- Location
- Elsewhere
Don't worry.
Future Sillya is a time traveler!
Probably.
They never make sense!
It'll be fine!
Probably.
A Child of Noble Birth (Warcraft High Elf SI/OC)
- Thread starter Midas_Man
- Start date
Don't worry.
Future Sillya is a time traveler!
Probably.
They never make sense!
It'll be fine!
Probably.
And now Kael'Thas becomes the next ruler of the High Elves later renamed Blood Elves in the aftermath of Quel'Thalas' fall.
Shame that Callia, older sister of Arthas, didn't come along as she was ignored by their father Terenas in favor of her little brother.
Hence, Terenas didn't know Calia was already married with some Lordaeron footman and have a daughter underneath his nose.
Awesome Star Wars reference!
That's a smart move and it's common sense not to stand in front of the enemy within stabbing distances.
Too bad that Arthas dumped Jaina at the Winter Veil and it was a sore spot between them.
All Elves and even the Undead:
View: https://youtu.be/uRy5RquFIHI?si=bEGY_isWB8zVFnbT
Demons don't die, they respawn.
Or maybe the Dreadlords knew Kel'Thuzad was there all along and didn't think he and Ner'zhul would be a threat to them, which is their biggest mistake.
That will certainly leave some burns on Arthas who realize he was played like a fool all along. And he might probably double down on it after that.
Kel'Thuzad will remember that and would tell Lich King Ner'zhul that she knows a lot more than she should. They would try to get her to reveal her secrets to them one way or another.
Ouch, she is gonna feel that in the morning. Assuming she comes back since apparently, her soul cannot be claimed by Frostmourne wielded by Arthas.
Banshee Sylvanas Windrunner: "Lucky her! She got a clean death! It should have been me!"
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
Why am I imagining a bronze dragon with a TVA vest sitting in some cafeteria, enjoying his lunch, and Loki just staring at him?
Eh, I prefer "training wheels" to "story rails" but it does lead to the same thing.
It'll all make sense!
I promise!
Maybe…
If you look hard enough…
I had so many fucking memes written in my first draft.
My favorite being "Unlimited Power!" while blasting Arthas as the power of the Sunwell starts to melt what little brain Syllia had.
Arthas: Note to self. When you kill the Dreadlords, swing at their purple spinning souls too not just their flesh.
That'd be a hilarious one scene wonder.
Although to be honest, I never liked TVA's existence when Loki show came out. Sure it is pretty neat story of its own right but it gets annoying when certain readers would wonder (jokingly or otherwise) when TVA shows up in any fanfic story of a Self Insert, AU and Crossover type for MCU.
Same applies to the Bronze Dragonflight on those said fanfic stories for Warcraft as well.
Unleash the memes! Hold nothing back! Memes are DNA of the soul!
- Location
- Euclidean plane
The only thing I think after this chapter is why is she getting in range of his attacks? She's a mage, right? Phenomenal cosmic power you can use from a fair distance away, right?
Why is she so close? Blast him from a few hundred yards away, at least. You've got a link to an enormous magic battery, you can handle it. If there's a wall in the way? Boom. Magic solves another problem. There is literally no reason for her to be hit by any sort of sword, legendary or otherwise. If he'd hit her with an unexpected long-range attack, it would be understandable. This is just baffling.
Why is she so close? Blast him from a few hundred yards away, at least. You've got a link to an enormous magic battery, you can handle it. If there's a wall in the way? Boom. Magic solves another problem. There is literally no reason for her to be hit by any sort of sword, legendary or otherwise. If he'd hit her with an unexpected long-range attack, it would be understandable. This is just baffling.
Last edited:
- Location
- Massachusetts
I am a sorceror with infinite power! Let's go fistfight the death knight! Let's one on one him instead of burning his army down!
Yeah ok.
Smoothest of smooth brained elfs indeed.
Still, good job getting this far through all the challenges.
Yeah ok.
Smoothest of smooth brained elfs indeed.
Still, good job getting this far through all the challenges.
Don't Arthas and other Death Knights have Anti-Magic Shield (it's in their four Abilities in Warcraft 3) which would render magic attack useless?
And that even if you burn down his army, there are still more to spare by the Scourge.
Yes, honestly I thought she had a better plan for burning down the necromancer's corpse. I mean, that's where I would have sent all that power, or just teleport away away, and let the sunwell diminish to nothing powering the sunwall protecting it. I mean Arthas is pretty bad ass, but teleport 100 yards, burn every undead, here he comes, teleport 100 yards, burn every undead, here he comes, teleport 100 yards rinse repeat until you're sure you have all the bones that could be a necromancer's body gone.
Why didn't they blow up the sun well?
Dark Whispers
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
The dark depths, the purple, the eyes, the tentacles with eyes on them, the feeling of something scraping against the inside of my skull….
Yeah, this is definitely some void bullshit.
Before I could even get a grasp on my surroundings, or what the hell the other me said, I heard something.
"Well, well," a voice slithered into my head like the smoothest oily velvet, "what do we have here?"
In front of me emerged a great, big…thing. It was fleshy, covered in eyes, and its appearance did not match the voice I heard in my head. Just looking at it hurt my eyes and made my head feel like it was being crushed by some invisible pressure.
It was an Old God….
N'Zoth…..
I don't know how I knew that, or why that was the first thing to pop into my head, but I knew it to be true.
"Yeah, uh sorry for…uh…intruding, I'll just be on my way now," I twisted and flailed about trying to 'move' away from the entity, after a decidedly awkward length of time, I conceded defeat and turned sheepishly back to the abomination. "Maybe you could, uh, help me out?"
"Intrude?" it laughed, energy coiling around me. "You can hardly intrude when I was the one to welcome you into my dark abyss. And what better time than when you just shed that mortal coil. An event for which I have waited a frustrating length of time."
"You…invited me?" That's not terrifying. "Like me? Specifically me?"
"Of course," it answered as if it were obvious, the tendrils coiling and writhing about like they were some fleshy cage. "Though I do understand the hesitation."
You do?
"After all, we left on such distasteful terms."
We what?
"But I will concede that, perhaps, I bear some responsibility for what occurred during our last meeting."
What meeting?
"Though I will hold that if you hadn't angered me as you did, I wouldn't have reacted in such a way."
Before?
"No reaction? No recognition…hmm," a tendril covered in eyes passed by my head, trying to search for something. "Oh my, it appears the damage I caused was more severe than I realized."
Damage? When would we have ever met?
Is it talking about that other me?
But then if it was, why wouldn't it just come out and say 'my plans to corrupt you have failed, now gaze upon my true form!' and all that jazz.
Does that mean-
PAIN
Oily shadows slithered across my vision.
Sharp pain danced across my skin like knives
Cutting.
Slicing.
Flaying.
Down to the very bone.
Oily shadows enveloped me, bit by bit.
Monstrous howls and gurgling laughter-
"Fuck!" I swore, gripping my head. The hell was that? Why did it feel like an ice pick tore through my skull?
"Oh my mistake, you do remember," everytime it spoke I felt like I was going to have a damn migraine! "Or at least your essence does."
"The fuck did you do to me!?" I demand, desperately looking for a way out of the fleshy cage. My attempts to 'swim' out only resulted in me flailing about in place. "What do you want!?"
"What do I want? What a curious choice of words," the cage moved, dragging me closer to a massive set of eyes. "All I want is for you to simply show me the way."
"The way? The way to what?"
"To your home, of course."
"M-My home?" The way that was phrased, it felt like it was implying something very different then what it sounded like. "Aren't you going to…like…kill me or something. Isn't that what Old Gods do?"
"Kill you?" it laughed. "Why would I do that? What good would that do? No, I have no intention of killing you. You shall stay, a guest, until you are whole once more and we can make the trip together."
Whole?
"Only then will I finally escape this borderless prison and follow you-"
A flash of purple light balefully glowed across the area, the tendrils wrenched out of alignment writhing in pain.
"Finally," that voice. My voice, it's voice, called out behind me. The doppelganger 'floated' towards me. It didn't have any shape or form, but for some reason I could tell it was the video thing. Its form pulsed with energy, shooing the 'cage' away. "Like a needle in a haystack I swear to fucking god…."
"Wait," Wasn't this thing just an interpretation of that thing? I quickly glance between the two. "But I thought you were-"
But if that's the case…what the hell was it?
"Oh what is this?" it turned its gaze upon my doppelganger. Hundreds of blazing amber eyes stared it down, the replica glaring at the old god.
"We're leaving, come on," it ignored the old god, grabbing onto me and pulling me from the voidborn's grasp. More pulses of light beat back the pawing tentacles as they tried to grab me.
"Yet again you surprise me. I'm amazed something so torn and broken can reconstitute itself as a separate entity? Or is itseparate?"
"W-wait where are you-"
"Body, real life," the copy quipped. "Gotta head out now while it's still empty."
"Empty!?"
"Yeah, empty. Trust me, it's way easier than trying to take over one with a soul already there."
"How do you even know that-"
"Ah Yes! Now I understand!" the lovecraftian creature laughed at some realization. "You grafted back onto the greater whole. But I wonder if you are a parasite or a tumor?"
The copy didn't answer, simply grabbing me, and pulling me away to the laughter of N'Zoth.
"Ah that expression, that defiance, pray tell what do you think you are, little fragment?" The tendrils stopped reaching out. "Oh well. Go and collect yourself little Outsider, I shall be waiting with baited breath for our next meeting, perhaps even in the flesh."
The roaring laughter faded away as I was spirited away to 'somewhere'.
I was quiet for a time, trying to process what the hell I had just experienced.
"Well, you did better than I thought you would," it commented as we sped through whatever this was. All I could tell was that it was colorless and featureless. "I'll be honest, I was half expecting you to have pissed squidward off somehow before I could get back to you."
It grumbled to itself, muttering under its breath something I couldn't catch.
"Also, remember that just because you have a new body, that doesn't mean your mind just forgets the feeling of being jacked into magical heroin central. So when you get up I'd find a nice place to crash, because you will crash, since you're basically going to be running on empty for a few hours at the-"
"W-ho are you? What are you?" I finally stutter out.
"I've told you, I'm you," it sighed, realizing the explanation would not satisfy me. "Look long story short, you're the winner of the coin toss and got to keep lionshare of what constitutes a person."
"But what are you!?" that didn't answer anything at all!
"Isn't it obvious?" even without a form, I could feel it give a melancholic grin. "I'm the loser."
Before it could elaborate further, every sensation came back to me all at once….
--
--
I gasped for air, going into a coughing fit as something ashy coated my lungs.
Turning over, I heaved out all the dust and grime that must have gathered in my lungs while I was…wherever I was. Death (again)? Purgatory? Near death?
I coughed and retched, painfully aware of how dry my throat was and how much ash coated me.
How long…was I out?
It was almost as dark as night, but that was just from the ash clouds hanging in the sky.
I had to get up.
I had to figure out what happened..
I had to-
Only then did I realize I had helped myself up by bracing my arm against the wall. The arm that…
I gripped my shoulder in a panic, only to find it connected to my arm.
My arm was…fine?
And…I didn't have any clothes on.
Wonderful. Just…wonderful.
I mean, good that I was alive, but….still…
Thankfully, there seemed to be nothing around I had to preserve my dignity from. Just corpses and ash.
My head ached, making it hard for me to focus.
Taking in my surroundings, I couldn't help but notice how noxious the ambient area was; like being near poison. It made my head split apart in pain and my stomach turned with what little was in it.
The Well…Arthas…Kel'Thuzad…
The Well was corrupted.
I didn't even need to see the bile like color it took to know that. Simply being in its presence was enough to make me feel ill.
It was corrupted.
And then…
I winced, cradling the arm I had thought I lost.
I looked out across to the city, smoldering fires still raging across its dark visage.
If the Well was allowed to remain, this corruption would spread through the ley lines, across all of Quel'Thalas. The entire nation would rot from the inside out.
I can't let that happen.
Especially since I'm the reason it's already like this…
My muscles ached and my head throbbed with pain. Every movement felt like a challenge, even before I registered how hard it was to breathe in this place with all the ash and soot.
A quick look around the area showed that all the glyphs to destroy it were still there. Not intact, but more than enough were at least passable to stop the well from leaking this poison across the lands of Quel'Thalas.
But first, I needed to find something to wear. While I was hardly close to an armory or storage room, there were bodies all around me.
Ugh…I can't believe what I was doing. It just felt wrong to loot the dead, moreso when they were fighting beside me recently.
At least I didn't have to look far for… an outfit. A woman was dead right beside me, and about my size.
I examined her, trying to see what was salvageable. A broken blade, some torn but still usable armor, The head was far too 'ruined' to see any definitive features beyond a bloody mess of blonde hair, and she was missing an arm.
Yet as I looked, something morbid clicked in me.
Wearing armor that I wore…
Missing an arm…
A broken sword…
I don't know what force possessed me, perhaps morbid curiosity, or a desire to prove myself wrong, but my hand pushed aside the ruined chest piece to check the body's breast pocket. I expected (hoped) to find nothing, yet pulled out a small envelope. Caked in blood, but clearly bearing the royal seal.
The exact same place I kept…
I kept…
I…
I turned my head, a lone pale eye gazed up at me and I took in…my face and…
The revelation before me made me vomit what little was in my belly.
--
--
When I was done being…ill, and hyperventilating, I stripped…the body.
I stripped…
I stripped my… body and put on whatever was still salvageable. I ignored the disgusting sensations of blood…of my blood and fastened what I could in place. The chest piece had a tear running down the mid section and the arm portion was…no longer there, but I made it work.
Almost as if it were already fitted for me…
I could feel myself on the verge of dry heaving again as I strapped everything into place. Everything (back) in place, I lit the body on fire and buried all the existential dread this experience imprinted onto me.
Ignoring the sudden onset of vertigo, a strange reaction for such a simple spell, I turned my attention to what I should have done from the start: the Sunwell.
Priming the glyph array was easy, since it was already primed to be used, but getting out was an issue. Not because there was anything in front of me or even stopping me. No, the place was empty as the crypt it was.
No, it was hard to get out because I just felt so…weak. Lethargic even.
Like every step took extra effort. Even raising my arms and channeling mana was enough to get me huffing like I had just run a marathon. I shivered as cold sweat ran down my face as I struggled to just exit the building.
In my rush to get out of the 'blast radius' I stumbled my way down the stairs. So many fucking stairs…
With my head still aching from whatever the hell that oversized squid did and whatever it took for me to 'come back' it was clear I was going to be out of it for a while.
I'm pretty sure I know why. It would be ridiculous if someone could just rise from the dead, in a whole new body, and not be severely weakened by the experience. Everything else, the difficulty in using magic, the lightheadedness, that would probably go away when I finally got some rest.
But in my musings and self pitying, I heard a whistling whine behind me.
Not even a second after I turned to see a pillar of light emerging from the Well I was thrown back by a gust of wind. I fell even further down, landing square on my back. I coughed as all the air was slammed out of my lungs.
While I tried to get my breath back, I realized the light I saw from the Well was more like a pillar piercing through the building into the ashy skies above.
As it radiated towards the heavens above, I could feel the ambient 'corruption' in the air burn itself away. Like walking through smog only to be able to finally breath fresh air. My nausea slowly vanished, though all the other aches and pains remained.
At least I did something right…
Yet as I had a chance to bask in the small victory, a pair of figures loomed over me.
Slouching, pointed ears, three fingered, with tusks.
Trolls….
Armed trolls…
"Looks like we gotta live one here," I heard one of them comment. He poked me with his foot as if to check I was alive.
"Think she's worth something?" the other questioned, kneeling down to look at me. "Cute nuff at least."
"She looks sick and stringy," the first countered. "No one would risk catching whatever the dead left here."
"You probably be right," the troll stood up, arching his crude ax above my head. "Such a waste."
Of for fucks sake…
In the blink of an eye, a whining arrow penetrated the throat of the troll holding the ax. He didn't have time to react, dropping the crude weapon as he fell over clutching the shaft buried in his jugular.
I hissed as it clipped my cheek hitting the ground beside me.
"Nim! Damn it-" the other did not last much longer, an arrow lodging itself in his chest before a second went through his head. The troll collapsed, gurgling something under his breath as he hit the ground.
With that situation seemingly solving itself, I had just enough energy left in me to roll ever so slightly to the side to try and catch a glimpse of whoever that was. It turned out to be unnecessary as they raced over to me.
It was an elven woman. She was battered, bruised, bloodied, ranger armor caked in gore and grime, with her bow at the ready. Her eyes quickly darted around, checking for other trolls, before looking down to me. The edge in them softened when she saw the state I was in.
"Healer!" she called as she knelt down. The ranger sat me upright as a brilliant glowing warmth washed over my body that soothed all the aches and pains. When I tried to readjust myself, a firm hand held me in place. "Take it easy, you're safe now."
That voice…
"I-" my first words were silenced by a coughing fit, leftover dust in the back of my dry throat.
"Don't talk, here," she held a canteen to my lips, I greedily drank down the lukewarm water."Better?"
I didn't say anything, simply nodding as I drained the canteen to the last drop.
"Good," putting it away, she started to pull me to my feet. "I'm sorry, I know this is sudden and you've been through a lot, but we need to move. I also have questions about that light, but they can wait. Talwe?"
"I got her, my Lady," barely on my feet, I was 'handed off' to another. Given she was wearing robes, it was clear she wasn't a ranger.
"Vynsen cover them, Talthan with me," only when the first woman started giving orders did I realize how many others were with her. "We'll take the mage back to the Terrace with the other wounded and wait for Nathaos's troops to arrive."
"Where there's one troll, there are bound to be more," another voice quipped.
"All the more reason to get back as soon as possible."
"Of course, General."
General?
"S-Sylvanas?" The raspy name slipped through my lips without a thought. That's right, I did save her didn't I.
"I am," the ranger nodded, and I finally realized why this woman was so familiar. Her wounds had healed, or were healed, since the last time I saw her. I'm actually surprised she's even walking considering the state I last saw her in.
"At least I did…something right…" I mused, not that any one life is inherently worth more than all the rest that were lost. But I'll take all the victories I can right now.
"What do you mean-," now it was her turn to look at me, then realization flashed across her face. "Wait, I know you. You're-"
Exhaustion finally caught up to me before I could hear the rest of it. My legs buckled as the blackness I'd been holding at bay at the edge of my vision, triumphantly rushed in.
—-
—-
AN: Well this is very embarrassing for me. Not the chapter, I'm actually quite happy with how it turned out, but forgetting I had an SV account to post on.
Ooof. Very much my bad.
Yeah, this is definitely some void bullshit.
Before I could even get a grasp on my surroundings, or what the hell the other me said, I heard something.
"Well, well," a voice slithered into my head like the smoothest oily velvet, "what do we have here?"
In front of me emerged a great, big…thing. It was fleshy, covered in eyes, and its appearance did not match the voice I heard in my head. Just looking at it hurt my eyes and made my head feel like it was being crushed by some invisible pressure.
It was an Old God….
N'Zoth…..
I don't know how I knew that, or why that was the first thing to pop into my head, but I knew it to be true.
"Yeah, uh sorry for…uh…intruding, I'll just be on my way now," I twisted and flailed about trying to 'move' away from the entity, after a decidedly awkward length of time, I conceded defeat and turned sheepishly back to the abomination. "Maybe you could, uh, help me out?"
"Intrude?" it laughed, energy coiling around me. "You can hardly intrude when I was the one to welcome you into my dark abyss. And what better time than when you just shed that mortal coil. An event for which I have waited a frustrating length of time."
"You…invited me?" That's not terrifying. "Like me? Specifically me?"
"Of course," it answered as if it were obvious, the tendrils coiling and writhing about like they were some fleshy cage. "Though I do understand the hesitation."
You do?
"After all, we left on such distasteful terms."
We what?
"But I will concede that, perhaps, I bear some responsibility for what occurred during our last meeting."
What meeting?
"Though I will hold that if you hadn't angered me as you did, I wouldn't have reacted in such a way."
Before?
"No reaction? No recognition…hmm," a tendril covered in eyes passed by my head, trying to search for something. "Oh my, it appears the damage I caused was more severe than I realized."
Damage? When would we have ever met?
Is it talking about that other me?
But then if it was, why wouldn't it just come out and say 'my plans to corrupt you have failed, now gaze upon my true form!' and all that jazz.
Does that mean-
PAIN
Oily shadows slithered across my vision.
Sharp pain danced across my skin like knives
Cutting.
Slicing.
Flaying.
Down to the very bone.
Oily shadows enveloped me, bit by bit.
Monstrous howls and gurgling laughter-
"Fuck!" I swore, gripping my head. The hell was that? Why did it feel like an ice pick tore through my skull?
"Oh my mistake, you do remember," everytime it spoke I felt like I was going to have a damn migraine! "Or at least your essence does."
"The fuck did you do to me!?" I demand, desperately looking for a way out of the fleshy cage. My attempts to 'swim' out only resulted in me flailing about in place. "What do you want!?"
"What do I want? What a curious choice of words," the cage moved, dragging me closer to a massive set of eyes. "All I want is for you to simply show me the way."
"The way? The way to what?"
"To your home, of course."
"M-My home?" The way that was phrased, it felt like it was implying something very different then what it sounded like. "Aren't you going to…like…kill me or something. Isn't that what Old Gods do?"
"Kill you?" it laughed. "Why would I do that? What good would that do? No, I have no intention of killing you. You shall stay, a guest, until you are whole once more and we can make the trip together."
Whole?
"Only then will I finally escape this borderless prison and follow you-"
A flash of purple light balefully glowed across the area, the tendrils wrenched out of alignment writhing in pain.
"Finally," that voice. My voice, it's voice, called out behind me. The doppelganger 'floated' towards me. It didn't have any shape or form, but for some reason I could tell it was the video thing. Its form pulsed with energy, shooing the 'cage' away. "Like a needle in a haystack I swear to fucking god…."
"Wait," Wasn't this thing just an interpretation of that thing? I quickly glance between the two. "But I thought you were-"
But if that's the case…what the hell was it?
"Oh what is this?" it turned its gaze upon my doppelganger. Hundreds of blazing amber eyes stared it down, the replica glaring at the old god.
"We're leaving, come on," it ignored the old god, grabbing onto me and pulling me from the voidborn's grasp. More pulses of light beat back the pawing tentacles as they tried to grab me.
"Yet again you surprise me. I'm amazed something so torn and broken can reconstitute itself as a separate entity? Or is itseparate?"
"W-wait where are you-"
"Body, real life," the copy quipped. "Gotta head out now while it's still empty."
"Empty!?"
"Yeah, empty. Trust me, it's way easier than trying to take over one with a soul already there."
"How do you even know that-"
"Ah Yes! Now I understand!" the lovecraftian creature laughed at some realization. "You grafted back onto the greater whole. But I wonder if you are a parasite or a tumor?"
The copy didn't answer, simply grabbing me, and pulling me away to the laughter of N'Zoth.
"Ah that expression, that defiance, pray tell what do you think you are, little fragment?" The tendrils stopped reaching out. "Oh well. Go and collect yourself little Outsider, I shall be waiting with baited breath for our next meeting, perhaps even in the flesh."
The roaring laughter faded away as I was spirited away to 'somewhere'.
I was quiet for a time, trying to process what the hell I had just experienced.
"Well, you did better than I thought you would," it commented as we sped through whatever this was. All I could tell was that it was colorless and featureless. "I'll be honest, I was half expecting you to have pissed squidward off somehow before I could get back to you."
It grumbled to itself, muttering under its breath something I couldn't catch.
"Also, remember that just because you have a new body, that doesn't mean your mind just forgets the feeling of being jacked into magical heroin central. So when you get up I'd find a nice place to crash, because you will crash, since you're basically going to be running on empty for a few hours at the-"
"W-ho are you? What are you?" I finally stutter out.
"I've told you, I'm you," it sighed, realizing the explanation would not satisfy me. "Look long story short, you're the winner of the coin toss and got to keep lionshare of what constitutes a person."
"But what are you!?" that didn't answer anything at all!
"Isn't it obvious?" even without a form, I could feel it give a melancholic grin. "I'm the loser."
Before it could elaborate further, every sensation came back to me all at once….
--
--
I gasped for air, going into a coughing fit as something ashy coated my lungs.
Turning over, I heaved out all the dust and grime that must have gathered in my lungs while I was…wherever I was. Death (again)? Purgatory? Near death?
I coughed and retched, painfully aware of how dry my throat was and how much ash coated me.
How long…was I out?
It was almost as dark as night, but that was just from the ash clouds hanging in the sky.
I had to get up.
I had to figure out what happened..
I had to-
Only then did I realize I had helped myself up by bracing my arm against the wall. The arm that…
I gripped my shoulder in a panic, only to find it connected to my arm.
My arm was…fine?
And…I didn't have any clothes on.
Wonderful. Just…wonderful.
I mean, good that I was alive, but….still…
Thankfully, there seemed to be nothing around I had to preserve my dignity from. Just corpses and ash.
My head ached, making it hard for me to focus.
Taking in my surroundings, I couldn't help but notice how noxious the ambient area was; like being near poison. It made my head split apart in pain and my stomach turned with what little was in it.
The Well…Arthas…Kel'Thuzad…
The Well was corrupted.
I didn't even need to see the bile like color it took to know that. Simply being in its presence was enough to make me feel ill.
It was corrupted.
And then…
I winced, cradling the arm I had thought I lost.
I looked out across to the city, smoldering fires still raging across its dark visage.
If the Well was allowed to remain, this corruption would spread through the ley lines, across all of Quel'Thalas. The entire nation would rot from the inside out.
I can't let that happen.
Especially since I'm the reason it's already like this…
My muscles ached and my head throbbed with pain. Every movement felt like a challenge, even before I registered how hard it was to breathe in this place with all the ash and soot.
A quick look around the area showed that all the glyphs to destroy it were still there. Not intact, but more than enough were at least passable to stop the well from leaking this poison across the lands of Quel'Thalas.
But first, I needed to find something to wear. While I was hardly close to an armory or storage room, there were bodies all around me.
Ugh…I can't believe what I was doing. It just felt wrong to loot the dead, moreso when they were fighting beside me recently.
At least I didn't have to look far for… an outfit. A woman was dead right beside me, and about my size.
I examined her, trying to see what was salvageable. A broken blade, some torn but still usable armor, The head was far too 'ruined' to see any definitive features beyond a bloody mess of blonde hair, and she was missing an arm.
Yet as I looked, something morbid clicked in me.
Wearing armor that I wore…
Missing an arm…
A broken sword…
I don't know what force possessed me, perhaps morbid curiosity, or a desire to prove myself wrong, but my hand pushed aside the ruined chest piece to check the body's breast pocket. I expected (hoped) to find nothing, yet pulled out a small envelope. Caked in blood, but clearly bearing the royal seal.
The exact same place I kept…
I kept…
I…
I turned my head, a lone pale eye gazed up at me and I took in…my face and…
The revelation before me made me vomit what little was in my belly.
--
--
When I was done being…ill, and hyperventilating, I stripped…the body.
I stripped…
I stripped my… body and put on whatever was still salvageable. I ignored the disgusting sensations of blood…of my blood and fastened what I could in place. The chest piece had a tear running down the mid section and the arm portion was…no longer there, but I made it work.
Almost as if it were already fitted for me…
I could feel myself on the verge of dry heaving again as I strapped everything into place. Everything (back) in place, I lit the body on fire and buried all the existential dread this experience imprinted onto me.
Ignoring the sudden onset of vertigo, a strange reaction for such a simple spell, I turned my attention to what I should have done from the start: the Sunwell.
Priming the glyph array was easy, since it was already primed to be used, but getting out was an issue. Not because there was anything in front of me or even stopping me. No, the place was empty as the crypt it was.
No, it was hard to get out because I just felt so…weak. Lethargic even.
Like every step took extra effort. Even raising my arms and channeling mana was enough to get me huffing like I had just run a marathon. I shivered as cold sweat ran down my face as I struggled to just exit the building.
In my rush to get out of the 'blast radius' I stumbled my way down the stairs. So many fucking stairs…
With my head still aching from whatever the hell that oversized squid did and whatever it took for me to 'come back' it was clear I was going to be out of it for a while.
I'm pretty sure I know why. It would be ridiculous if someone could just rise from the dead, in a whole new body, and not be severely weakened by the experience. Everything else, the difficulty in using magic, the lightheadedness, that would probably go away when I finally got some rest.
But in my musings and self pitying, I heard a whistling whine behind me.
Not even a second after I turned to see a pillar of light emerging from the Well I was thrown back by a gust of wind. I fell even further down, landing square on my back. I coughed as all the air was slammed out of my lungs.
While I tried to get my breath back, I realized the light I saw from the Well was more like a pillar piercing through the building into the ashy skies above.
As it radiated towards the heavens above, I could feel the ambient 'corruption' in the air burn itself away. Like walking through smog only to be able to finally breath fresh air. My nausea slowly vanished, though all the other aches and pains remained.
At least I did something right…
Yet as I had a chance to bask in the small victory, a pair of figures loomed over me.
Slouching, pointed ears, three fingered, with tusks.
Trolls….
Armed trolls…
"Looks like we gotta live one here," I heard one of them comment. He poked me with his foot as if to check I was alive.
"Think she's worth something?" the other questioned, kneeling down to look at me. "Cute nuff at least."
"She looks sick and stringy," the first countered. "No one would risk catching whatever the dead left here."
"You probably be right," the troll stood up, arching his crude ax above my head. "Such a waste."
Of for fucks sake…
In the blink of an eye, a whining arrow penetrated the throat of the troll holding the ax. He didn't have time to react, dropping the crude weapon as he fell over clutching the shaft buried in his jugular.
I hissed as it clipped my cheek hitting the ground beside me.
"Nim! Damn it-" the other did not last much longer, an arrow lodging itself in his chest before a second went through his head. The troll collapsed, gurgling something under his breath as he hit the ground.
With that situation seemingly solving itself, I had just enough energy left in me to roll ever so slightly to the side to try and catch a glimpse of whoever that was. It turned out to be unnecessary as they raced over to me.
It was an elven woman. She was battered, bruised, bloodied, ranger armor caked in gore and grime, with her bow at the ready. Her eyes quickly darted around, checking for other trolls, before looking down to me. The edge in them softened when she saw the state I was in.
"Healer!" she called as she knelt down. The ranger sat me upright as a brilliant glowing warmth washed over my body that soothed all the aches and pains. When I tried to readjust myself, a firm hand held me in place. "Take it easy, you're safe now."
That voice…
"I-" my first words were silenced by a coughing fit, leftover dust in the back of my dry throat.
"Don't talk, here," she held a canteen to my lips, I greedily drank down the lukewarm water."Better?"
I didn't say anything, simply nodding as I drained the canteen to the last drop.
"Good," putting it away, she started to pull me to my feet. "I'm sorry, I know this is sudden and you've been through a lot, but we need to move. I also have questions about that light, but they can wait. Talwe?"
"I got her, my Lady," barely on my feet, I was 'handed off' to another. Given she was wearing robes, it was clear she wasn't a ranger.
"Vynsen cover them, Talthan with me," only when the first woman started giving orders did I realize how many others were with her. "We'll take the mage back to the Terrace with the other wounded and wait for Nathaos's troops to arrive."
"Where there's one troll, there are bound to be more," another voice quipped.
"All the more reason to get back as soon as possible."
"Of course, General."
General?
"S-Sylvanas?" The raspy name slipped through my lips without a thought. That's right, I did save her didn't I.
"I am," the ranger nodded, and I finally realized why this woman was so familiar. Her wounds had healed, or were healed, since the last time I saw her. I'm actually surprised she's even walking considering the state I last saw her in.
"At least I did…something right…" I mused, not that any one life is inherently worth more than all the rest that were lost. But I'll take all the victories I can right now.
"What do you mean-," now it was her turn to look at me, then realization flashed across her face. "Wait, I know you. You're-"
Exhaustion finally caught up to me before I could hear the rest of it. My legs buckled as the blackness I'd been holding at bay at the edge of my vision, triumphantly rushed in.
—-
—-
AN: Well this is very embarrassing for me. Not the chapter, I'm actually quite happy with how it turned out, but forgetting I had an SV account to post on.
Ooof. Very much my bad.
That's rich coming from the Old Gods who latched onto the world of Azeroth like parasites they are especially when the Titans once tried to pull one out only to learn it's attached deeply into the planet, leaving a huge hole that would be the Well of Eternity and later Maelstrom.
jesus
Arasaka VTuber PsyOps
We all forget, it's okay!
Interlude- Dawnbreaker
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
Verana always had a fondness for the Coldwater seaside estate in Azure. A sleepy, yet luxurious, little town filled with the summer manses of many magisters, it had always been a popular destination for those who wished to get away from Silvermoon's cosmopolitan experience.
Gardens filled with flowers from all corners of the Eastern Kingdoms, impressive fountains on every street that flowed with varying types of wine, mosaics telling local folklore and other myths decorated walls along sidewalks. The parties thrown could go on for hours, with wine flowing like water and enchanted instruments playing well past the breaking of dawn.
In short, the settlement was maintained to a standard of luxury only magisters pooling their respective resources could achieve.
But for her, she always knew it as a quiet place where you could get lost in your own thoughts for hours.
But now?
Vast swaths of burning forest and innumerable funeral pyres fed a constant stream of ash into the already soot dominated the sky. It fell down on everything, covering the vast fields of flowers and greenery in gray sheets of snow-like soot. The sun had yet to pierce the clouds in three days, but even when it had, the shine was a dull imitation of what it ought to be.
The once lushly maintained grounds had been given over in their entirety to the suffering masses fleeing for their lives. None had homes here, and with the inns and hotels already filled to capacity, some going as far as to sleep in the hallways or under desks, they were left to fend for themselves in the elements.
For most, all they could hope for was a tent which they no doubt shared with numerous families. Better than the alternative of sleeping wholly exposed to the elements and waking up each and every morning covered in a fine layer of ash.
It was depressing that the proud people of her kingdom were reduced to this squalid existence. Never knowing if any given night was their last before the hordes of undead slaughtered them all. Most of their days were spent collecting around scant fires for warmth, cooking what meager rations they were provided or brought with them.
And even with wards lining the estate's foundation to reduce outside noise seeping in, Verana could still hear them.
The whispers, the praying…the crying.
"Lady Verana, your dinner is-"
"Leave it on the desk," Verana pointed across the room, never taking her eyes off the scene beyond the window.
Verana had never seen a dragon before.
Yes, she had seen portraits and sketches of the creatures, but never in the flesh. She knew of all the flights, the ideologies each held to, and how proactive, or lack thereof, each one was. In all her texts, they were noted as reclusive beings at best, and even when they did interact with the wider world it was usually under some illusion to hide their true nature.
Yet now she could scarcely go an hour without seeing a crimson scaled dragon flying through the ashy skies above. Mighty roars echoing through the dim light, illuminated by streaks of hot fire strafing the forests beyond.
She also never expected one of them to land in her own family's courtyard.
Young children flocked from their parents to the red wyrm as if it were some zoo attraction. A mighty creature, potentially older than the kingdom itself given its size, was letting mere children climb atop it like it was some toy. Some pulled at the membrane of its wings, some watched with awe as a stream of fire arced and looped around in the air for their entertainment, but most simply climbed to the beast's head and marveled how high they were.
Clear as the morale boost this display provided the people, Verana was at a loss for words why such a majestic being would allow itself to be treated like some… attraction.
"My lady, is there anything else you-"
"No, you are dismissed," The servant silently complied, closing the door behind him as she walked over for her meal.
The meat on her plate, while seasoned and cooked to perfection, was portioned smaller than usual, as were the serving of vegetables that came with it; to say nothing of the lack of an appetizer.
Not that this was unexpected. Her father had implemented strict rationing not long after they arrived.
When her father stated they were leaving Silvermoon for their seaside estate, she stupidly never gave a thought as to why. Nor did she wonder why the furniture and valuables were leaving with them, though she did have a sinking feeling of something terrible happening when he called up the entire household guard to relocate as well.
It was just as she was settling herself in, directing the unpacking of her belongings to the servants they brought with them, that word of the undead invasion reached her. By the day's end, she had learned of the army smashed to pieces and the monsters marching inexorably to a defenseless Silvermoon.
The situation was made worse with how many magisters were missing, dead, or otherwise indisposed. Some died in defense of the kingdom, some died in the panic that followed, some refused to abandon their lands, some remained in Silvermoon to aid in the defense, many were just missing and unable to communicate their situations to the wider kingdom, but the worst cravenly fled or hid in their estates.
The losses were great.
Too great.
Too many for the kingdom to properly run itself. With so many unreachable, dead or otherwise, and the King and Grand Magister first personally overseeing the defense of Silvermoon and now unreachable since the undead stormed the city, Quel'Thalas was effectively headless and leaderless.
Given the severity of the situation, it was only natural that her father do what he could to restore some measure of stability and control. He rallied what magisters he could reach to establish an adhoc Convocation until such time as his Majesty, the Grand Magister, or some other person vested with such authority could be consulted.
And so the august body was condensed to a party of twelve.
Twelve….
Twelve magisters from a body of one thousand…
It was pathetic.
Verana tore into her meal as a familiar frustration bubbled over.
The dozen magisters seated in the parlor in a vacation home was all that the once mighty Convocation could muster.
Some cravens too scared to leave their estates even had the gall to call her father's actions a palace coup!
That he was planning on crowning himself king in the aftermath of the invasion!
Ridiculous!
Barring the fact that the Coldwater's did not have even a drop of royal blood in their veins, and that it was presumptuous to claim his Majesty was dead, Prince Kael'thas was still alive and well.
These were nothing more than baseless accusations born of fear.
Fear that her father was doing what they failed to do: restore order.
Even now, their forces were not merely checking the undead's advance but pushing back on all fronts. Beset by dragonfire and harassed by royal forces, the bulk of the undead would be gone within the month.Or so her father informed her.
"Then there will be a reckoning," her father also told her, in those brief moments he spared for her.
And Verana could not wait to see the faces of all these uncultured wretches who hid like cowards, to watch the swift sword of justice come down on their throats for their-
CRACK.
Looking down, she saw her knife cut into the fine dish her meal was on; marring it.
Swearing under her breath, she gulped down her wine.
This anger, this uncouthness was unbecoming of a Coldwater. Small mercies that none were around to see.
She mulled the word: See.
…See.
It reminded her she had not seen Sillya in days, not since she barged into her chambers and demanded some of her clothes. Even now, she had no idea what that idiot was thinking at the time.
Or maybe that is the mistake, perhaps it is wrong of her to assume Syllia thinks ahead at all.
…ugh.
Of all the people she could be worrying about, dedicating precious time to think about, why did she always come to the top of the list?
Because you haven't seen her, came the answer to her own question.
She has not seen Emberbirth either for that matter, though she had heard in one of the many, many, courtiers that gossiped a bit too loudly that she had escaped and was in her family estate some towns away.
Though that momentary relief was dashed by the next tidbit that her mother now served as her regent for the family until she comes of age.
It made no sense the moment she heard it, since the Emberbirths have a reigning family head, who also has grown children to succeed him. Emberbirth…Elsia was not even in the first few rungs of the line of succession.
Then the cold realization struck her, and she felt genuinely sorry for her.
Verana knew she was uniquely blessed among her people with the fact her family was still whole, brothers and mother all accounted for. She was hardly deaf to the stories and wailing of broken families; as much as she wished her wards would let her be. She felt sorrow for their loss, but Emberbirth… Elsia's loss hit her more than the others.
The power of being able to put a face and a name to hardship.
Was Syllia's family equally devastated by loss, she wondered.
No, she shook her head.
It was a Dawnguard that brought news of the imminent catastrophe to the ears of the Convocation in the first place by her father's own admission. While she may not know their direct relation to Syllia, it would be inconceivable to presume they would not evacuate their entire family from the city; Syllia included.
Verana ran her fingers over the table, mulling over her previous thought.
No. She would not overthink this. The idiot was fine.
…
But what if-
Her thoughts were interrupted by a vibration that shook the room around her. The chandelier, the windows, her wine, everything briefly shook before settling back down.
She raced to the window, thinking the dragon must have done something, or that Azure was under attack, only to see all eyes looking towards the sky.
Verana witnessed a great pillar of light shooting up into the sky, piercing the ash clouds and giving way to blue sky.
--
--
Elsia and her family only had a few days warning to flee Silvermoon before the undead reached the gates. In the confusion, so much had to be left behind in the rush.
Artwork, statues, books, paintings, clothes, jewelry…people.
Elsia had looked high and low for her friend, spending a whole day scouring Dath'Remar and the whole district for any hint of her. But time ran out.
She would like to think Syllia and her family evacuated with some other group, or perhaps on their own. That they were now hunkered down somewhere weathering the storm as much as anyone could. They would reunite once the undead were gone, and some small semblance of normality would ensue.
It certainly made the march out of the city easier for Elsia to think in those terms then to presume the more likely option that she was dead in some unmarked ditch. Or maybe it was easier to assume she was in a ditch then the alternative…
The initial flight from the city was hard, but manageable. Her brother had the foresight to call up the household guard, but even then no one had the luxury of sitting idle in the situation.
Even she joined the various battles that broke out, personally eradicating scores of abominations and monsters that dared hound them. And perhaps it was a bit prideful of her, but her incandescent white fires were the only reason so many of their initial group survived.
One person even confused her for some priestess casting holy light with how bright the flames were.
Elsia thought she understood the situation, the dire straits the kingdom was in.
In truth, she had only the faintest glimpse of what was to come.
Everything was going so well… so why…?
Elsia retched bile and blood into the handkerchief.
Each cough was a hit to her gut, her abdomen and other innards groaned in agony and her whole body felt as if it were coming apart at the seams. As she coughed, the healers did their best to stem the frenzy. Warmth flowed into her, mending what was tearing and bruised inside her.
The ordeal went on for minutes, the cloth replaced with a fresh one as the last of her episode concluded. She drank the potion offered greedily, the tasteless liquid easing the soreness of her throat within moments.
Even as she handed the phial back, a chill shook her body; one that stayed even as she was laid back into her bed.
"Please do not exert yourself, my lady," the healer cautioned, laying another potion at her nightstand, "you are still recovering."
'I know,' the reply was moot given she'd lost her voice days ago. A stern look was all she could muster.
"You must remain in bed as much as you are able. If something is required, it will be provided with but the ring of your bell."
'Fuck that damn bell,' her language would have made her mother faint in any other situation, but this was all just too much. While not so proud as to refuse help in her weakened state, she drew a line at needing to ring the bell for the servants to help her out of bed just to walk her across her own room. She was sickly and frail, not an invalid.
"Your progress has been good, but if you unnecessarily exert yourself you could relapse."
"Oh my dear daughter," her mother leaned down to hug her, the weight almost making it hard for Elsia to breathe. She acted as if Elsia would suddenly vanish if her grip went lax for even a moment. "You are so strong, but there is no shame in receiving help. Please, don't push yourself."
'Liar', she wanted to snap. Strong? She looked like a corpse. By all that was Holy, there was more hair on the floor than on her head!
"Pardon me, your excellency, but perhaps we should let the young lady rest."
"Yes…yes of course," reluctantly, her mother let go, giving Elsia a soft kiss atop her head.
They spoke a little more to her, placing yet another potion by her night table, before finally leaving her to her own thoughts.
And thus, Elsia was alone. The silence of the bedroom was deafening. All was quiet, save the constant footsteps of people coming and going from above and below. There was a war going on after all. The world did not stop simply because she was ill.
Thousands lay dead or dying. Their homeland burning and rotting from death itself. Families torn apart…
Left in the darkness and silence of her room, with only her own thoughts, Elsia wanted to scream.
She wanted to thrash her way out from under the iron grip of her covers, stride out under her own power, and….and…
Scream more?
Cry?
Maybe do something useful?
She actually did not know what she wanted to do, or could do, only that it was anything other than being treated like some cripple.
They were attacked at night, and everything just happened so fast…
Her brother and his wife were torn apart in their bed, her nephews were slaughtered as they tried to avenge their father, her niece stood motionless by her grandmother's side, traumatized by the sight.
And Elsia?
Elsia burned everything.
The woods, the animals, the monsters, everything was set alight. Even her own heat resistant clothes caught fire, flames burning into her flesh as she walked forward and burned everything. Everything became ash before pained cries could even ring out into the night.
Wherever the undead were, night turned to blinding day, and all burned in white hot flames.
And when the last of the undead had finally fallen, so too did Elsia.
For she had overexerted herself, and for all her power the result was that her body seemingly began to fall apart.
The coughing and fever were the least of her concerns as she vomited what felt like her weight in blood and her hair began to fall out in clumps. Pain rocked her body, her skull felt like it was going to split open while her muscles burned as if they were tearing off her very bones.
Elsia is sure she bit through her tongue before she was finally put on the strongest painkillers and potions available.
After that the memories all just blurred together. They managed to get to safety, that much was clear, but everything else was too hazy to recall. She didn't remember being treated all that much, her mind was already all over the place before she was given strong painkillers that muddled it further.
All she knows for sure, is that she did wake up.
Thankfully, whatever they were doing worked. Every day, she was feeling a little more life flow back into her. She shivered a little less, and was able to keep down food more easily. Eventually, she was taken off the strongest of the painkillers when her recovery was deemed 'imminent' and finally regained full awareness.
Though she was tempted to question what the term 'imminent' even meant to them if she was still bedridden days after her 'imminent' recovery.
And as if fate wished to taunt her, she now would have the honor of ascending to the rank of Magistrix Emberbirth….
Honor? Why did everyone always use that word? The 'honor'?
How was there any 'honor' in this?
The only reason she had this 'honor' was because her brother, his wife, and all their sons were torn apart before her eyes! She could still hear Nicia screaming her throat raw at the sight of her dead family! And Elsia's own vengeance fueled onslaught left her near dead.
She'd trade away all the honor in the world if it would make it so this living nightmare would never have happened.
The whole ordeal had made her realize something very important: she was pathetic.
She had abandoned her friend, let her family die before her eyes, exacted only the barest hint of vengeance before becoming utterly useless and a drain on limited resources, and now she was to be rewarded by being granted one of the highest potions in the kingdom.
Their blood paid for her rise.
She was truly pathetic…
Her self reflection was cut short by a sudden rumbling that shook the room.
An attack?
She forced herself upright, biting into her cheek to distract from the stinging pain, and pushed aside the drapes of her window. But rather than the bleak ashy wasteland she was accustomed to, she saw a brilliant golden light tower into the sky, parting the clouds and letting the sun shine down once more.
It was beautiful.
But it was more than pleasing to look at, the sight moved something in her, rekindling something she lost.
Hope.
Hope that tomorrow will be better.
And if not tomorrow, then the day after.
And if not then, then the day after that.
Content, Elsia laid back down, letting the warm rays of the sun blanket her as she drifted back to dreamless slumber.
—-
—-
AN: An interlude chapter of POVs set right around the time of the prior chapter when Silly "came back" and set off the Sunwell to give a "non-Silly" perspective.
Verana is beingkind of a bitch Verana, and Elsia is having a very bad (no good) day.
Gardens filled with flowers from all corners of the Eastern Kingdoms, impressive fountains on every street that flowed with varying types of wine, mosaics telling local folklore and other myths decorated walls along sidewalks. The parties thrown could go on for hours, with wine flowing like water and enchanted instruments playing well past the breaking of dawn.
In short, the settlement was maintained to a standard of luxury only magisters pooling their respective resources could achieve.
But for her, she always knew it as a quiet place where you could get lost in your own thoughts for hours.
But now?
Vast swaths of burning forest and innumerable funeral pyres fed a constant stream of ash into the already soot dominated the sky. It fell down on everything, covering the vast fields of flowers and greenery in gray sheets of snow-like soot. The sun had yet to pierce the clouds in three days, but even when it had, the shine was a dull imitation of what it ought to be.
The once lushly maintained grounds had been given over in their entirety to the suffering masses fleeing for their lives. None had homes here, and with the inns and hotels already filled to capacity, some going as far as to sleep in the hallways or under desks, they were left to fend for themselves in the elements.
For most, all they could hope for was a tent which they no doubt shared with numerous families. Better than the alternative of sleeping wholly exposed to the elements and waking up each and every morning covered in a fine layer of ash.
It was depressing that the proud people of her kingdom were reduced to this squalid existence. Never knowing if any given night was their last before the hordes of undead slaughtered them all. Most of their days were spent collecting around scant fires for warmth, cooking what meager rations they were provided or brought with them.
And even with wards lining the estate's foundation to reduce outside noise seeping in, Verana could still hear them.
The whispers, the praying…the crying.
"Lady Verana, your dinner is-"
"Leave it on the desk," Verana pointed across the room, never taking her eyes off the scene beyond the window.
Verana had never seen a dragon before.
Yes, she had seen portraits and sketches of the creatures, but never in the flesh. She knew of all the flights, the ideologies each held to, and how proactive, or lack thereof, each one was. In all her texts, they were noted as reclusive beings at best, and even when they did interact with the wider world it was usually under some illusion to hide their true nature.
Yet now she could scarcely go an hour without seeing a crimson scaled dragon flying through the ashy skies above. Mighty roars echoing through the dim light, illuminated by streaks of hot fire strafing the forests beyond.
She also never expected one of them to land in her own family's courtyard.
Young children flocked from their parents to the red wyrm as if it were some zoo attraction. A mighty creature, potentially older than the kingdom itself given its size, was letting mere children climb atop it like it was some toy. Some pulled at the membrane of its wings, some watched with awe as a stream of fire arced and looped around in the air for their entertainment, but most simply climbed to the beast's head and marveled how high they were.
Clear as the morale boost this display provided the people, Verana was at a loss for words why such a majestic being would allow itself to be treated like some… attraction.
"My lady, is there anything else you-"
"No, you are dismissed," The servant silently complied, closing the door behind him as she walked over for her meal.
The meat on her plate, while seasoned and cooked to perfection, was portioned smaller than usual, as were the serving of vegetables that came with it; to say nothing of the lack of an appetizer.
Not that this was unexpected. Her father had implemented strict rationing not long after they arrived.
When her father stated they were leaving Silvermoon for their seaside estate, she stupidly never gave a thought as to why. Nor did she wonder why the furniture and valuables were leaving with them, though she did have a sinking feeling of something terrible happening when he called up the entire household guard to relocate as well.
It was just as she was settling herself in, directing the unpacking of her belongings to the servants they brought with them, that word of the undead invasion reached her. By the day's end, she had learned of the army smashed to pieces and the monsters marching inexorably to a defenseless Silvermoon.
The situation was made worse with how many magisters were missing, dead, or otherwise indisposed. Some died in defense of the kingdom, some died in the panic that followed, some refused to abandon their lands, some remained in Silvermoon to aid in the defense, many were just missing and unable to communicate their situations to the wider kingdom, but the worst cravenly fled or hid in their estates.
The losses were great.
Too great.
Too many for the kingdom to properly run itself. With so many unreachable, dead or otherwise, and the King and Grand Magister first personally overseeing the defense of Silvermoon and now unreachable since the undead stormed the city, Quel'Thalas was effectively headless and leaderless.
Given the severity of the situation, it was only natural that her father do what he could to restore some measure of stability and control. He rallied what magisters he could reach to establish an adhoc Convocation until such time as his Majesty, the Grand Magister, or some other person vested with such authority could be consulted.
And so the august body was condensed to a party of twelve.
Twelve….
Twelve magisters from a body of one thousand…
It was pathetic.
Verana tore into her meal as a familiar frustration bubbled over.
The dozen magisters seated in the parlor in a vacation home was all that the once mighty Convocation could muster.
Some cravens too scared to leave their estates even had the gall to call her father's actions a palace coup!
That he was planning on crowning himself king in the aftermath of the invasion!
Ridiculous!
Barring the fact that the Coldwater's did not have even a drop of royal blood in their veins, and that it was presumptuous to claim his Majesty was dead, Prince Kael'thas was still alive and well.
These were nothing more than baseless accusations born of fear.
Fear that her father was doing what they failed to do: restore order.
Even now, their forces were not merely checking the undead's advance but pushing back on all fronts. Beset by dragonfire and harassed by royal forces, the bulk of the undead would be gone within the month.Or so her father informed her.
"Then there will be a reckoning," her father also told her, in those brief moments he spared for her.
And Verana could not wait to see the faces of all these uncultured wretches who hid like cowards, to watch the swift sword of justice come down on their throats for their-
CRACK.
Looking down, she saw her knife cut into the fine dish her meal was on; marring it.
Swearing under her breath, she gulped down her wine.
This anger, this uncouthness was unbecoming of a Coldwater. Small mercies that none were around to see.
She mulled the word: See.
…See.
It reminded her she had not seen Sillya in days, not since she barged into her chambers and demanded some of her clothes. Even now, she had no idea what that idiot was thinking at the time.
Or maybe that is the mistake, perhaps it is wrong of her to assume Syllia thinks ahead at all.
…ugh.
Of all the people she could be worrying about, dedicating precious time to think about, why did she always come to the top of the list?
Because you haven't seen her, came the answer to her own question.
She has not seen Emberbirth either for that matter, though she had heard in one of the many, many, courtiers that gossiped a bit too loudly that she had escaped and was in her family estate some towns away.
Though that momentary relief was dashed by the next tidbit that her mother now served as her regent for the family until she comes of age.
It made no sense the moment she heard it, since the Emberbirths have a reigning family head, who also has grown children to succeed him. Emberbirth…Elsia was not even in the first few rungs of the line of succession.
Then the cold realization struck her, and she felt genuinely sorry for her.
Verana knew she was uniquely blessed among her people with the fact her family was still whole, brothers and mother all accounted for. She was hardly deaf to the stories and wailing of broken families; as much as she wished her wards would let her be. She felt sorrow for their loss, but Emberbirth… Elsia's loss hit her more than the others.
The power of being able to put a face and a name to hardship.
Was Syllia's family equally devastated by loss, she wondered.
No, she shook her head.
It was a Dawnguard that brought news of the imminent catastrophe to the ears of the Convocation in the first place by her father's own admission. While she may not know their direct relation to Syllia, it would be inconceivable to presume they would not evacuate their entire family from the city; Syllia included.
Verana ran her fingers over the table, mulling over her previous thought.
No. She would not overthink this. The idiot was fine.
…
But what if-
Her thoughts were interrupted by a vibration that shook the room around her. The chandelier, the windows, her wine, everything briefly shook before settling back down.
She raced to the window, thinking the dragon must have done something, or that Azure was under attack, only to see all eyes looking towards the sky.
Verana witnessed a great pillar of light shooting up into the sky, piercing the ash clouds and giving way to blue sky.
--
--
Elsia and her family only had a few days warning to flee Silvermoon before the undead reached the gates. In the confusion, so much had to be left behind in the rush.
Artwork, statues, books, paintings, clothes, jewelry…people.
Elsia had looked high and low for her friend, spending a whole day scouring Dath'Remar and the whole district for any hint of her. But time ran out.
She would like to think Syllia and her family evacuated with some other group, or perhaps on their own. That they were now hunkered down somewhere weathering the storm as much as anyone could. They would reunite once the undead were gone, and some small semblance of normality would ensue.
It certainly made the march out of the city easier for Elsia to think in those terms then to presume the more likely option that she was dead in some unmarked ditch. Or maybe it was easier to assume she was in a ditch then the alternative…
The initial flight from the city was hard, but manageable. Her brother had the foresight to call up the household guard, but even then no one had the luxury of sitting idle in the situation.
Even she joined the various battles that broke out, personally eradicating scores of abominations and monsters that dared hound them. And perhaps it was a bit prideful of her, but her incandescent white fires were the only reason so many of their initial group survived.
One person even confused her for some priestess casting holy light with how bright the flames were.
Elsia thought she understood the situation, the dire straits the kingdom was in.
In truth, she had only the faintest glimpse of what was to come.
Everything was going so well… so why…?
Elsia retched bile and blood into the handkerchief.
Each cough was a hit to her gut, her abdomen and other innards groaned in agony and her whole body felt as if it were coming apart at the seams. As she coughed, the healers did their best to stem the frenzy. Warmth flowed into her, mending what was tearing and bruised inside her.
The ordeal went on for minutes, the cloth replaced with a fresh one as the last of her episode concluded. She drank the potion offered greedily, the tasteless liquid easing the soreness of her throat within moments.
Even as she handed the phial back, a chill shook her body; one that stayed even as she was laid back into her bed.
"Please do not exert yourself, my lady," the healer cautioned, laying another potion at her nightstand, "you are still recovering."
'I know,' the reply was moot given she'd lost her voice days ago. A stern look was all she could muster.
"You must remain in bed as much as you are able. If something is required, it will be provided with but the ring of your bell."
'Fuck that damn bell,' her language would have made her mother faint in any other situation, but this was all just too much. While not so proud as to refuse help in her weakened state, she drew a line at needing to ring the bell for the servants to help her out of bed just to walk her across her own room. She was sickly and frail, not an invalid.
"Your progress has been good, but if you unnecessarily exert yourself you could relapse."
"Oh my dear daughter," her mother leaned down to hug her, the weight almost making it hard for Elsia to breathe. She acted as if Elsia would suddenly vanish if her grip went lax for even a moment. "You are so strong, but there is no shame in receiving help. Please, don't push yourself."
'Liar', she wanted to snap. Strong? She looked like a corpse. By all that was Holy, there was more hair on the floor than on her head!
"Pardon me, your excellency, but perhaps we should let the young lady rest."
"Yes…yes of course," reluctantly, her mother let go, giving Elsia a soft kiss atop her head.
They spoke a little more to her, placing yet another potion by her night table, before finally leaving her to her own thoughts.
And thus, Elsia was alone. The silence of the bedroom was deafening. All was quiet, save the constant footsteps of people coming and going from above and below. There was a war going on after all. The world did not stop simply because she was ill.
Thousands lay dead or dying. Their homeland burning and rotting from death itself. Families torn apart…
Left in the darkness and silence of her room, with only her own thoughts, Elsia wanted to scream.
She wanted to thrash her way out from under the iron grip of her covers, stride out under her own power, and….and…
Scream more?
Cry?
Maybe do something useful?
She actually did not know what she wanted to do, or could do, only that it was anything other than being treated like some cripple.
They were attacked at night, and everything just happened so fast…
Her brother and his wife were torn apart in their bed, her nephews were slaughtered as they tried to avenge their father, her niece stood motionless by her grandmother's side, traumatized by the sight.
And Elsia?
Elsia burned everything.
The woods, the animals, the monsters, everything was set alight. Even her own heat resistant clothes caught fire, flames burning into her flesh as she walked forward and burned everything. Everything became ash before pained cries could even ring out into the night.
Wherever the undead were, night turned to blinding day, and all burned in white hot flames.
And when the last of the undead had finally fallen, so too did Elsia.
For she had overexerted herself, and for all her power the result was that her body seemingly began to fall apart.
The coughing and fever were the least of her concerns as she vomited what felt like her weight in blood and her hair began to fall out in clumps. Pain rocked her body, her skull felt like it was going to split open while her muscles burned as if they were tearing off her very bones.
Elsia is sure she bit through her tongue before she was finally put on the strongest painkillers and potions available.
After that the memories all just blurred together. They managed to get to safety, that much was clear, but everything else was too hazy to recall. She didn't remember being treated all that much, her mind was already all over the place before she was given strong painkillers that muddled it further.
All she knows for sure, is that she did wake up.
Thankfully, whatever they were doing worked. Every day, she was feeling a little more life flow back into her. She shivered a little less, and was able to keep down food more easily. Eventually, she was taken off the strongest of the painkillers when her recovery was deemed 'imminent' and finally regained full awareness.
Though she was tempted to question what the term 'imminent' even meant to them if she was still bedridden days after her 'imminent' recovery.
And as if fate wished to taunt her, she now would have the honor of ascending to the rank of Magistrix Emberbirth….
Honor? Why did everyone always use that word? The 'honor'?
How was there any 'honor' in this?
The only reason she had this 'honor' was because her brother, his wife, and all their sons were torn apart before her eyes! She could still hear Nicia screaming her throat raw at the sight of her dead family! And Elsia's own vengeance fueled onslaught left her near dead.
She'd trade away all the honor in the world if it would make it so this living nightmare would never have happened.
The whole ordeal had made her realize something very important: she was pathetic.
She had abandoned her friend, let her family die before her eyes, exacted only the barest hint of vengeance before becoming utterly useless and a drain on limited resources, and now she was to be rewarded by being granted one of the highest potions in the kingdom.
Their blood paid for her rise.
She was truly pathetic…
Her self reflection was cut short by a sudden rumbling that shook the room.
An attack?
She forced herself upright, biting into her cheek to distract from the stinging pain, and pushed aside the drapes of her window. But rather than the bleak ashy wasteland she was accustomed to, she saw a brilliant golden light tower into the sky, parting the clouds and letting the sun shine down once more.
It was beautiful.
But it was more than pleasing to look at, the sight moved something in her, rekindling something she lost.
Hope.
Hope that tomorrow will be better.
And if not tomorrow, then the day after.
And if not then, then the day after that.
Content, Elsia laid back down, letting the warm rays of the sun blanket her as she drifted back to dreamless slumber.
—-
—-
AN: An interlude chapter of POVs set right around the time of the prior chapter when Silly "came back" and set off the Sunwell to give a "non-Silly" perspective.
Verana is being
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
Wish granted!
Fabula Amanti
I want a Grimoire, but I got books.
- Location
- Singapore
It's been a while. So, Arthas here never got to the Sunwell proper? And Silly blew it up before a certain dead
Edit: Confused Ner'Zhul with Kel'Thuzard.
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- Location
- Germany
Dead Orc?
Do you mean Kel'Thuzad?
Because he is very much a dead human.
- Location
- Elsewhere
Well, her cover is now pretty solid.
It's functionally impossible for anyone to realize Syllia was the only "Dawnguard."
Everyone will just assume the others died.
On the other hand, it's a bit disappointing that it can't really be a reveal.
"I have a confession to make. I'm a commoner."
"Yes, yes, we've all lost a great deal in the battle. I'm sure with your actions, your family will recover their status."
"No, you don't understand. There is no family, just me."
"Oh, how sad. The others all died?"
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Think he meant Nerzhul.
- Pronouns
- They/Them/She/Her
No, IIRC, he got there, killed her, and raised Kel'Thuzad. It's just then, after they'd gone, she also came back (an Old God appears to be involved), and then did the big light thing.
which may or may not have CONSEQUENCES...because how much was the events that led to the collapse of Silvermoon the fault of a CORRUPT Sunwell? yes they don't have their little mana font but they ALSO don't have the poison of said Corruption to be affecting them...
- Pronouns
- They/Them/She/Her
Interesting point...
...Though in from that wondering how things might go differently, it also occurred to me that the situation with the Forsaken, with Sylvanas not among them, is also quite in flux. While in canon she went, ah, off years later, early on she was, IIRC, quite impactful in them winning and keeping their freedom from all who would control or kill them. Presumably the initial shaking of Arthas's control will still happen, maybe even earlier and moreso, but after that... what?