In the Dawn Times

Biarathiel winced, stretching her right arm out to the side and then bringing it up over her head and feeling the muscles in the lithe limb pop as they flexed. The bitter cold winds of Frostfire howled outside of the command building of her garrison, and she shivered despite the goblin-made gas burner that kept the interior of the building warm. The numbing cold seemed to try to make its way into every crack and cranny of the structure; a constant nuisance and invader. What was worse, it made her weary body ache bitterly in places where she'd been wounded in distant times.

With a sigh she brought her arm down again, rubbing it gently with her left hand at her right elbow, trying to soothe the raging pain that popped up after an excursion into the cold to check for more clues as to Telatha's whereabouts. There was only one solution for the ache; something she'd learned long ago. With a smile she began to hum to herself as she walked over to the small camp stove set up in the corner of her personal quarters. She lit a fire in the small gas burner, setting a pot of water to boil on top of it before turning towards a very small table that sat beside the hammock where she made her bed.

Reaching into a nearby jar, she took out several types of dried herbs and began to chop them up with a knife, the herbal remedy for the aches something she'd used a million times in the past. Soon she'd brew a nice, warm tea with a hint of the herbs in it and the pain would be numbed for a time. She shook her head, her mind wandering back to the time when her body didn't ache quite so much; to a time when her arm had originally been injured....

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*Long ago, far before the fall of Quel'Thalas to the Scourge. In Amani catacombs in Quel'Thalas."

Tel'athar Dayfire crouched low in the long, rough corridor, his shield held in front of him, a short sword steady in his other hand. He looked over his shoulder, concern on his face as he met Braeth'el's gaze, "She should have been back by now."

"She'll be back. You know Bia; sometimes curiosity gets the best of her and she tarries when she shouldn't," Braeth'el replied. Though his words were light-hearted, Tel'athar could sense the underlying concern for his sister in his tone.

"If she's not back in another minute or two, I'm going in there to get her whether she likes it or not," Tel'athar declared. He received no protest from Braeth'el, and the two knew that they would destroy the entire tunnel complex brick by brick if need be to get Biarathiel back in one piece. Her scouting mission had gone on far too long and both felt the rising anxiety caused by waiting.

Fortunately, the fears of the two Quel'dorei were alleviated a moment later when a figure stumbled from the end of the corridor, hurrying towards them. They could see the blue glow of Biarathiel's eyes as she approached. As she drew near the torches that lit the dim stones of the corridor, both elves could see that blood trailed down her arm and that she was wincing in pain.

"Bia!" Tel'athar shouted, rushing forward to help support the elf as she drew near. He could see that the wounds were superficial, perhaps caused by a blunt impact with the spiked head of a mace or morningstar. "What happened?!"

"There's an Amani voodoo priest in there, just as we feared," Biarathiel said quietly. "He's hexed a number of elves and also conjured the spirits of the mummified trolls that were buried in these catacombs. Basically the complex back there is full of zombies, and they're headed this way. We need to get out of here and get backup."

From further up the corridor the trio heard the sounds of shuffling and strange moans as the voodoo-cursed elves and summoned creatures began to approach. Tel'athar exchanged a grim look with Braeth'el before nodding, "Right. Let's get out of here then. We'll need to get some forces from Silvermoon to clear out this mess."

With that he turned towards the other end of the corridor, intent on leading the trio out of the darkness under the earth. They'd come in to explore the tunnels after rumors of elves disappearing had begun to surface, hoping to put an end to whatever creature may have lurked down in the depths. Finding the old Amani ruins under the ground, they had determined that something far more sinister was afoot.

They had not gone ten paces before cackling laughter echoed from the corridor behind them. Instantly all three whirled around, their gaze taking in the form of a troll shuffling down the corridor ahead of a mass of undead trolls and very dazed looking elves who had obviously been drugged, "Where ya be goin' mon? Ain't no way you gonna get outta 'ere alive!"

The Amani voodoo priest cackled again before reaching over and touching a snake carving on the wall. The eyes of the snake retracted, and a rumbling sound filled the corridor as the floor shook. The trio of elves shared concerned glances before the floor behind them began to collapse. Biarathiel felt her footing begin to fall as the stones beneath her fell away, and she shouted as she began to plummet into what she realized was a pit filled with snakes.

Just as she was about to fall, Tel'athar's hand shot down and grabbed hers, his strength holding her aloft before Braeth'el lent his own arm to pull her from the brink of the pit. As they set her on her feet, they surveyed the corridor, realizing the way out had been completely blocked by the new pit.

Thinking quickly, Braeth'el pointed to the wall over the pit, "The stones are jagged there. We can climb it, but it'll be slow going." He glanced back over his shoulder to see the laughing voodoo priest and his army of zombies looming closer. "We're not going to have time."

Tel'athar shook his head, his blonde hair framing his noble features as he spoke firmly, "No, we don't, but if one of us stays behind the other two will make it. I'll hold the corridor behind you. Go and rouse the guards, we can't leave this place intact or more elven lives will be in danger."

With that he turned, his chainmail armor clinking lightly as he set himself in place in the center of the corridor, his spellbreaker's shield held in front of him and sword firm in his other hand. Biarathiel looked at her brother, sadness written in her features as she realized one of them was going to have to be a sacrifice for the others. Braeth'el's look mirrored his sister's, even as he turned to appraise the stones along the corridor's edge to assess where they could start climbing.

In the hallway behind, the first of the zombies reached Tel'athar, and his shield lashed out, bashing the attacker aside. He tried to save his sword for the undead only in the hopes that the drugged elves could later be saved, but as more and more began to pile atop him he realized that any mercy he showed would only serve to undo him and put his friends at risk. Resolutely his weapon lashed out, and enemies fell around him.

In the distance, the voodoo priest cackled again, dark magic hurtling from his hands towards Tel'athar. The noble elf was a spellbreaker however, and he brought his shield up, its wards shearing the fabric of the spell apart and empowering runes on Tel'athar's armor and weapon. Empowered, he struck out again, clearing a space around him.

Behind him, Biarathiel paused as Braeth'el began his ascent, biting her lip and glancing back at Tel'athar as he stood alone. Finally she reached out, her hand on Braeth'el's shoulder to stop him, "No, B. We came in here together, we're leaving together or not at all. I'll not leave him."

Braeth'el paused, his gaze meeting his sister's as he turned and hopped down from the stone he'd been clinging too, "You sure, Bia?"

Her tone was firm when she replied, a fire in her eyes that Braeth'el knew well from their youth, "Yeah, B. The sun shines for only so long. Let us make the sunset fall on a day to remember, shall we?"

Braeth'el grinned and nodded, "Poetic, Bia. Let's go before he kills all the zombies without us."

Biarathiel gave her brother a punch to his shoulder before drawing her daggers, "You know me, always one with the words. And yes, let's not let Tel get all the glory."

With that the siblings turned, weapons in hand as they dashed back up the hallway. Braeth'el outpaced his wounded sister quickly, his twin swords swirling as he lashed into zombies that were about to overcome Tel'athar's flank. As the enemies fell away, he ducked low, his blades lightning fast as he cut the legs out from under the attackers behind them.

On Tel'athar's other flank, several zombies suddenly crumbled as daggers sprouted from their eyes; Biarathiel's deadly throws striking enough targets to ease up pressure on the spellbreaker as he pushed the enemy back. His voice was wry as he spoke to the two, never taking his eyes off the enemy, "You two don't follow orders too well, anyone ever tell you that?"

"You knew we couldn't leave you, Tel," Biarathiel said with a laugh as she jumped into the melee, daggers flashing.

"Yeah, besides if we did and you made it out, we'd all have to sit through your repeated exaggerated tales of how you fought off an army alone," Braeth'el joined in, a grin on his face.

All three of them laughed heartily at this, even as they cut down their enemies. Despite their light-heartedness, the three knew they were in deadly peril. This was emphasized when another spell slashed down between them, narrowly missing Braeth'el as he dodged out of the way.

"We can't let him keep hurling magic at us!" Braeth'el shouted. "Tel! Clear a path forward. We have to take the bastard out!"

Tel'athar didn't respond, instead shouting a warcry and suddenly lurching forward to slam into the ranks of milling zombies in front of him. Bones crunched as his shield bashed enemies aside, his blade cutting down their foes left and right. He made it fifteen feet before the zombies began to surround him, his life in grave danger as his flanks came under attack. Braeth'el turned towards his sister, nodding at her and dashing into the gap as he yelled to her, "Over the top, Sis!"

Biarathiel dashed forward behind her brother, knowing it was do or die. Just as Braeth'el reached Tel'athar he dropped to his knees, his hands cupped over his head. Biarathiel ran up her brother's back, one boot placed perfectly in his hands as he rose up beneath her, his momentum propelling her up and forward, her flight so high as to almost cause her to scrap against the raised ceiling of the catacomb's tunnel.

She flipped over in the air, a smile on her face as she sailed almost in slow motion over Tel'athar and his foes. He met her gaze in mid-flight and she winked at him as she brought both her arms out to either side, the pain of her wound forgotten for a moment as she just flew. The crowd of zombies passed beneath her in a flash, and she began her final descent, her body flipping again so her feet struck the ground first.

Directly behind the voodoo priest.

Her daggers lashed out, imbedding themselves in the troll's spine and neck in a heartbeat, his spellcasting instantly interrupted as he died, his magic flaring out of existence. A howling wail filled the corridor as his hexes and spells died with him, the crowd of zombies falling as if they too had been struck, the dazed and drugged elves amongst them collapsing and weeping quietly.

Biarathiel pulled her daggers free from the troll, grinning as blood gushed out of the wounds. His body toppled before her, leaving her view to Tel'athar and Braeth'el clear. A beautiful smile graced her face, and was returned by the other two as they silently congratulated each other on yet another successful adventure.

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Biarathiel's thoughts were interrupted by the wail of her teapot on the stove. She turned and took it off the heat, pouring hot water into a cup full of the prepared herbs. As the steam rose, she smiled and took a sip, her cup held up in silent toast to memories of better times and to friends long lost. 

An Unexpected Reunion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Draenor?" Biarathiel said.

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

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

The Elf in the Iron Cage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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