held above her just as Biara's was now, about to be cast down to slay, to butcher and murder not in just cause, but in fiery passion and selfishness. The two were alike, mother and daughter, and yet their purpose could not have been further from one another. Past and present stood starkly apart, based solely on the intention of the act.

Biara's restraint snapped at last, and her magic lashed out.

It took but an instant, but those many hundreds of yards away would have felt the force of the icy blast of killing magic that hurtled down into the mob of foes before the Magistrix. Commoners and shopkeepers in nearby villages would later report hearing a rumbling blast, as of thunder, coming from the ruins of Silvermoon. Biara poured her very heart and soul into the magic, lamenting the need to slay her own people and knowing that stopping them was the only way to protect the rest. Her grief and rage shaped the spell, and all those before it became nothing more than glittering shards of frozen death after it had passed over them.

In the utter silence that followed, Biara swayed on her feet, tears on her face as she looked at the ice coated grass. Nothing moved in the small patch of frozen wasteland she had created, nothing except her. Unlike her mother, she had not given her life completely to the magic, for she had more service yet to perform for the city and her people. She would endure the physical and emotional toll such battles took from her, in spite of the example her blood had set.

"Forgive me father..."

Her eyes rolled up into her head and she gently sank into darkness as the ground rose up to meet her. Surrender now, in her moment of solitude, was the only luxury she could allow herself. She was a Magistrix and a Dayfire, and such was her lot in life.