*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.
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*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.
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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."
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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.
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