The evening breeze was
mild as it rustled the leaves of the carefully sculpted trees and bushes
of sunstrider isle. It came from the sea, caressing the land and
flowing through Biara's red hair before passing over the land and back
out to the water that spawned it. Biara closed her eyes for a moment,
simply breathing in the scent of the ocean mixed with the smells of a
spring evening in her beloved Quel'Thalas.
It was times like this, when she wore only a simple summer dress and was bereft of her armor, wands, battlestaff, and the trappings of her station that she felt most alive. When she was alone in a place that she loved, soaking in the sunset with no one to question her, no one to make her remember all of the many things that should be weighing on her mind. For a moment in time, she could simply be Biar'athiel, the daughter her father always envisioned, carefree and happy.
As the sun sank into the waters on the horizon, the Magistrix knew that the moment could not last forever. Like the fading golden light, her ability to simply BE, to simply enjoy this time would fade and the weight of her responsibilities would settle on her again. Like the brooding, Wretched filled ruins of Silvermoon that lurked just down the road behind her, there was no escaping reality.
She had come here in the first place to ponder an encounter she'd had earlier that evening with one of her friends, a death knight named Valendrear. The elf was charming, sophisticated, and talented in both battle and matters of the heart. Normally his presence delighted her, and he was a welcome sight on any battlefield. This evening though had been different, and although their conversation had been short, it had affected her deeply.
He had questioned her faith.
His surprise and shock when she had said she revered Elune had been telling. He'd been unable to conceal his true feelings beneath the calm mask that he normally wore, and even when he feigned eventual acceptance of her words about Elune, she could tell he was hesitant to even understand. It had made her feel withdrawn and scorned, when normally the idea that Elune might be watching over her made her feel somehow comforted.
Am I doing the right thing? Does the Goddess really care about the cousins of her true people?
It was something Valendrear had said to her as well. He had questioned why she would revered the Goddess of the Kaldorei, an enemy of her people. Her response had been simple; once, long ago they had all been one people, and Elune had been the Goddess of the Highborne as well. To connect with her was to connect with the very blood that ran through all of the people of Quel'Thalas. He'd accepted her answer, but his expression had left her in doubt.
Is it so wrong, to wish that events of the past had not so tragically changed our world? If not for the Burning Legion, would not a wondrous empire of magic exist even to this day? Was Tyavel's dream to see that restored really so wrong? She was trying to restore something glorious.
Glorious like the ruins of the city she had been studying for several days now, Vashj'ir. She shivered as the last rays of the sun touched the surface of the ocean and seemed to set it ablaze. How very different was Vashj'ir from the ruins standing behind her that threw their shadow over the grass at her sandaled feet? The ruins of both cities represented the fall of elves who could have continued to give so much to the world in both magic and beauty. Elves who were her relatives and ancestors.
Are we falling to shadow? Will our light one day be extinguished forever?
It was for this reason that Elune gave her such comfort. To connect to the past, to remember all that had fallen and take heart that it could be undone; these were the things that drove Biara onward, even in the face of disaster and defeat.
One day the spires behind me will shine with magic once more. Laughter, light, and life will exist within them, and our city shall rise up. I will not let it sink quietly into nothingness, until all that is left of us are stones that a traveler long from now may touch, eons in the future. I will not allow us to fade as Vashj'ir and those who lived within it faded. Goddess grant me strength to keep the Sin'dorei, who are ALSO your people in a way, from following in the footsteps of those who are gone forever.
As the first stars twinkled in the night sky overhead, Biara quietly sang a lament for the people who had been lost in Quel'Thalas, and for all that could have been. Her song echoed through the trees around her, sounding hollow as it reached the edge of the ruins nearby.
When the darkness grew complete and night had come at last, Biara fell silent and turned away, heading back towards the portion of Silvermoon that had been rebuilt. She carried her responsibilities with pride, even when these questions came to plague her, and her friends made her question her very faith itself.
No matter what the future held, she would see to it that the past would not be repeated.
It was times like this, when she wore only a simple summer dress and was bereft of her armor, wands, battlestaff, and the trappings of her station that she felt most alive. When she was alone in a place that she loved, soaking in the sunset with no one to question her, no one to make her remember all of the many things that should be weighing on her mind. For a moment in time, she could simply be Biar'athiel, the daughter her father always envisioned, carefree and happy.
As the sun sank into the waters on the horizon, the Magistrix knew that the moment could not last forever. Like the fading golden light, her ability to simply BE, to simply enjoy this time would fade and the weight of her responsibilities would settle on her again. Like the brooding, Wretched filled ruins of Silvermoon that lurked just down the road behind her, there was no escaping reality.
She had come here in the first place to ponder an encounter she'd had earlier that evening with one of her friends, a death knight named Valendrear. The elf was charming, sophisticated, and talented in both battle and matters of the heart. Normally his presence delighted her, and he was a welcome sight on any battlefield. This evening though had been different, and although their conversation had been short, it had affected her deeply.
He had questioned her faith.
His surprise and shock when she had said she revered Elune had been telling. He'd been unable to conceal his true feelings beneath the calm mask that he normally wore, and even when he feigned eventual acceptance of her words about Elune, she could tell he was hesitant to even understand. It had made her feel withdrawn and scorned, when normally the idea that Elune might be watching over her made her feel somehow comforted.
Am I doing the right thing? Does the Goddess really care about the cousins of her true people?
It was something Valendrear had said to her as well. He had questioned why she would revered the Goddess of the Kaldorei, an enemy of her people. Her response had been simple; once, long ago they had all been one people, and Elune had been the Goddess of the Highborne as well. To connect with her was to connect with the very blood that ran through all of the people of Quel'Thalas. He'd accepted her answer, but his expression had left her in doubt.
Is it so wrong, to wish that events of the past had not so tragically changed our world? If not for the Burning Legion, would not a wondrous empire of magic exist even to this day? Was Tyavel's dream to see that restored really so wrong? She was trying to restore something glorious.
Glorious like the ruins of the city she had been studying for several days now, Vashj'ir. She shivered as the last rays of the sun touched the surface of the ocean and seemed to set it ablaze. How very different was Vashj'ir from the ruins standing behind her that threw their shadow over the grass at her sandaled feet? The ruins of both cities represented the fall of elves who could have continued to give so much to the world in both magic and beauty. Elves who were her relatives and ancestors.
Are we falling to shadow? Will our light one day be extinguished forever?
It was for this reason that Elune gave her such comfort. To connect to the past, to remember all that had fallen and take heart that it could be undone; these were the things that drove Biara onward, even in the face of disaster and defeat.
One day the spires behind me will shine with magic once more. Laughter, light, and life will exist within them, and our city shall rise up. I will not let it sink quietly into nothingness, until all that is left of us are stones that a traveler long from now may touch, eons in the future. I will not allow us to fade as Vashj'ir and those who lived within it faded. Goddess grant me strength to keep the Sin'dorei, who are ALSO your people in a way, from following in the footsteps of those who are gone forever.
As the first stars twinkled in the night sky overhead, Biara quietly sang a lament for the people who had been lost in Quel'Thalas, and for all that could have been. Her song echoed through the trees around her, sounding hollow as it reached the edge of the ruins nearby.
When the darkness grew complete and night had come at last, Biara fell silent and turned away, heading back towards the portion of Silvermoon that had been rebuilt. She carried her responsibilities with pride, even when these questions came to plague her, and her friends made her question her very faith itself.
No matter what the future held, she would see to it that the past would not be repeated.
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