An Unexpected Reunion

*Just before the breach of the Dark Portal, Sunfire Estate, Eversong.*

Braeth'el walked cautiously through the empty hallways, his senses on heightened alert. The corridors outside of Kyliska's personal chambers were empty, as they should be given that the Lady Sunfire had set out through the portal to Draenor. Likewise, the corridors on the floors above had been empty even longer, with Biara Dayfire's own departure only a few short hours before her sister's.

After the two sisters had departed, Braeth'el had taken steps to ensure the security of their estate, as he had been tasked by Kyliska to do. Falling back into his role as House Sunfire's Spymaster was easy enough, and the guards were familiar with his face and his techniques. Security had been tightened up, and breaches in the defenses were unlikely. That was why it was all the more shocking when a window on the third floor of the estate's main tower had been found forced open.

Braeth'el had immediately investigated of course, his keen eye missing few details. The window had indeed been forced open, but it had not been broken or damaged. An expert had carefully picked the lock and then entered the structure, meaning the person had scaled the outside of the tower unobserved. That they had left the window open was either meant as a taunt or meant that whoever it was didn't care that they were discovered once they were inside.

After seeing the window firsthand, Braeth'el had proceeded to follow a trail of small signs that only he would notice. Here a thread that he had carefully placed on a door opening was disturbed, there a mark on the floor where a carpet's edge would cover it was exposed, as if someone had been carefully making their way through the corridors and passageways deeper into and higher up the estate's main tower. He'd followed the clues through what should have been empty and temporarily unused areas until he was outside of Kyliska's door itself. There he paused, his head tilted as his keen ears took in the silence of the tower, the faintest of scuffling noises drawing his attention.

Quickly he drew a dagger, moving with stealth and swiftness towards Kyliska's doorway. He set his hand on the door handle, opening it ever so slowly so as not to make a sound, slipping into the room in complete silence. The chambers beyond were dim, the magical lights that lit it kept low with the lady of the House out on her journey. Her bed was neat and orderly, a set of spare armor placed carefully on display on the far side of the room. Nothing seemed out of place, and Braeth'el moved further into the room to check for any sign of intrusion.

As he got to the foot of Kyliska's bed, he heard the almost silent sound of a footfall behind him. Like lightning he whirled, his dagger flying through the air towards the source of the noise, the weapon tumbling end over end. It crossed the distance towards a figure that had appeared seemingly from nowhere, the weapon's flight interrupted just before it struck the target by an expertly made parry, the dagger that had deflected the weapon held in the hands of a Sin'dorei.

Braeth'el pulled another dagger and was about to attack when he stopped in shock, his eyes wide. The elf that stood across from him offered him a smile, her fel green eyes soft as they stared at him, her auburn hair falling artfully around her face and then held in a ponytail behind her. She wore black leather armor, the color so dull as to easily blend with the shadows, which is why he had missed her in the first place. All of this was secondary though as the familiar face made his heart race and ache all at once.

"You cannot be who you seem to be, for she is dead," Braeth'el said quietly.

The figure standing across from him didn't answer, and instead brought a hand up palm outward. Her fingers began to move in a complex series of hand signs that no living person on Azeroth could ever have possibly copied, because it had never been written down. It was a language spoken between two siblings who had, in their youth, created it as a secret way to communicate. No guise, no deception, no trickery could mimic such a thing, and Braeth'el found his dagger falling from his nerveless fingers to clatter to the floor, his voice cracking as he spoke, "Biarathiel....sister....how...?"

She smiled at him, sheathing her own dagger before running over and wrapping her arms around him, hugging him tightly, "B! Oh how I've missed you! Words cannot even describe it. For all these long years I've dreamed of the moment when our family would be reunited."

Braeth'el found himself returning his sister's embrace, pure joy racing through him as she was returned to him seemingly from the grave. But she was no undead thing come back to haunt him. He could feel her heart beating against him, feel her breathing, and he knew without a doubt that somehow his long lost sister had been returned to him. 

After a time he released her, and she stepped back, smirking with her hands on her hips, "By the way, your defenses are quite good, but also exactly as I expected them to be! Did you consider perhaps that I could have been captured and made to divulge our secrets to an enemy?"

Braeth'el laughed and shook his head, "Hardly. I'd feel very sorry for anyone who captured you. But please, tell me, where have you been? Tel'athar told me long ago that he had to send you away on a mission from which you would not return. He was rather heartbroken when we discussed it, and I knew it pained him to have to do that to our family and also to you. He had been quite fond of you. Where did he send you? How is it that you've not been back for so long?"

Biarathiel's smile faded, a hint of sadness crossing her features as she walked past Braeth'el, sitting on the bed, "B, let me tell you....life has been strange indeed. What our dear friend could not tell you, could not tell anyone, is that I was carrying his child. Our...closeness, was far more than it seemed. Recall that he and I used to meet in secret to discuss the affairs of his enemies? Of House Dawnslight? More came of it than that. I couldn't tell you, or anyone for that matter, because it would have been a deadly secret."

Braeth'el's eyes widened, a long breath escaping him as he absorbed the news. Slowly he nodded, his quick mind working to comprehend the implications of such a thing, "He sent you away so you and the child would be safe."

Biarathiel nodded, "He did. And I'd planned on having him send you there as well eventually. Only he..." her voice trailed off, sorrow in her tone.

Braeth'el quickly moved to sit beside his sister, taking her hands in his, "You loved him, didn't you Bia?"

"With all my heart, B. I'd have done anything to remain here with you and with him, but I knew it was too dangerous. I knew it was right that I and our baby flee to safety lest Selun'athiel find out," Biarathiel said quietly. "It was for the best, although after his death and Selun'athiel's death I questioned whether or not secrecy would have any further benefit."

"You should have sought me out," Braeth'el said quietly. "I had assumed you were dead, but times were not so troubled that we could not have figured out a way to handle the situation."

"I know, I know," Biarathiel said, "But I had little choice in the matter. Not too long after Tel'athar's death, his attackers came for me as well. I doubt to this day that they knew who I was or why I was on Dawnslight Isle, but they abducted me and held me as a bargaining piece against Tel'athar's daughter should the day come that they needed me."

Braeth'el reeled back as if he were in shock, and Biarathiel looked at him with concern on her face, "What is it, B?"

"You said Dawnslight Isle? That is where Telatha's estate is," Braeth'el said quietly.

Biarathiel shot up off the edge of the bed, her voice tinged with concern, "You have met my daughter? Please, you must tell me where she is! I need to see her again! It's been so long, and she must think, they all must think-"

"That you're dead, yes Bia," Braeth'el said quietly. "They believed you took your own life long ago, grieving for Tel'athar.

Biarathiel's fists clenched by her sides, her tone stern, "You know that I would never do such a thing, not after everything we've all been through over the years. Tel'athar's death was a blow to me, and he was my heart, but he was not my life itself. He would have wanted us to press on, to continue his work in protecting our people. I have heard of and seen the results of great destruction that was inflicted on our nation. I must find Telatha and then begin making up for all the time my hands have been idle, so we can properly pay tribute to Tel's memory."

Braeth'el smiled sadly, nodding, "Tel would have liked to hear you say all of this, and by the Sunwell it stirs something in me as well. You will be proud of your daughter, Bia. Telatha has grown to a strong, confident person who wishes to protect her people as Tel once did. It is because of her that I am here now, for she has taken steps to lend her aid not only to Quel'Thalas, but to all of Azeroth. She has passed through the Dark Portal to face the threats that pour forth from there, as Tel'athar himself would have done were he still alive. I came to House Sunfire to find her half-sister and to beg her to lend aid, which she agreed to do. Biara can be a dangerous person at times, but she has learned to value family and the blood of her father to some degree."

Biarathiel began to pace, nodding at this piece of news, "Then I must follow after her, and confront this threat myself. Decades have been wasted while I was imprisoned, and Tel's legacy fades with time. We did not fight all of those monsters or go on all those adventures so that our people could be threatened with extermination again and again."

Braeth'el rose, nodding at his sister, "Then you must go. I will look after things here as the Sunfire sisters have charged me to do. Before you go though, there is much you should be briefed on to ensure that you understand the current situation both here and in the Horde itself."

Biarathiel's eyebrow rose and she looked at her brother curiously, "Horde?"

Braeth'el looked at his sister in shock and began to walk towards the door, beckoning her to follow, "Bia, you are going to need a crash course in current history before you set out, or you're going to end up in more trouble than you were to begin with. By the way, you did deal with your captors, yes? I would hate to have yet another group of enemies assaulting this estate."

Biarathiel grinned at her brother impishly, playfully punching him in the arm, "You've gone soft, B. Of course I 'dealt' with them. You think that I was going to let them hold me for a few decades and that they were all going to fly away free as a dragonhawk? Even so, House Dawnslight remains a threat and something that will need to be dealt with in time. But enough of that for now, I need to find my daughter, and obviously I need to learn quite a bit in a very short time, so let's get to it."

Braeth'el paused in the doorway, turning to look back at his sister with a smile on his face, sincerity in his voice as he spoke, "Damn it's good to have you back, Bia. Don't you go getting lost on me again. If I don't hear from you, I swear I will tear Draenor apart with my bare hands to ensure you are safe."

"Draenor?" Biarathiel said.

Braeth'el laughed and lead his sister deeper into the estate, his voice echoing off the stones, "Okay Bia, let's get you a journal book and something to write with. And some coffee. It's going to be a long night."

With that the two siblings headed towards House Sunfire's kitchen, their fond laughter heard late into the night as they spoke of old times and new.

The Elf in the Iron Cage

*Many years ago, just after the death of Tel'athar Dayfire. Dawnslight Isle.*

A storm was coming, the weather having already turned sour in just a few short hours. Fog rolled in across the tiny island, the ocean's fury beginning to build as waves were hurled against the rocky bluffs far below the clifftops where most of Dawnslight Estate lay.

Despite the storm, a lone figure wandered into the wet, fog-shrouded gardens on the estate's exterior, her pale blue dress trailing behind her and already damp from the bitter drizzle that had begun to fall. In a state of grief and shock, the elf paid little heed to the weather, the foulness of the day matching the misery deep within her soul. Her name was Biarathiel Fireleaf, and she had lost the one person whom she had considered to be her soul-mate.

It had not always been thus, of course. Long ago, when she was young, Biarathiel and her brother Braeth'el had been born in a different social stratus. Although they were never hungry, the two had not had easy lives, and when their parents had passed they had needed to press on together. Their future and salvation had come by happy fate through a Quel'dorei named Tel'athar Dayfire. After performing a favor for the noble lord, he had repaid the siblings by giving them a place to live, training, and eventually work.

It had not been an easy life, for Biarathiel had been trained as a bodyguard, spy, and assassin. Her work was dark and difficult, but was bolstered by the camaraderie of her brother and their lord, Tel'athar. The trio had worked tirelessly to ensure the safety of those of House Dayfire, of the common citizens of Quel'Thalas, and of the realm as a whole. They had shared in adventures together, fought, bled, and cried together, and become inseparable friends.

Even after Tel'athar had been wed to Selun'athiel Dawnslight, the lord had kept his friends as close as he could, and kept their identities hidden and secret in the event that he one day needed their aid. He confided in them in secret, poured his heart out when it was troubled over matters that could harm his people, and celebrated their successes together. He had a child, whom he had secretly named in honor of Biarathiel, an elf that he considered to be one of his best friends.

When Tel'athar's relationship with Selun'athiel became strained with political tensions, he leaned on the two siblings for support, his openness leading to many late night talks with Biarathiel. Over time, their friendship blossomed into something more, and the two met in tryst now and again, until the fateful day when Biarathiel herself bore a daughter for her secret lover, and he was forced to send her away lest she and the child be discovered, disgraced, or possibly even assassinated.

Biarathiel had lived on Dawnslight Isle for many years, raising their daughter and living in happiness. Although she saw her dear friend and beloved Tel'athar less frequently, he would still visit with her from time to time, and he saw to her needs and the needs of those retainers that watched over her.

But now he was gone, his life cut short by an assassin's blade. Biarathiel felt as if her own heart had been cut out, and the tears had not stopped flowing for many restless nights. A part of her life had died with Tel'athar, and although she knew she would press on, she would mourn the loss of one of the greatest influences in her life and the loss of her dear friend and confidant.

Weeping quietly, Biarathiel walked near the edge of the cliffs overlooking the sea, her gaze fixed on the distant waves that lashed the rocks. The wind whipped around her, her auburn hair coming free of its bindings and whirling wildly past her face, but she ignored it all, her heart heavy with sadness.

"My love...I shall miss you for the rest of my life. My dear Tel'athar, rest in peace. I will continue your work for our people, this I promise you," she whispered sadly to the winds.

So lost in her grief was she, and so loud were the sounds of the coming storm, that the elf never heard her enemies approaching. They stalked her through the rain, their movements silent and swift, and when they struck, her only warning of their presence was the whiplash sound of the arrow parting the air and slamming into her back.

She fell near the cliff's edge, the wet grass cushioning her as the pain from the wound overwhelmed her. She cried out, but her cries were lost in the sound of the storm, and she could feel the warm blood trickling down her back and soaking her already wet dress, staining it red. Figures loomed over her, elves glaring down at her, wearing the markings of House Dawnslight soliders.

I should have known. Oh Tel'athar, how foolish I've been! I should have known that they would come for the rest of us, once you were gone. I will be with you soon, my beloved.

The soldiers were merciless, leaning down and yanking what she realized had been a poisoned arrow from her back, causing her to nearly black out from the pain. They drew knives, viciously cutting her dress off and relieving her of more than one dagger before trussing her up and roughly flinging her over the shoulder of one of the attackers. Her belongings, including her bloody dress, weapons, and a pendant that Tel'athar had given her, were thrown into the raging sea far below.

As Biarathiel was carried away, blackness rose to engulf her, and she passed out. Hours later, search parties would find her frayed and bloody garments in the sea, and those who lived on the isle would conclude that she had hurled herself from the bluffs in her grief.

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

*Current Day, Just before the Dark Portal's breach by allied forces.*

Water dripped endlessly, the sound echoing through the metal sheathed room. The echoes told a sort of time, the drops dripping precisely eight hundred and seventy three times per hour. She knew this because she had had many long years to become accustomed to her prison cell.

She hung in the center of the room, shackles on the ceiling strung down on long lengths of iron chains and wrapped around her wrists. She was nearly naked, her ragged underclothes the only garments she'd been allowed to retain in her cell. The bindings forced her to keep her arms far above her head, while her bare feet were perched on a narrow pedestal of iron jutting from the floor, forcing her to remain balanced and upright. Her captors kept her that way for many hours of the day to ensure she didn't cause any trouble, because Sunwell knows she had caused as much trouble as she possibly could over the many years of her captivity.

She flexed her toes, rising on the tips of her feet and then falling again, a silent breath escaping her with each repeated movement. Although they sought to keep her immobilized, Biarathiel had discovered numerous ways to exercise her muscles and ensure her continued strength through each long, arduous day. Each day they would give her an hour or two of physical exercise in a metal cage overlooking a barren, rocky outcropping that dropped down into the sea before returning her to her cell. Each night they would come in and shackle her to the cold iron floor, her wrists and ankles kept in place so she could not escape.

At first, they had been cruel, interrogating her endlessly about who she was, what she had been doing on the isle. They had asked enough questions that Biarathiel realized they didn't know anything about Tel'athar's secret affair or her daughter Telatha. She had remained silent, telling them nothing but flights of fancy that had enraged her tormentors and inspired further cruelty. For years this had gone on, her captors not daring to slay her for fear that she would be a useful bargaining chip in the future, yet unable to extract information from her.

They had fed her of course, and even begun feeding her fel magic after the Sunwell's destruction, which she and all the other Quel'dorei had felt even from the remote island upon which she was imprisoned. They told her that the citizens of Quel'Thalas had come to be called Sin'dorei now, but it mattered little to her as long as she was kept alive and could keep her body honed in secret.

A sound in the hallway beyond caused Biarathiel to freeze into immobility, her dirty, lank auburn hair falling around her face as she let her head bow and her body slump in feigned defeat. A moment later the door to her cell opened, and one of her tormentors entered, a fire haired mage with House Dawnslight insignia on her cloak named Sedene Dawnslight.

"Ah, another day, another round of questioning," the Magistrix said with a smirk.

Biarathiel said nothing, keeping her head hung in defeat. It was a tactic she'd used before and it typically annoyed the Magistrix to no end. In secret, she studied the other elf through her hanging wall of hair, noting something of interest. Immediately she changed the game, murmuring something incoherent.

"What was that?" the Magistrix asked, stepping closer. Biarathiel murmured again, her words inaudible as she made herself sound as ill as possible.

Magistrix Sedene smirked, stepped closer still, her tone mocking, "Finally broken, are you? It is just as well as I suspect your usefulness is at an end. With Seluna's death, our House has other objectives now." She leaned in towards the bound prisoner, whispering into her ear, "Tell me then, prisoner. Tell me everything, and I will give you a quick, painless death."

Biarathiel leaned towards the Magistrix as if to tell her something in a quiet tone, her tongue coming out and running up the side of the elf's neck and face, all the way to her eartip. The Magistrix hissed and pulled away from her sharply, a hand coming up to slap Biarathiel in the face. "Insolent wench! You'll pay for that! You're in for a long day of questioning I'd say. It's been too long since we've put you to the fire!"

With that the Magistrix spat on the ground and walked towards the door, two guards outside following after her, "Prepare yourself, for in an hour's time you will feel the flames and scream for mercy."

With that the door was slammed shut, the bolt thrown in place. For a moment, Biarathiel remained still, her face stinging from the slap.

Then she grinned, the long, narrow earring that the Magistrix had been wearing clenched between her teeth.

In a flash the lithe elf reached up and grabbed hold of the chains that were connected to her shackles. She hoisted herself up, bringing her legs up and flipping upside down, her legs wrapping around the chains and taking her weight so that she was suspended and had slack near the end of the chains where the shackles were connected. She rotated the earring in her mouth, holding it in place with her teeth and inserting it into the lock. After a few moments a satisfying click was heard and the shackles sprung open.

A moment later Biarathiel dropped from her position on the chains, flipping as she fell and landing on her bare feet with hardly a sound. She dashed across the room towards the iron cell door, slamming into it loudly and jumping upwards, her toes finding purchase in the back of the viewing slot in the door before she propelled herself above the doorframe where she perched, holding her hands up against the ceiling with her toes gripping the narrow, two inch ledge above the door.

The noise had alerted one of the guards, and he burst into the room a moment later, the cell door swinging wide. Biarathiel fell on top of him, her nearly naked thighs wrapping around his neck as she used her weight to force him towards the floor. He fell beneath her, the surprise attack overbalancing him. As the two tumbled, Biarathiel maintained her grip with her legs, twisting his neck and snapping it when they connected with the floor.

She was up a second later, snatching a dagger from his belt and cutting his cloak free before dashing through the open cell door. Her nerves were alight with the sudden activity, her heart pounding as her training kicked in. No longer a prisoner, she was now the cold blooded assassin that Tel'athar had trained all those many years ago.

Two guards had heard the commotion and rushed her from the end of the hallway. As the first approached she twirled the cloak into a long thin rope and snapped it as a rat's tail right in the elf's face. He reeled back, his eyes tearing from the stinging blow and Biarathiel surged forward towards the second elf that tried to push by him. She grabbed the cloak by the corner, unfurling it and allowing it to sail into the elf's face, covering his head completely. He wind-milled forward and she jabbed her dagger up under his ribcage, killing him instantly.

As her first victim fell, Biarathiel ripped the dagger from him and plunged it into the neck of the second guard, his blood spurting and staining the wall beside him as he fell gurgling. She reached down and snatched up his weapon as well as a belt and the first guard's weapons, fully arming herself.

For a moment, the hallway was still, and she let her breathing calm before stalking further into the prison complex, her bare feet making not a sound on the stone floors. Her eyes blazing with vengeance.

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

 Magistrix Sedene Dawnslight never heard the door to her private chambers open, but she certainly heard the lock click as the door was closed and bolted from the inside. She turned to find her half-naked prisoner grinning at her, blood covering what little garments she wore and drying on her skin. Blood that was clearly not her own.

"Magistrix, a pleasure to see you again," Biarathiel purred.

The Magistrix reeled back in shock, her eyes wide in terror. She brought her hands up to cast a spell and began to chant, but it was far too late by then. Biarathiel's wrist snapped forward and a dagger flew across the room, the blade lodging in the Magistrix's hand and instantly ruining her spellcasting as she howled in pain.

"Now now, none of that," Biarathiel said calmly, padding across the room silently. When she reached the Magistrix, she grabbed her by the hair, glaring into her face. "I need to ask you a few...questions."

The Magistrix spit in Biarathiel's face, which earned the response of a dagger hilt to the back of her head. The unconscious Magistrix tumbled to the floor rather unceremoniously, leaving Biarathiel alone for a moment.

"Oops, how terribly clumsy of me, Magistrix," she said with a smirk. "While you are resting, I'm sure you won't mind if I look through your documents. I know you are just a hound of the real agents behind Tel'athar's death after all. You couldn't have been amongst those who killed him while you were kidnapping me all those years ago."

With that she turned and went over to the writing desk sitting in the center of the room and began to rummage through the papers there, grabbing a number of letters and other correspondence that would provide her with the names she needed. Satisfied, she rolled the documents up and shoved them in what passed for the bra she was wearing, before looking down at herself.

"I'm a bloody mess, aren't I? I doubt Tel'athar would have been pleased to see me this way, but then again he's seen me bloodier and dirtier too I imagine. Time enough later for that, although it sounds like a storm is coming outside and I'd rather not be naked. Hmmm..." Biarathiel murmured thoughtfully tapping a finger on her chin. She glanced down at the unconscious Magistrix and grinned before nodding. "Perfect."

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

Moments later the door to Magistrix Sedene's private chambers were kicked open by her guards when she failed to respond to their urgent summons. An intruder had been slaying soldiers throughout the complex and she was urgently needed.

The first guard to enter the room stumbled and grew still, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide in shock. There, on the floor, lay Magistrix Sedene, her body completely devoid of any clothing whatsoever, and her hands and legs trussed up like a pig. She had a filthy old rag shoved in her mouth as a gag, and her eyes were wide with outrage.

A nearby window hung open, and an auburn haired elf sat there, wearing the Magistrix's dress and holding the Magistrix's boots by the laces. She grinned at the guards, nodding at the first to glance at her.

"Do tell the others that the death of Tel'athar Dayfire has not been forgotten nor forgiven. Those who were responsible, those who would take the lives of citizens of Quel'Thalas, will be brought to justice. I shall not ever forget this, and pray that when I return, you are not on duty at the time. Goodbye for now!" Biarathiel said cheerfully before jumping out of the window.

The guard rushed to the open portal and looked out, seeing the thousand foot drop to the rocky seas below and the rushing waves dashing against the island's shores. Of the escaped prisoner there was no sign, and she was never seen again by the House Dawnslight guards who were tasked with searching the island for her.

Full Circle

*The Dark Portal. The push against the Iron Horde.*

For years, decades even she had wandered. She had roamed distant lands, separated from her people, from their customs, from her own haunted thoughts of the past. She had lived as a nomad might, traveling where the whispering winds lead her, scavenging what supplies or equipment she needed along the way. Always an exile even amongst a people composed of exiles, Mariskka had known only solitude and the precious touch of the elements except on the rare occasion her path crossed with that of another soul.

Perhaps that solitude was what she had needed to grow beyond what she had once been. The decades younger Draenei would not have recognized herself, the arcane researcher and crystal artificer would have taken one look at the ragged, fetish-wearing shaman and wondered if she were perhaps a lost Rangari scout. She had walked many paths in the intervening years, seen many things both horrible and fantastic, and learned of the elements and the natural world.

It was because of this growth, because of what she had become in the intervening years since her losses on Draenor and her fading connection to the Light, that Mariskka found herself drawn to the conflict at the Dark Portal. Always one for peace, even she could not ignore the portents and dire warnings that the elements whispered to her. Every fortune she told bespoke of disaster, every echo of the elements cried out in pain from the damage the portal did to the very land around it, and possibly worst of all; every time she closed her eyes the spirits writhed in torment in her dreams and in the waking world around her. Her memories bubbled to the surface, screaming at her of the consequences of inaction, of letting this Iron Horde invade these new lands her people had made a home and in the quietest parts of her mind telling her that she could change what befell her people the first time if she was there to make a difference.

And so she stood on the scorched red plains as the combined might of the Alliance and the Horde pushed the invaders back to their beachhead. She stood amongst their ranks as the greatest heroes of the realms battered aside the Iron Horde spearhead and wrested control of the Dark Portal on Azeroth's side. And when they plunged through the portal on what would certainly be a suicide mission, Mariskka was there, her hooves clattering loudly on the ancient stones, the blue glow of her eyes affixed ahead of her as she stepped forward, knowing she left nothing and no one behind to mourn her loss.

The battle beyond was chaos, with thousands upon thousands of orcs hurtling towards the portal, attempting to force the attacking heroes of Azeroth aside. Mariskka found herself caught in the swirl of battle, knowing that she and the others had to buy enough time for the portal to be shut down. She stood shoulder to shoulder with soldiers of the Alliance, her mismatched armor setting her apart and proclaiming her as something slightly different. To the orcs it mattered little; all they saw were targets to be slaughtered, and the situation was all so very familiar to Mariskka as memories flowed back into her mind.

In a half-daze she moved, her mace coming down on a foe here, her shield moving to block an attack there, while all the while her mind raced, recalling the orcish cleansing of her village, her home. A thousand faces flashed through her mind, her husband and children staring lifelessly up at her. Her neighbors, friends, relatives, everything that made up her life destroyed by the unbelievable aggression and hatred of a people the Draenei had lived alongside for so long.

A spear thrust forward through the swirling melee and Mariskka narrowly avoided being impaled as she brought her shield into alignment at the last possible moment. The force of the blow drove her backwards, her hooves slipping on the now blood-slicked stones before the portal as she lost her balance. Around her other Alliance soldiers were cut down, the orcs pushing forward and slowly destroying the vanguard. From her place on the ground, she looked up in horror as a huge, brutish orc loomed large over her.

He stared down at her, his eyes filled with bloodlust and primitive markings covering his mostly naked flesh. He grinned down at her, his spear coming up over his head as his gaze locked with hers.

In that moment, Mariskka's life came full circle. All of the emotions, all of the terror she had experienced back on the original Draenor burned away in the flames of her anger. She remembered Argus, remembered the first family she'd lost, remembered the eons of fleeing, fighting, and dying that her people had done just to escape into another massacre, another battle. In that moment, something within her surged to life, and the fiery will that had forced her to live even after the fall of Shattrath burned through her veins.

Smoldering fury gazed back up at the orc, giving him pause. His weapon halted, raised above his head and glinting in the smoke filled light of Draenor's sun. In the distance, thunder rumbled ominously, the elements of Draenor hearing the call of a shaman's rage. Although the world was alien to much of the Alliance, to Mariskka it was just one of the many homes that she had found and lost, and she could feel the seething molten core of the world, feel the wind whipping through her hair as the storm came to her, feel the moisture off the sea lingering as a threat in the clouds above, and feel the strength of the stones beneath her.

The orc saw the shift in her gaze, saw her hands clench tight against the haft of her mace, and he brought his spear higher, ready to destroy the threat. Lightning arced down from seemingly nowhere, pouring through his raised spear and burning him as it flowed through the weapon and out. It struck Mariskka, flowing across the metal of her armor, never touching her flesh as it found its release in the stones beneath her, the ear-splitting reverberation of its thunderclap deafening those nearby and throwing the charred orc into his companions on the stone stairs below.

Mariskka rose from the ground, smoldering steam rising from the stones around her, and a space cleared for her. Alliance soldiers surged forward on her flanks, but her gaze remained affixed to the orcs on the steps below her as they looked up at her in awe and fear.

No longer was she the wanderer, the traveler. No longer was she the simple fortune teller that she'd been for so many years. In her gaze they saw her as she truly was and had always been. They saw the Draenei that had loved and lost so many times that it had become an endless cycle of life to her. They saw the woman who had nearly given her life so that the innocent could flee from Shattrath, and in her words, they heard their doom spoken.

"Never again, for as long as I shall live," Mariskka murmured under her breath in Draenei.

Her hands came up, and lightning flared, another wicked thunderclap booming out all around her. The electricity slashed into the orcs below her, hopping from one to another and making them jump and shudder as it passed through them. Where they fell, more stood to take their place, and more lightning came to greet them.

She would hold her ground there until the very end, until the portal itself was destroyed from the Draenor side, and her allies grabbed her and hauled her back, forced to carry her as she refused to give up her ground. And as she was lifted by a large worgen and dragged away from the conflict, she saw the ground passing beneath her, the memory of the flowing water of the swamps near the Zangar Sea passing beneath her as she was carried away with a mortal wound in another time and place staying with her, leaving her in a daze where past and present conspired to become one and the same.

She had finally come back to the place which had broken her, and this time had shown that she was stronger than the earth itself. Everything would be different now, and a new Cycle would begin here on this strange version of Draenor.   

Waygate Research Notes

To the Esteemed Councilor Zyra Spellshadow,

Councilor, I have complied the research notes that I mentioned previously relating to the ogres and their use of magical stones as foci for a portal network that may encompass the entire width and breadth of Draenor. Below I have included my preliminary findings, recommendations, and concerns relating to this research and the implications of this network's existence.

Basic Theories on the Operation of the Ogre Portal Network

The existence of the portal network was at first not obvious to myself or my staff when we began our exploration of the region known as Frostfire Ridge. As basic concerns for safety and security asserted themselves, little time was available to study the local leylines and patterns of magic that existed in the region. With the immediate threat diminishing, research teams were dispatched to map what we could of the leylines and any anomalies that might exist in the region.

It became immediately apparent that several locations in this geographic area had what can only be described as bubbles or a general warping of the leylines towards specific points. Naturally we conducted a thorough investigation of these points, and determined that ancient magics were drawing on the local magical currents to power some unknown magical construct.

Further investigation lead to the discovery of the first of these ogre 'waygates', which are essentially anchored portals maintained by bound spirits. Our initial interaction with the spirit guardian of this location was extremely hostile, resulting in casualties amongst our expedition. After pacifying the immediate vicinity of the portal, further evaluation of the magic was conducted and it was discovered that the portal network is activated via specially prepared stones known as 'waystones'.

Waystones appear to be a type of indigenous quartz carved into a rough circular disc the size of an ogre's palm. It should be noted that I have discovered, since our initial investigations, waystones using other local rock. I am not a trained geologist however so I will leave speculation on the value of one stone over another to those whom you deem skilled in this field.

Each waystone is carved with a dormant rune that itself contains no energy. A Sin'dorei would not be able to draw any power from such a stone by itself, and many appear to be attuned to specific members of the ogre species as the runes can vary from stone to stone. When brought near one of the dormant portals, the portal itself focuses leyline energy into the runes, activating them and allowing the bearer to pass into the portal network.

Using such stones taken from ogres (A total figure of slain ogres is attached to this report in Appendix A), I have managed to force one of these waygates open, although it required more than one stone to breach the spirit-fueled security of the network.

Recommendations on the Use of the Portal Network

Based on my findings, it appears that these waygates will serve as a useful if somewhat limited transportation network for our forces and for members of the Magistrate who may be on urgent business. I would make the following recommendations:

1. We should continue to breach the portal network's security, forcing open as many of these waygates as possible for Sin'dorei use.
2. We should further investigate the creation of these waygates as they differ from our existing portal magics and may prove beneficial for the creation of anchored portals in our own holdings.
3. Once a sufficient number of portals are opened, the military of Quel'Thalas should be advised of their use and locations, allowing for convenient and fast deployment of Sin'dorei power wherever it may be needed in Draenor.

Additional Concerns

Based on my research, I have several concerns relating to the magic of the ogres, the most pressing of which is the fact that ogres have created such an efficient and powerful magical transportation system. Ogres found on our own world are dim-witted creatures for the most part, and only a rare few have shown the magical potential necessary to create such a powerful and useful magical tool. The fact that there are so many suspected portal sites, and that this network continues to function after what appears to be many centuries, shows that more than one very skilled magi was involved in the creation of these waygates.

Use of these waygates should be weighed carefully against their potential dangers. Given that this is an alien magical construct that we are effectively breaching with our own magic, there is potential that one or more of the network's creators or their students exist who may use our breaches to their own advantage. We should consider that the teleportation destination may be altered by hostile magics, resulting in potential ambushes or the capture of lone Sin'dorei making use of these magics.

Furthermore, as we have not identified all of these waygates or their destination points, it is feasible that the ogres or creatures who have usurped the ogres may make use of these portals as well, leading to surprise attacks on Sin'dorei or allied forces. I would advise that all of our military forces be forewarned of these potential dangers so that they are not caught by surprise.

Summary

In conclusion, I hope that you have found the above information useful. Should you require additional information or research on this topic, I would be pleased to aid you and members of the Magistrate in such an endeavor. Attached you will find Appendix A detailing the gathering of waystones, Appendix B which depicts a drawing of a waystone including its rune magic, and Appendix C which outlines the locations of waygates and suspected waygate sites based on leyline currents.

It was my pleasure to provide you with this report, Councilor. May your own research yield excellent results.

Respectfully,

Biara Dayfire

Scion of House Sunfire

Magistrix of Silvermoon City

A Dream Renewed

Biara lay atop the mound of fur blankets that covered the primitive bed in her private chambers attached to the fort's command center. The room was small, much smaller than her quarters at Sunfire Estate, however it was one of the only private rooms in the entire fortification and literally the only sleeping area that did not consist of a rough hammock tied up between two support pillars. It served its purpose well, and there was always the guilty thrill of 'roughing it' out in the frozen wilds of Frostfire Ridge.

She lay on her belly, her head propped up on two hands and her fire red hair hanging down around her face. Her bare feet kicked lazily in the air behind her as she perused a pile of reports and various documents that was strewn out across the surface of the furs she was laying on. Here was a scout report about nearby ogre activity, there was a logistics report detailing the garrison's food stocks and other important resources. All of it was fairly routine and boring, and Biara found herself yawning and wishing she had more direction as to where to pursue her objectives next.

Of Telatha there had been no word or even hint. None of her scout reports had shown the presence of a blood elf group in the nearby wilds. Biara had begun to fear that her half-sister had been lost immediately once she passed through the portal, but there were eye witness accounts of a Sin'dorei matching her description making it to safety aboard the vessels that the Horde had seized in their retreat, so it was likely that Telatha was still alive.

Biara reached down, lazily tracing a column of numbers with one manicured nail, only half paying attention to the detailed report of mana potion stocks that her Senior Apprentice had provided. She reached out and turned the page, reviewing the Senior's report on the apprentices that had newly arrived, her eyes only scanning over the detailed document as her mind began to drift away and onto other topics, daydreaming as she did from time to time when boredom took her.

It would be no surprise to anyone if Biara told them that she often daydreamed about true love. When one is alone for so long, especially when one is separated from one's family and alone in a frozen tundra, the thoughts of having someone by one's side to warm them and keep them company would only be natural. Such a daydream would not only be common for the Magistrix, but usually of the same format and involving the same familiar faces.

Almost always she was in battle, enemies all around her and a champion at her back, protecting her with his own life, standing side by side with her to make a difference. The elf would always be a hero, always there to rescue her and finally allow her to be free of the constant bloodshed that her life had become since the fall of Quel'Thalas. He would sweep her enemies from the field once and for all, before taking her hand in his and leading her away, perhaps the two riding away on a hawkstrider together towards a magnificent palace that was his residence.

It was perhaps an adolescent's daydream. A princess fairytale where a hero comes just for her, to complete her and become her other half. It was a silly nothing, a mere fantasy that she'd had since she'd first started to think of love, and it was no surprise that such a dream would linger on when Biara had tasted so few tender moments in her years since taking on the burdens of House Dayfire's and later House Sunfire's rule.

For many years, the hero had worn Aeranor's face, his dashing features smiling at her as he brought his bow up to smite their common enemies, words of encouragement and love on his lips. As she daydreamed, Biara's glassy eyes looked at nothing, a half-smile on her face as the familiar scene replayed in her fantasies.

And yet, this time something changed, her thoughts drifting through the idea, the fantasy again. This time another Sin'dorei stood by her side, and wielded not a bow, but powerful magic. His spells lashed out at those around them, combining with her own magic to make a symphony of power the likes of which she only dreamed of. In the fantasy, she felt the sweet harmony of it fill her, felt her heart race as the other's raw power mixed with her own, fire and ice and arcane all flowing together to the sweetest, most perfect example of the art that was her soul. In the daydream she turned to look at the elf standing beside her, a smile on her face. He turned and smiled back at her, his short black hair messy but adorable, the glasses he wore perched on the end of his nose and his fel green eyes meeting hers in a moment that would spark a storm of magic.

He didn't carry her away on a hawkstrider, he tore a hole in space and time with his magic, his hand coming out to take hers and carry her away....

Biara snapped out of her daydream, her eyes widening in shock as she realized that she'd just been thinking of Rayleth. She shook her head to clear the rest of the foggy thoughts from her brain, her eyes drifting back down to the stack of reports that had so bored her into daydreaming in the first place.

She began to blush furiously when she saw that she'd doodled little hearts in the margin of the apprentice performance reports, particularly around Rayleth's name.

"Oh no.." She murmured to herself. "Not an apprentice...that's...quite inappropriate Biara'thiel Dayfire. Stop that this instant."

With that she quickly sat up, shuffling all of the papers into one rather disorderly pile and picking them up as she rose from the bed. She set the whole mess down on the nightstand beside the bed, swearing to take care of it later. She slipped on her shoes and headed towards the door, intent on putting her mind on other matters as quickly as possible.

As she reached the doorway she paused, a hand on the door frame. She turned and looked back at the stack of papers sitting beside her bed and a smile played across her lips. After a moment she shook her head and sighed at herself before heading out to find some tasks to accomplish.

Heart to Heart

It was late in the evening as Rayleth worked his magic along the cold rock face that made up one of the walls of the fortifications. High above, alien stars glittered down on him and an alien moon glowed brightly in the sky, illuminating his work. Gusts of frigid air passed by him, blowing loose flakes of snow and causing him to clutch his cloak tighter around him for a moment.

In his hand he held a wand, his wrist carefully maneuvering the tip to trace out glowing wards along the stones. A punishment from the Senior Apprentice for 'willfully defying' her, he'd been sent out into the cold night to reinforce faltering wards along the western side of their defenses that helped prevent wild animals from burrowing under (or through!) the rocks.

As he worked, he heard snow crunching under the boots of someone approaching, but he dared not turn his head to see who approached, his concentration taken up fully by the delicate spells that even now he was starting to unravel because of an accidental misstep in his spellcasting. It was not until a voice cut through the cold evening air that he realized who was standing behind him.

"You've got the ward symbol slightly askew, Rayleth," Biara said gently behind him.

"I'm sorry, Magistrix," Rayleth said as he continued to concentrate. "I tried to correct it but I fear I may have to redo the entire ward and I-"

His words were interrupted as he felt her draw near, one of her gloved hands sliding over his and gently guiding the motion of the wand to correct the fraying ward-sign with an expert gesture. He blinked, studying what he had just been shown very carefully, his mind drinking in the knowledge that the little gesture had given him.

For her part, Biara let her hand linger for a moment, feeling the pulsing flow of his magic beneath her gloved hand. She closed her eyes, enjoying the 'flavor' of the magic she felt. Each type of magic felt slightly different to her, as if each were a different course from a fabulous dinner service. In this case, Rayleth's magic had a crisp, cool feel to it like the first sip of icy cold water or the first taste of mint ice cream on one's tongue. She sighed slightly, releasing his hand reluctantly.

"Magistrix, I see what I did wrong now. Thank you for showing me. I believe I should be able to adequately repair the rest of the wards here," Rayleth said with a smile.

Biara nodded, shifting away from him as he moved towards the next set of wards in the series. She studied him for a moment before moving to a rock outcropping nearby, settling herself on the stone, her legs crossed as she gazed up at the stars far above. "The Senior Apprentice told me she'd punished you for putting yourself at risk in the battle, and for using our stock of wands. I could override her punishment, but then it would undermine her confidence and the morale of the others; something that is seriously lacking at the moment."

"Yes, that's correct, Magistrix. And honestly, I understand," Rayleth replied as he pointed his wand at the next ward. He glanced over at her, studying her as she sat perched on the stones beside him. "Regardless of the punishment, I'd have done it again without hesitation. If this is the consequence then so be it. It's a lovely evening anyway."

Biara nodded, still gazing up at the sky, "It is indeed. The stars are almost more beautiful than those of our own sky. I would dare to say that in the coldness here their glow is one of the most beautiful things this world has to offer."

Rayleth grinned for a moment as he watched Biara from the corner of his eye. His lips moved, accidentally giving words to his thoughts, "I would disagree that they are the most beautiful thing here." Realizing what he'd said, he paled and turned, looking back towards his work just in time to avoid a disaster with the spell he was working.

Biara's head turned, her fel green eyes gazing at him as he worked, a hint of surprise on her face. After a time, she broke the silence that had fallen between them, her words soft. "Rayleth, what you did the other day...it was dangerous. I do not mean just in the fact that you entered battle as an untrained apprentice, but rather saving my life was a dangerous act. There are those who would see you die just for doing such a thing, who would revile you for allowing me to continue to walk the world. I do not know if you thought of this or realized it, but a burning question lingers in my mind. Why?"

Rayleth paused, his work on the ward completed for a moment. He studied his handiwork, checking it for signs of imperfections before turning to meet her gaze. When he answered, his voice was firm in his conviction, "Because it was the right thing to do. I have heard the rumors about you, about the things you've done. It doesn't actually matter what you've done, but rather what you were doing. You were putting yourself at risk to protect the rest of those in this fort. I have lived as a commoner all my life, as a farmer actually until the Scourge came and took our lands and my family, and in all that time I can count on one hand the number of times a noble has put herself at risk as you did. It is not the past deeds that we judge someone by, but what they are doing now. Besides that, I don't even know if half the rumors about you are true anyway, nor do I care."

Biara kept her gaze affixed to his, never looking away as she responded, "Many of them are. I have done terrible things for the cause of the Sin'dorei, been a terrible person. It is my burden to bear so that the rest of Quel'Thalas can live in safety. It is why people will be displeased with your selfless act."

Rayleth shook his head, folding his arms across his head, "I say again I don't care. What you were doing now was heroic, and if others have a problem with that then I will deal with them as needed. When I learned that I had some gift with the arts, I swore that I would use them to serve our people. Being here now, aiding you, is doing exactly that and I will not be swayed from my course."

"That...is very heroic of you, Rayleth," Biara said, finally looking away and down at her dress. She toyed with a non-existent thread on her clothing, her voice softer now. "Weren't you afraid?"

He continued to gaze at her, watching the way the moonlight played in her fire red hair, his reply equally soft, "More afraid than I've ever been in my entire life. I don't know how you can do that all the time. Where do you get the strength?"

Biara shrugged, still toying with the thread on her dress, "Who said I have the strength? I do what I feel I have to do, whether I am strong enough or not. Whether I have to stand on my own or not. I have bled for the Sin'dorei, my body bears the terrible scars of my failures when I have fallen. I have had to play the part of the monster time and again, even if the very people I seek to protect come to fear me, revile me, and look at me with disgust. I will never stop trying to protect our lands, our people, until my dying breath. It is how my father raised me, to serve Quel'Thalas."

Rayleth blinked in surprise at the answer, stepping closer to Biara. Hesitantly he reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder and causing her to look up at him in surprise. He studied her face for a moment, the way her soft lips parted slightly as if to say more and he shook his head, "Magistrix...I have seen you in battle, seen what it is you fight for. You are neither a monster, nor alone. There are those who will support you with their lives, just as you sacrifice your own life for our nation. Maybe I'm just an apprentice and a commoner and I don't know how the politics of it all works, but I know what I see with my own two eyes. I am glad I was assigned to your House, because I know I can make an actual difference here."

Biara found herself at a loss for words for a moment, a blush spreading across her face and rising up to her eartips. "I....that's...very kind of you, Rayleth. It..it means a lot to hear someone say that. More than you know. Just...thank you."

Rayleth smiled at her, removing his hand from her shoulder and nodding, "Thank you, for all you do for Quel'Thalas, Magistrix."

Biara rose from the stones she was sitting on, staring into his eyes, more words on the tip of her tongue. He could see something there in her gaze, a distance between them as if she were afraid of something, or someone perhaps. Afraid to say the things she was thinking maybe? Afraid of getting too close to someone given the life she lead? Or perhaps she was remembering the things she'd seen and done in the past? Regardless of what it was, he saved her the burden of having to say more, his voice soft, "It is freezing cold out here, and I've many wards left to complete and wouldn't want to see you being forced to freeze beside me, Magistrix, I-"

Biara interrupted him, a smile playing across her face, "When it is just you and I speaking, please just call me Biara. I...it's nice to step away from everything, even for a moment."

Rayleth smiled, offering her a polite bow, "Very well then, Biara. Please, go and get warm. I would not wish you to suffer for me just to keep me company. You already do more than your fair share. I will be in shortly, and should you need me, know that you have but to call upon me."

Biara smiled, and to Rayleth's surprise, gave him a curtsey she might have given to a lord, "As you wish, Rayleth. And thank you. You've definitely improved my mood for the evening."

With that she turned and walked away, heading back towards the warmth of the command center. Rayleth watched her go, his mind reflecting on what had passed between them and his voice low when he responded to her after she was long out of his earshot, "As you have mine, Biara. As you have mine."