Lionhearted

Biara stood in the center of the fort, the snows of Frostfire Ridge coming down hard around them as she checked the straps that held her padded bracers in place for security. Around her had gathered a number of her lesser lieutenants and sergeants, the group a mixture of orcs, fearsome troll headhunters, tauren, and a small scattering of Forsaken and Sin'dorei amongst them.

“Lady Dayfire, they'll be on the ridge soon. What are your orders?” one of the orc lieutenants asked.

“We'll meet them just beyond the wall and push them back. We can't allow them to besiege the fort or give them time to hew down trees to assemble siege weapons,” Biara responded, her voice grim. “How many have the scouts counted now?”

“Many,” came the grim response. “We are outnumbered by a factor of three to one we estimate. It will be a difficult battle.”

Biara murmured words of magic, the wards on her face glowing brightly. She finished her preparations, checking to ensure that her belt held several wands in the event of an emergency. She nodded at those who had gathered before her, her expression stern, “Every battle is difficult, with no exception. Regardless of the odds, we will stand strong here. The Iron Horde will not take this fortification as long as there are those here willing to defend it. Attend to your troops and prepare yourselves. We will sortie forth in ten minutes and meet our enemy before they've a chance to establish themselves at our perimeter.”

The soldiers before Biara bowed deeply, pressing hands to their hearts in salute. The one closest rose up, and responded before turning to depart, “It will be as you say, Lady Dayfire. We will win the day.”

Biara watched him as he walked towards the waiting troops, the lesser officers shouting commands and rallying the soldiers of her fortification, preparing for the deadly encounter to come. He did not hear her reply, murmured to the wind, “I dearly hope so for all our sakes, Captain.”

Biara turned and walked towards a waiting tauren who had prepared her hawkstrider for her. She mounted the creature and rode off towards her soldiers to lead them into the coming battle.

She never looked back, and never saw the group of apprentices waiting near the edge of the fort's barracks. Most of them looked on with casual disinterest, their Sin'dorei tastes finding little of interest in the frozen wasteland that they had been assigned to and their distaste for the Magistrix they had been placed under clear as they turned and headed back within the structure.

That is, all but one. Rayleth Firelight stood at the barracks opening long after the others had retreated inside to find warmth, his fel green gaze never leaving the figure on the hawkstrider that grew smaller as distance took her away from the fort. Concern written across his features, he turned and walked into the barracks, his mind troubled.

***************************************

Rayleth paced, his thoughts a swirling mass of anxiety. The other apprentices glared at him or otherwise ignored him, even as his pacing in the close quarters of the primitive barracks brought him almost in contact with them repeatedly. Finally, Senior Apprentice Namia rose, a scowl on her face as she confronted him, “Would you stop that? It's bad enough we're all stuck in here without your irritating pacing!”

Rayleth paused, feeling something strange well up within him. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, staring down the shorter Senior Apprentice, “Don't you care? Don't any of you care? Magistrix Dayfire is out there right now, about to engage in battle for our safety and the safety of the others here. Doesn't it mean anything to any of you?”

The Senior Apprentice smirked, “Yes, it means that if she doesn't make it, we'll be reassigned somewhere else. Besides, she's a battle-mage. Do you know anything?”

Something snapped in Rayleth, and he abruptly brushed past the Senior Apprentice, heading to the back of the barracks and opening a chest. He began to rummage through it, grabbing prepared wands and shoving them into his belt.

“What do you think you're doing?” the Senior Apprentice asked. “You're not going out there; you've got no combat spells whatsoever and are barely capable of casting what spells you do know. You will be slaughtered in a heartbeat.”

Rayleth shook his head, rising as he stuffed the last of the wands into his belt, “I don't need combat spells, I'll have these. And what magic I do have I will use as I can. I can't sit here and do nothing while she fights for us. If you've a problem with it, report me when she returns, but I'm going out there with or without your permission.”

With that he walked past her and out of the barracks, into the swirling storm beyond. Whatever response she shouted was lost in the howling of the wind as he made his way towards the wolf pens. The creatures stirred uneasily within the pens, the ones left behind and out of combat either too old or too untrained to be useful beside the Frostwolf orcs in battle.

As Rayleth approached, one of the wolves moved to the edge of the pen, growling lightly at him before sitting down and watching him. It was a young one, not quite old enough to be useful in battle and left behind when the orcs had set out. As he made eye contact with it, he could almost feel a kindred spirit within it, sensing that the wolf sought to run with its pack.

“As do I my friend, as do I,” Rayleth murmured as he opened the pen. The wolf dashed out, coming up beside him and getting down on its haunches, as if urging him to mount quickly. He obliged, and then the creature was off, dashing into the howling storm beyond.

***************************************

The Iron Horde advanced all around them, their numbers seemingly endless as Biara lead her men to meet them in battle. Orcish warcries rose up, only to be drown out by the sounds of screaming as the forces of Biara's fort met them in a headlong charge.

Biara had little time to think before the enemy was upon her, iron armored orcs all around her and her spells lashing out in blazing bursts of light and razor sharp bits of ice. Orcs fell before her, only to be replaced by more orcs as the ranks behind them pushed forwards relentlessly. No matter how many she cut down with magic, there were always more, their reckless abandon for their own lives something that she was quite familiar with from her own experience in battle.

Her magic flowed through her, singing within her like a song in her very blood. Memories flashed through her mind of a thousand other similar battles, and spells came to her lips and fingertips as if it were a natural extension of her will. Spells detonated amongst the enemy, tearing them to shreds, throwing them into the air, or slicing into their flesh with ease. Deep inside, Biara felt a profound sense of release as she slew her foes, the magic in her core given outlet at long last. She knew in that moment what it would feel like to be a goddess; to decide at a whim who lived and who died, her power absolute.

No matter what I become, what I seek to do with my life, my destiny is here in the fires of battle. I was born for this, born to fight for my people.

The Iron Horde had few spellcasters amongst their ranks, preferring instead to rely on their strange technology. None could stand before her magic, the destructive power equal to any explosive they sought to hurl at her. And yet even as she cut them down, she realized that there was more to the weapons they had brought to bear than first glance might reveal. The orcs before her fell back slowly, but not in a rout as she'd first thought. As she and her men pushed forward, their lines buckled, drawing them forward.

As they neared a rise just beyond the snow and gore covered dell behind them, Biara realized the enemy's plan as three Iron Star siege weapons were wheeled into position on the hill. The weapons were a mix of technology and good old-fashioned explosives, and if they detonated amongst her men it would become a bloodbath.

In a panic, Biara shouted words of power, hurling herself forward through space as her blink spell teleported her, getting closer to one of the Iron Stars and hurling razor sharp bits of ice at it. Her spells struck the device, detonating it instantly in a fireball that rocked the very ground with the force of its blast.

There were two more of the weapons however, and Biara watched in horror as their crews began to activate them, the circular balls in the center of the siege weapons glowing red hot and beginning to spin as they were aimed. One of the weapons was facing directly at her charging army, and would slaughter so many of them that the battle would be lost.

The other was pointed right at her; the Iron Horde had recognized the threat she posed.

She was out of time, and had only a moment to cast a single spell. Save all of her men and be obliterated by an explosion that would cut through her wards as if they were not even there, or save herself and watch as her men and the fortification beyond was destroyed by the Iron Horde.

It was no choice at all. Biara closed her eyes and hurled her spell, the Iron Star pointed at her men detonating with another fearsome explosion, the hiss of the second Iron Star being launched echoing through the air as the weapon hurtled towards her. She had met her fate at long last in battle.

Kyliska will be proud of me, even if she's sad that I'm gone.

********************************

Rayleth and the wolf rode through the storm like an errant gust of wind, the nimble creature hopping over corpses and dropped weapons as they dashed across the dell where the main fighting was occurring. He could see orcs doing battle with one another, could see the Horde banners flying defiantly still against the Iron Horde invaders that sought to stomp them out, and in the distance he could see flashes of magic that were surely where Magistrix Dayfire was. A huge fireball rocked the battlefield, flames leaping into the sky and drawing his gaze.

Rayleth's eyes widened as he saw the first Iron Star explode, his gaze darting across the battlefield and coming to rest on Biara as she cast her second spell. He yanked on the wolf's fur beneath him, the creature darting towards her even as the Magistrix pointed towards a second siege weapon, her spells lashing out.

Rayleth saw her make her choice, understanding that Biara had no time to cast another spell as the last of the siege weapons launched its deadly payload. The wolf hurtled towards Biara, and he jumped from its back, flying through the air and slamming into the Magistrix at the last possible moment, his voice shouting out the words to one of the few spells he had mastered in his apprenticeship.

**********************************

Instead of flaming death, Biara felt a heavy body collide with her abruptly, the words of a poorly cast teleportation spell echoing in the air around her as magic blurred her view for a brief instant. Behind her, a massive explosion rocked the ground, the Iron Star detonating where she'd been standing, even as the arcane forces whisked her forward a few hundred feet into the midst of the Iron Horde forces.

Her eyes opened, and she looked up to see Rayleth laying atop her. His face was ashen white, fear making his limbs shake with his terror. With his body atop hers, she could feel his heart slamming against his ribs, his pulse racing as he ran on pure adrenaline.

He's as scared as he could possibly be, but he came to rescue me anyway.

The positive thought was dampened a moment later by the realization that the rescue had only delayed the inevitable; Iron Horde orcs advanced all around them, and they were cut off behind enemy lines. She could see the realization in his eyes as he locked gazes with her, and something else stirring there as well. She could see determination on his face, a burning will to live, to fight even though he wanted to curl up and surrender.

He rose up off of her, standing above her. She knew that the apprentices had no combat spells, knew he could do little against battle hardened orcs, but he was determined to fight anyway. He flicked his wrists, a wand appearing in each hand in a manner that would have made a goblin gunslinger proud, magic flaring to life on the tips of the weapons as he laid into the advancing orcs with deadly combat spells.

One of the wands overheated from continuously use, the tip detonating and sending splinters into Rayleth's arm, but he simply threw the ruined weapon aide and drew another wand, never stopping in his deadly barrage of magic.

The enemy advanced on all sides, the brave apprentice's fate sealed until Biara rose behind him, her magic lashing out at those who stalked Rayleth's back. Her spells shattered their bodies, hurling them away as she set her back to his, the two creating a deadly sphere of spells around them, cutting down foe after foe. In the distance Biara could hear the warhorns of the Horde forces pouring from her fort, and hope rose in her heart as she redoubled her efforts.

“Lady Dayfire! A shaman!” Rayleth shouted. Biara risked a quick glance over her shoulder, seeing the spellcaster preparing a dead ball of magma to hurl at them. Rayleth looked back at her, the glance they shared conveying everything they needed to say.

He turned, grabbing her arm and twirling her around him, her magic already sparking on her fingertips as she shouted out the final word of the spell. She felt his hand at her waist, grabbing one of her wands and drawing it as he laid down a withering hail of magic at her back, protecting her as she neutralized the threat.

The shaman was struck with shards of ice that flayed him to the bone, and he fell, the orcs around him beginning to rout as Horde forces came up behind the fighting duo, reinforcing their position. In a heartbeat the battle went from a pitched fight to full scale flight as the remaining Iron Horde orcs fell back, Biara's fighters in close pursuit and a few final spells detonating amongst their ranks.

And then it was over, the battle coming to an end for Biara and Rayleth as the Horde forces pushed past them, Biara's spells finally falling silent as the threat faded. Beside her Rayleth sunk to the ground, shivering in fear and exhaustion, blood welling from cuts on his arm from the destroyed wand.

Biara sank down beside him, exhaustion flowing through her as she watched her men run down the last of the attackers that they could reach. Cheers rose up around them, the victorious warcries a thunderous sound that rose into the very sky. But all of it was lost on Biara, as she felt Rayleth's head sag down against her shoulder, her apprentice finally succumbing to the exhaustion of using magic far beyond his capabilities for far longer than he should.

For a moment, Biara closed her eyes, letting the wave of victorious shouting flow over her, feeling Rayleth's heart beat against her arm, her mind awash with the utter astonishment of how far he'd gone to protect her. In that moment, sitting in the gore covered snow with the corpses of enemies all around her and the howling of a winter storm upon her, Biara felt contentment the likes of which she could not have imagined, and a smile played across her lips.

Healing Kyliska

Kyliska limped her way down the long corridor, a frown on her face as she passed through the empty passageway. The rooms around her were silent, Biara's floor of their tower seeming to almost be abandoned. She'd checked Astariel's room first, only to find the little girl and many of her toys gone. A quick peek in Biara's sanctum showed it to be cold and unused; her sister had not been researching or casting spells recently.

Her frown deepening and the pain in her wounded ankle growing, Kyliska finally pushed open the door to Biara's private chambers. The room beyond was dark and the lingering scent of burnt ozone could be detected on the air; a telltale sign that Biara had recently used a portal spell in her chambers.

Kyliska moved slowly into the middle of the room, sighing to herself and shaking her head. She'd wanted to catch her sister before she departed, but it seemed she'd been too late. Biara's four-post bed was empty, the see-through silken curtains around it drawn open and showing the neatly arranged, plush pillows that her sister preferred. It looked soft and inviting, and Kyliska decided she needed to sit for a few minutes before she began her own preparations to depart.

Just as she was about to start forward, another door opened in the small space, a bit of steam drifting from the opening to the room that contained Biara's private bathing pool. From the steam emerged a masculine shape, the form solidifying as he drew nearer into none other than Braeth'el. Kyliska's eyes widened as she saw him, beads of water glistening on his bare chest and arms, a simple towel wrapped around his waist covering very little and leaving very little to the imagination.

"B-braeth'el? What are you doing here?" Kyliska stammered, utterly shocked.

The spymaster grinned, holding up a placating hand and shaking his head, "It is not what you think, Kyliska. I was not entertaining your sister, merely finishing some exercise and a bath now that she's departed."

"Ah, I see..." Kyliska said, her eyes roaming despite the aches and pains she still felt. "Well, she left me a note before she left and said she'd pardoned you. I never believed you were a traitor anyway, so you're welcome to do whatever you'd like in our estate my friend."

Braeth'el gave Kyliska a classic bow, or did so as much as one could when clad in only a towel, "I thank you, Lady Sunfire. May I ask though, are you quite alright? You look a bit...disheveled. Usually when you are in such a state you are also covered in the blood of your enemies."

Kyliska sighed and shook her head, "I've had a rough time, I will admit. Actually, I think I need to sit down before I fall down."

She began to shuffle across the room towards Biara's bed, the pain in her ankle shooting up her leg. She hissed in pain as her knee buckled and she began to tumble towards the floor. Before she got anywhere near to falling, Braeth'el was at her side, he strong arms wrapped around her and holding her up. Kyliska sighed, breathing in the scent of the cologne he'd put on, feeling much better suddenly. "Sorry...it's just my leg....I was taken prisoner and-"

"It's fine, Kyli, really. Here, let me help you," Braeth'el said softly. With his support she was able to stand upright, and the two moved slowly to Biara's bed before he turned Kyliska around and gently lowered her onto the soft bedspread. "There you are. No more falling down, hmm?"

Kyliska looked up at him gratefully, her lip quivering for a moment as a rush of emotions passed through her again at everything that had happened. Although it had been a little thing, almost falling had drained the last little spark from her, leaving her utterly defeated. She couldn't even walk right. Everything was a disaster! Tears began to form in the corners of her fel-green eyes.

Braeth'el sat down on the edge of the bed beside Kyliska, an arm around her and his voice comforting, "Kyli...out of all who have lived in or served with House Dayfire and later House Sunfire, you have always been the strongest. I have seen you defeat a hundred foes unscathed. I've seen you come through fire and death, through the greatest hardships and be triumphant. You're the rock of this place, the foundation that all of the others lean on. You don't always have to be though. It is okay to sometimes need another to lean on, to need your friends and allies. You are not alone."

Kyliska broke, the tears flowing forth in an instant. She leaned against Braeth'el, crying softly against hardened pectoral muscles that would have made her woozy in another time or situation. Braeth'el sat beside her, his arm wrapped around her as wracking sobs escaped her, not saying anything but simply soothing her with his presence. When she finally could speak again, Kyliska's voice was quiet and broken, "I've lost Andi. H-he...he was with another, and I had to leave him. I have to leave this place for a while. I need time away, time to just be who I am without having to think of all of this. I don't want to be the Lady Sunfire. I don't want to have to decide, to have to protect everything my sister built. It's not fair...I'm just Kyliska...I'm just me. I can't do all of this alone."

"And you won't, Kyli," Braeth'el said softly. "We are all here to support you. It is good I lingered here, for you dearly need to hear that right now. Maybe you're right and you do need time to figure things out, but we'll be here to support you when you come back. I've always looked after you, ever since you were adopted into this household, and I always will. It is what I do, what we who serve the House do."

Kyliska sighed and shuddered, the angry hurt feelings finally draining out of her now that she'd given them release. She sat up a bit, shaking her head, "I can't thank you enough for that, Braeth'el. I just wish that I didn't hurt anymore. And I'm not even talking about my emotions; I've been stabbed, gouged, my arm was broken, and now my light-forsaken leg is screwed up because I was chained up. I'm so tired of aching and hurting."

Braeth'el smiled and rose, standing over Kyliska. He pointed towards the bed and spoke with authority, "Lay down then and let me see it. If you're about to go on an adventure you'd best be in good health, and I know you're not going to wait around for it to get better."

Kyliska nodded, looking up at the spymaster before complying with his request. She laid back on Biara's soft bed, sighing as she felt the comfort all around her. Braeth'el climbed onto the bed beside her, kneeling next to her, his strong hands coming down to remove her boots so he could examine her more closely. She winced, realizing she was still filthy from captivity, but Braeth'el said nothing about it, and gave no indication that it bothered him. Instead, his hands began to kneed the flesh at her ankle, rubbing and gently releasing the pressure there.

The pain lessened almost immediately as he skillfully worked at pressure points in her foot and ankle, his hands running up her calf. He spoke softly as he worked, not looking over at her, "It was just a pulled ligament I think. It should feel better in a day or two, and I can prepare you some herbs to dull the ache in the meanwhile. I know a thing or two about these types of injuries; in my line of work you tend to pull things when you're climbing rooftops or sneaking through places you don't belong."

Kyliska nodded, her eyes closing as she felt his hands at work. He continued up her leg, the massage soothing the pain that the cramped condition of her cell had left her in. She bit her lip, enjoying the feeling of his hands on her, her thoughts drifting away from her problems and on to other, more enjoyable topics.

The massage lasted for what seemed like hours, and was likely at least an hour long. By the time he'd finished with her legs, Kyliska's aches and pains were just a memory. As he rubbed the knots out of the muscles in her arms, she lazily opened her eyes, staring into his as he looked down at her. She could feel her heart racing as he touched her, his perfect body looming close over her as he rubbed tension out of her shoulders. He leaned forward, his face a foot from her own as he worked on her right shoulder.

Impulsively she leaned up, her mouth meeting his, her eyes slipping closed as she kissed him. The spymaster responded, the kiss passionate and sending a thrill through her; it was wrong to do this, especially after she had just ended things with Andi. Especially on her sister's bed.

She didn't care.

Her arms came up and wrapped around him, and she felt his own come down to hold her, their passion-fueled kiss seemingly never-ending. She ran her hands over his bare flesh, enjoying the feel of his muscles as they tensed when he scooped her up and onto his lap, all thoughts fleeing her mind as she was finally getting something she'd secretly desired for all these years.

After a time, he broke the kiss off, holding her in his arms and staring into her eyes. He didn't ask her, seeing what she wanted in the lust written plainly over her face, knowing that a part of her wanted to just forget it all for a moment in time. He obliged her, rising up and scooping her up into his arms, and she leaned back, enjoying the feeling of letting him take her where he would.

He rose from the bed, her weight a nothing to him as he whisked her from Biara's bed, a delightfully evil grin on his face as he carried her away. Kyliska laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her, her eyes getting one last glimpse of Biara's bedroom before the steam of the bathing room overtook them both, noting that he'd left his towel behind on her sister's bed.

And then the steam was all around them, the hot water of the bath flowing over Kyliska as he carried her away to her fantasies.

The Stars Align

There was a lot of hurried bustling about as Sin'dorei ran to and fro, attempting to make final preparations for their travels. Magisters in gold and red robes stood talking in small groups here and there, their conversations carefully concealed games of politics as they spoke casually with one another.

In the sanctum, a group of Magisters stood huddled together, discussing the final calculations needed to align their spellcasting efforts to create a portal that would tear not through space alone, but through time as well.

Standing in the midst of all of this frenzied activity, Rayleth Firelight was like an unmoving statue, his awe at what was about to transpire overcoming his initial fears and misgivings. Slightly taller than the average Sin'dorei, Rayleth's red robes had little in the way of embellishment or decoration that would have marked him as someone of importance. When standing near the other apprentices waiting in the sanctum, this became even more obvious as many of them went to great lengths to subtly show their lineage or wealth in their attire.

Beyond the fact of his lower station, Rayleth stood out in another way; in a sea of golden and red-haired Sin'dorei, his short black hair was a shock of dark color amongst the crowd. Though his eyes glowed green and his ears were just as pointed, his hair would have fit perfectly on a human had one thought to transplant it to such a creature.

Rayleth shifted in position, the large stack of books and scrolls held in his arm wobbling ominously towards one of his compatriots as he tried to peer past the obstruction to get a better view of the Magisters who were preparing the portal magic. With his thick-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose, it was hard to make out exactly what spells they were preparing, so he shifted again to try to peer past the crowd. Somewhat gangly rather than graceful, he narrowly avoided both dropping his stack of books and bumping into another apprentice who was busy checking her hair in a handheld mirror.

"Pardon me!" he said jovially to the other Sin'dorei. She looked him over, one eyebrow rising in annoyance at his interruption before she returned to her preening. Completely oblivious to the fact that he was being ignored, Rayleth continued speaking, "Looks like it's nearly time to get started!"

"I don't know why you're so excited to go to this hellhole," the other elf snapped in irritation. "We've been assigned to Magistrix Biara Dayfire. I'm not sure what I personally did to deserve such punishment, but I'll be putting in an application for a transfer as quickly as possible."

Rayleth fell silent at the other elf's words, his own fears surfacing again as the Magisters began to chant, their spells working to bind arcane energies into a portal. Biara Dayfire was infamous amongst the lower ranks within the Magistrate, as the causality rate amongst those who were apprenticed to her was astronomical. Rumors said she was a terror, barking orders and demanding perfection from those who were students of the art. Darker rumors said she sought the blood of Sin'dorei to quench her thirst for lives, and that she performed rituals and experiments on those assigned to her that resulted in their demises.

Rayleth swallowed a lump in his throat, shaking his head to dismiss his fears. Surely such rumors could not be founded in truth, for Lady Dayfire would have been arrested long ago if she were a murdering beast that preyed upon Sin'dorei. There was of course the rumor that the Kirin Tor had once arrested her, but again, the Kirin Tor were not exactly on friendly terms with any Sin'dorei these days so their opinion was somewhat irrelevant.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and prepare for the journey to come. He had been assigned to Magistrix Dayfire by the Magistrate, and he would heed their commands. He was eager to learn more of the arts, and perhaps dabble in his own studies into archaeology to someday work with the Reliquary. He would do what he was told and learn as much as he could and one day, he would make a difference for Quel'Thalas.

She couldn't be that bad, could she?

His thoughts were interrupted as a bright glow filled the room, the portal spell activating and tearing a hole in space and time. He squinted, shifting in place again as the other apprentices in front of him began to shuffle forward towards the portal at the behest of the Magisters casting the spell. He swallowed another lump in his throat, his nervousness rising as he began walking with his stack of books towards the portal; the first portal to another world that he would ever step through.

The apprentices in front of him disappeared one by one, each stepping through the portal in turn and being whisked away to their destination. When it was Rayleth's turn, he hesitated, peering at the glowing spell for a moment. One of the magisters casting the spell glared at him in irritation, gesturing with his hand, "Let's go already! This is almost impossible to keep open for long periods of time! I don't have all day!"

Rayleth nodded and stepped forward, pressing into the glowing magic, just as he did so, he heard several of the Magisters behind him begin to shout.

"There's some sort of temporal interference! We're losing portal integrity!"
"Watch out! The wards are unraveling! We need to secure them right away!"
"I can't hold it! Magister Flamestar just collapsed!"

And then the magic had him, and Rayleth felt himself stretching. He knew something wasn't right, having taken portals before, but of course it was far too late as he was within the spell. The world had faded around him, stars and lights flashing past his view as the magic took him...somewhere. He could feel the spell bending, being drawn away from its destination, being disrupted by some outside force as his entire body began to ache with the strain that the magic was putting on it.

And then light flashed so brightly that it blinded him, and he felt himself shoved forward, the magic collapsing behind him as the integrity of the portal failed and caused it to fully dissolve.

Rayleth took two blind, stumbling steps forward, the effects of the blinding light and the stack of books he was still holding conspiring to make it impossible to see. On his third step, he collided with something soft and the world tilted around him as he felt himself falling, his book-stack collapsing into a ruined disaster as they fell all around him with a thunderous crash.

He didn't hit the ground, instead finding his landing soft, his palms flat against the floor. His eyes were clenched tight in fear of being injured, and he noticed a faint scent of perfume around him as he cautiously opened them. He found himself staring into a pair of fel green eyes, only inches from his own. It was then that he realized that he'd landed on someone.

A moment later he recognized the tell-tale ward marks on the right cheek of the elf that was beneath him, ward marks that he had heard of in tales told at the Magistrate, and he came to realize that he'd not just landed on someone, but on Biara Dayfire herself!

 In a panic he scrambled to get off her, taking care not to knee her as he tried to roll off of her and succeeding in accidentally entangling some of her silky-soft red hair between his fingers as he moved. He yanked his hand back, accidentally pulling her hair before he untangled himself and rose to his feet, sputtering out a thousand apologies in a moment.

"M-magistrix! Oh fel I'm so sorry! S-something happened to the portal and-" he began.

On the floor, Biara looked away from him for a moment, her attention focused on her own ankle, which was red from impact with numerous books that had fallen on it. She reached down to rub it, hissing a moment in irritation and pain.

Rayleth was on his knees beside her in a moment, and Biara's eyes opened wide in surprise that he presumed to get so close to her, the expression turning to shock when he reached out and touched her leg to check for injury, "Magistrix Dayfire, I really cannot express how sorry I am. Something happened back in Silvermoon and...are you okay? Please be okay! Someone come over here at once! Magistrix Dayfire is injured!"

Biara waved a hand at him, shaking her head as she spoke for the first time, "It's just a bruise; there is no need for assistance. Please, allow me some space to get up if you don't mind."

"Oh yes, at once, Magistrix!" Rayleth said, quickly rising. He leaned down, offering her his hand to help her up.

For a moment, she looked at him in surprise, her mouth slightly open. New apprentices were usually wretched, fearful creatures who would not dare to interact with her in such a fashion. Generally she would have assigned a senior apprentice to round them up and put them to work, saving her attention for training the ones who survived their initial studies or proved themselves useful. She studied the extended hand for a moment, a smile playing across her face for a moment before she took him up on the offer.

He helped her to her feet gently, reaching out to brush some errant dust from the sleeve of her robe before offering her a bow, "Magistrix, again I apologize. They said there was some temporal interference when they were trying to activate the portal and-"

"Ah, that it explains it then," Biara murmured over him. "Dammit, Jazari, this is a real bother at this point..."

"Magistrix?" Rayleth said in confusion.

"It's nothing, just my own rambling thoughts," Biara replied, studying the other Sin'dorei. At that moment, Rayleth noted that his glasses had fallen off, and he bent down to pick them up. His nose crinkled up in distaste as he noted the frames were bent, and he carefully bent them back into almost-correct shape before perching them on his nose, where they sat slightly off-kilter.

Biara smirked, finding herself amused at the elf for some reason, despite the little accident; it had not really been his fault after all, and he'd had the grace to be polite about it. He'd actually checked to make sure she was not injured, a plus for a new apprentice. "Tell me, Apprentice, what is your name?"

"Magistrix, I'm Rayleth Firelight, assigned to you by the Magistrate of Silvermoon. If I may add, it's a pleasure to meet you, my Lady," Rayleth said politely.

Biara smiled at this, looking over the new recruit with the eyes of one who has seen many apprentices in her time, "Is it now? That is unexpected indeed. It is good to meet you, Rayleth. I hope that the rest of your time with House Sunfire is slightly less...traumatic. I have prepared quarters for you and the others within this garrison. Please make yourself at home and come and find myself or my senior apprentice once you have settled in. We have much work to do on this world, and in this place."

"Your wish is my command, Magistrix," Rayleth said with a smile. He offered her another bow before bending down to begin gathering up his fallen books.

Biara nodded at him, watching him for a moment longer before turning to stride out of the command center and towards a waiting group of orcs in the center of the small fort beyond. After she had left Rayleth found himself smiling, looking out the door at the snowy world beyond, his stack of books teetering precariously once more in his arms. Although it was not the arrival he had planned, it certainly could have gone worse.

And she didn't try to drain my blood, or kill me, or even yell about what happened. Who'd have thought that she was just an ordinary Sin'dorei? 

He shook his head as he walked out of the command center, another thought passing casually through his mind.

Actually, not so ordinary. All of those horror tales made no mention of the fact that's she's rather pretty! 

With that thought in mind, he headed towards the fort's barracks, books in hand and bent glasses guiding his view towards his destination. It was going to be an interesting apprenticeship, that was for sure. 

Blood of the Father

The bath was almost scalding hot, steam rising from the water in waves as Biara eased herself into it with a contented purr of relief. There was nothing like relaxing after a long day of study, and she would soon be even more relaxed if the expensive wine waiting for her by the edge of the huge bathing pool was chilled to her satisfaction.

She sighed again, leaning back and letting the bubbles that covered the surface of the water flow around her, the gentle sound of water spilling into the bath in a constant flow a soothing balm for her weary mind. Teaching her daughter the magical arts was difficult but rewarding, and she could already tell that the young Sin'dorei would be a powerful magistrix in her own right once she came of age. For the first time in a very long time, Biara felt satisfied with her life.

A male voice suddenly spoke as a figure slipped into the room through a window. Biara had a brief glimpse of a nude male body sliding into her bath with her before the blonde haired elf spoke, "Lady Sunfire, I apologize for intruding on your private time, but we absolutely must talk about-"

She rose from the water like a sea monster erupting from the ocean, water cascading off her naked body as one of her hands brought up a deadly wand and pointed it across the length of the bathing pool, her arm steady. Her eyes betrayed shock as she realized just who it was that had joined her in her bath without her invitation.

Braeth'el grinned at her, his eyes roaming over her naked body for a moment, admiring the way the falling beads of water glittered as they passed across the glowing blue wards that started between Biara's naked breasts and trailed their way down to her left hip. They matched perfectly the hue of the wards on the right side of her face and were complemented almost artistically by a matching pair on the magistrix's right hip. After a moment, he tore his gaze from the rather angry Sin'dorei's body and up to her arm, appraising her weapon, "You bring a wand into your bath? Talk about wanting to get completely clean."

Biara gestured at the elf with her weapon, "You would be surprised how often intruders attempt to bathe with me. Stand up slowly, right now. I want to make sure you are unarmed."

Braeth'el's grin widened and he rose from the water, his own body as nude as Biara's. One of her eyebrows rose a bit and she gestured with her wand, indicating he should turn around. He did so, his hands held up in surrender as he allowed the Magistrix to study his rock hard, naked body and of course to check him for weapons. When he finished his turn, he looked at her, noting a slight blush on her face as he spoke, "Satisfied?"

Biara sighed, "Hardly. But it is clear you are not here to assassinate me. Sit. I do not wish to be freezing cold while I decide what to do with you, Braeth'el."

Braeth'el did as he was told, watching as Biara slid into her end of the pool, his gaze never leaving hers now. Somewhere beneath the bubble-covered water she still held the wand and a faint glimmer of magic glowed from her now active defensive wards as the light reached the surface. "Lady Sunfire, as you can imagine, the fact that I am here unarmed and have placed myself in your power shows that I mean you no ill will and wish only to speak with you."

Biara sighed and shook her head, "My sister is the Lady Sunfire now. Given our situation, I am just Biara. Biara Dayfire, daughter of Tel'athar. I suspect that, were he here, he would not wish me to slaughter you out of hand. But state your purpose quickly."

Braeth'el's smile faded and he nodded, his tone soft, "I am glad to hear you speak as you have, Biara. I had heard that things have changed here over the past year. Rumors abound that you have retired, that your sister now rules this House, and that you have given up magic. I see that the last is not true, and the fact that you mention your father's name now is important, because I'm here to fulfill my oaths to him, whether or not either of us like it. I have to tell you something that you may find difficult to handle, but it is vital that I do so now."

Biara nodded and turned slightly in the bath, taking up her wineglass and sipping the wine before speaking, "Things have changed here, Braeth'el. The Biara of a year ago would have killed you out of hand. I have learned that there are far more important things in life than those which I grasped at after my father's death. Speak your peace."

"Biara...you have a half-sister. Her name is Telatha Dayfire," Braeth'el said quietly. "She is younger than you, and was hidden away from your mother's notice in secret long ago. After our...falling out, I discovered her existence and have been working for her ever since."

Biara rocked back in the bath, her fel green eyes widening in shock. With a shaking hand, she set the wineglass down, staring hard at the other elf, "You speak the truth? But why....you say she is a half-sister, which means...My father...."

"Your father was a good, honest Quel'dorei who did the best he could for our nation. He acted with honor and integrity, even when he made mistakes. He was not flawless, Biara, just as you are not flawless, but he was a good leader and one I was proud to follow," Braeth'el said.

"My mother would have had the child killed," Biara murmured. "There is no way she would have tolerated such a stain on her honor. She never knew, did she?"

"No. She never had any hint of it. Nor did I."

Biara considered her former spymaster's words, nodding slowly, "You would not have come here, and put yourself in my power, only to spread a falsehood like this, and one that can be easily verified with magic no less. In addition, a bastard child could not threaten my inheritance or position, so you are not seeking to replace me with her as the ruler of what is left of House Dayfire's estate. You have another purpose."

Braeth'el smiled, "You were always intelligent, Biara. No one ever questioned that at least. Telatha is like your father in many ways. She is honorable, noble, but young and impulsive. I am sure that even here, in your isolated comfort, you have heard of the invasion occurring at the Dark Portal. When she heard of this, she rushed there with her retainers, who are few in number indeed given that they were hidden away for all these years. I could not convince her otherwise, and she spoke of her duty to Quel'Thalas and her father's name."

Braeth'el leaned forward, his voice laced with concern, "I fear for her life, Biara. Although she is powerful with the fel arts, she is inexperienced and this threat...it is one that could destroy our world entirely. And so I have come to you, unarmed and in truce, in the hopes that you would hear my words and consider the legacy that you wish to leave for your own daughter, and to consider what your father's own legacy really means."

Biara's mind raced as she tried to sort out everything that Braeth'el had just told her. Her voice was soft when she responded, her thoughts distant, "What do you wish of me?"

Braeth'el grinned and shook his head, "Come now, Biara, really? I have contacts within Silvermoon. I could have approached any number of noble houses, any number of Magisters to transport materials or supplies there. I could have dealt with pompous incompetence, or inexperienced fighters who would only add to the body count that will occur as I try to keep Telatha safe. Instead, I have come to you even if I risk my life in doing so, because you are experienced. You are not a scholar, not a recluse to sit in your tower and ponder the nature of magics. Maybe that is what you wanted to be, or should have been, but it isn't. You are a fighter, a war leader, a battle-mage. If anyone can find her, if anyone can bring her home safely, it is you. I need you, and if it costs me my life to keep one of Tel'athar's children safe, then so be it. That was the oath I swore."

Biara remained silent for a moment, her gaze staring out into the distance out the window, viewing the beauty of Quel'Thalas all around the tower that she inhabited. When she spoke, her voice was soft, "Braeth'el, a year ago I would not have understood what you've said. I wouldn't have been able to understand what a person would do to protect their child, their legacy. As I said earlier, things have changed here. I understand now the value of family, of my own flesh and blood. All my life I have cared for my sister, Kyliska. We have fought wars together, bled and cried together. If another exists who shares my blood, who is also my sister, then know that I will find her and bring her home. I owe this to my father's memory, and to the Dayfire name."

Braeth'el nodded, his head bowing, "Then my purpose here is complete. I will accept the consequences of my actions."

He rose from the water again, his hands spread out and his voice amused, "I never thought I'd die in your bathing pool, but I could think of worse places to go."

He closed his eyes, hearing Biara as she rose from the water, hearing the flow of it as she approached him. To his surprise he didn't feel the tip of a wand pressing against his chest, but instead felt something cold pressed into his hand. He opened his eyes to see Biara's wineglass in his hand, the amused and naked Magistrix inches from him.

"You are pardoned Braeth'el. I thought once that you had betrayed me, but a traitor and enemy doesn't walk willingly to their death in order to protect one of my blood. But know this; I have my own daughter to consider in all of these matters. I will go and find my sister, but while I am gone nothing can befall Astariel," Biara intoned.

"I swear that she is under my protection, as all of Tel'athar's heirs must be," Braeth'el said, his eyes never leaving Biara's.

"Then we have an accord," Biara said. She pressed a hand against his chest, her manicured nails sparkling with magic. "Sit and relax. I will begin preparations at once. I have heard of plans to go through the portal within a day's time, and I will ensure that I am there to find Telatha and bring her back."

Braeth'el allowed himself to be pushed back down into the water, enjoying the bath and the sight of Biara as she walked away. He grinned, sipping his wine as he noted that she intentionally swayed her hips as she headed towards the exit, only grabbing a towel as she left the room. Alone with a fine glass of wine and a soothing bath, he sighed, enjoying it for just a moment.

"That went far better than I could have hoped for. Let us just hope that our battle-mage can find Telatha before she gets hurt though."

A Knight in Shining Armor

Sunlight slanted down across the dew-laden scrub brush of the plaguelands, the light reflecting back in a thousand broken sparkles in the morning's light. The beauty of the scene was lost on Avielle however as her scourged gaze swept across the ground, continuing to follow the trail of hoof-prints that a horse had left in the soft soil.

She had been tracking the path of the strange Knight from the Ghostlands all night and into the early morning, her lack of need for sleep a boon in moving quickly. Tirelessly she and her undead steed plodded onwards, moving ever further into the more wild regions of the plaguelands.

Hours had passed with nothing but the twisted dead scenery and occasional burned out building that was once a part of the mighty nation of Lordaeron before its fall. Now and then Avielle had encountered roaming undead, but they generally left her be as she herself was undead and far more powerful. Zombies were stupid, but they weren't that stupid.

As she progressed, a shape began to take form in the distance; an old watchtower that was once part of Lordaeron's holdings. Dilapidated now, it rose like a broken, crooked tooth from the brown soil and stabbed up into the sky; a would-be eyesore if any living eyes were present to take in the sight. As she drew nearer to the tower, Avielle began to realize that the trail she was following was heading directly towards it. After another half hour had passed, she was firm in her conviction that this was the case, and she yanked on the reins to halt her mount.

Across the barren, dead earth between her and the tower nothing stirred. No banners or pennants fluttered from the broken crown of the ruined building, and all was in stillness around Avielle. She stared hard at the structure in the distance, unmoving as she studied her destination.

Her patience was rewarded when she spied movement along the tower's base. Distant figures exited from one of the black openings into the structure, moving lazily away from it as if patrolling its perimeter. Even from this distance, Avielle could see the wings and red flesh of demons as they walked, and her eyes narrowed as she connected the creatures with the dead Felhunters she'd found at the battle site in the plaguelands.

With a grin, Avielle drew her horn from her belt, bringing it to her lips and letting forth a long, wailing blast. It echoed across the distance, the mournful sound a warning to all that a death knight hunted now. In the distance, the figures became frantic, pointing at her and running in her direction. She grinned wickedly, snapping the reins and letting her deathcharger begin its dash towards her prey. She reached back and drew her rune-spear, holding it before her like a lance, steed and rider gaining momentum with every thunderous fall of the deathcharger's hooves.

In her battle-lust, Avielle never noticed how the sunlight reflected from her speartip. She never realized how much like a Argent Crusader she must have looked, charging from the rising dawn, lance ahead of her to plunge into the heart of evil.

****************************************

Kyliska shifted in her cell, her manacle clinking against the cold stones of the cell's floor. She crawled as far as she was able, reaching the supplies that the imposter had left for her. She sat beside them for a moment, her eyes fixated not on the food and water, but on the hookah and blood thistle that had been left for her.

Once long ago she'd been addicted to the herbs. She remembered vividly how good they had made her feel, how powerful. That they were here now, in her lowest low when all the world had fallen down around her was a temptation she was finding it hard to resist.

What does it matter if I do it? I'm never getting out of here anyway. No one knows I'm gone, no one cares. If I'm going to die here, I might as well enjoy the one thing that can make me forget all of this for a moment.

Her hands shook as the desire to relieve the stress and lose herself in the herb took hold. She didn't care anymore and none of it mattered. If she was to be forced to watch another live her life, enjoy the company of her lover, then she was going to use the herb and go far away from it all to a place where she felt happy and content.

Slowly she took the hookah and slid it towards herself. She opened the top, placing the blood thistle inside and igniting it before closing the lid. Her hands shook even more now as she took up the pipe, preparing to lose herself in the herb's embrace. Her life was over now and it was best to just let it go.

She brought the pipe to her lips, her eyes closing as she prepared to inhale the highly addictive drug. She felt her heart racing as the old feelings for the herb flowed through her again. Just as she was about to inhale, a loud bang startled her and caused her to open her eyes in surprise.

A second bang rocked the room, the sound of something heavy pounding against the wooden door that sealed off the dungeon's cells from the hallway beyond. Kyliska stared hard at the barrier, her heart beating quickly in her chest and the un-smoked herb sending a curl of smoke up into the air from the hookah beside her.

The third bang shattered the barrier as a heavy form was thrown through it. Kyliska dropped the hookah in shock as she watched the very dead, mangled form of a Wrathguard slide across the stone floor and come to a halt against the far wall of the prison block.

The cell room was guarded, as it always was, by demons. A second Wrathguard surged to its feet from further down the line of cells, rushing towards the shattered barrier as a lithe figure entered through the opening. Kyliska took in the sight of her in an instant, seeing a strange blonde-haired elf strolling casually towards the charging demon, a glowing spear in her hand.

The Wrathguard's blades came down, one after another, and the spear-wielder reacted with cat-like reflexes. Her weapon whirled, the weapon deflecting one blow and parrying a second. The elf spun the spear around her body like a top and slammed the point into the demon's chest so hard that it burst out of its back. The creature howled, falling backwards into ruin as the spear-wielder slashed it three more times for good measure.

The intruder turned, rushing towards Kyliska's cell and causing her to cringe back against the far wall of her prison. The elf's blonde hair fell over half her face, messy from combat, but her exposed eye glowed with a foul blue light that fixed on Kyliska with an intensity that made her shudder. The elf set her spear down for a moment, reaching out and taking the bars to the cells in both hands, beginning to bend the solid steel with unnatural strength that confirmed Kyliska's fearful suspicions; there was a death knight trying to break into her cell for some reason.

From behind the intruder came the sound of a foul little giggle, and the death knight blinked in surprise as a barbed whip wrapped itself around her body. Kyliska noted that the barbs dug into the elf's flesh deeply, but only a small amount of blood oozed out of the wounds. Rather than looking pained, the elf actually rolled her eyes in irritation, even as the succubus that had been tormenting Kyliska for so long yanked the whip back and spun the death knight around.

The death knight wasted little time, reaching out and using her power to wrap dark tendrils of shadow around the succubus, dragging her close. The foul demon actually panted in excited surprise as her body was slammed against the dead elf's and she was slowly choked by an icy cold grip on her neck. The panting turned into howls as the death knight reached out and literally tore one of her wings off before spinning the demon around and snapping her neck with her bare hands.

Tossing the dead succubus aside, the death knight picked her spear up and slashed the bars of the cell, causing them to shatter from the cold of the weapon. She stepped through the opening and leveled the spear at Kyliska, her voice hollow and cold, "You. You are Kyliska Sunblade, now known as Kyliska Sunfire?"

Resigned to her fate, Kyliska brought her head up, her voice firm, "I am."

The dead elf reached out, grabbing Kyliska's arm in a firm, icy grip. Kyliska instantly felt nausea pass through her at the touch of the unholy being, and watched in surprise as the flesh on the dead elf's arm began to crack and flake from contact with her holy form. The undead elf released her grip, her voice a soft whisper under her breath, "At last..."

The death knight brought her spear up and Kyliska closed her eyes as the weapon descended, prepared for death. She was utterly shocked when the blade slammed into the manacle on her ankle, the weapon shearing through the metal and sparking as it bounced off the floor of the cell.

Kyliska's eyes opened wide as the death knight fell to her knees before her, her head bowed. She could swear she saw tears in the other's eyes as she spoke, "Kyliska Sunblade, I am Avielle Silverlight, heir of House Silverlight, allied to House Sunblade in accordance with agreements signed by both our fathers. Know that I come now to uphold the vows of my House, and that we of Silverlight have never forgotten and will never forget our oaths to you and yours. My blade, my power, is in your service Lady Sunblade."

Kyliska's mouth opened and closed, utterly shocked. She struggled to come to terms with what was happening, even as the strange elf lifted her head and stared straight into her eyes with her glowing orbs. Her next words rocked Kyliska to her core.

"Know that your father, Kelthias Sunblade, bade me tell you that he loves you. Know that these were the last words he spoke in life, and that his thoughts were ever on you and your mother Sassariel, even as he gave his life to protect the innocent of Quel'Thalas. His sacrifice, his honor, will never be forgotten by those of Silverlight for as long as I exist."

A strangled cry escaped Kyliska as emotions crashed through her, tears pouring freely from her eyes now as she began to sob. She felt elation flow through her, relief at finally knowing how her father had died, at knowing that he had thought of her before his life ended, at knowing that he had died a hero. Questions flowed through her, a thousand points she wanted to ask, beg, shout at the strange undead elf before her. Instead, she managed to croak out only a single sentence, "Thank you...thank you so much. You cannot know what that means to me..."

A look of relief flashed across Avielle's face as she rose to her feet. Her voice was soft now and soothing as she spoke to Kyliska, "Lady Sunblade...the tower is on fire. We need to get you out of here, get you to safety. Are you able to walk?"

Kyliska looked down at herself, at the filth that covered her and the blood on her ankle. She looked back up and nodded grimly, "I can try."

With that, she attempted to rise, a gasp escaping her as her injured ankle gave out on her. She tumbled back towards the floor, only to find the icy cold grip of the death knight holding her. Avielle's face was inches from hers as she spoke, "I will carry you from this place if not. No harm will come to you as long as I exist, this I swear. Come Lady Sunblade, it is time to go home."

With that Avielle hoisted Kyliska up, carrying her across her shoulder. She winced in pain as Kyliska's blessed form remained in contact with her, a soft hiss escaping her lips. For her part, Kyliska's world spun crazily around her, her weakness mixing with the touch of the unholy to make her feel sick. Her nose was filled with the strange scent of dead roses that came from the death knight as Avielle carried her from her cell. Kyliska's last sight of that place was of the un-smoked hookah, a trail of blood thistle smoke coming from its lid fading from view a moment later.

The hallway beyond the cells was long and narrow, the ruined tower's fortifications long since compromised. Beyond the end of the hall daylight stabbed through the broken opening of the tower's side, and in the dim light of the hallway Kyliska could see flames licking up the side of rotting support beams.

The hallway itself was littered with dead imps, their twisted bodies on the ground near a deathcharger. The undead horse was happily grazing on one of the imp's skulls, the sick crunching sound of bone being ground up coming from it as it chewed its meal. Kyliska felt herself being hoisted higher by Avielle's icy cold grip as she was placed gently in the saddle, the death knight leaping up behind her. A saronite plated arm wrapped around Kyliska's abdomen, keeping her in place as Avielle snapped the reins and urged the horse to a gallop.

The flaming hallway passed by them quickly, daylight suddenly surrounding them and making Kyliska squint and hold a hand to her eyes, the world spinning again as sickness stayed with her. Explosions rocked the ground around them as imps hurled fireballs at them from the tower's exterior, and Avielle wrapped her cloak around Kyliska, anti-magic wards shielding the wounded paladin as they galloped away.

Kyliska felt Avielle grunt a few times as she was struck by errant spells before they were clear of the tower's radius. Ahead of them a form rose up, a doomguard cackling as it prepared to hurl a spell at them. Avielle snapped the reins hard, her steed picking up momentum and hurtling towards a collision with the demon.

Kyliska's eyes widened and she cried out as it appeared they would slam into the demon, but Avielle shifted behind her and a spear hurtled through the air, shattering the demon's skull just as the deathcharger jumped, narrowly clearing the falling demon's body. Avielle yanked her spear from the creature's skull as they passed, and they galloped into the open plains beyond, free of their attackers at last.

In shock, exhausted and wounded, Kyliska felt her pulse slowly start to slow down. The questions in her mind continued to buzz, but a lethargy came over her as she finally felt safe for once. She found herself leaning back against the death knight behind her, her head against the solid armor that Avielle wore. The galloping of the deathcharger as they headed back towards Quel'Thalas combined with her exhaustion to slowly rock Kyliska to true, restful sleep finally.

As she drifted off, Kyliska's last thought was amusement at the fact that she heard no heartbeat through the armor of the elf that she was leaning against.

Encounter in the Ghostlands

NOTE: This story has been co-written by myself and Kyliska!

Kenzie Dawnsea entered the dilapidated building where Kyliska Sunfire was being held prisoner. She smirked as she made her way towards the cell that she was being held in. Kenzie had kept Kyliska there for a few weeks and had been torturing her, mostly emotionally. She was being forced to watch as Kenzie slept with her beloved Andithiel Felo’melorn. She would tear apart their Houses and cause strife between them. Also hurting someone close to Biara Sunfire always made Kenzie happy. She hated that bitch and she would hurt and feel pain as long as Kenzie lived.

Kenzie made her way to Kyli’s cell. She looked weak, and tired. Her face was bruised and there was dried blood on her body. It appeared that she had tried to find a way to escape. She tried to remove the manacle that was around her ankle, but to no avail. She was strong but not strong enough, especially with no magical ability. Her ankle was very bloody and bruised. Kenzie could see that Kyliska had not been eating much recently either. There was a lot of food that was left uneaten. She shrugged and made herself visible. She cleared her throat and Kyliska looked up at Kenzie. Only to Kyliska, she was looking at herself.

Kyliska stood up slowly and walked to the edge of the cell and stared at Kenzie. “Who in the fel are you, and why did you capture me?” she asked.

Kenzie laughed. “Oh my dear Kyliska, the truth will be revealed when I am good and ready for that to happen. I do hope you like your quarters.” she smirked. “I know they are not quite what you are used to, but I think they are quite nice!” Kenzie laughed again. She was enjoying Kyliska’s pain all too much.

Kyliska spit in Kenzie’s face. “You bitch! You will let me out of here right this instant! Give me my identity back and stop sleeping with my Andi!” Kyliska raged. Kenzie could see that Kyliska was broken, even her little outburst was not at the level that it usually was. Her plan was working quite well then. Kyliska started to cry, the tears streaming down her face.

Kenzie wiped the spit from her face and reached through bars to slap Kyliska in the face. “You will do well to know your place Kyliska. You are a traitorous bitch’s daughter and that is all you are and ever will be. Biara is not truly your sister and she will never love you as much as her flesh and blood.” Kenzie said coldly. “Also, your beloved Andi, well clearly he must not love you as much as you think either. Or else he would know that he has been sleeping with an imposter for weeks now. He has never once thought I was not you. How sad is that? Your soul mate, your one true love, cannot even tell that I am not you.”

Kyliska’s face fell. The sudden realization that Andi did not know she was missing hit her. She was just focused on the torture of watching him with another woman, and did not even think of the pure fact that he did not know it wasn’t her. She fell to the floor. Her will to keep trying to escape her prison had ended. Kenzie had broken her finally, and fully. She looked up to Kenzie who was still smiling at her. “You are right. He does not even question that you are not me. I…...maybe I deserve to be here. For all of my sins that I have committed. My father would be so ashamed of me if he knew all the things I have done.”

Kenzie stared back at Kyliska and talked softly. “I have no care for what your father would have thought of you, but yes your beloved, and your “sister” do not care that you are missing. I could be you forever and they would not care or notice.” she went to leave but turned back around. “Oh and you really should eat something, you will just fade away. Oh wait, no one will really care if that were to happen. I did include some wine though and also a little something extra to help take some of the pain away if you chose to do so.”

Kyliska looked towards the wineskins and then noticed something that for some reason she had overlooked before. It was a pouch of blood thistle. Somehow this imposter must have known that she was once addicted to the drug and left it for her. Kyliska began to sob as Kenzie walked away. Kenzie left the dungeon and could not wipe the smile of satisfaction off of her face. Her plan could not be working any better. She must now head back to Kyli’s estate and see to Andithiel again. She mounted Kyliska’s horse and started to ride towards the Ghostlands.

*******************************************

The Ghostlands were dark and dreary, as they always were regardless of the time of year or even time of day. Muted sounds echoed beneath the oppressive stillness of the dead forest, the groans of distant undead and the sounds of predators taking prey as common as the crackle of dead leaves as Avielle’s deathcharger plodded along.

She had visited the city again, something that she was doing more frequently as of late, and was returning to the dark little piece of the Ghostlands that she called home. This far from the reclaimed lands in Eversong, the world was filled with danger and darkness. It was a home of sorts, and something she’d grown familiar with.

That was why the sound of a horse’s hooves echoing from the poorly paved road up ahead gave her pause. She yanked on the reins, her steed coming to a halt and giving out a little growl of irritation before she calmed it with a soothing hand. In the stillness the sounds she’d heard were growing louder, a rider approaching from deeper within the Ghostlands or perhaps the plaguelands. Whether it was friend or foe she would soon find out, for she was not of the habit of letting uninvited guests wander through the haunted forests unchallenged.

Avielle slipped from her mount, patting it and shooing it further up the trail, crouching down in the dead foliage and watching the trail ahead. She remained motionless as only the dead could, her glowing eyes the only sign of her as she waited. It took only moments for the rider to come into view; a blood elf on a Blood Knight’s charger, the figure not bearing the arms of a Knight perhaps but sitting regally as one.

Although the Blood Knights were the law of the land, it was still suspicious to see one out in the haunted wilds, and so when the rider came close enough, Avielle rose from her hiding place and stepped into the road, rune-spear held ready to gut the horse if the rider chose to advance further.

“In the name of Quel’Thalas, I command you to halt and identify yourself,” Avielle said calmly.

Kenzie slowed her horse down and looked at the elf that was talking. She smiled and spoke. “I am Kyliska Sunfire, not that it is any of your business Death Knight.”

Avielle’s mouth opened in shock, her eyes wide as her spear immediately moved to a non-threatening position, “K-kyliska did you say? But Sunfire? You have wed then, or was this always your surname?”

Kenzie stared at the Death Knight blankly. Why was she so concerned with what her new last name was? Her horse shifted slightly and Kenzie held the reins tightly. “You have not told me who you are, and also why are you so interested in my last name and who I am?”

Avielle nodded, offering the mounted elf a bow before looking back up at her, “My name is Avielle Silverlight, and if you are the Kyliska that I think you are, I have been seeking you for a very long time. I have an oath that must be fulfilled. I have sought you, or your mother, for the last several weeks.”

Kenzie looked at this Avielle with a confused look on her face. She shook her head and spoke. “Avielle, I am sorry but I have more pressing matters that need to be attended to. I cannot stay and talk about my sordid past and your supposed oaths. I must be going.”

Avielle gasped, rushing forward and grabbing the charger’s reins, her voice imploring and containing in it a hint of a banshee’s wail, “Please, I beg of you, stay but a moment and listen. As a Knight you must at least understand the need to uphold the honor of one’s name and station. It is vital that you hear me out, and that I learn of your mother as well!”

Kenzie gasped herself as Avielle ran towards her, she pulled back on the reins and the horse bucked and knocked her off. “What in the fel are you doing! Why would you charge me like that! My mother is dead and that is all you need to know, now please let me be!” Kenzie brushed herself off and attempted to get back onto her horse.

Avielle rushed to the fallen elf’s side, looking shocked. She reached out, brushing debris from the other elf’s clothing, her voice low, “I am so sorry to hear of Lady Sassariel’s death, Kyliska. Please know that I come before you not to seek revenge but to offer you hope instead. It is why I have sought you for so long; we are linked together, you and I, and you must hear me out.”

Avielle paused as the other elf got back in the saddle, a thought stirring in the back of her mind. She looked down at her hands; the hands that had just touched the Blood Knight, and then back up at the other elf, blinking a few times.

Kenzie looked at Avielle with a slightly confused look on her face. Sassariel, that was Kyli’s mother’s name! She tried to refresh the confused look and looked back to Avielle. “Maybe there is another time we can catch up on old times. I really must be going.” she looked towards the Death Knight and saw the expression on her face. “Are you alright?”

Avielle was no fool, and the look that passed across ‘Kyliska’s’ face at the mention of her mother’s name had not gone unnoticed. She stepped back a few steps, her back straightening. Although she attempted to conceal her emotions, there was a frigid coldness to her voice that had not been there a moment before, “Oh yes, of course, Lady Sunfire. I do apologize for causing you any inconvenience. I will let you be on your way now, and seek you out at a more opportune time.”

Kenzie nodded. “Yes thank-you.” she stated. “Let us meet and we can discuss these matters fully at a later date. Good day.”

Avielle bowed once, her gaze unwavering on the other elf, “Good day to you, Lady Sunfire.”

As Kenzie rode away, those two glowing eyes remained affixed on her back, the hard stare cold and unforgiving until it faded from view.

************************************

After the ‘knight’ had ridden away, Avielle called out in the Language of Death. Her deathcharger trotted from the nearby foliage, coming to her side at her call. As she mounted, her mind ran over the encounter again and again, her suspicions deepening with each passing moment.

The Knight’s touch was not unpleasant, not light-filled. She did not feel uncomfortable in my presence. Even if she’d been used to fighting the undead, my touch should have been uncomfortable unless she is used to the touch of evil creatures. And she didn’t recognize Sassariel’s name immediately. Why? Too many why’s.

Avielle snapped the reins, her steed setting out in a fast trot through the dead forest. As she thought over the encounter yet again, she directed her mount towards the direction the Knight had come from. The road was long and dark, heading towards the distant plaguelands, the broken gates of Quel’Thalas not far off.

As she rode, Avielle scanned the terrain around her, checking to ensure that the Knight had not ridden from somewhere deeper in the woods. After a few minutes of riding, she suddenly tugged on the reins, bringing her steed to a halt. Something in the woods had caught her eye.

She dismounted, her plate armor clinking lightly as she moved with purpose towards the dead undergrowth in the forest to the right of the path. She pressed through crackling dead branches and piles of leaves, her eyes affixed on a strange lump laying beneath the brush.

As she bent down, Avielle pushed some branches aside, and her eyes widened as she revealed a dead Felhunter, it’s body pierced by the thrust of an ax. Wary now, Avielle drew her own blade, stalking through the clearing around the dead beast and studying the terrain. Her investigation revealed the presence of several more dead demons, and something else as well.

She kneeled down in the leaves, her spear in one hand and her face coming close to the ground. She held out her free hand, pressing it lightly against the ground in a spot that looked burned. Instantly the skin on her arm began to crack, the flesh flaking as it dried up. Avielle’s eyes widened and she withdrew her hand in shock, the remnants of the Light left at the scene of the battle evidence that a paladin had fought in this place, and recently.

Alarmed now, Avielle rose, dashing back towards her deathcharger. She hopped up into the saddle, the beast already moving as she took her seat, sensing her urgency. She snapped the reins hard, the beast dashing further up the trail now, towards the gates beyond.

If the ‘Knight’ had come from the plaguelands, there would be a trail. Avielle would discover her origins and what she had been doing. And then she would go back and discuss it with the imposter.

Cloak billowing out behind her, Avielle dashed into the darkness of the Ghostlands, heading for the plaguelands behind, the thud of her deathcharger’s hooves warning the denizens of the haunted forest to keep their distance, for a real undead threat now hunted her prey, and when she found out everything she needed to know, someone was going to answer her questions whether they liked it or not.

As In Life, So In Death

*Blasted Lands, Present Day*

Avielle stood on a ragged outcropping of rocks overlooking the blasted plains below. Dressed in black and white hued armor that was reminiscent of the dresses she once wore in life, she held a runespear in one hand, the dry, dust filled winds of the Blasted Lands moving the small black and white pennant she’d affixed to the tip fitfully.

In the far distance, looking almost like ants in the heat haze of the dry, cracked earth, she watched as two armies clashed; the brutal orcs that had been pouring from the Dark Portal slamming into a slender line of elven defenders, the banners of Silvermoon visible in their bright golds and reds even from where she stood.

She squinted, her scourge-blue eyes narrowed as she watched the two armies fighting. The Horde forces were holding their own against the invaders, but it would be a costly victory she could tell. Even as she watched, a unit of Iron Horde orcs began to maneuver around the side of the conflict, moving into position to flank the elves and rout them from the field.

An emotion that no undead should feel began to fill Avielle as a thrill of fear shot up her spine. Not fear for herself, but fear and concern for those she had sworn to protect. Emotions battled in her, the need to hurt those who were causing her to experience the emotions battling with the feelings that came from what she could only call her soul.

Beside her, her deathcharger stirred, the undead horse moving closer as it sensed its master’s unease. It nuzzled her once, its fetid breath washing over her before it pointed its nose towards the distant battle and issued a very un-horse-like growl.

Avielle nodded, patting the beast before grabbing the reins, “Yes. We must go. We are needed now.”

With that she planted the spear in the ground beside her, hoisting herself up on her mount before taking up her weapon. She snapped the reins once and her undead mount eagerly surged forward, plunging down the steep, rocky hillside at speeds that a living person would cringe at.

It mattered little to Avielle, for today the dead rode to war.

****************************

Vilreth Brightleaf gasped for breath, his arm aching already as he hued at another Iron Horde orc that stood before him. He and his retinue had been part of the forces sent from Silvermoon to bolster the Horde lines in the Blasted Lands, and although the fighting had only raged for a short time, it was fierce and unrelenting.

Around him other elves fought, lithe bodies twisting and turning as they deftly avoided the blades of their foes. Here and there an explosion rocked the battlefield as the Iron Horde unleashed its deadly technologies in an effort to level the playing field.

Just as it looked like they might repulse the initial assault, a warcry arose to the east of Vilreth’s position. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw the elves there beginning to fall back, a wall of Iron Horde orcs pushing into their flank as the elves were out-maneuvered.

As he saw Sin’dorei falling, Vilreth knew that they were in serious trouble. He tightened his grip on his weapon, preparing to sell his life dearly.

**********************************

She rode like the wind, the dust of the Blasted Lands rising behind her like a red trail. Ahead of her, the Iron Horde orcs had made their first push into the Sin’dorei, at least forty of the creatures breaking against the flank of the blood elves. Avielle knew that time was short if she wanted to intervene; the Sin’dorei were brave fighters but they would rout if pressed too hard.

She flicked her reins and her horse gleefully picked up its pace even further, moving so swiftly that it risked breaking its scourge-fire covered legs. It cared little for such concerns though, instead eager to serve Avielle’s wishes; eager for battle.

As they dashed across the cracked earth, Avielle brought a horn to her lips, a long sorrow-filled note hanging in the air. Behind her the air shimmered, ghosts appearing around her and riding beside her on skeletal steeds, the dead of House Silverlight coming to the call of the heir of the House.

They rode on, a small wedge of the dead moving with grim purpose towards the rear of the orcs who themselves were flanking the Sin’dorei.

They never saw Avielle coming.

********************************

Vilreth impaled another orc on the tip of his blade, fear pumping through his veins now as the Sin’dorei ranks become compressed from the pressure of attackers on all sides. Many would fall in the next few minutes, and unless something changed swiftly it would result in a defeat on the plains. They would never even reach the area near the Dark Portal to aid with the main battle.

Even as he thought this, a shrieking warcry echoed over the battlefield. In the distance, behind the orcs that sought to crush the flank of the Sin’dorei position, Vilreth saw a rider on a dark horse plunge into the rear of the orc lines. The beast surged forwards, its rider holding on as the obviously undead horse reared up, a spear in her hand glowing with foul magics and blonde hair flowing from her head. She cried out again, her weapon plunging down into the nearest orc and slaying him instantly, other undead around her stabbing viciously into the enemy combatants and instantly throwing their lines into disarray.

Vilreth paused for the briefest moment, his mouth hanging open in shock as he recognized the rider before the haze of battle tore her from his gaze.

“Avielle….”

******************************

They were all around her now, the enemy forces stabbing at her from every direction. Her blade whirled through the air, the polearm giving her massive reach over her foes and the enchantments on it deadly to those it touched. Orcs fell, their blood mixing with the red sands beneath their feet as their bodies were trampled by her steed.

Swords stabbed out and her deathcharger cried out, its form pierced many dozens of times. It lashed out, crushing the skull of an orc and biting another before one of its legs was cut from beneath it. It screamed, not in pain but in rage, its fall flinging Avielle from her saddle.

She sailed through the air, her weapon high above her as she plunged down into the enemies in front of her, impaling one and sweeping the weapon around her body to clear some space to fight. Enemy firearms discharged, rounds striking her armor and bouncing off, another piercing her gut and causing a minor, easily ignored bit of damage to her form.

As the circle she’d cleared closed in around her again, her eyes widened, her mind racing as she parried blow after blow, viciously striking back at those around her. She lost her sense of time and place, her memories bubbling up as her spirit divorced itself from reality.

She saw around her not orcs, but the undead coming to claim her once more in Quel’Thalas. Those who fought around he were not dead, but living servants of House Silverlight, battling desperately to stop the Scourge from reaching those they were defending.

I have to stop them. They’re going to get to the children! I have to protect them at all costs!

She lashed out again, and her foes fell, her eyes showing her the shattered bodies of zombies and skeletons at her feet, refusing to see what was actually there. Blades lashed out at her, and she parried blow after blow, desperation growing in her mind.

They are breaking through! I have to buy them just a little more time! No matter the cost!

She hurled her body forward, slamming into the orcs and throwing them back. Many died around her, but there were more to replace them and as they stepped forward, one of the Iron Horde orcs plunged his blade forward, the weapon slamming into Avielle’s breastplate and severing the metal, sliding deep into her chest.

In Avielle’s mind, she suffered a fatal blow; the one that took her life originally. She saw a skeleton before her, its unending grin and empty eyes gazing at her as its sword slid into her chest, narrowly missing her heart. In that moment, despair set in.

I have failed. They’re breaking through! Run children, RUN!

Avielle was not in Quel’Thalas. She was not alive, and not fighting the Scourge. As the orc pushed the blade into her chest to the hilt, she screamed, the sound an echoing wail as her collapsed lung prevented her from actually speaking.

Her spear came up above her, the runes on it glowing brightly as her magic was unleashed.

****************************************

Vilreth parried a blow, narrowly avoiding being decapitated by the vicious strike. As he prepared to counter-attack his opponent, a shrieking banshee’s wail echoed over the battlefield loud enough to disturb him even from where he was. His gaze, and the gaze of many others, turned towards the source of the sound just in time to see the weapon in Avielle’s hand glow brightly with scourge magic, power blazing out of it.

A snowstorm erupted around her, the freezing cold winds alien in the parched desert. Razor sharp bits of ice and flakes of snow whipped wickedly around the center of Avielle’s battlefield, slashing into the orcs near her.

In a heartbeat, almost a dozen attackers were frozen solid, their forms encased in ice as the wail trailed out slowly into the desert. Vilreth used the moment to strike down the foe in front of him, grinning as the flank of the Iron Horde’s attack began to crumble.

****************************************

Avielle remembered who she was, where she was. Her weapon slashed out, shattering the frozen orcs around her into a thousand glistening pieces. She reached down, ripping the blade from her chest and casting it aside, blood gushing from her wound and staining the white of the fabric she wore. It mattered little; it would weaken her a little perhaps to lose some of her fluids but she was no longer alive and the blood would be restored either by taking it from the living or by the blood worms that maintained her veins.

She wailed again, robbed of her voice for a time, her weapon plunging into the back of an orc that turned to flee from her. More firearms discharged, the projectiles whipping through the air around her like angry hornets and doing absolutely nothing to stop her.

She stalked through the battle, a specter of death now, slaying at will as the morale of her foes fully broke and they began to rout. As they fled before her, she cut down those she could reach, always moving forward, the objective she had picked for herself only a short distance ahead.

She reached it quickly, what resistance that was presented to her on the broken orc flank petty at best. As she impaled the last of the foes before her, she grinned, planting her spear in the ground and turning towards one of the cannons the Iron Horde had set up along the rear of the battlefield.

With strength unnatural to a blood elf, Avielle bent down and heaved, sliding the cannon around in position, realigning its barrel with the rear of the rest of the Iron Horde lines. An orc charged at her, attempting to stop her and she side-stepped his blow, casually backhanding him and breaking his face with her saronite gauntlet.

She grinned, reaching down to grasp the cannon’s firing lever. She savored the moment, seeing the fear on the faces of those who were close enough to understand what she was doing, relishing in the sweet agony of the writhing orc on the ground near her.

And then she pulled the lever.

*************************************

The explosion rocked the battlefield, throwing Iron Horde orcs into the air like ragdolls. Vilreth cheered as the orcs in front of him began to break, the other Sin’dorei around him taking up the cry. The enemy began to fall back, additional rounds from a captured cannon battery slamming into their ranks.

As the orcs fled before him, Vilreth took a moment to pause and catch his breath. He surveyed the battlefield, seeing the Sin’dorei dashing after the now fully retreating orcs, leaving behind the dead from both sides that had fallen that day.

He paused as the battle moved on, seeing now the flanks where the orcs had been struck. Ice still glistened on the red sands, and smoke rose from the battery of cannons that had been captured along the flank of the enemy lines. That was not what caught his eye though, or kept his gaze riveted to the scene for many moments.

In the distance, he saw her. Avielle stood amongst the corpses of the fallen, the winds making her white cloak flutter, her spear held firmly in her hand. Gore covered her, most of it that of her enemies but some spilling from horrific wounds on her body. She stood perfectly still, motionlessly watching the aftermath of the battle, her unblinking, glowing blue gaze intent on the rest of the fighting.

Vilreth shuddered, seeing in her both the beauty of what she once was and the horror of what she was now. He forced himself to tear his gaze away from her, bittersweet feelings flowing through him as he wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed it. She had quite possibly saved their lives, and acted heroically, but she had also shown that she was a monster. He was not sure what to think of her, what to think of the fact that she still walked the world.

When he looked back again, Avielle was gone.