Diary of a Magus- Part 1

Early winter, morning of the seventh day of January: 

It has been several months since I awakened in the Exodar. During that time, I have learned much of current events that have affected my people. I am still in shock that I have been unconscious for so long. It is personally embarrassing that I put such a burden on the others with my incapacitation. I will have to make amends once I am strong enough to do so.

In regards to my strength, it is returning to me slowly. When I first awakened, I had no access to my power whatsoever. In such a state, I was unable to leave the Exodar for fear that I would be in danger without the protection of the Vindicators watching over me. After many months of recovery, I have found my power slowly returning, although I am only capable of performing the most rudimentary of spells.

I ventured out of the Exodar for the first time yesterday. The lands where it crashed, which I have been told are called Azuremyst and Bloodmyst Isles, are quite beautiful. Unfortunately the Exodar caused much contamination when it broke apart. In the intervening time, our people have made efforts to clean up here, and have had much success. Although I am late in lending a hand, I believe I am well enough now to aid in this process, and then to see where I can apply my talents in the world beyond.

I have heard that this 'Alliance' that we are now a part of has ventured through a portal back to Draenor, but not the Draenor from which I came. Once I am well enough, I will follow them, for there is much to be gained from the resources and magical reservoirs that were once on that planet. That is the future however; for now I will continue to heal, and do what little tasks that my feeble magics allow.

I will write more as I heal and travel, in the hopes that the journey itself is a useful learning tool. 

A Sentinel's Journal

They told me I should write down my thoughts and feelings, that doing so would help me to sort out the doubts that can build inside. It's supposed to be therapeutic, and since it's unlikely anyone else will read this unless they find it in the wilderness, why not?

My name is Alleriel Starleaf. Born in Ashenvale, I have lived there my entire (relatively) short life, making a home in Astranaar for myself. My love for the forest would fill up many more pages than I have available or the time to write, so I will just keep it simple and state that I love my home very much. So much in fact that I joined the Sentinels as soon as I was old enough to begin training.

It is because of that choice that I sit here now writing this journal. That choice, as well as the actions of the Orcs, forever changed my course I suppose. I do not regret it however, I only regret that I could not do more. I am, in the end, a failure at the very thing I most desired to do; protecting my home.

I've been told countless times that there was nothing more I could have done. They tell me that I fought bravely to defend Silverwind from the Horde incursions. They say that I made great sacrifices and went beyond the call of duty in my defense of my home. Even so, I still failed. We still lost and many died because we could not stop the Horde. I will never forget seeing the Orcs as they rampaged across our lands.

I fell in the final stand against them. As one of the Sentinel scouts, it was my duty to help hold the line as we withdrew. My bow was needed to stem the endless tide of Orcs and their allies. I remember it only in pieces now unfortunately. I remember an arrow taking me in the arm. I remember losing my grip on my glaive as the limb went numb. I remember watching an Orc lash out with his sword, the keen blade cutting through my leg. After that I remember only bits and pieces.

I am told my nightsaber saved my life. I had always had a strong bond with it and with the birds I use when hunting, and the creature dragged me away with its jaws, even while it suffered from its own wounds. My companions found it dead beside me, and carried me from the field. I remember none of this, because soon after a fever took me and I spent months bedridden and unable even to recall my own name.

Eventually Elune saw fit to spare me, as unworthy as I am given my failures. Others say that I am lucky, but I don't feel lucky. I spent many weeks learning to walk again, learning to make use of my arm after the Priestesses were able to purge the disease from my body, and all of that time I could never eradicate the thought that in the end, we had failed and lost the fight.

Since my recovery, I have come to understand that perhaps Elune does still have a purpose for me. I have come to understand that sitting and moping about what happened is not Her will. She respects and supports those who put forth equal effort. We do not demand of Her, we only praise Her for what She has given us. And She has given me another chance.

And so I write now, on the eve before I set out. I am stationed in Darnassus, where all of the wounded were sent. Many of the others have departed back to their companies as they recovered, but I have no company to return to. I could be reassigned, but I know that I must first prove that I am worthy of the second chance I've been given.

Teldrassil is not very dangerous, but even here there are things that need looking after. There are Furbolgs that have become hostile, and an over-abundance of predator animals, fat from the plentiful game here. I set out in the morning to lend aid where I can, my new bow ready once more to protect the lands of my people, of my Goddess. I will earn the title of Sentinel once more, or I will disappear in the wilderness that I love so much.

I go without blessings of the priestesses, without the enchantments of our smiths. I will take just my two hands, my bow, and my faith in Elune. It is all I need now. All I ever needed.

Biara's Journal- Entry 1

*A journal lies next to a bed made of a straw mattress with some furs over it. It is a simple book, purchased from a local merchant and non-magical in nature. It is unwarded, and can easily be read by anyone who happens to be in that particular orphanage. The only person likely to see it is Alanth No'telyle. The first pages have been filled with Biara's elegant handwriting.*

They are all dead, and it might as well be by my hand. I cannot help but feel this way, even though Alanth has told me to put such thoughts aside. He is right, for I must concentrate on the tasks at hand, on surviving, in order to make up for all that has happened. I fear though that it is not so simple to cast guilt aside, or to look at my reflection and not see the disaster I have wrought.

We have been hiding now for a day. He's lead me to an orphanage which he said his father heavily warded from magical scrying. His estimate was correct, and even I, knowing the wards are there, cannot penetrate them. It is a safe house, for a time. But how can I feel safe now?

I have spent much of the first day quietly weeping. I fear that this will make Alanth think less of me, and I have tried to keep it quiet and to myself, but we share a single room here, and he must know. I cannot stop however. I cannot breathe for even a moment without remembering all of those who were lost. I hold this amulet in my hands; the amulet I had enchanted to watch over my daughter Astariel. It is dead and lifeless now, just as she is and it breaks my heart every time my fingers run across its cracked surface. She didn't deserve to suffer for my foolishness. None of them did.

I cannot help but wonder about the man who saved me, the one to whom I owe my very life. Why did Alanth choose to rescue me? He lost so much, and he must have known that his beloved was dead even before he fought his way to the top of the tower. Why did he come back for me of all people, the one person who least deserved to survive that night? I will never know, because I can't peer into the depths of his thoughts, and I can't ask him again, not now. Not when we've lost so much.

We are trapped in close quarters here, within this tiny room. Alanth leaves from time to time, going out to check on the situation within the city and seeking to get us passage safely out of Silvermoon. I cannot use my magic to do it, as my mother would track the spells to this place, and to me. She would find where we were going and she would hunt us. I cannot bring that danger down on anyone, it is mine alone to bear.

But it seems it is NOT mine alone, for Alanth stays by my side. Again I ask why. I watch him and study his strength. This is his element, his world. He said as much to me, but the words did not do justice to what I witness with my eyes. In this part of the city the wrong words can result in a lethal fight, and yet he never speaks the wrong words. He never looks discomforted, afraid, or even concerned. I know that he is though. I can hear him in the night, mourning his beloved. My heart breaks for him as well, because it is my fault that he weeps silently, it is my fault that his strength is pierced by this weakness.

When he speaks to me though, it is with confidence to see me through this crisis. He knows how to survive, and I think, when looking at him, that he will overcome even the wreckage that my actions have wrought on him. He has overcome so much adversity, it is clear to me now from the determination in his eyes that everything I have experienced is but a small drop compared to his vast knowledge of the world. I can only take hope and be inspired by what I see in him, even as everything else falls to ruin around me. I will still never forgive myself for wounding him though, for he has shown his true metal, and his heroism will never be forgotten for as long as I live. I still often wish he had left me to die though.

And so my thoughts swirl, confused and bitter. I wait here, my life over and yet so much life left. What am I now? Who am I? Did Biara Dayfire die yesterday? Is there anything left of her? I do not even look the same anymore, for Alanth has forced me to dye my hair black in order to avoid my mother's hunters from finding us. I have new wounds on my body which will scar over in time, but they are nothing compared to the scars on my heart.

I am not the Lady Biara Dayfire. I am not Magistrix Dayfire. I am simply Biara, now. Simply a fool who learned her lesson far far too late.

Research Journal 7, Entry #204

Within an inter-connected series of laboratories within the center Dayfire spire, Biara's personal workspace is set up. The area consists of  alchemical work tables and numerous magical drawing  boards currently covered in calculations and equations. Lying on a nearby worktable is one of her research journals. Most of the book is filled with mind-numbingly boring mathematical equations and magic theory that the Magistrix appears to have either been extremely excited about or  frustrated with. The entry below lies on a recently opened page, penned in meticulous script.

My most recent projects have had some rather interesting results and side effects which I previously had not anticipated. The power of the various forms of magic that I have absorbed or restrained for my purposes cannot be questioned, but the usefulness of some of this magic must be carefully considered given the risks posed and the degree of control necessary to maintain the magic's focus. Only by carefully balancing forces against one another can some of the more volatile elements and aspects of magic be used properly, and even then there are sometimes accidents.

The recent destruction of one of my pleasure dens, along with the intense magical backlash that resulted from combining scourge and fel magic sources together point to a rather serious shortfall in my planning. These two elements are both volatile when used alone, and combined created a disturbing amount of destructive force. It is clear now that additional elements, beyond the arcane forces that come naturally to those of my blood, must be applied to keep these forces in check.

To this end, I have begun calculations on the effects of absorbing a larger amount of Life energy, either Light or some other form, to add into the mixture of existing magics that I have at hand. This should counteract the negative effects of the two forms of magic I've already studied, and provide more control to their use. The primary question that needs to be answered is how to obtain this magic, and below I have outlined a list of creatures that I believe may contain enough of this power to drain out and use for such a purpose:

1) Ancients of War used by the Kaldorei
2) A significant quantity of light-wielders, such as priests or paladins of the enemy
3) A red drake
4) A titan construct designed to channel light or life energy

Of the options above, I believe the third option would be most suitable. The first two would require a large expenditure of power both in arms and magical equipment, and there is a chance the foe could determine my plans based on the prisoners taken. I will keep both options open for future consideration however. The fourth option is not preferable, as the Titans possess great magical power and such power is to be respected and researched more closely before any attempts to seize it are made. It should also be noted that the Titan artifacts left on this world may offer a much wider variety of uses than the current research calls for, and these purposes should not be put to waste.

I will begin work on this phase of the project immediately, as I believe absorbing this type of magic would be useful, especially concerning the powerful scourge magic at my disposal. I have channeled this energy into the element of ice, which is very closely related to that darker magic. The results have been spectacular, and my ice-based magics can easily destroy most foes. Side effects include a chill in the air and discomfort of those who are unused to such magic, but these are minor concerns compared to the power I've gathered.

On a side note, and related to the scourge, I engaged in a small campaign for the Dark Lady over the past few days. Of particular note was an assault on the Dalaran Magi of Ambermill. I was quite pleased when the Dark Lady requested my assistance in launching this attack, as my view on the human mages of the Kirin Tor is abysmal at best. The humans had developed a rather unique defense mechanism involving a pocket dimension to keep their town from assault in the real world. I was able to obtain a codex containing their work and with it we were able to overcome these defenses.

I engaged many of the Dalaran magi in spellduels, destroying them outright. This would not be an interesting matter to write down in this journal except that after I defeated these magi, the Forsaken forces arrived. The Dark Lady has made use of a particular type of undead creature known as a Val'kyr. These creatures used necromantic magic to raise the dead Dalaran magi as Forsaken, and I was able to observe this ritual first hand. To say it was fascinating is an understatement! Turning the dead humans into new recruits is an ingenious idea, and something the Forsaken should pursue with a vengeance. Considering that the humans plan to steal Forsaken blight to use against MY people, this is a well-deserved punishment for their crimes. Perhaps once the humans have been fully enslaved by the Forsaken and turned, we will finally have the upper hand in this war? Only time will tell, but I will continue to study these Val'kyr closely.

There is one final point I must make that should be written down for future research. During the campaign, I witnessed the Dark Lady herself receiving a rather grievous wound. When she was revived, she said something that made me pause. The words she spoke were very similar to the words that I know Arthas spoke in his final moments. I have seen magical recordings of that moment, and remember the words of the so-called Lich King well.

"I see only darkness for me."

The Dark Lady indicated that when she was near death, she too saw 'only darkness'. Could this be a side effect of the heavy use of scourge magic? Are their spirits being taken to a place of darkness upon death, as Light-wielders are taken to a place of the Light? Having witnessed many encounters with the undead and with spirits, this is a puzzling question. It asks a further question: where will I be taken, given the mixtures of magic that I employ? Time will tell I suppose. One would hope that I am returned to my father's side to rest, but if I must face darkness in the end in order to save my people, then so be it.

Journal Entry, Seventh of June

*Biara's journal lies open next to a bundle of her clothing which has been lain out in the sand to dry. The Magistrix sleeps nearby, covered by a blanket.*

I write this as I sit within the shelter I've found deep within a sea cave near the bottom of the ocean. These caves dot the rocky outcroppings around the ruins of the city of Vashj'ir, and many of them have air pockets which have allowed me to make myself comfortable after my day of exploration. My clothing and things are drenched, so the privacy of the cave has allowed me to wring them out a bit and dry off. I'm writing beneath the glow of my enchanted lamps, and with my conjuration there is plenty to eat. All in all it's a pleasant outing thus far.

It took me some time before I was able to compose myself enough to sit and write in this journal. The sights I've seen are beyond my wildest imagination! The city of Vashj'ir was once vast and spectacular, and even in its ruined state the majesty of what it once was is clear for all to see. I've spent many hours wandering the remains of temples, gardens, simple dwellings and grand palaces, and I think I could spend a lifetime exploring such a place. I spent a similar amount of time in the Highborne ruins known as Dire Maul, but Vashj'ir surpasses that place by far in its breadth.

From the very first moment I entered the ruins and placed my hand upon one of the old marble walls, I knew that I was enchanted with the place. To stand there, touching stone that has not felt the hand of an elf for over ten thousand years was a thrilling experience. I began to find my thoughts wandering to what this place must have looked like when it was in its full glory. What plants and flowers lined the garden walkways? Who were the people that lived here, and how did they dress and act? I'm sure that many of our own customs and traditions were developed based on the actions and daily activities of those who lived here so very long ago.

I look upon statues of ancient heroes and wonder what deeds they performed to cause them to be captured in stone for eternity. Who were these legends amongst the Highborne? What dire threats did they prevail against? I often wonder where my own ancestors came from, and what Highborne cities they once lived in. By my reckoning, over three hundred and fifty generations of my people have come and gone to bring me back to this place where everything might have begun in antiquity. Did my own flesh and blood walk amongst these marble wonders? Did they live beneath the beautiful arches that grace even the ruins of this place?

My heart has been stirred by my time here. I look upon the ancient works of my distant ancestors and pray that one day we can build our civilization up to match the wonder that they created. I can feel the magic that they once commanded so long ago still haunting the stones, and I hope that we can create works like this which will last an eternity. My only regret is that my own blood is so far removed from those ancient ones that I cannot access the old spells and wards they placed upon their structures. If only I could reach out and touch them, I know I could learn so much more!

One day I shall have to bring Tyavel Moonblade here. Perhaps with her aid we can unlock more of the secrets of the ancients, and she can show me how the magic was employed. I long to learn more, to uncover the secrets hidden here, to learn of the people that once were.

One day we will rise to such glory, and my every task will be devoted to this. While the Highborne may have fallen, they ruled an empire for untold eons, and created wonders that will never perish from the face of this world. Queen Azshara may have made many fatal mistakes in her time, but the beauty that she helped create is not something to be dismissed entirely. Despite her mistakes, she was still a great ruler; these ruins are testament to that fact.

I will leave this place after I've taken my rest, but when I do, I know I will be leaving a piece of my very soul behind. I cannot remain untouched after seeing such sights.

Journal Entry, First of June

*Biara has left her journal lying open in her tent.*

It has been many long months since I've taken up quill and ink to write within this book. Perhaps, for a time, I didn't need to spell out my thoughts on paper, or perhaps events went so quickly that I was unable to give them the proper words. Regardless, I now find myself with a bit of time, and many thoughts rushing through my mind that seek to be released onto a blank page.

Where to begin? How does one sort out so many changes in ones life? Since my last writing, I have found love. I have been attacked. I have rescued those who were lost from the darkest of powers. I have shattered alliances and forged new ones on common ground. I have founded a military company destined to protect Quel'Thalas from harm eternally. All of this and more I've done, and yet I feel there is so much left yet to finish.

It is times like these that I think back on the past. Of those who have come and gone, both the good and bad. What would my friend Jazari think of me now, if he were here to see me? He long ago gave up pretense of being part of his alliance, and from last reports I hear he simply disappeared into his own world of adventure. I envy him that sometimes; the fact that he had so few responsibilities that he could simply lay them down and step away.

At the same time, I am proud that I have not laid down my burdens. Rather, I feel I have taken more upon myself. My renewed commitment to the cause of the Horde has led to the founding of my Blackhearts company, and it has achieved much success. It has also met with bitter loss, and I am now directly responsible for those lives that are with us no longer. It is a heavy thought and enough to drag one's heart down to the depths of despair.

And yet, my heart is not heavy. In fact, it is the opposite; I feel elated. I have finally found someone who I can trust fully, who I can put all of my love and life into and feel their own love and joy flowing back into me. I speak of the priestess Elunearia Moonblade, who has become the very essence of my heart and soul. Without her, without her Light to guide me along my path, I fear I would have fallen to the darkness of my own cravings and the things I've been afflicted with or afflicted others with. She is the light that drives off the darkness, the source of my joy and the one thing that I know will keep my purpose pure for the many long years to come. I would do anything for her, go to any length to protect and nourish what she represents. It is elves like her that will make Quel'Thalas the beautiful place it once was, and I would protect that from outside influence so that one day she can go on to do exactly that.

I sit here now in a crude tent made of animal skins, deep in the vegitation around Zul'Aman, but the world around me is nothing compared to the warmth in my heart. Originally I had sent a detatchment of our Blackhearts here, but they suffered horrific casualties, so I have come myself to aid in the efforts and we have met with much success. The enemy has been pushed back, and my magic has taken the lives of many trolls who sought to undo the work of the Warchief and harm the Horde. I have even been rewarded with a gift of ceremonial troll garb used in their sacred rites. Although the garb is somewhat barbaric in appearance, it is flattering; perhaps I will wear it when I return to Silvermoon and show Elunearia. I suspect she may like it!

I can spend little more time writing for the moment, as I must take my rest before we face the foe again. I will return to Silvermoon when these tasks are complete, and continue both my research as well as my duties to protect Horde lands, even if that means I must don my war robes once more. Such is my life, a duty that I have chosen to accept regardless of cost. I will forever stand for Quel'Thalas, until its gates welcome me home for the last time.

*The entry stops here, and the rest of the journal appears to be warded.*

Diary Entry, Third of January

I had quite an encounter this weekend. One of the vile kaldorei, a hunter by the name of Ocba, attacked our towns deep within Eversong Woods. His goal was to kill as many Sin'dorei as possible it seems, and bring more misery to our people. He is a kaldorei of ill repute, as are many of their kind. It is rumored that he has slain young and old alike without regards for whether or not his foes were civilians, or innocents. I have heard he has even slain children! It was natural that I had to defend our home against this dire threat, and so I reluctantly rode out to face him, knowing the danger he posed.

He was far more powerful than I expected. His skill with the bow is matched only by a few that I've seen. Every arrow was fired with deadly precision, and it was only through frantic casting of my spells that I was able to deflect his shots and keep the arrows from my flesh. As the battle wore on and other Sin'dorei were slain around me, I became desperate, knowing my magic would fail in time, and that this evil creature would be free to slay the innocents that lay in the nearby Fairbreeze village. I was their shield against this darkness, and I had to stand firm.

My magic failed me. I knew it would be but a matter of time, since the arrows were falling down upon me like rain. As the last barrier between me and death shattered, I felt the first of the kaldorei's shots whip through my hair, and I knew the next would be the last thing I would see in this life.

It was then that he saved me.

He came from nowhere. Charging from the brush with his plate armor gleaming in the fading sunlight. He was adorned like the avatar of a god of war, covered in metal from head to foot and with a sword the length of my body. Even as Ocba set another arrow and prepared to fire, that length of metal flicked out and severed the bowstring. My savior moved with a grace that I have rarely seen, dancing around the bewildered Kaldorei and driving him back with blow after blow, until the fiend was forced to flee our lands.

He turned to me and inquired after my health, and it was that familiar voice that I've come to know over the past few weeks. The poet and scholar with whom I have had such lovely conversations. Tanisrian Trueseeker. I was stunned to see him thus, as if another aspect of his being was standing before me. Gone was the scholarly robe and gentle demeanor. Instead I saw the warrior. The fighter and defender of our people. My savior. My hero.

I will never forget what he did. My admiration for his deeds will linger long in my thoughts.

*Below this diary entry is a sketch of a sin'dorei warrior in gleaming armor with a greatsword in hand. It appears to have been hand drawn by Biara.*

Diary Entry, Thirtieth of December

My research into the glyphs on this scepter is quite interesting. Apparently it was owned by a powerful Tol'vir; some sort of King or leader. The name and title of the original owner elude me for the time being due to the fact that the glyphs are unfamiliar to me. I need to obtain more samples of this style of writing dating back to the time period when the language was used fluently in order to glean more facts.

Regardless of the name and station that this being held, the story of his life is partially revealed by translating the glyphs. This person apparently defeated a great evil that plagued the lands in ancient times, and his reign was one of peace and harmony. He expelled some vile force or imprisoned it in some way, I cannot tell for certain, and afterwards ruled justly for many years.

From what I can tell, his tomb contains the weapon used to destroy this force that he might guard against its return for all eternity. I must find more details, and perhaps the location of this tomb! The knowledge that the glyphs held within the tomb might reveal makes me shiver with delight. Imagine the power that this ancient king once wielded? And what was it he defeated so long ago? These questions deserve answers, and his story should be told so that all can learn from it.

I will dig deeper into this matter. Tracing the source of the box that contained the scepter is my first step. Once I am able to locate the trail, finding the location of this tomb will become possible. I only hope that it has not been pillaged. There is reason for concern since this valuable scepter has suddenly been unearthed after so many centuries. The thrill of this hunt for knowledge will drive me on to learn the truth of the matter!

A histily written journal entry

*The ink of the page is smeared and the handwriting messy as if the writer had been in a great hurry.*

I have little time...they are coming. We can't hold the gates much longer, and I fear a breakthrough into the rear of our lines any time now. I've done what I can to slow their advance, but it's not enough...it's never enough. I can hear them now. I can hear their barbaric warcries in the distance as they prepare for another assault.

I thought we'd push them further back with the reinforcements Kyliska led here, but it seems to have barely slowed down their advance. There are so many wounded and dead, I can't even count them. Fires burn along the edges of the walls below me, and this tower will soon catch as well. It is not safe here. I can't run though. I have to help them hold out. Even if I wanted to flee, the smoke here is making it difficult to breath, let alone see, and I've a gash on my head that keeps filling my vision with blood. The wound is minor compared to those I've seen though.

I dread to think what has become of my sister. Has she fallen? Did she manage to break free from this disaster? I'm not sure if I'll even be able to link up with our forces that did manage to escape being encircled. Time will tell. It will take all of my wit.

I can write no more. They are advancing. I can hear the horns now. I have no one and nothing to pray too except the Light. I can only beg it to preserve us.

*This tattered page was found outside of the wreckage of a fallen tower near Frostwolf Village. The remainder of the journal and the Magistrix that wrote it were nowhere to be found. Many of the Horde who had been entrapped fought free and it can be presumed since Biara's body wasn't discovered that she must have been amongst them. She has not contacted anyone since the battle this evening.*

Diary Entry, Twenty First of December

I write this entry while lying upon a pile of furs in a makeshift tent deep in the alterac mountains. This tent is part of a small, hastily constructed triage area set up to tend to the wounded and dying from the recent battles in alterac valley. I remember little of how I got here, although I know for certain I was grievously wounded and must have been carried from the field of battle. I know that I had an arrow in my leg, and that I had been struck by several spells before everything turned black.

The Stormpikes counterattacked us I am told. At a place called Tower Point we made a final last stand against a huge force of enemy fighters that were advancing into the valley and retaking the territory we had claimed in previous fighting. I suppose our vanguard could not hold them back and broke against their power, for it was left to me and the regiment I was assigned to hold the line at Tower Point and stymie their advance. We have failed utterly in this regard.

I am told that I acted with great heroism. That I stood back to back with the last of my companions and hurled flames all around until I fell beneath the onslaught. I am told that they found me lying amidst the wreckage of a burning watchtower, barely breathing and with dead foes lying all around me. I remember none of this.

The only thing I remember, the only thing I will keep with me always is the faces of my companions. People who will never fight again. Who will never laugh or cry, who will never know the joys of life. All of them are dead. All of the brave fighters in my regiment have been slaughtered. I am the only one who lived, and the guilt eats at me now as I lay here, slowly recovering. Healing magic is at a premium, and I will get no more until I am able to walk on my own.

I should write to my sister, or to my friends and loved ones and tell them that I have survived, tell them about what I am experiencing, but I doubt they would understand. I do not wish to share these things with anyone, and so I write them here to get them out onto paper. This will not be the last sorrow that this war brings to me I am sure. This is only the beginning of the trial, only the beginning of a conflict that has been brewing for so many years. There is so much more yet to come.

I fear for us all.

Diary Entry, Thirteenth of December

I sit in a small tent in the dark night of the desert. It's cold now, but being a mage who can handle fire comes in handy, and I can hardly feel it with my magic surrounding me. Soon I'll go out and gaze up at the crystal clear stars again and just take in the beauty of this place; a place that has changed my life entirely.

Who would have thought that days ago when I joined a convoy going to Uldum that I would have such an adventure? Beset by bandits, confronted by ancient guardian races, undead, and even more ancient machinery? It has been a journey the likes of which I have never encountered before. Prior to this trip, I had spent a majority of my time in Silvermoon, catering to the needs of our people, mingling with the other noble Houses and just attempting to keep our people safe and orderly. How much of the world, of life, have I truly missed out on?

I'm having fun! Am I allowed to do such a thing in the greatest time of war and strife our world has ever known? Should I be having an enjoyable time of being kidnapped, nearly shot and a host of other unfortunate events that has plagued this trip and our journey? I'm sure that if I were sitting back in my Spire, thinking rationally about it that I would find the idea ludicrous indeed! The most amusing thing is that I do not even CARE what I or the others would have thought of it, I would not have given up this journey for the world.

The things I've discovered, the ancient relics that I've handled with my own hands have been unbelievably thrilling. It is like when I first learned that I possessed a gift for magic. Everything is bright and new and exciting! I feel the urge to poke my nose into the most ancient tombs here, and to study the Titan artifacts left behind so long ago! If I had no duties to attend to I could easily spend one hundred years right here, never leaving this region until all of its secrets were revealed to me. What a pleasurable life that would be!

Sadly, duties do call, and soon I will have to move on from this wondrous journey. As with my battles in Hyjal though, I will carry a piece of this place in my heart forever.

I think I'll sleep now, and rest my weary body so I can recover after all of the bruises I've managed to acquire! The sounds of the shifting, blowing sands will be my lullaby, and again I think I will sleep in perfect peace.

Diary Entry, Tenth of December

I sit beneath the protective leaves of a large tree and write this as the rain falls down on Mount Hyjal. Our efforts so far against the Twilight's Hammer and the armies of fire that besieged this place have been successful. Much of the land is rejuvenated now, and much of it was left unmarred in the first place thanks to the efforts of our allied forces.

I cannot help but stop and admire the beauty of these forests. They capture my imagination everytime I stare off into the distance. I can understand now why Aeranor Runesong loves the outdoors and wild places like this. They tug at my heart and make me feel alive in ways I've never thought possible. I never stopped to appreciate the wonders that our world holds before now. I would never have fought for such things in the past, and now I can't imagine doing otherwise. I can't imagine a world without beauty and serenity like this. I am glad that I came here to face these foes and put a stop to their rampage.

Thinking of Aeranor makes me wonder where he is now. I hope that he can come here one day, as I'm sure he would appreciate the beauty of this place beyond even what I feel. I saddens me to think that he will never hold me again, but at the same time, I hope that he has all of the happiness that he deserves in life. I hope that Mairyn does not betray him, as she has betrayed so many others. I worry over him, and I think I will always hold a place in my heart for him, but sitting here now, alone in the forest I know that letting him go is the right thing to do. I would smother the life from him, just as I almost did with my sister when I tried to control how she felt. A'dal's lessons stay with me, and I know that each of us must seek out what we need within our own hearts.

I will linger here for some time before I continue on along the path of war. This moment of peace, this enchanted forest and the feeling of serenity that fills me, is something I've long needed. My only regret is that I've no one to share this with. I suppose though, in the end it doesn't matter as long as my heart is at ease. When I make camp tonight, I will sleep beneath the stars and for once I know that I will not suffer from nightmares. I will rest peacefully.

Diary Entry, Sixth of December, Early Morning

Only my second night back in the Spire, and already I can't sleep. When I do sleep, I dream, and I do not want to see the things that haunt me. In my sleep I saw them, Blood Knights, Farstriders, Tauren shamans come to heal us, brave orc warriors. They stood before me, staring as if in accusation. In the dream I walk towards them, and horrible wounds open on each. Each falls to the ground, faces accusing me forever in death. I can never escape them, they are always there, always around me.

Sometimes the dream is simply a reenactment of the events that occurred yesterday. The attempts to negotiate. The pointless fighting in the forest until the burnt, dead ground is also blood soaked. And finally, the last moments as the fragile peace that we had managed to iron out failed and fighting flared up. Those people...my people...dying for no reason, for a pointless piece of trail in a burning, forsaken forest.

How much blood must be spilled there? How many times must we watch our friends and comrades get cut down there? I don't know what is coming over me lately, but watching such things endlessly is taking its toll on my spirit. I would have surrendered myself into the unloving hands of our enemies if it could have prevented the slaughter that I witnessed. But even that was not possible, as no reason can be found in the madness that the world has been plunged into. Perhaps in earlier days such a thing would have been more likely, but not now.

A'dal's Light is the only thing that keeps me sane I think. It is all I have to reach out to in times like this. I write these words to perhaps ease the burden of it all, but without that Light within me I know that I would have faltered in my steps many days ago. I can feel it even now, burning deep within me. It affects everything, even the spells I cast. Instead of a coolness of arcane magic, my spells raged like an inferno around me in battle, yet burned me not.

Everything is thrown into confusion now. The war, my magic, even my own relationships with my friends and family. I cannot even FIND Kyliska or Chalce to discuss what happened in the spire. Both departed before I returned, and I've yet to speak with them or even attempt to make things right.

Pouring these words out is the only comfort I have now, and they are a poor excuse for companionship at times like this. I regret many things, but the loss of my friends I regret most of all.

Journal of Exile, Entry 5

I have taken the steps necessary to correct something terrible that I have done. Even as I write in this journal, I can feel a power within myself that I've never experienced before. It is a rapture, a bliss that is not comparable to any experience I have had before this. I owe this feeling, and my success, to A'dal and his teachings. How I could have moved forward without him I do not know. I am at peace now within myself.

It began when I came to realize that I had a physical example of the type of power that I've wielded which has done me so much harm. I refer to my undead steed. Although powerful, I had created it using foul necromancy, and also had slain a two living beings in its creation. Surely then this was a prime instance where I could change my ways, or at least put the creature to rest. I decided to speak to A'dal about it, and approached him immediately.

He asked me to bring forth the creature, which I did with some obvious hesitation. I did not want to offend all those gathered to see this beautiful creature with the foulness that I had created, but it is best to display ones faults openly, so that they can be corrected and improved upon. That is at least what A'dal's teachings have shown me. I spoke the words in the Language of Death, and the steed appeared.

There were a few shocked gasps as the creature appeared, but A'dal did not seem put off by it at all. Instead, I heard his song within my mind. He told me that the horse had a spirit, and that it suffered and lingered on in undeath due to the magic I had used. I came to feel its pain, and realize the agony I had put it through. Again I was shamed, but I also saw a glimmer of hope; I could undo what I had wrought.

A'dal showed me the path. He taught me to use my arcane magic, the core of the power within me, to feed the spirit of the horse, and free it from the bounds of undeath that I had constrained it in. I felt my magic flowing away, my strength draining. I thought it would kill me, but I believed it to be a just punishment for the many things I'd done with such vile powers. Then and there I intended to make things right, even if it meant I had to pay the ultimate price.

A'dal sensed my commitment to undoing my evil work, and lent his strength to me. I could feel it filling me, as if I had touched the sun itself and held it against my chest. My spirit soared, and power flowed through me, burning hot and bright. I can feel it even now, in the core of my being. My Thirst still exists, but it is lessened now, and the peace I feel is something that has never been mine before. Not since before my parents died.

The steed itself changed. I felt its spirit as it finally went to its rest. It is at peace now, and what remains is a beautiful remnant of my arcane magic, the core that fuels my spells, mixed with A'dal's Light. It is beautiful to behold, and responds much like an Arcane Guardian would. I shall ride this steed now, and no longer be troubled with the deeds I have done previously. They are redeemed now, as am I.

I sit in Shattrath now and contemplate what I saw. I feel A'dal's Light within me even now. It empowers me, and my magic responds to the holy fire of his touch. I will not walk away from this experience unchanged, but I do not care either because change is something I desperately  needed.

I only hope that the rest of the things I've done can be put to rights with the same ease. I fear that they cannot.

Journal of Exile, Part 4

Again I find myself learning, stretching in new directions that I had not believed possible. It has been over a day now since I've last written in this journal, but much has transpired in that time. Thinking about everything A'dal has taught me has brought me a measure of self-awareness that I previously had lacked. I can sit back and review my life without the blindness of my own pride to stop me from seeing who and what I really am.

I am not pleased with what I see in the end.

What did I do to progress so far down this path, and so close to that of my mother? My near-slaying of Kyliska has shown me that I have committed an act that is almost identical to what she did when she passed from this world. Her anger, her rage and passion consumed her and all of those innocents in the fires of her magic, just as Kyliska and Andissiel were almost consumed in my own passion. Seeing this now has brought cold reality to me, and shown me that my path is wrong.

I sat for quite some time pondering this, and wondering what I could do to change it. What caused me to go this route? Was it my grasping for power, or was it the nature of the power I am attempting to wield that did it? Naturally when grasping for dark powers, one tends to be influenced by them. Could this then be the cause of my problems? Have I been contaminating myself with darkness, when I thought all along that I was in complete control?

Again my footsteps fell on the path to A'dal. I wanted to ask him what I should do. I wanted to seek out a solution to the problem. I will never stop grasping for magical power. It is a part of me, and it is also something that I love above all else, but is there a way to temper what I seek in order to protect those I love and care for? I thought A'dal would know.

What he showed me...I cannot even begin to describe how I feel at this moment. I feel whole. I feel complete as I have not in so very long. My Thirst is not one that can be quenched, but my tastes, the desires I have for various types of magic can be swayed depending on my fondness for the magic I am consuming. A'dal showed me a new source this night, one I had never considered before. He filled me with the Light.

To be actually filled with power, to have my Thirst abate, even for a moment, was something I have never imagined possible. It was like the sweetest of foods, the most savory dishes placed before me, the most comfortable and warm bed on a cold night. It was all of these things but the words pale in comparison to the pure rapture I felt. To the bliss and serenity that washed over me in that time. I felt all of the darkness within me recede. I felt peace for once in almost one hundred years.

There is no other way to say this. I believe. I believe in the Light now. I have seen it with my own eyes. I have seen that this power, this force is beyond any other, and is there only to nurture and heal. It is so much sweeter than the darkness I had become accustomed to consuming. And best of all, it is within our Sunwell now. I can experience this again at will. Now that I know how to look for it, now that I can pray for it to come to me, I can seek it out even there, and feel this bliss again.

I will use this as a guide in my life. I will mend what I have broken with the darkness, and heal it with this Light that fills me now. I may need to fight wars, I may need to slay again, but at least now, in the dark of night I will have something to hold on to while I sleep. I will never be alone again.

The thought comforts me beyond words.

Journal of Exile, Entry 3

I have learned another lesson this evening. I spent quite a few hours during the day thinking about A'dal's words, pondering the things I had seen about my friends, the things I had done to them. A question began to form in my mind, one that I needed answered. I feared to ask it, but it would not rest in my thoughts and finally I went to him again.

Am I an evil person?

That is what I asked A'dal. The question had been churning in me for hours, guilt and fear of what I'd become, and that I might have become something even worse than my mother ate away at me during that time. I feared the response I would get, but I came with the knowledge that I would accept it. As with our previous meeting, the Naaru answered me through visions.

Scenes formed in my mind. I saw myself on a dock in Tanaris, wand in hand as I tortured Jazari Mechavolt. I felt his pain as my spells did their work, felt his fear. I saw my cousin, bound to the floor in an apartment as I fed from her magic. I felt her anguish at her lost essence, I felt the panic she must have felt, the helplessness. I saw my maidservant, Bronrianna, as she knelt before me, I saw my words lashing out at her, mocking the very disaster that had made her into a death knight, calling her unclean and scouring her feelings as if they were nothing. I saw myself within an inn in Theramore, cutting down the inhabitants left and right. I saw a man and a woman fall, and saw the look of horror on the two young children standing behind them as they were made orphans on the spot. Last of all, I saw myself standing beside a forsaken siege engine, watching as the inhabitants of Southshore were doused with toxic gas, hearing their screams as they were murdered in the most horrific fashion possible as I did nothing.

My body trembled to see these images, and tears streamed down my face. I took them to mean that A'dal was judging me as ultimate evil. I believe at that moment that everything I am was foul and misguided. I wondered why no one struck me down on the spot with the horrors I had caused. And yet...the visions were not done, new ones filled my mind.

I saw myself hurling magic, beset on all sides by Sin'dorei who called themselves Firehawks in Terrorkar Forest as I worked ever closer to a magical construct in the center of town. I felt my wounds as if they were fresh as I pressed on, bravely battling dozens of spellcasters to disarm the mana bomb before it could be used on the nearby Allerian Stronghold. I saw myself battling alone, nearly naked in the depths of the Violet Hold against half a dozen necromancers, foiling their plans to destroy the city and risking my own eternal life in the process. I saw myself, disguised as a human as I made my way into an orphanage in stormwind, leaving food and toys behind for the young children. I saw myself, hand in hand with Jazari as we crafted a wondrous device that could potentially save thousands of lives, despite the risk if we were caught together. Finally I saw myself, in a dozen dozen battles, leading foes from my allies so that they could escape, taking countless wounds so that they could live on, so that they would not be hurt.

I fell to my knees then, sobbing with relief to know that A'dal had NOT judged me, had not condemned me for who I was. The lesson was so clear now, so perfectly obvious; we all have good AND evil within us, and can bring either forth by our actions and deeds. I am no more completely evil than I am completely good. I have done many horrific things, and brought harm to many, but I have also saved countless lives, and performed acts of heroism that many simply do not know about.

I'm not sure how long I cried. It might have been an hour or more before I was able to compose myself, thank A'dal and return to the quarters I've acquired within the city. I may travel a bit this evening, just to clear my mind, but the lesson I learned here tonight is something that I needed to see for myself.

I do not have to commit evil to save my people. I need only protect them with all my heart. Wars can be fought with honor, or they can be fought with barbarism. I have been so wrong to allow some of the atrocities I've witnessed.

Journal of Exile, Entry 2

I made a friend today. Possibly the only person who would still consider me worthy of friendship, a person who is understanding itself, compassion embodied. I did not expect it, but after spending some time amongst the books in the great library within Shattrath, I decided to take a walk and get some fresh air. I'd been studying some texts and reading a romance novel and thought a walk would do me good. It has done so much more than that.

I was hesitant at first to approach the Naaru known as A'dal. His power is something that laps against me like the waves in the ocean. I can feel its brilliant heat against my skin, and it terrifies and thrills me at the same time. His voice is what first drew me. It is as if the purest music was being played, and I could not help but to go and seek out its source. When I found him and beheld him for the first time, I did not want to approach, but he spoke to me, and beckoned me to him.

At first our conversation was mundane, if speaking to a Naaru can be considered mundane! He asked me of my stay in the city, and how I was getting along with the people here. I answered his questions, though I'm sure he knew the answers before even asking. I realize now he was letting me speak, letting me get my thoughts in order so that I could understand my own feelings.

Our conversation turned to my reasons for coming. I told him of the hatred and anger of my friends and loved ones, I told him of my fears for my people, and in return, he explained something to me that I will think about for a long time to come. After I had explained myself, he asked me a question that seemed off base. He asked me what love is.

It took me long to answer him. I told him that love is giving of yourself to another, it is caring for another person and wanting to see them grow and prosper. It is believing in them. In reply, he asked me why I thought I was hated, why I thought people like Kyliska and Chalce no longer loved me, and images formed in my mind.

I saw Kyliska, standing again by the statue of my father. Instead of hearing her words and feeling anger towards her though, I saw in my vision the look on her face. The look of sorrow, of disappointment in me. Not anger. Not hate. She was hurt because she cared, not because she wished to drive me away. A similar image of Chalce came to mind. Of her goading words that I see now were not designed to be venomous barbs, but were directed at me to try and show me her point of view, to show me that she was worried about the path I tread. Her actions towards me, even her striking me, were not hatred. No, they were frustration with me for taking such a dangerous path when she cared so deeply for me.

I was stunned to see these things from another perspective. My heart aches even now to realize how much I've hurt them, how disappointed they are. I must admit that I wept openly in front of A'dal and all of the others near him, but I was not judged for this. Instead, he offered me comfort and the wisdom to know that the visions I had seen were a lesson to consider.

I will sit and consider this for a long time to come. Perhaps I myself have judged too harshly the actions of those who only care for me and wish to see me prosper. Perhaps my own actions have been detrimental to the love I feel for them. Maybe...maybe I should have looked first at what they wanted, what would make them happy, before I stood in their path.

I will contemplate this.

Journal of Exile, Entry 1

And so it has happened at last. I have been forced from my beloved home by my own family and friends. I sit here now, in the ruined city of Shattrath, and lament that things have gone so far, that my fortune has fallen so low. I can return in a moment's notice, with but a whisper of a word, and yet returning would mean having to face them again. It would mean having to listen to their accusations, to know that they love me no longer.

How could they misunderstand me so much? How could they not see all of the many foes I've brought down with my spells, to keep our people safe? Yes, I have made mistakes, and there have been many accidents along the path, but far more of our foes have fallen than allies have been harmed by my actions. No one can see that though. No one understands what I do for our people.

Chalce can protect the city on her own if that is her wish. Let her hear the cries of the innocent that she is too slow to reach in time. Let her cradle the dying in her arms, and hear them murmur the horrors to her of the alliance and the atrocities they've committed. Let her feel their pain. I can do it no longer, not when it is unappreciated, not when my every action is questioned and weighed.

I will pursue my own agenda, from within this mighty library. I will study further the ways of ALL forms of magic, even those that are 'unapproved' by my allies. One day, they will come and beg me for aid, and I will be gracious and supply it. I would not want true harm to fall to my people after all.

This time away from the city will allow me to ponder the words I forced out of that kaldorei during our little question session in the crypts of Sorrow Hill. She told me that this Kaelus Velve'Linath was actually the one to create the dreadfully powerful runeblade that she wields. This implies a strong knowledge of the necromantic arts.

I want that weapon. I want to feel it in my hands. I want to taste its magic. I will have it, and I will have the one who made it. She will make many more weapons like that for me, and teach me the secrets of such power. First she must be coerced though, so I will think long on how this might be accomplished.

When I return, it will be with accomplishments behind me the likes of which have not been seen before. I will be hailed as a Queen, not derided for my efforts and driven away out of fear and spite. I will be beloved. I will have obedience.

I will make my father proud. Walking away tonight has shown that. My mother would have killed them all. I will not take that path.

Diary Entry, Twenty-sixth of November

I regret many things. I regret the lives I cannot save. I regret the lives I take in vain to provide a lesson to my foes that they will never learn. Worst of all though, I regret that all of my actions, all of my battles were not enough to stop Wrynn's war machine from devastating the lands and claiming horde territory as I knew it would. I regret that I have failed in my primary goal of helping to fortify the territory of our allies, that our own lands would be doubly safe.

Jazari Mechavolt wishes to turn me against my own allies. I see that now. He thinks I am unaware of what the Dark Lady does, but he is mistaken. She is using powerful forces the likes of which I could only dream of controlling. While she uses them to ill purpose, if I could learn them and turn them to my own ends I would be unstoppable, and Silvermoon would indeed be safe eternally. That then is my goal. I will look away from the acts that she commits, even if deep in my heart they do cause me some hesitation and worry. I cannot risk the lives of my people due to some concerns about civilians who were WELL aware that their village was in a war zone!

I am disappointed in Jazari. I thought that he was my friend, and that he cared for me. Instead he is in a warlike mood now, and marches to battle beside murderers and thieves. He does not even realize that he is changing, that he is becoming everything he sought to fight against. It saddens me in a way, as he was ultimately innocent inside. I fear he has lost that spark, and I've no way to tell him, to show him what is happening inside him.

I cannot even speak with him anymore, and with his loss I have lost virtually all of my friends and loved ones. I am truly alone now, and must forge my own path forward. I only hope that somewhere those who have passed before me can look upon my works and be proud one day. I hope that Kyli is out there somewhere, watching over me.

That thought is all I have to comfort me now. I am alone and it is a cold world in which I must dwell. I will not put down my sword though, not until I have ended this and stopped Wrynn's war machine once and for all. Even if every night I will relive these moments, and hear Jazari's words chiding me in my dreams.

Diary Entry, Seventeenth of November

I awoke this morning stiff and sore. Last night was a trial the likes of which I have not experienced in a long time. I traveled to Thunderbluff to meet with Archmage Wyrmcurse, believing that this would be a secluded and somewhat private location for us to speak. None of the tauren speak our native language after all, and I had much to discuss with him that was private.

I told him of my concerns over Sindala, and we have made arrangements to take action to ensure that my wayward cousin learns the true path of the Sin'dorei. I worry over Vomher's excitement at the prospect of chastising Sindala, but I am sure he will show enough restraint so that the girl is not permanently damaged. He understands that she is my blood, and we are only taking this course of action in order to help her learn, not to harm her. She may not like what I have planned for her, but I would be remiss as her cousin and blood if I did not at least make an attempt to show her the truth.

While we were discussing events, a sudden cry went up and the normally peaceful tauren began to panic. Many of them armed themselves for war as winds began to pick up over the bluffs and the tents that these native people are so fond of began to sway with the force of the gusts. The Archmage and I, fearing some elemental attack the likes of which assaulted Orgrimmar, prepared our best killing spells and warded ourselves. We believed it would be no great difficulty considering the ease with which the elementals were dispatched in Orgrimmar several days prior. We could not have been more wrong.

The horrors I witnessed last night will stay with me for a long time. Elementals appeared everywhere, as if from thin air. Made of air and water, they began to bodily hurl people around. The air elementals especially were dangerous, as they had the capacity to steal the air from a person's lungs. Many were choked to death. I myself was at one point hurled from the bluffs by a blast of water vapor, and only quick thinking and a slowfall spell saved me from a terrible fate on the rocks below.

When I was able to get back to the top of the bluffs, a horrible sight filled my vision. The Archmage had been knocked unconscious, and many bluff watchers had been slain outright. Rampaging elementals battled the few heavily outnumbered defenders, who put up a valiant last stand. I immediately joined them, doing battle with many dozens of the creatures at once, even as lightning split the air around me and more were choked to death by the vapors.

At some point during the battle a massive electrical charge struck me, penetrating even my powerful wards. I was thrown through the air by the force of the blast, and tumbled through one of the tents of the tauren. The occupants had long since been slain. The force of the blow broke my arm I think. It is all a haze of remembered pain now. I know I was huddled beneath the fabric, the fingers on my left hand useless as I tried to cast with only my right hand. I remember seeing my own blood soak into the fertile soil of the bluff.

We lived through the battle obviously, or I would not be writing in this journal even now. Eventually reinforcements came to relieve the battered and brave defenders. I was tended to as I stumbled along with the other wounded, grateful just to be alive when so many others had perished.

I did not think to say this, but I was wrong to dismiss these elementals as a threat. They are a dire danger indeed, perhaps even more so than the alliance and King Wrynn. If they came to our city...I shudder to think of it really. So many Sin'dorei lives would be lost. I am glad I did my part to battle the creatures, even if it was a painful and emotionally draining experience.

Fortunately my House has many excellent healers. Velmara was able to tend to the broken arm as soon as I returned home, and it is simply sore now, as is the rest of my body. I shall not overdo it today, and perhaps by this evening I will be fully recovered.