*Falconwing Square, at a ceremony to dedicate a new initiative for magical research funded through the Reliquary*
"...and so it is with great honor that I offer my contributions to this project with the presentation of this statue to represent our continued drive to improve the lives of all Sin'dorei through magical power," Biara Dayfire said proudly, her arms spread wide to the crowd before her. Falconwing Square echoed with the applause of hundreds in the audience who had come to attend the ceremony and hear the pledges and contributions of the nobles that Biara had aligned herself with.
The group had agreed to let Biara give the speech commemorating the donation of the marble statue behind the Magistrix, the work commissioned by artists hand picked through House Sunfire and paid for with a stipend from Biara's personal treasury. It was to be followed by additional gifts of funds to help combat the lingering remnants of the Wretched within the district and to aid those families who were so poor that access to magic beyond the Sunwell or to magical care was limited.
Behind Biara a small group of attendees clapped politely, smiling at the Magistrix as she turned towards them. Amongst the group was the smiling face of Astariel, Biara's daughter having been given permission to attend the ceremony. Her delighted clapping was easy to pick out from the others and Biara shot her daughter a wink as she accepted a pair of golden scissors that would be used to cut a red ribbon draped across the statue, which depicted a cowled Magister seemingly offering an open book to those standing before it. Further back from the dais where Biara was giving her speech were a number of House Sunfire guards, with Braeth'el in attendance and watching over her as she gave her presentation.
Biara took the golden scissors in one hand, smiling and waving at the crowd again as she moved towards the statue. She turned away from those watching, reaching out towards the ribbon that she was to cut. It was in this moment of vulnerability that her enemies struck, the assassins hired by the Lord Orthan Dawnslight taking the opportunity presented when Biara's back was turned.
Even as she reached towards the ribbon, Biara heard a shrill scream echo over the sound of the applause, time seeming to slow down as Astariel darted in between the attendees and lurched towards her at full speed, her little voice piercing and instantly alarming, "Mommy! Watch out!"
The golden scissors began a seemingly endless tumble towards the platform upon which Biara stood as her daughter's urgency and panic washed over the Magistrix. Temporal magics rippled through her body, Astariel's unrefined and uncontrolled powers clashing with Biara's wards as the nine year old's hand touched Biara's side. Biara's eyes dilated and for a brief millisecond of time she was somewhere else, in another time.
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Tel'athar Dayfire had just finished his speech, his arms outstretched to the crowd of workers before him, their applause echoing through the open plaza. His impassioned tones had won over the workers, and his promises of better wages and working conditions had convinced them that the Lord Dayfire was indeed a man of honor as they had been told.
An adolescent Biara watched proudly from the side of the dais where her father was giving his speech, her mother standing rigidly beside her and presenting the very best public image she could to support Tel'athar's words. Biara clapped happily, enjoying the way her father had won over the people and knowing that he would make good on his word.
Her happiness was shattered a moment later as arrows flashed from the crowd, piercing her father's chest in several places. She screamed, her voice drowned by the shouting and yelling that had suddenly risen from the crowd as the hidden assassins struck.
Selun'athiel Dayfire screamed even louder, the sound a heartbreaking dirge that Biara would never forget for as long as she lived. Even as Tel'athar fell mortally wounded, Biara reached out for her mother's hand, her fear washing away her courage. She found herself rebuffed by her mother, shoved backwards towards the guards, her mother's voice shouting incoherently as magic began to build in the air around her, endless power that Biara was not yet old enough to fully understand.
************************************
Time lurched back to normal, and the weight of Astariel's young body slamming into Biara's hip jolted the Magistrix back into reality. Heartache raged through her as she fought off the emotions of the memory, trying to keep herself focused and knowing that something bad was coming that had so startled her daughter.
But Biara was not Tel'athar Dayfire. While she shared his passion for Quel'Thalas and his vision for a future where all elves within it could live in comfort and with their honor, she had lived through far too much, survived far too many battles. Where she fought with her father's honor, she had a cunning, an almost doomsday-like approach to every situation. There was no safety, not even in Silvermoon. There was never a time when one should not be prepared for war, when one should not prepare the members of one's House for war. And so it was that Astariel's hand came up and slapped against the wards glowing through Biara's dress, her tiny voice shouting the words that her mother had taught her to use in the most dire of emergencies.
"Belore!"
Magical wards crackled to life as Biara's arms came around her daughter, embracing her child in a cocoon of safety. Ice crackled through the air, slamming down around them in a barrier that was impenetrable. Even as it settled into place, Biara felt a shudder run through it as the arrows that had been aimed at her back missed their mark, the magic protecting her and her child from harm. Magic that her father had not thought he'd need amongst his own people.
Ice shattered around them, chips of it whirling through the air as the barrier finally shattered. Broken arrowshafts clattered onto the dais along with the frozen slush, and Biara whirled around, keeping her daughter behind her and her body between Astariel and their would-be assassins. It took Biara's combat instincts only a moment to recognize that there were five figures who were standing amongst the now panicking crowd that were not running away. Five assassins hidden within the group, intent on taking her life or possibly the life of her daughter.
Fury raged through Biara, and she felt Astariel's hand wrap around her own for a moment. Temporal magics battered at reality, and for a brief second Biara found herself again in that moment in the past.
************************************
The guards had clamped their hands on Biara's shoulders, dragging her backwards and away from Selun'athiel. She screamed wordlessly as her mother walked away from her, the magic in the air around the powerful sorceress almost too bright to look at. She struggled to break free, struggled to run to her mother's side even as House Dayfire guards dragged her away. It would be a regret she would carry for years that she couldn't stop Selun'athiel from what she did next, that she couldn't be there to support her mother, even if there had been little a child could do.
And Selun'athiel continued to walk away, her pace steady and determined. Never once did she look back at her daughter whom she was abandoning. Not one time did she consider those around her, the innocent workers who had not known that deadly assassins lurked within their midst. As her magic grew brighter, Biara was forced to shield her eyes, her despair causing her to crumple and allowing the guards to bustle her away, always away and towards safety.
Even as she was forced into a carriage by Dayfire guards, she would never forget the sound of the explosion that rocked the city behind her, or the sudden and utter silence that descended as hundreds of people passed from life in an instant.
************************************
Biara blinked as reality slammed back into place, rage and emotional pain mixing through her. For a moment nothing but a wordless cry escaped as the memories of her childhood's end tore through her mind. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts and looking down at her daughter.
Biara was not Selun'athiel Dayfire. Though rage filled her, she had learned through much hardship that control of her power was mandatory for her to survive in combat and in life. Her body bore the scars of her missteps, of her tendencies that made her sometimes lash out as Selun'athiel once had. But more than that, Biara loved her daughter with all her heart. She would never in a million years send the girl away to live with the agony of not knowing what had happened. She would never even conceive of leaving the little girl defenseless in a world that could take everything from her in a heartbeat.
"Astariel, Long Watch, by the statue!" Biara shouted, the code phrase one of many that she had developed with her daughter. It was time to fight, but Astariel would neither be dragged away screaming nor be left to the inadequate defenses of her guards who had clearly already failed.
The little Sin'dorei girl released her mother's hand, nodding once and drawing in a breath to keep her courage up. She touched a bracelet on her wrist and backed up until she was touching the statue, the artifact creating a curtain of blistering defensive wards around her. The little girl drew two very real, very deadly combat wands from a pouch and held one in each hand, facing away from the statue and prepared to defend herself or her mother as needed.
It had taken only seconds to prepare, and in that time much of the crowd had begun to flee in fear. Biara's hands came up, flames flickering at her fingertips as she snapped her fingers. Amongst the crowd the bowman that had fired the arrows meant to take her life suddenly burst into flames, his agonized screams echoing through the mayhem that the failed attempt had caused.
A second assassin hurled a ball of arcane magic in Biara's direction, the spell flickering as it slammed into defensive wards and was grounded. Biara's attention snapped towards this new attacker, words of power shouted into the wind ripping apart the Sin'dorei's next spell. Biara's hand lashed forward and the elf was whipped with flames, the attack designed to carefully pick him out amongst the innocents that still ran to and fro in between.
The other three attackers had drawn blades and were advancing through the crowd. Two of them had grouped together, and Biara watched in horror as one of them brought his weapon up as if to batter aside the fleeing civilians that had been watching the presentation. In a panic she drew a spellblade from her belt, the weapon flaring to life and fire dancing across the blade. With a shouted word Biara had relocated herself with a blink spell from the dais to a spot just before the Sin'dorei, her spellblade coming up and meeting the downward slash with a ring of metal and the roar of flame as magic weapon met cold hard steel.
Biara's arm was numbed from the impact but she nimbly tumbled aside as the attacker attempted to slash her again. The crowd around them ran in all directions, clearing out a space where the combatants could do battle. The second elf had dropped his sword in favor of drawing a bow with the hopes of shooting Biara while she was distracted. She shouted a word of power, blinking forward a second time and reappearing behind him. She stabbed her spellblade backwards under her own armpit, feeling it slam into the elf's back with a rigid thud and the hiss of flames meeting flesh.
The elf screamed and Biara whirled, losing her grip on her weapon as the mortally wounded and now immolated elf cartwheeled away. The second swordsman lunged towards her and she brought her hand up, her palm upright and level with her lips. She blew a breath across her palm, magic turning it into the raging fire of a dragon's attack. The elf was struck full on, his screams fading as he breathed in flames instead of air, his cooked form crumpling before her.
Biara casually stepped over her enemy, cold rage flowing through her as she yanked her spellblade free of one of the fallen corpses. The last attacker had pushed through the crowd and was attempting to climb the dais to reach Astariel. Small flickers of arcane magics from the girl's wands had burned parts of the steps leading up, and House Dayfire guards had reached her and were now surrounding her, but the thought that someone should try to harm her daughter sent Biara into blistering fury. Magic built in her hand and a fireball hurtled through the air over the heads of the remaining innocents that had not yet fled the scene, striking the last attacker in the back with an explosion of fire that made a deep boom echo through the square.
And then it was over, and Biara found herself stalking briskly through the thinning crowds, those around her who had come to their senses actually applauding her as she passed. Unlike her father, she had slain the assassins lying in wait for her. Unlike her mother, not a single innocent person was touched by her magic during the battle. The stress of the carefully controlled conflict left her shaking, but the rage she felt inside continued to fuel her steps as she neared the dais.
As she mounted the steps and moved past the smoking corpse of her enemy, she approached an armored line of House Dayfire guards who had weapons leveled in all directions. She brought her flaming spellblade up, pointing it at them, her tone imperious, "Step aside and move away from my daughter or die where you stand."
Guards blanched, several quickly hurrying out of her way and slamming into others. As they cleared a path Biara saw an inner circle of guards all around Astariel, but none closer than five feet from the girl. Kneeling that same distance away, she saw Braeth'el speaking softly with Astariel, pleading with the girl. Astariel's voice echoed from the group, "I'm sorry, Uncle Braeth'el, but you can't come any closer without saying the passphrase. Mother said so! I don't want to have to blast you so please don't okay?"
Biara physically shoved one of her guards out of the way, stepping into that five feet of cleared space and noting with pride that the dais was scorched in several places where her daughter had used her wands to shoot warning shots to keep everyone clear of her. None would lay a hand on Biara's daughter while the girl drew breath and while her mother was there watching over her. Biara's voice barked out over the silent guards, her tone scathing, "Step away from my daughter now. You have failed to protect her and she has done what I have asked her to do. Be thankful that I didn't tell her to slay everyone in sight."
Braeth'el rose, his hands outstretched, "Biara, take it easy. I know you're upset but-"
Biara brought her flaming spellblade up, the crackling tip almost touching Braeth'el's chin, "Upset? You think I'm merely 'upset'? Astariel could have been killed! How does the entirety of House Sunfire miss an assault on one of its heirs and her daughter in public?"
"Listen, I know it's bad. We will find out who did it and we'll take steps to-" Braeth'el began.
Biara cut him off instantly, her rage still evident, "I already know who did it. There is only one source for such an attack. As for you, maybe if you spent less time looking for threats in my sister's pants and more time doing your damn job my daughter would be safe. I will see to this matter, and to her security, myself. You have all failed me. Be glad that you are in Kyliska's good graces, because you are certainly not in mine! Astariel, reverie."
Astariel nodded once at the passphrase, slipping her wands away and speaking a word that caused the crackling wards around her to fade. She ran to her mother's side, wrapping her arms around Biara's hips as Biara hugged her tightly with one arm. The Magistrix brought her other arm up and spoke several words, tearing a portal open beside the two. With one last lingering glare that had endless malice in it, she and her daughter stepped through the portal and it vanished behind them, leaving the Dayfire guards to clean up the mess that had been made.
Braeth'el shuddered and shook his head. Biara was not someone to speak to when she was mad, and while it was not entirely fair to call everyone present a failure, her words had a stinging ring of truth in them given that they'd been unable to detect any hint of the threat outside the house. With a resigned sigh of someone who had a long day ahead of them, he began issuing orders to the guards in an effort to get the scene under control once more.
*************************************
Standing amongst the civilians who still remained at the scene of the attack, Lord Orthan Dawnslight shuddered. He'd watched his assassination attempt unfold and been horrified to see what he assumed would have been an easy task degrade into a complete disaster. Worse, he'd seen the burning hatred on the ward-scarred face of the Magistrix that he'd just failed to kill. It was very possible that he'd miscalculated a tad bit. One could only hope that she had no way of finding out who launched the assault.
He turned away in disgust, heading back towards a gilded carriage that awaited him nearby. There was no way she would be able to trace it back to House Dawnslight. Even if the attack had been similar to the one his father had successfully launched against Tel'athar Dayfire all those years before, he was sure she'd never figure it out.
He hoped.
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