Legacy

…even now the wind still billows around this twisted landscape. Perhaps it is meant to be some bitter irony? To find a rush of activity in a land so long left untouched by the joys that nature brings.
Eilynaera bites her lip gently, her thoughts forcing her to remember the land around her as it once was, her face illuminated by the firelight. Reluctantly, the lone Blood Knight dips her quill back into the inkwell, continuing to write in her aged, leather-clad tome.
It is unnatural. Mimicking life here, in the cruellest of ways, the same way each creature that rises from the plagued earth enjoys. So long ago it has been since I have been able to see them as anything more than enemies. Monsters.
I wonder how many… How many of these risen abominations were once the friends I grew up with. How often have I plunged my sword into the weak flesh and strengthened sinew of the adoring faces that had surrounded me in times past? Faces contorted into unnatural representations of their former selves, twisted beyond description to serve a dark master. Elves of old, pathetic feuds, former lovers, those that had charmed me with such difficulty. But no, these days they all look the same. Nameless, hulking wretches. Robbed both of life and death, the two simple graces we should all be assured when our small, blinking eyes first see the light of Azeroth.
Two purposes are all that remain, to kill or be killed.
Much of me wishes to march on to the distant northlands, to Icecrown Glacier itself. My death would no doubt be a swift one, in vain. But this vengeance I feel everyday… I shame the Light with these thoughts. Each time I force myself to suppress them, these unholy emotions. But just once, I’d like the chance to show him my fury.
Menethil…
It still rolls off the tongue so easily…
Just once, I'd like to show him my rage…
Just once, to show him a fury so unknown, that even he would cower before it…
The sin’dorei deserve that, at least. My people deserve to see justice.
Sunstrider robbed us of that too.
Of everything he promised us, every lie he told, he couldn’t even let us find the peace we so desperately needed. After the battles of Outland…not forgetting Quel’Danas…
Quel’Danas. I remember the many sunsets spent there as a girl. So oft would I lavish in the gifts brought to me by those eager, strapping young men. Be it flower or emerald, each came from the heart. Rangers. They tended to be rangers. That’ll be Jaelen’s fault. Always bringing his comrades home to dine with us. There was one though, I remember trying to woo me. Aelthan. He was good to us, as strong a friend as Jae ever had. I think his death struck me most of all. That he had escaped death at the hands of Scourge, and Legion…only to be silenced by…I fear even to write the words. It alludes to the reason I keep moving. There was one Master in the order. She said she had known him, been his lover. I didn’t have time to be jealous then. I was still in shock. I still am...
So many have died, our forces cannot bear to face him. Not at our full might. Our precious prince…the Sun King he called himself…the thought alone makes me ill. He is no better than another well known king; and equally sickened and disease prone. So one King robs us of the demise of another.
He that named us sin’dorei…children of blood. To honour the dead, they say. Each day we disgrace them. I cannot return to Silvermoon, it has long since slipped into decadence. Public brutality and pleasures of the flesh are all to common, and unsightly. It’s almost as if they no longer have meaning. They’re soon silenced of course. Yes, silenced. We can’t say killed anymore, that wouldn’t be humane.
Always silenced. Or neutralised.''
I do not understand it myself. Perhaps I am alone in this, but my faith never wavered. The Light had always been there for us in the past…why should it be blamed for the crimes of the Dread Prince? I thought maybe the Sunwell would bring change; take us back to our glory. It didn’t. Joining the Order seems so laughable now, as I look back upon it. I met perhaps two that truly understood me, one was Tyraelic…my Master. I wonder if he has bothered to search for me…
Or did they all just adjust to life without me?
They do that so well…
Change, and forget.
What have we become, if not shadows of what we once were. Even those that sit in the Spire, I think back to the days when they had valour. Courage, honour.
No longer.
Even the great House Windrunner. Sylvanas... I cannot even speak of her.
I should have fled with the others. Fled from Quel’thalas. Theramore, perhaps. Or Stormwind. Even living with humans cannot be as bad a life as this.
These Ghostlands. The name is only given to the south, but it is fitting of our entire kingdom…
Home. I don’t have a home. I have nostalgia. Memories of old. But no home.
I think I’m already starting to go a little mad, every snap of a twig and rustle of leaves has me tense. The wind again no doubt. This land makes me so edgy.
Darkness enveloped the meagre camp.