Enemies Within

*Eversong Woods, Dawnsea Chapterhouse*

The chapterhouse was a small structure, containing a central shrine surrounded by corridors that had several rooms to accommodate the priests and priestesses that called the edifice their home. Deeper within the building, behind the main shrine, were a few rooms reserved either as storage or as the personal office and living quarters of the Prioress of the shrine. It was within the deepest part of these private areas where Alizathel's personal sanctuary was placed, and it was here that she performed her morning rituals.

Young for a Sin'dorei in such a position of power, Alizathel looked humble kneeling upon black velvet cushions before the marble slab of her personal altar. Eyes closed in meditation and prayer, her hands rested in her lap and her breathing was calm, even as the acrid, burning scent of the incense drifting from the censers on either side of the altar stung her nose and throat. Her prayers were silent, her inner voice quiet as she sought wisdom not from the Light, but from the shadows that gather at the light's edge; from the power rooted deep within the individual and their own selfish desires.

The priestess released a deep breath, her next inhalation taking in more of the incense and causing her eyes to water. The painful distraction was part of her meditation, part of her ritual to maintain her inner focus and iron will. It was nothing compared to the discomfort of bending and channeling shadow through her living form, the destructive force unnatural to one who had once been a simple healer.

Just as she was in the very deepest recesses of her meditative pose, the door to the small shrine burst opened, startling her; no one should be entering this part of the chapterhouse, as the only way into the almost closet-like room was through her own sleeping quarters. She rose quickly, her fel green eyes affixing the intruder with an intensity that made the other Sin'dorei falter in the doorway.

"P-prioress! A thousand apologies for the interruption, but he's here!" the novice priestess squeaked under Alizathel's stern gaze.

"Calm yourself, Namari, and tell me who exactly 'he' is if you would," Alizathel responded, her voice calm and controlled. It would not do to make the novices too fearful or they would not think for themselves, which is precisely what had put them all in this remote chapterhouse in the forest in the first place.

"T-the Master at Arms, Prioress," novice Namari replied, her voice frightened. "H-he said he wishes to speak with you immediately, without delay."

Alizathel's eyes widened and she felt her heart beating fast in her chest. The Master at Arms of House Dawnsea did not pay a visit for friendly chat, nor should his attention be on this minor little branch of House Dawnsea's holdings. Alizathel had spent great effort to avoid the notice of the rest of the House for as long as possible. It seemed now her efforts had failed. Worse, she had recently had a clandestine meeting with a member of House Sunfire. Should someone have discovered this...well, it was best not to think of it. When she replied, her voice had the same tightly controlled tone to it, "Very well. Bring him into the shrine room itself and I will be there in a moment."

As novice Namari bowed and backed out of the room, Alizathel silently cursed to herself. She turned to the altar, taking up one of the censers and hanging it from her belt. From the top of the altar she grabbed a skull-headed mace and also strapped that in place, and then sat a crown of dark iron atop her short, black hair. As she passed through her sleeping quarters, she paused to glance at herself in the mirror. Blackness greeted her gaze, her own dark black dress with its long sleeves drinking in the light. Combined with the black crown and her own black hair that partially covered one of her eyes with the way it was styled, she was as unlike the typical Sin'dorei as one could get. She gave herself a grin before turning from the mirror and heading towards the shrine; impressions were important after all.

As she passed through the corridors she saw the rest of the novices gathered here and there in alcoves, talking quietly to themselves. Everywhere fear permeated the very air; all here knew what such a visit might entail and after the disaster that had befallen Dawnsea Manor recently none wished to guess what might come next. Alizathel offered her flock grim smiles as she passed, feeling very much like she was walking towards her own noose.

She entered the shrine room itself through a side door, moving past the red and gold holy shrine to stand in the center aisle of the rows of intricately carved marble benches, her eyes taking in the sight of the Sin'dorei who had entered from the main double doors that lead out into the forest beyond. Two of them she dismissed at once, for they were clearly Blood Knights wearing Dawnsea's emblems and had been brought as bully-blades as necessary to ensure compliance. It was the third she studied shrewdly, her eyes taking in the sight of the exquisite leather armor and slender swords at the Sin'dorei's hips. A short cropping of blonde hair capped a face that held only malice in its gaze, the Master at Arms of House Dawnsea being a slender, lithe elf yet capable of inflicting death in a moment's notice.

"Master Methas Sunspark, it is an honor to greet you. How may I assist you?" Alizathel purred in just the correct tone of politeness. She offered the other a deep curtsy to show respect.

Master at Arms Methas Sunspark grinned when she addressed him, his eyes running up her curvy form in a manner that she found immediately distasteful, as if he were appraising her for her value or selecting an excellent cut of meat. He strode towards her, his voice booming, "Prioress Alizathel Dawnsea, I come on official business to bring you the word of your Matriarch."

Alizathel felt a lump forming in her throat and simply nodded; the last thing she wanted was Kenzie Dawnsea taking an interest in her, or in the chapterhouse. It was the primary reason she'd reached out to Selenthiel Sunfire in the first place; to avoid being under the thumb of the ruthless woman who, until now, had seemed content to enjoy the finest things in life and leave the rest of the Dawnsea bloodline alone. It seemed that time was to come to an end abruptly.

Getting no response, Methas drew closer, his Blood Knights milling about behind him and eyeing the shrine over with disinterest. When he spoke, it was in an almost gloating tone, as if he knew her discomfort, "Lady Dawnsea has purchased a new estate close to Silvermoon. It is to replace the one that was...so unfortunately lost in recent times. You and your clergy are to rededicate and bless the structure prior to the magic users laying down the wards and guards against our enemies."

"It would be our honor to bless the estate and its grounds," Alizathel responded dutifully. "It seems that you have been sent on an unnecessary journey, as I would happily have agreed to this request even if it came through missive only. You honor us by personally delivering it."

Methas's grin widened and he came within a few inches of Alizathel, this time not hiding his gaze as he ran his fel green eyes up her body from her boots to the crown atop her black hair, "It is my duty to ensure that the House is running in an orderly fashion so the Lady Dawnsea is not...bothered. Things such as the loss of an entire estate and the guards who are stationed there tend to get her notice, and she would prefer that such an event not recur with her new holdings. It would be a shame if someone had to be...harmed...to ensure that such a thing didn't happen again, wouldn't you agree?"

There was no mistaking the menace in his tone or the implications of his words. Alizathel swallowed and nodded, her voice low, "I would have to agree, Master Methas. House Dawnsea's holdings should remain unsullied by our enemies. You can, of course, depend upon us to bless the structure properly."

"Good, good," Methas purred in her face. His grin widened, becoming mocking now as he said something that shocked Alizathel to her core and made her gasp aloud. "There is another matter that I am to task you with. We know that Seluna's essence has been placed in a phylactery. Lady Dawnsea wishes it found. Immediately."

"I-I know nothing of such an artifact," Alizathel stuttered, her eyes wide. "I was not of Seluna's inner circle as you well know. I have already answered all of the questions that your Blood Knights put to me on the matter."

Methas moved so close now that his breath was hot against her neck as he whispered in her ear, his hand caressing Alizathel's face, "That is a shame, because the Lady Dawnsea suspects otherwise. Very few of Seluna's priests escaped the fall of the estate. You and those here are all that is left now, treasure that you are. It would be a shame if you failed to reveal information that you might be aware of. Possibly fatal..."

While she had been intimidated before, Alizathel found Methas's touch to be repulsive. When one of his hands slid up her thigh, rage built in her. Dark, inky black shadows began to seep from her, the power of her faith drawing from her anger and bathing her in the energy. A tendril of the shadowy power came up, wrapping around Methas's wrist where his hand was still caressing her face. When she responded this time, her voice was icy cold and condescending, "If you do not step back from me immediately, you will come to learn just how I survived. Commoner trash will not place their hands on me, regardless of their station. You forget what blood flows in my veins."

Methas withdrew a pace, his face contorted in rage. Behind him his bully-blades turned, each grasping sword hilts in a menacing fashion. With the distance between them restored, the shadows around Alizathel began to fade. It was for this reason that she was taken by surprised when Methas rushed forward again, his hand coming out to backhand her before he shoved her. She tumbled backwards, falling onto the smooth marble floor, her iron crown clattering on the stone as she crumpled, her dress like a pool of spilled black ink around her. Shadows raged from her, tendrils lashing the air around her. Through a purple haze of dark magics she gazed up at him, fearful and infuriated all at once.

He grinned down at her, hands on his hips and his Blood Knights flanking him with drawn steel. His voice was cold and commanding now as he gazed down at her, "Learn your place, Prioress Dawnsea, lest you lose it. The Lady Dawnsea has been disgraced, and she has not forgotten who was present at the battle, who failed in their service to her. As you lay on the floor, consider that it is symbolic to where you are in her mind even now."

Silence reined for a moment, and the shadows around Alizathel continued to rage. After what seemed like an eternity, she managed to choke back her rage enough to get them under control. Still laying on the floor, she dipped her head, her voice low, "I-I apologize, Master at Arms. I will heed our Lady's word."

"Good, see that you do, Prioress," Methas said coldly. He eyed her over again like she was some treat that had been dropped, his gaze lingering on where her dress had exposed her pale white legs. "The Lady Dawnsea wishes to have the phylactery in her possession as quickly as possible. Being one of the few survivors of the manor house, you will investigate and locate it before bringing it to her. Do not fail her, and do not fail to bless the new estate properly. Her eyes will be upon you, do you understand?"

"Yes, Master at Arms," Alizathel responded from her place on the floor.

Methas grinned, "Good. I will leave you to your reflection and meditation then, Prioress. We will meet again quite soon."

With that he turned, his Blood Knights grinning at her before sheathing their blades and stalking after him. It was not until the double doors had boomed closed behind them that Alizathel managed to release the breath she'd been holding. A shaking hand came up to rub her face where she'd been struck. A side door opened and two novices rushed in, gasping as they saw the Prioress on the floor. They ran over to her, quickly helping her to her feet, one of them handing her the dark crown that had been on her head. All of them looked worried, their eyes full of questions.

Alizathel shook her head, knowing the news she would share would not be good. The priests and priestesses of the little chapterhouse were part of House Dawnsea, yes, but they had secretly betrayed it. That they lived was because they had fled the battle at Dawnsea Manor, and had refused to support Seluna in her madness. How much of their rebellion Kenzie Dawnsea knew of was questionable, but the Master at Arms would complicate matters and could have them all killed if they were not very careful. They were walking on a sword's edge now, all of them, and it was up to her to lead them safely across.

In a voice tinged with worry, she gave orders to her novices, "Gather the others. We must prepare for a blessing. Send the senior novices to my personal quarters. We need to begin planning how to seek out Seluna's phylactery. The day we've all feared has come."

The novices gasped and then bowed deeply before hurrying off, their concerned shouts beginning to echo through the chapterhouse as the news spread. Alizathel herself stood still, gazing down at the black iron crown in her still shaking hands. She glanced up at the door to where the three had left, her voice laced with venom now, "I shall do your task, Methas, but not in the manner in which you would prefer. When I find her, when I find Seluna's phylactery, I will ensure that it is taken care of properly. Never again will I stay my hand, and I swear I will prevent a recurrence of what happened. Even if I must be used as a game piece by others, I will take Seluna somewhere that you will never get her."

She breathed out, her anger growing, her last words an echoing whisper spoken through rising shadows, "And once I do, I will have the resources necessary to ensure that you never touch me or anyone else ever again."

Covert Coven

The orc paused as he neared the ramshackle hut, his hunched form shuffling forward and a thick cowl covering his features. Adorned in tattered, shabby robes, he wore a number of wands and other magical items at his belt, a grimoire tucked into place in a small square pouch there. The orc’s hidden face turned this way and that, his gaze sweeping across the desolate, shadowed little pocket of Shadowmoon Valley that was Gul’var.

Seeing no one nearby paying him any heed, the orc shuffled forward again, pushing aside the ratty hide that hung over the entrance of the hut and making his way inside, allowing the hide to fall back into place and obscuring the interior of the hut from prying eyes.

Within, two orcs looked up, both of them having seemed to be working on projects laid out on benches before him. The newcomer was not fooled though, and saw the tinge of fel magics on their fingertips as they regarded him. His voice came out gruffly, the rough sound of something imprisoned within a throat that had to be forced out word by bitter word. What he uttered was a word that was not only alien to orcs in general, but completely foreign to the world of Draenor.

“Belore.”

The other two orcs relaxed for a moment, seeming to sigh and nod, both of them releasing the fel magics at their fingertips. Although the newcomer could not see their features beneath the illusions and the hanging cowls, he knew exactly what he’d find. To emphasize the point, he pushed back his hood, spells falling away to reveal the strikingly beautiful features of a female Sin’dorei.

Telatha grinned at the two ‘orcs’, once again appreciating the magic that had concealed her coven members Laerille and Bellemasra for so long. Magic that she herself had used to integrate herself deep within the Shadow Council coven at Gul’var. Magic that forced the spirit of an enslaved felguard to speak through the front of the cowl, echoing her words and making it sound as if she were an old male orc.

“I have seen to the final preparations. This is it. This is the last piece of our plan,” Telatha said quietly. Around them a glimmer of fel magic glowed, the spell containing the bound souls of lesser demons and preventing her words from carrying through the flimsy side of the hut. Although there were many powerful warlocks within Gul’var, most were focused on the latest events unfolding across Draenor and what had happened within Tanaan. Very few were paying mind to the daily routine of the smaller enclave of Gul’var.

“Lady Dayfire, are you sure you want to go through with this?” Laerille’s voice echoed from her cowl, temporarily undisguised. “What we are about to do…it’s one of the most dangerous things we’ve ever done. If we miscalculated, if we fail… The consequences will be dire.”

Within the overly-large, magically enhanced costume Telatha sighed, the breath flowing out of her as her coven member expressed the exact same fears that had been running through her mind over and over. But what choice did they have? There were events going on beyond any of them, and if they could help in their little way, then they had to do what they could.

Things had not been easy for the three coven members since passing through the Dark Portal. Immediately engulfed by battle and witness to the horrific magic empowering the portal’s energies, they’d managed to stay near enough to the Horde forces to evacuate from danger for a time. It was in Frostfire that their concerns first started to grow though, as they discovered traces of Fel magic and members of the Shadow Council that were very similar to what had originally engulfed Azeroth in the first place. In this second, mirror world, the threat to home seemed all the more dangerous as it was at its full power. Who better to face that then a small coven of warlocks who were trained in such magic and, better yet, knew how to avoid corruption? Telatha had seen it as her duty to aid the Horde forces that had risked all by coming to Draenor.

“I know, Laerille, believe me I know,” Telatha said heavily. “We cannot allow these threats to go unchecked though. While we are only three in number here and can do little about the rising of this Fel horde, we can do what is within our reach right here. The plan stays, and if we fall, then let us fall in such a way that no one will forget that we at least tried.”

“We will not fail, Lady Dayfire,” Bellemasra’s voice echoed from within her own cowl. “The coven united!”

Telatha smiled and nodded, replying in unison with Laerille, “The coven united.”

With that she donned her cowl once more, the spells falling back into place. In a gruff, older male orc voice she spoke to her two coven members, “It begins within the hour, let us proceed.”

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

Telatha and her small coven had been preparing for this moment for months now. After tracking down leads to the Shadow Council’s activities in Frostfire, they’d discovered portals leading to other areas of Draenor. They’d made a dangerous, covert trip across the continent, dodged various enemies including Alliance patrols, and made their way to Gul’var. It had taken many months of careful planning and work, of struggling and hardship, and they’d been out of contact with the rest of the Horde for most of that time.

Telatha knew that others would worry over her, but she could do little to help that at the moment. The work she was doing was too vital, too important to set aside for the moment to reach out to others for aid. If she faltered now, if their group failed, there would be devastation the likes of which she cared not to think about.

As the three made their way through the twisted, gnarled trees of Gul’var and around the ramshackle huts that the other warlocks made use of, they kept to themselves, looking as if they were moving with purpose. Their disguises had held up for all this time, and the three had readily discovered that if they moved together as a group and looked like they were going about important business, they were generally ignored or left alone.

As they moved, they passed deeper within Gul’var, heading towards a clearing amongst the huts and trees that had been prepared for a ritual. It was an activity that Telatha’s group had been keeping track of for some time now with growing alarm. There, atop the scorched flat stone outcropping, the twisted arms of a large portal had been constructed. The construct was relatively new, and whispers and rumor from the other warlocks within the camp had indicated it was to be used to summon a new wave of forces both from the nether and from Tanaan. They would slam into the Alliance positions further into Shadowmoon, forcing them to pull back and relieving pressure on Tanaan’s own forces. Many would die, Alliance and Horde both, if they were not stopped.

As the three paused, Telatha looked up at the large portal stones in the distance with a lump in her throat. The thought of fel orcs pouring through it was of concern, but worse was what was to come with it. As she watched from beneath her cowl, she saw one of the leaders of the coven moving slowly, carrying in his hands a cursed staff with a glowing green fel crystal on it. Even from this distance the power of the artifact could be felt, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that the rumors were true; the coven would summon dozens, and then hundreds of infernals and other large demons through the portal using that foci, overrunning this part of Draenor in a matter of weeks. It was up to them to stop it.

Telatha gestured very subtly with her hands, and Laerille and Bellemasra split off from her, each heading towards opposite sides of the cleared space. What they were about to do was surely suicide, but there was no other way to stop the Shadow Council forces at Gul’var. She swallowed a lump in her throat and then steeled herself; this was her purpose, her ultimate reason for being after all. Stopping the use of Fel magic, controlling its flow and power, and preventing corruption were the reasons why she had become a warlock in the first place. It was why she was not a mage as her half-sister was. She was the only one who could stop this.

Resolutely she stepped into the clearing, her actions unusual enough to cause several of the warlocks there to pause and study her. She did not belong there, and her ruse was nearly up. She paused halfway towards the great portal, watching as the leader of the coven, the one with the foci, turned to glare at her, barking in orcish and demanding a reason for her interruption of the great work.

Along the edge of the clearing, Telatha could see the two members of her coven moving swiftly, heading towards a series of magical circles that had been carved into the rough stone. Along the edges of the cleared space many lesser demons had been summon to empower the portal’s energies, their life energy forfeit for the power of the orcs that commanded them. As one would expect, many of these demons were displeased with this arrangement, and had, when approached, considered alternate employment options.

Telatha stood stone still, grinning as her coven members poured several spell components that they’d stolen onto sections of each circle. The magical components, including a mixture of silver and an acid, ate into both the stones and the magics that had bound the demons, the work unnoticed as another question was barked at Telatha.

Once Laerille and Bellemasra were more than halfway done, Telatha pushed back her cowl, her illusion faltering once and for all, her fel green eyes glaring at the orcs as they gasped in surprise. She held up a crumpled parchment before her, the document inscribed with the horrific sigils of the demonic language and bedecked with specs of blood all over it from the numerous pacts she’d made in the past few weeks. Her voice, her real voice, growled out the syllables on the parchment, the words flaring into flames as she spoke them and magic consuming the Pact document in a flash of light.

For a moment, no one moved and nothing happened, the orcs beginning to scramble towards her, several already chanting the words of spells. They were, unfortunately for them, far too late. Released from their weakened circles, enraged at their use as a simple fuel source and now in a Pact with Telatha, the demons along the edges of the clearing roared and charged at the orcs. Instantly bolts of fel magic flew and claws lashed out as the orcish warlocks attempted to quell the tide of demonic fury that rained down upon them. In the center of the maelstrom Telatha stood, her arms raised up high and her body shaking as she struggled to control a Pact with so many lethal creatures. She had only a few moments to direct them before they were free as she well knew, but they would accomplish her objectives while the Pact remained.

In the center of the clearing orc warlocks began to die by the ones and twos, and then in greater numbers. In the middle of the battle the leader of the group, the one with the foci, spat out orders even as he brought the staff up, felfire flaring from it and burning away dozens of demonic attackers. So focused was he on the task that he paid no heed to the now-unveiled Laerille and Bellemasra, both of whom had completed their tasks and who had quickly moved into strategic locations along the perimeter of the circular cleared space. As they came into position, both of them raised their hands, the fel wards on their bodies glowing in unison with those on Telatha’s body, fel magics linking them all together.

Telatha sighed, releasing the Pact and letting the horde of angry demons run free, knowing that they would do some damage to the surrounding countryside but that most of it would be to the orcs of Gul’var and that it was far better than what could have happened. There was just one last task to complete, one last thing although it would be the most dangerous. She spoke words of demonic, even as her sister-coven members did, fel power arcing to each of them and connecting them in a triangle that neatly divided the cleared space, its center around the orc wielding the foci.

“The coven united,” Telatha, Laerille, and Bellemasra all intoned in unison, power surging through them. 

Flames roared down from the heavens, Bellemasra’s empowered hellfire spell burning everything in the center of the circle, her energies enhanced by those of her coven members. Telatha fed magic into her, and the elf seemed to burst into flames herself as the ground erupted in explosions. Orcs and demons died in screaming flames, the fighting abruptly cut off as the demons remaining outside of the triangle of death chose to withdraw, knowing they would find easier victims further within the encampment. Within the circle, the warlocks burned, their spells having been used to fend off the attacking and loosed demons, their wards useless against the combined might of Telatha’s coven.

After several minutes, the three elves sighed, releasing hellish power and letting their magic die down. Each of them walked towards the center of the clearing, studying what remained there for any sign of a threat. They were greeted with the sight of charred ruin, most of the orcs having been burned to blackened skeletons by the time the spell was ended. There was one though who had not been burned, one whose power had been just enough to keep him alive, although he lay as if dead amongst the others. As he lay moaning, Telatha stood over him, reaching down to snatch the cursed staff from his hands, fel energies flaring in it for a moment.

“You should never have tried to bring devastation to our world,” Telatha intoned at him. “We have dealt with your kind well enough once before, and this time will be no different. Learn now the fate of those who believe that their power gives them the right to conquer, enslave, and destroy others.”

As Laerille and Bellemasra moved behind Telatha, she brought the foci staff up, turning its energies on the portal beyond. Instead of empowering it, she focused instead on the stones holding it in place. Fel energies crackled from the staff, burning her wrist with their power and making her cry out as a crackling line of lightning struck the rocks, blasting them apart and setting the portal to detonating. 

Secondary explosions rocked the clearing, sending shockwaves of wind past them and ruffling the tattered robes of their disguises. As the explosions began to grow, Telatha looked down at the dying orc at her feet, her eyes blazing with fel power and the marks on her cheek glowing bright green, “So ends your plans, warlock. We have done our part in this war.”

With that she brought the end of the staff down hard on the stone ground, the crystal of the head shattering into a thousand pieces. Fel energy began to build up and whine around the shattered artifact, and Telatha casually dropped the broken staff on the orc before her. She turned, her friends and coven members following as they walked away, explosions rocking the clearing behind them and sending bright green flames into the sky as they moved. As they passed through the demon-devastated encampment, a lone orc’s voice rose up in a scream right before the most powerful explosion of all rocked the ground enough to almost make them fall.

When the noise had died down, Telatha grinned at her friends, nodding at each of them in approval, “Good work, Ladies. I do believe it’s far past time we returned home. By now they’ve probably sent several search parties and rescue teams out looking for us.”

The other two Sin’dorei grinned and nodded, Laerille ripping open a demonic gateway with a spell before them. They moved with confidence, with the air of those who had done a great deed. Above all else, with the experience of heroes who not only had not needed saving, but had done what needed to be done all the while knowing no one would know or thank them for it.

Old Familiar Faces

Braeth'el leaned against the wall, his arms folded and his eyes half-closed as he casually loitered. Dressed in a simple pair of pants and a tunic that had no sleeves, he looked like many of the other commoners that milled about along the avenues and ways in this part of Silvermoon. He'd paid careful attention to detail, ensuring that his clothing and look was authentic to the elves that frequented this place, so as not to draw attention to himself, and then spent the past hour or so casually making his way through the city towards his destination.

His target stood now across the street from him, not a person but instead an edifice set back against the winding street. Rising several stories up, the miniature spire featured a gold and white, gated wall that cut the front of the property off from entry by those passing below on the street. On either side of the building sat rows of carefully tended gardens, with benches and inviting fountains meant to beautify the area around the small structure and make it look more magnificent.

Of course, House Dawnslight had little reason for such displays, especially given that the structure was only one of their many properties within the city. Even so, to Braeth'el's practiced eye the gardens were unnecessary and actually were a potential detriment to the security of the building, allowing passersby to linger too close to either side of the golden wall.

He'd come down to this part of the city personally to observe the Dawnslight holdings. After Biara had given him a rather interesting report related to her mother's former House, he'd taken it upon himself to gather more intelligence on them. They were a powerful family, and the fact that they'd remained relatively out of the spotlight meant they were very subtle about their political maneuverings; definitely something that put the spy on edge. It never hurt to learn more of a potential threat before it became an actual problem.

As he stood there in his subtle repose, Braeth'el's keen eyesight noted something that was completely out of place and rather not subtle. A robed and, for some reason, cowled elf made her way through the crowds, her head turning now and then to peek at the others around her to see if anyone was paying her any mind. It was so obvious that she was trying to be sneaky and failing at it that it was hard for Braeth'el not to stare. As she passed directly across from him, he got a glimpse of fel green eyes, a stony expression, and a hint of golden-brown hair tucked within the cowl. It was enough of a view to give him pause, the elf seeming to be hauntingly familiar to him.

When she turned and rather abruptly made her way into the gardens to one side of the Dawnslight holding, Braeth'el shook his head, pushing himself up and away from the wall, muttering to himself as he began to follow the elf, "Just lovely..."

Taking actual care not to be noticed, he slipped through the crowd casually, making his way into the garden as if he were looking for a place to rest, slipping down the cobbled paths until the street was out of view beyond the decorative plants. His gait changed then, moving more swiftly as he followed the robed figure where she had disappeared deeper within the garden. He paused as he found her, his instincts immediately picking up on what was going on; the elf had begun to cast some sort of spell, her voice low and chanting out the words. A quick glance up showed him an open window about two floors up on the miniature spire next door.

"Practicing your magic, are we?" Braeth'el said casually, slipping around the elf and startling her.

Her eyes widened in shock and her face twisted into a sneer as she finished the spell, a hideous shadow fiend appearing before her, its shadowy tentacles oozing out over the ground. She responded, her voice a low hiss, "It's none of your business what I'm doing!"

Braeth'el held his hands out, palms facing her to show he carried no weapon. His voice was calm when he replied, his gaze meeting hers, "Do you not remember me, Kestrial? Has it been so long?"

The other elf blinked once beneath her cowl, seeming to hesitate for a moment, "I-I....Braeth'el...? H-how...are you here? Why are you following me? I won't let you stop me! It doesn't matter if we've been friends in the past!"

And indeed they had been. Kestrial had been just another orphan on the mean streets beside Braeth'el and his sister. He'd know her well when they were children, had helped her steal food or make toys out of bits of wood they'd scavenged. She'd grown since then, and the world had obviously not been kind to her. She was lean, and her expression was one of bitterness mixed with that determined fire that he remembered from long ago; the one that would usually get them in trouble. He spoke again, trying to soothe her, "Kestrial...whatever it is that has sent you down this path, there are other ways. If you do what I think you're about to do and try to send that spell into the tower, they'll know who it was and they have defenses for it. Are you mad, to think that you can assault the holdings of a powerful House within the city itself all by yourself?"

"They deserve to suffer for what they did to me!" Kestrial nearly shouted, jabbing a finger in his direction. "I can see that your life has gone just fine. You look healthy as an ox and in perfect shape. We've not all been so lucky, and one of the bastards in there ruined my life! So if you will excuse me, I'm going to make him pay for that."

Braeth'el could tell his old friend was riled, and it was likely that something truly awful had been done to her. Still, he couldn't let her wildly assault the structure with magic; it was not only foolhardy but would likely get her killed. He stepped towards her, his hands still outstretched, "Kes...stop and think for a moment. You'll be killed. I can't let you do that."

"Stand back!" Kestrial shouted. She gestured and the shadow fiend before her shifted towards Braeth'el, tendrils lashing out. He brought his arms up in time to block the assault, the creature's strange appendages wrapping around his wrists and trying to squeeze the bulging muscles on his biceps. He grunted, trying to grip what was essentially shadow, wrestling with something that was hard to pin down.

"Kes...stop!" he growled as the shadow fiend moved closer, more of it's inky limbs slapping at him. One began to wrap around his neck, trying to squeeze the breath out of him as Kestrial stood on the other side of it, her weight shifting from one foot to another nervously and her look uncertain; it was clear she didn't want to kill him and that things had gone much further than she'd planned.

Unfortunately, the situation was growing dire. Braeth'el's vision dimmed slightly as his air supply was choked off, and he knew that Kestrial, intentionally or not, might kill him with the spell purely by accident. He began to struggle harder, resigned to the fact that he might have to draw steel and hurt her to end the spell.

He was saved that trouble a moment later when a figure appeared behind Kestrial. Her eyes widened in shock as a hand wrapped around her, a very serious looking combat knife pressed to her throat. She glanced down in surprise, noting the feminine but calloused hand that was holding the knife in place, even as a female voice whispered in her ear, "End the spell, or I end you."

For a moment no one moved, and the elf behind Kestrial jerked the knife a bit, as if to emphasize her point. Kestrial squeaked something out in a panic and a second later the shadow fiend disappeared as if it had never been there. Braeth'el took a big, gulping breath of air and rubbed at his throat, staring at the two elves.

It was uncanny, to say the least. Kestrial's cowl had fallen back when the other elf had grabbed her, and now two sets of fel green eyes appraised him. The second elf still held Kestrial tightly, her weapon hard against the other's throat, but as she peered over Kestrial's shoulder, it was like he was seeing double. Their steely-eyed expressions were identical, the golden-brown of their hair glowed the same in the afternoon sunlight; even their height was similar, with both of them much shorter and more petite than he himself was.

After he'd had a moment to appraise the situation, Braeth'el nodded his thanks to the newcomer, noting the bow and full quiver peeking over the corner of her shoulder, "Well met, and thank you, ranger. You can release her now. I don't think Kestrial is going to try any additional spells, are you Kes?"

"N-no..." Kestrial said miserably.

The ranger grunted and abruptly released the shadow priestess as quickly as she'd captured her, the knife disappearing into a sheath with an efficiency that impressed even Braeth'el. She stepped back from Kestrial, nodding at Braeth'el, "Happy to be of service, sir. I am Ranger Captain Mayri Emberfall of the Emberfall Rangers of Quel'Thalas."

"Well met, Mayri," Braeth'el said, glancing between the two in wonder once again, "Your intervention was timely. I am Braeth'el, Master at Arms of House Sunfire. My friend Kestrial here is...going through difficult times. I am sure she did not mean to harm anyone. Isn't that right, Kes?"

Kestrial's eyes widened as Braeth'el spoke his title, looking almost as if he'd insulted her. Even so, she was acutely aware that she had a rather well armed and lethal ranger standing within a hand's breath of her. Her response was subdued when she replied, "R-right. I...I'm sorry. I let my emotions get the best of me. I just...there's a lord in the tower. He ruined my life, my reputation...h-he...had me whipped! I can't take it. Something must be done!"

Behind Kestrial the ranger snorted, her voice light, "I imagine if you're the sort to use dark magics at every slight you may have had reason to be punished, or if not in this case, then for some other reason. You need to learn to control your temper and focus."

Braeth'el observed closely as Kestrial was about to reply hotly and then thought better of it, choking back her words and merely nodding. She was in the wrong; it was obvious to everyone. The fact that neither were attempting to arrest or imprison her and were giving her the benefit of doubt was a mercy that she might not necessarily deserve. Braeth'el spoke up to break the tension, his voice soft, "Kes, I think we should talk a bit and figure this out together hm? Things aren't like the old days. I have ways to help now beyond showing you where a good loaf of bread lies unattended for you to steal. Whatever has happened to you, it's not worth your life and things can improve."

"Your friend speaks the truth," Mayri added behind her, her voice also consoling. "My own life has neither been easy, nor without its own ups and downs. Whatever has lead you to this path can be fixed if you rely on your friend here. Rather than, you know, trying to choke him to death with wild magics."

Kestrial had the grace to blush and look away from Braeth'el for a moment, biting her lip in anxiety, "I-I...okay, fine. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made a mistake here. That I reacted that way. I wasn't...thinking clearly. I just hate....you know what? It doesn't matter. It's over."

Braeth'el nodded, meeting her gaze, "Right. It is, but maybe this was a fortunate meeting. I can help you if you want, Kes. For old time's sake if for no other reason. It would be good to catch up a bit also, wouldn't it?"

"Yes...I suppose it would," Kestrial said somewhat sullenly.

"Good!" Braeth'el smiled, trying to distract her from her obviously dark thoughts. "If you've any healing spells that are as good as your shadow spells, I suspect we could even find a place for you. Work, room and board, a future. We'll talk about it after you've had a chance to 'unwind' shall we say?"

"Fine," Kestrial replied, tight lipped.

Braeth'el nodded and smiled, glancing back at the ranger again. A quick glance at her confirmed his earlier impression of the Sin'dorei; she was a professional. Outfitted in the latest armor and combat gear, with not a speck on her that would glimmer in the sunlight should she be in the forest, he suspected that the bow on her back was well used and not for ornamentation. He nodded at her again, "As for you, Ranger Captain, you've been a big help. House Sunfire is always looking for external resources that we can tap in times of emergency. I'm sure that the ladies of the House would be interested in speaking with you at some point in the future, and I will put in a word with them about you. In the meanwhile, take our thanks and an open invitation to visit or make use of any services we can provide you or your men."

Mayri nodded, bringing a hand to her heart in salute and standing at attention for a moment. It was charming to Braeth'el to think that someone would pay him military respect, "As you wish, Master at Arms. It was my pleasure to assist you. I trust that you and your...friend...are no longer a concern to the residents of this structure so I will be on my way. I will consider your words in relation to House Sunfire."

"Excellent," Braeth'el said, shifting to begin subtly prodding Kestrial from the gardens.

Mayri glanced on more time at Kestrial before whirling in place and moving swiftly away from them, out of the gardens. As she spun, Kestrial's eyes locked onto a necklace around her neck. It was the only speck of gold or metal of any sort that was not dulled a black color, but it was not the color that made her eyes widen, it was the emblem of a raven that was engraved on the pendant.

She stared after the ranger long after she had slipped from sight, her hands coming up to her neck and pulling an nearly identical pendant from within the confines of her robes, her hands shaking. The pendant had been left with her when she was a baby, abandoned at birth at an orphanage. She'd never seen its like again, and the craftsmanship was unmistakable.

How did a ranger have the same piece of unique jewelry on her?!

The question turned over and over again in her mind as Braeth'el gently guided her from the garden, herding her away from her ill-planned vengeance and towards a gleaming spire that rose up further into the city. All the while, Kestrial's thoughts whirled, even as she answered almost automatically to the meaningless chatter that Braeth'el kept up in a stream of consciousness beside her while they walked.

Even as they approached House Sunfire's spire within the city, the thoughts still weighed on the troubled priestess's mind, her eyes glancing back as if to look for the brown-haired ranger one last time. There was a mystery here that she had to unravel, on top of a list of other things including learning more about Braeth'el's new life and position and, of course, taking her vengeance on those who needed to pay.

An Unexpected Visitor

The sunlight warmed Kyliska’s skin, her form soaking in the rays as she lay upon a blanket spread over the beautiful white sands of the beach. She sighed happily, enjoying the moment of relaxation, her eyes closing in the pure bliss of simply enjoying the day. A happy shout made her open her eyes for a moment, and she stared out over the gorgeous blue water, watching as Braeth’el lifted Biara’s daughter Astariel up into the air playfully, the girl shouting again and laughing. He brought her back down, nearly dunking her in the water and she shrieked in delight.

He will make a fine husband one day, a fine father for my own children.

The thought had come unbidden, but it made Kyliska smile secretly as she watched Braeth’el gently bring Astariel down into the water, her eyes devouring the way the sunlight played on his bronzed skin and glittered with the beads of ocean water that clung to muscles seemingly carved from rock. She sighed again, snuggling on the blanket and letting her eyes drift closed, imagining the happy times that the future would hold.

A moment later a shadow fell over her, blocking out the sun with its darkness. Kyliska frowned, peering up with one eye, her mouth opened to scold Braeth’el from blocking her sunlight. What she saw made her jerk in shock, her heart racing in her chest as a pair of glowing blue eyes stared down at her, the face of the dead elf above her pretty and framed with golden blonde hair. Kyliska nearly jumped to her feet before she realized who it was that was standing there, a hand coming to her heart as she regained her breath, “Sunwell! You scared me Avielle! I thought there was a ghost there…”

Kyliska’s voice trailed off as she realized just how offensive such a thing might be to an undead person. For her part, the death knight Avielle Silverlight merely offered her a half smile, as if she found the entire situation amusing. Dressed in a shimmering black and silver dress, she looked nothing like the warrior that had saved Kyliska from captivity all those months ago. After regaining her composure for a second time, Kyliska did rise, peering at the other elf with curiosity, “Why have you come here? How did you come here? I mean, how did you find me that is?”

Avielle studied Kyliska for a moment and then spoke softly, her tone even as if she were afraid to give offense, “It has been months since last we spoke. When I returned you to your estate on that occasion you were in no condition to discuss…well, anything. I have waited patiently for a chance to speak with you again, but time has passed and I’ve heard nothing. Most recently I heard rumors about a narrowly avoided disaster at one of your garrisons, and when I attempted to speak to a member of your newly enlarged House about it, I was rebuffed and told to seek you at your estate.”

Kyliska’s mouth opened in surprise for a moment and she had the grace to look embarrassed even though the death knight had somehow tracked her down on a beach while she was sunbathing in a bikini, “I um…I’m really sorry about this but it totally slipped my mind to come and seek you out. I know I should have but… a lot has happened.”

Avielle held up a hand, shaking her head, “It is I who should apologize, for I have come uninvited and unannounced. I just...when I heard about these troubles through my agents, I became concerned. Our accord still holds for as long as you draw breath, and as such I feel an obligation to help you.”

She paused for a moment, biting her lip in thought and shaking her head, “No, obligation is the wrong word, for what do the dead owe anyone? Instead, the accord gives me purpose. It gives me a reason to be Avielle. To continue to walk the forests of Quel’Thalas. To think of dishonoring it makes me…upset. Does that make sense?”

Kyliska smiled at the undead elf, meeting her gaze, “Yes, it does make sense and I’m sorry that a member of my House has made you feel unwelcome. You may always come to our estate to seek me out if you need to speak with me. I owe you that much both for saving me and in honor of the accord my father signed.”

Avielle smiled at this, seeming to relax a little. It was hard to tell with an undead creature, but a certain tension seemed to drain from her. Her voice was softer when she responded, “Do not blame your priestess, Lady Selenthiel, for rebuffing me. Her kind have understandable qualms about dealing with the dead. I fear I may have left a sour impression with her however. I hope that she will, in time, come to see past such things.”

Kyliska laughed, “Oh don’t worry about Sel, I’ll talk to her the next chance I get! That is easy enough to fix. I really do feel bad though; I should have come to see you or at least sent you a missive. My life has been…well, crazy lately. I’ve been attacked, been in battle, found romance. It’s…”

Kyliska trailed off, amazed that she was chatting away with a dead elf as if they’d been friends for years. The death knight’s quiet and seemingly serene nature made it easy to speak with her, despite what she was. For her part, Avielle seemed to be enjoying the fact that someone, anyone, was speaking to her at all. She offered Kyliska a knowing smile, “I remember my own, similar times. I am glad that your life has been blessed, Kyliska. My only hope is that it continues to be so and that I can aid you where I may. I came to you today for two reasons related to this.”

Kyliska studied the pale face of the other elf, an eyebrow raised, “Oh? Do tell! We have all day my friend!”

Avielle turned and stepped aside, revealing a rather large and long pack that she had brought with her. She knelt beside it for a moment, undoing ties on the top of it and slowly opening the canvas top. Within the pack was a long wooden box that Avielle carefully removed from the pack. She turned towards Kyliska, lifting it and placing it at her feet, remaining on her knees before the other elf. She looked up at Kyliska, her expression hopeful as if seeking approval for what she’d presented, “I have found something of interest to you. Something that I had restored in remembrance of those who have fallen and of our accord.”

Kyliska smiled, kneeling down on the other side of the long box, her hands reaching out to touch the polished wooden surface. With an encouraging nod from Avielle, Kyliska undid the clasp that held the box shut, lifting the lid to reveal a sword laying atop velvet within. Kyliska’s eyes widened as her hand reached out to grab the gold-enameled pommel, her breath catching in her throat.

“I present to you with Belore’melorn. Your father’s sword Sunstrike,” Avielle said softly. “I discovered the broken fragments of the blade on our estate grounds. Although I never found your father’s body, I have had his blade reforged for you to wield in honor of what he did for our people.”

Kyliska couldn’t breathe and tears ran down her face as she held the golden weapon before her, a piece of her father’s heritage clenched in her hands. Her hands shook for a moment, and she drew in a deep breath before gently setting the blade back down within its case. She leaned over the box, her arms wrapping around a stunned Avielle and hugging her tightly, “Thank you so much. You have no idea what it means to me or how wonderful a gift this is.”

Avielle shifted, clearly uncomfortable and surprised that a living person would touch her. The feeling of Kyliska’s blessed form against her own unholy body was somewhat painful, but she did not push the Blood Knight away until she’d had her fill of the moment. She smiled again, reaching back to the now mostly empty pack and pulling out a second object, this time holding a silver necklace with a green emerald set in the center.

“I have created this with magic that I believe will be inert to you,” she said. “If you call for me, if you say my name or the name of my House, I will come to you in need. This way I will feel assured that you can obtain my aid in an emergency. It would…make me more comfortable to know the accord was protected.”

Kyliska nodded, taking the necklace from the undead elf and wiping her face with her free hand, “Thank you. My sister has given me similar items in the past so I understand how useful they can be. I will keep it with me always.”

Avielle was about to speak again when another shadow fell over them. As Kyliska rose, Braeth’el came up beside her, an arm around her and a rather hard look on his face, “Who do we have here, Kyli?”

Kyliska blinked once, wiping away more tears and coming to realize she had never told Braeth’el about the death knight. Her mouth opened and closed, a million details she needed to tell all trying to get out at once. She was saved the trouble when Avielle herself spoke, her tone cooler but polite, “I am Avielle Silverlight, last Heir of the fallen House Silverlight and vassal by accord of the Lady Kyliska Sunblade, ruler of House Sunfire.”

Braeth’el blinked once and Kyliska drew in a sharp breath, the words laying bare the entirety of the situation quite efficiently. Braeth’el’s tone was wry when he responded, a half smile on his face, “Are you now? And yet I’ve never heard of you before. Strange, being the Master at Arms for House Sunfire.”

Avielle dipped her head once in respect, her tone mild when she replied, “I beg your pardon, Master at Arms, but I am not beholden to House Sunfire. My accord is with the Lady Sunblade, and I answer to her and only to her.”

Braeth’el chuckled at this, his tone amused now, “Oh Biara must adore you!”

Kyliska gave Braeth’el a sharp elbow to the ribs, her tone stern, “Biara doesn’t know about her and I forgot to mention Avielle to you. I’m sorry, but a lot has been going on. She fought beside my father and fell with him as well, and was the one who saved me from captivity.”

Braeth’el studied the death knight closely, his eyes meeting her icy cold gaze, “Well then it seems that you are owed my thanks, Avielle. It is a shame I’ve not heard more about you before this.”

His tone was clear, and Kyliska had the dignity to blush a little. For her part, Avielle simply nodded again, her gaze going out over the ocean. Her expression softened and for a moment something sparkled in her eyes, “I remember...we used to swim in the Elrendar river. We’d dip our feet on the warm days and then slip into the waters to cool off.”

“Oh you should go swimming then!” a voice piped in from behind the group. Kyliska turned in surprise as Astariel bounded past her, running right up to the death knight as if there were nothing unusual about her at all. To everyone’s everlasting shock, she grabbed Avielle’s hand, pulling her towards the water, “Come on! The water is beautiful today!”

For a moment Kyliska felt tension surging through Braeth’el as the death knight’s hand closed around Astariel’s. Kyliska could almost feel his seething thoughts about how one of the heirs of the House was near an unknown danger. Before he could say anything she wrapped a hand around his arm, her presence anchoring him in place and seeming to serve a word of caution and patience. The moment stretched on and Kyliska was rewarded when Avielle began to slowly move in the direction the young elf had been pulling her, her blue eyes fixed on the water.

“Oh you have to take your shoes off silly!” Astariel laughed as she pulled the death knight towards the surf.

Almost woodenly Avielle kicked off her shoes, seemingly lost in some memory from long ago, her feet stepping into the surf as Astariel released her hand and darted along the shore, laughing happily. For a moment Braeth’el merely watched the death knight, allowing Kyliska’s arm to hold him in place as the undead creature followed the child, his thoughts whirling. As Avielle stepped further into the ocean, one of the most puzzling questions was answered as she lifted the hem of her dress to avoid getting it wet, exposing the tip of the runeblade that was clearly strapped higher up on one pale white thigh.

For a moment the death knight looked back, her gaze meeting Braeth’el’s and an understanding passing between them in that instant. Here were two extremely dangerous individuals, but of alike purposes. In that moment, Braeth’el gave a subtle nod, understanding that the death knight would pose no threat to House Sunfire’s heirs.

As Avielle turned away, Kyliska’s arms wrapped around Braeth’el’s waist. He turned in place, staring down at her with an almost scolding expression on his face. Kyliska looked up at him, intentionally plastering an almost vapid look on her face, “What’s the matter Hunky Bear? Don’t look at me like that, okay? I know I should have told you. It was an accident. And besides, we’ve had a lot going on.”

Braeth’el sighed, glancing back to see if Avielle had been close enough to hear Kyliska’s pet name for him before shaking his head. How far could a death knight hear anyway? He didn’t even know. He looked back down at Kyliska, sighing again as she leaned on him, almost strategically also placing her impressive cleavage dead smack in the center of his view. It was like she played such games by accident sometimes. When he responded, his voice was one of long-suffering exasperation, “You know you’re going to be the death of me one day, right babycakes?”

Kyliska’s false expression melted and she grinned wickedly as Braeth’el replied with a pet name of his own, “Oh, I know.”

“And you’re perfectly okay with this? You’ll be a murderess you know,” Braeth’el chided, wrapping his arms around Kyliska.

“Yep! But you’ll love every minute of it,” she responded slyly.

Braeth’el sighed again and shook his head, “We will let your…friend…stay for a while. But once our adventure at the beach here is over I will look into this further. I do trust your word on this, and surprisingly, hers. If she had wanted to kill you there would have been no point in tricking you in the first place and she could have done it when you were imprisoned. Even so, I’d like to know more. More about her, about the accord with your father’s house, and about her fall. Silverlight…it sounds familiar to me. I remember Tel’athar mentioning it before.”

Now it was Kyliska’s turn to sigh. She rolled her eyes, squeezing Braeth’el tightly, “You always have to bring up work. Can’t we just relax for a bit? We came out here to relax and let Astariel play. Let’s talk about schemes and plots another time okay?”

Braeth’el sighed again and then nodded, “Sure. I can let this lie for now.”

They both turned, watching as Astariel laughed and splashed in the water, running in circles around a dead elf who had a look that was a mixture of bemused delight and the dancing shadow of memories from times long past on her face. Kyliska hugged Braeth’el closely as they watched, sighing softly, “She’s adorable and friendly. I don’t care if my sister or anyone else doesn’t like her, she’s done so much for me already.”

Braeth’el gave a noncommittal grunt, watching the death knight from a distance, his hands wrapped around Kyliska. Although Avielle Silverlight did indeed appear to be an ally and harmless, he knew better than to trust outward appearances. He also knew exactly what she was, and if Kyliska wished to forget that they were staring not at a girl but at a necromantically created weapon then it was up to him to ensure that someone remembered at all times. Even so, having such an ally could be useful if she could be trusted.

“Besides,” Braeth’el thought with a grin, “It will REALLY piss off Biara to have someone around that she can’t order about or manipulate with her scheming. It’ll be worth it just to see that!”

With the issue decided, he smirked and then moved suddenly, scooping Kyliska up in his arms and charging towards the water with her. She shrieked, pounding on his arm to no avail as he carried her into the sea kicking and laughing.

Despite the unexpected visitor, it turned out to be a very pleasant day indeed.