The Story of Essther

Chapter 1:
The first day was rough, the second – just as bad as its predecessor, but the third one was more than priestess Essther Dawnstrider could bear. What was once her city, her home, was now a barren field. Not a single living plant remained after the Scourge's passed through - The intensity of their darkness consumed everything. Spent, lifeless mana wyrm cadavers, corpses and shattered glass were everywhere. And the sun dared not rise, it was hiding behind the dark, looming clouds.
The Church of The Holy Light volunteered to evict the corpses, a chore no other would agree to do, apparently. Essther wasn't a very strong or tough elfling, but she couldn't think of being elsewhere or doing anything else. Not now, when her brethren needed her the most.
Her light blue priestly garments were smudged with congealed blood and dirt, as she assisted the other priests carry the heavy runecloth sacks in which the bodies were placed. "We need to bring them to proper burial at the cemetery on the outskirts Silvermoon ", said high priest Gathrios, the church's head, on the first day. On the second day, as Essther was carrying one of the sacks, she noticed him sitting on the ground, brooding. A lanky elderly man, she thought. He should be around 250 years already. This heavy lifting and is too much for his back, not to mention those atrocities. But on the third day he gathered all the clerics, including Essther, at Falconwing square for a sermon.
The high priest climbed on the bench and gazed at his crowd of 30 or 40 followers for a long minute before he began preaching. "Brethren! What I will tell you now, you will not hear elsewhere", called the old, haggard man. "Look around you, at ruins of what was once our beloved city. Look at your relatives and friends lying on the ground. The holy light has forsaken us. It has left the day the Scourge armies roamed into Quel'thalas, and now we are on our own. Throw your old faith aside, because it is of no use here. I hereby announce the church closed till further – no, actually, it is closed for good. Go seek your own paths, for the light has turned into a great darkness". He got off the bench and started walking away. The crowd was silent.
Mishia, a dark haired priestess standing near Essther, tilted her head and whispered her friend: "Essie, wait till the humies hear this – they've been in good relations with us since forever. Where in the name of the sun are the humans, anyway?"
Essther shook her head. "I think… they were not as absent as you might think. Those ghouls, the scourgelord casters, the boned warriors that fought with prince Arthas…
Mishia gazed at Essther with sheer shock.
"I think they were Lordaeronians", Essther muttered, this time in a lower voice, shuddering as she heard herself. "Or at least used to be. Some of them still had their tabards on".
"Where do you draw such light-forsaken ideas from, Ess? You are out of your mind. And so is the old preacher here", said Mishia and walked away from the square. Essther would never see her again.
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Chapter 2:
The ruins of Silvermoon resembled a refugee camp, and not a very cozy one. The sun refused to come out since the invasion. The ones who had other places to go to packed what was left of their belongings and traveled to the intact realms of Quel'thalas. Rumor had it that Sunstrider isle was clear of Scourge taint, but that was a long and risky journey without a good mount. Essther's fellow clerics were nowhere in sight. After high-priest Gathrios' sermon, they were divided into two groups: the dissidents believed he lost his mind, perhaps controlled by demons, and therefore is not to be followed anymore. The others took off their priestly robes and burnt a few prayer books in the great big campfire, to get warm.
Essther belonged to neither groups. She still donned her robe as she had nothing else to protect her from the chill the Dead Scar, as it was now commonly called. They say that the Sunwell was tainted too, and its water can no longer sate one's need for magic. The magisters were trading food and thick linen blankets in exchange for funny looking green crystals, which Essther was not too fond of. 
As the night came, she covered herself with a few torn blankets and laid down on the marbled floor of a ruined Silvermoon church. Essther Dawnstrider was one of those orphaned children who were raised by priests of Silvermoon, and light was the answer for every question she's ever asked – such as 'where does one draw his power from?', or 'What is the importance of kindness' and 'what time is it? (In that case the answer would be, "In the name of light, it's already five o'clock, I'm late!"). When the basis of her belief was shaken, she felt like no more than an empty shell.
Toughen up', she told herself. There could be worse things in the world. None of them come to mind right now, but sure there are.
"A bucketful of murloc eyes, swimming in gnoll spittle!" yelled a high-pitched voice behind her. "That's much worse!" Essther turned around, realizing she's been talking out loud. It was a little human girl. She had short, stubby ears and red hair. On her hand were a small runecloth satchel and a ragdoll that has known better days.
"Where are your mother and father, child?" asked Essther.
"They ate something bad and they had to go!" said the child. "But they left our nanny to watch over me. She has long ears like you and she's very pretty! Nanny took me here with her and now it's just me. But I like it this way, nobody tells me to go to sleep early and I can eat all the candies I want! Except there are no candies. Where do you elves keep all the candies? Does the Darkmoon Faire visit here?"
Essther wiped her dusty hands on her robe and reach her extended palm to the girl.
"I'm Essther. I doubt you would find candies any time soon, child. And you are?"
"Enid!" chirped the girl and held Essther's hand. Both women smiled and Essther made room for Enid to sit next to her.
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Chapter 3:
The following weeks were not much easier: Essther had to take care of two, a concept she was entirely new to. When this is all over, she thought, I could raise her in the newly established Silvermoon, like the church raised me. A human child should not be frowned upon too much; she mumbled as she collected a few corrupted sunberries from the earth beneath her feet and washed them in a nearby bucket. Some were covered with suspicious fel ooze, but they were better than nothing, and food was scarce. Enid returned to the broken chapel with a few neatly folded blankets and a pair of red new shoes.
"Where did you get these?" Essther asked, pointing on the shoes.
The child grinned and hid them behind her back, whistling to herself. Essther knew not to ask too much – the original owner, another Quel'dorei girl by the size of them, is most likely no longer alive. Salvaging whatever was left was the only way to survive.
"Essie, do you like sunberries?"
"Of course I do".
"But do you love them enough? How much do you love them exactly?"
"I'm practically starved, so right now they are the most important thing in this world. Even more than certain little girls, you know". Essther winked as she said that and ruffled her hair.
"See, that's not nearly enough", the kid retorted and took a washed suberry from the pile and swallowed it. "Look, my mouth is purple now! Aaaaa! See?"
On the next day of scavenging, Essther ran into two frightening men, each for an entirely different reason. The first one was she encountered as she climbed up the stairs to the arcanist library in the heart of the former city, hoping to score some arcane crystals or well-preserved Sunwell water. Their street price was sky-rocking, and the gold could feed her and Enid for a month.
On the top floor, standing in the clutter of ancient tomes and collapsed bookshelves, stood a man. Or at least, she thought he was a man as she hid behind the door. His forehead had an eerie bump, his back was hunched, his eyes were bulging out of their sockets and his scent was of pure magic. More than one should ever inhale. In his hand was a beautiful looking scrying orb – a master craftsman's creation, thought Essther. She watched his palm encircling the orb once, twice, and suddenly it glowed with the brightest light her eyes ever witnessed. She almost gasped and covered her mouth, worried about getting caught. The glow was dazzling, intoxicating and addictive. The twisted, mutated-looking man moved his hand backwards, as if pulling the glow towards him.
BAM.
The crystal orb exploded, shattering into a thousand pieces on the ground with a sudden noise loud enough to make her lengthy ears bleed. She let out a squeak. The deformed man turned around, letting out a guttural whimper of his own, and started chasing her. The arcane glow was gone.
She run down one staircase and touched the orb of teleportation, trying to get downstairs faster. It was out of order, and she kicked it in frustration before she continued to run away. She ran down two blocks, crossing the wrecks of Silvermoon, not sure if she lost her tail. Then she stopped running, standing for a moment to catch her breath, panting heavily.
"They'll do anything for a tidbit of magic, you know", said a young elven man sitting across the road. He was wearing rugged leather clothes, with multiple pockets. Perhaps a rogue. His hair was dark and his skin was covered with mutt.
"Excuse me?" She turned to address him, squinting.
"The wretched. One of them seemed to be after you. They drain and suck the magic out of everything, every last drop of mana. Artifacts, women, children, my cat. See, magic is everywhere since the original Sundering, especially within the ley-lines of Quel'thalas. They just know better where to look".
Essther folded her arms in her lap, wondering if the rogue is worth her trust. "And you know this because…?"
The thief shrugged. "I ended the lives a few of them recently. Their hunger for magic knows no boundaries. And they tried to steal my cat". He pointed at a fierce looking lynx cub that followed him around obediently. "She ripped one to shreds yesterday. I reckon he was a magister by training".
The rogue, Thalen, promised he'll visit her and Enid at the ruined chapel to check on them. There are pacts of rogues who live off scavenging around here, he explained. It isn't safe for a priestess and a human child here.
"And for a crook?" She asked.
He shrugged in return.
*** 
To be continued.
Category:Stories