Lost Heritage

## Summary

The once-noble Nightborne, Evadras Duskbreeze, goes on a journey to find what remains of his family. He gains an unlikely companion, and together they seek out to revisit their past.

## Characters

* Evadras Duskbreeze
* Yathiel Bluemist

## Lost Heritage

### Chapter One: The Road Ahead

Of all the
manasabers Evadras could have stolen on his way out of Suramar, it had to be
the oldest and weakest one. The poor, mana-starved thing could just barely move
faster than the rogue himself, and had to stop for a rest every few hours. Should
they get into a fight, Evadras found it likely that the beast would just lie
down and accept its fate. Its fur was almost gray, rather than the usual blue
or violet nuances, and the glow from its markings was nothing more than a dull
silver. But it was better than going on foot.

The first night
of traveling was perhaps the hardest. In ten thousand years, Evadras had not
left the boundaries of Suramar City. At times, being in the same place for so
long felt like being imprisoned, but there was also a certain comfort to it,
one that the world outside lacked. The barrier had been a shield against the
unknown. Even after the Grand Magistrix brought it down and surrendered to the
Legion, Evadras saw the city itself as a barrier, a defense against a strange
world. As he rode through the ancient land, it became apparent that the world
he used to know was nothing but ruins now. It was not surprising, but it was
still saddening. But there was no time to mourn what had been lost an eternity
ago. Day after day, millennia after millennia with the same monotonous tasks
over and over again… It was also refreshing to have an actual goal in sight,
after all that aimless work. In spite of his modest means, Evadras had a sense
of confidence.

The first night of traveling was
also the most efficient. It was easy to get a worthless mount like his, as it
was hardly as closely guarded as any other prized manasaber. In fact, it was as
simple as jumping a fence, offering the old beast a piece of fresh meat and a
mana crystal, and then equipping it with a nearby saddle. Within five minutes,
Evadras had left the cramped pen again, now on saber-back. None had bothered
stopping him, or even looking at him for that, everyone being far too busy
taking care of their own matters. In that way, Suramar hadn’t changed. His path
was lit only by moonlight once he made it out to the wilderness. He never cared
much for Elune, even before becoming a shal’dorei, as was quite common for
Highborne. Still, the White Lady reminded him of those times long-past.

Evadras wanted to put as much
distance between him and the city as possible in the first night, and probably
pushed his poor mount to the limit in doing so. It was no surprise that the
roads were badly maintained, many being entirely overgrown by roots and plants.
It was in fact more shocking that some of the roads and bridges *were* intact. Evadras took those paths,
not willing to risk his saber breaking a leg after stepping into a hidden hole.
In that one night, he managed to get as far as Ambervale, or what remained of
it at least. It was truly saddening to see a town, which had once been such a
beautiful sight, fall into decay. He had considered staying there, but the
distant thumping of ettins, and the chittering of rodents and withered alike
made him change his mind. Instead, he rode on a bit further as the sun rose
above the land, painting the trees in those beautiful amber colours, which Evadras suspected was where the town
got its name from. *Time levels even the*
tallest towers and sturdiest walls, *the nightborne thought as he urged his*
mount on to Falanaar.

If Ambervale was a gathering of sad
ruins, then Falanaar had become nothing more than a depressing hole in the
ground. The domed roof of the main structure had collapsed, leaving the
underground city open to the skies above. Water poured in from nearby rivers
and lakes, while vines crawled downwards, choking the ancient structures with
nature’s grasp. A quick glance also let Evadras see the many cobwebs that
stretched along the walls, from window to window, and all the way from the
metallic skeleton of the roof to the floor itself. *Fal’dorei…* Though Evadras had never seen the creatures himself, he
had heard tales of the elves who were somehow corrupted further, and turned
into spider-like abominations. With such descriptions, Evadras also felt fairly
certain that he didn’t need to see one.

Morning had arrived when Evadras and
his feline companion had made it down to the Temple of Fal’adora, by the
entrance of the large underground complex. He had no intentions of entering the
city itself, out of fear of what may lurk in the shadows. Still, it felt safer
than the withered-infested ruins nearby. And yet he wasn’t alone here either.
He could occasionally see the faint outlines of *something* moving around in the courtyard. Several *somethings* for that matter. A few times,
he even managed to get a clear look at the beings. They looked like completely
normal Kaldorei women, dressed in the standard regalia of Elune’s servants. *Spirits of priestesses?Doesn’t*
look like they care about my presence, though. If they’ve even noticed me, *he*
told himself, and sat down against one of the cliffsides furthest away from the
entrance, in the hope of catching some rest.

There were things below him too, in
those tunnels far below the ground. He could just barely hear the faint echoes
every now and then. Clacking and chittering, and some strange squishing noises
that almost sounded like eating, just in *very*
*unnatural manner.*

Evadras reached in under his tunic,
and found the medallion that hung from his neck. That rhythm was still there,
pulsing against his hand to tell him that its twin was also in use. By another
Duskbreeze, for that matter. Valezsj had been the last to wear it, as far as he
knew. Could it still be her? Or was it perhaps her daughter? Malaenia had never
held a shred of the kindness that Valezsj possessed. Not that it amounted to
much either, but in comparison to her mother, Malaenia was cold and apathetic.
He certainly hoped it was the former; he would be just fine with never seeing
his niece again. He also thought of his ancient home in Ashenvale; Zin-Shal,
Glory of the Night, the ancestral home of House Duskbreeze. The icy-blue
windows, the pure white marbled walls with those engravings of… Engravings of…
In truth, he could not remember. He hadn’t set foot in Zin-Shal in a lifetime.
He did remember the walls, and the way it almost *glowed* when the light of the moon fell upon it. And he remembered
the lake outside, looked so very beautiful and sunset and sunrise. But he
couldn’t remember what Zin-Shal actually *looked*
*like. But he intended to find out soon enough. The only way to find his*
family, was to go home again.

It was nearly evening when he awoke.
Somehow, it seemed, he had managed to fall asleep despite all these
distractions. Evadras allowed himself some time to relax and prepare, which he
mostly spent nibbling on a bit of bread, and more importantly, sipping from his
wineskin, which was heavy with just how much arcwine he had managed to fill it
with. When he finally put it down again, it was considerably lighter. The old
manasaber rested nearby, looking a bit refreshed. *Must’ve found some way to eat while I was asleep. No doubt this*
shithole has plenty of mana to feed on.

After getting through that humble
breakfast, he held out the amulet once again, its silver rings shining in the
evening sun, and that blue gemstone nearly glowed with whatever arcane energy
it had been imbued with all that time ago. Evadras couldn’t claim to know what
its purpose was, though he found it safe to assume that it was also what
allowed him to feel its counterpart. *How*
do I do this… Ashenvale is far away now, if the words of the outlanders are to
be believed. *It was strange to think about it. While they were hiding under*
their barrier, the world had apparently been shattered. Twice. *Will any of it even be the same as it was?*
Does Zin-Shal still exist at all? *Evadras had many questions, and not a*
single answer. There was only one way to find out more. Go home. And how would
he go about doing that? He had not a single coin to his name, as ironic as that
was for a noble of a once great house. He needed to fly, or perhaps sail. And
that require payment. And gaining a method of payment requires work. *Val’sharah. The druids have much to deal*
with. There must be work for someone like me. *His alternatives were*
Highmountain and Stormheim, both home to races he didn’t exactly want to deal
with. The tauren were peaceful enough, from how he understood it. But just the
idea of going up that mountain was enough to make him reconsider. And then
there were the vrykul, enormous barbarians that would probably be more likely
to break Evadras in half than offer him any payment. Azsuna, of course, was an
even more hopeless sight than Suramar. Evadras wasn’t even sure if there was *anything* left to do there. Or if there
was anything left at all, for that matter.

After some time, Evadras was back in
the saddle again. He rode for a few hours, occasionally sipping from his
wineskin to keep his spirits high. The unfamiliar landscape began feeling much
less remarkable as time went on. Ruin after ruin, with a few trees and hills
thrown in. And the constant rhythm of the manasabers lazy movements just fell
dull. It seemed that much of the excitement vanished after the stress of the
first night. Now it was just Evadras, on his own in the wilderness, and only
the road ahead of him. He was used to finding at least some way to entertain
himself back in the city, even in his darkest moments, but now not even arcwine
could improve his mood for long.

Darkness began enveloping the land
when he suddenly reached the outskirts of Val’sharah. The lush and vibrant
leaves on the old trees, with the soft green moss and grass on the ground below
was a welcome change. Unlike the amber trees of Suramar, as pretty as they
perhaps were, these woods just looked more *alive.*
Evadras sighed, and stopped for a moment. With no hesitation, he began drinking
from the wineskin, the arcwine at least refreshing him slightly. In truth, he
didn’t depend on the liquid anymore, but old habits die hard. Besides, the
taste was certainly nothing to complain about.

The wine also helped soothe him, if
just a bit. He had much doubt when it came to the druids who called this place
home. These were ancient Kaldorei lands, after all. *Will they welcome me as an ally? Will they see me as kin? Or will they*
just kill me on sight? *He knew times had changed, but… how much had they*
changed? *Only one way to find out.* He
led his saber onwards, riding into the ancient forest.

Boredom soon turned to awe and
wonder as Evadras continued down the moonlit path, the emerald landscape around
him only looking even more beautiful in Elune’s pale light. *I can’t blame the druids for preferring to*
stay in places like this… *It was almost surprising to see that the road was*
better maintained than in Suramar. In those rare cases that it was in some way
overgrown, with plants or roots, it seemed as if the locals had managed to work
around that, without affecting nature. The roots had been bent into arches,
allowing Evadras to ride straight through with no difficulty. The land itself
felt safer too, when compared to the wild beasts and swarms of withered that
lurked in the wilds of Suramar. When Evadras spotted a creature here, usually a
fawn or a bear, or in a single case, a magnificent dreamrunner, they usually
didn’t even react to his presence, and remained at the side of the road. After
the first few sightings, he felt no need to reach for his Starblades. In a way,
it felt like the forests was soothing *him*
as well, and he welcomed the sense of calm.

Still, he knew that not all was as
it should be in the sacred woods. From what he had heard, part of the Emerald
Dream had been corrupted from within, led by none other than Xavius. Though he
had never met the lord himself, and certainly didn’t wish to, Xavius’ name was
familiar to all who had lived at the time, where he was known as the most
powerful sorcerer in the empire. It seemed his life had taken a different turn
after the war, though Evadras knew little of the details. What he did know was
that Xavius had become a cruel fiend that wanted nothing more than to corrupt
the Dream, and probably the whole world. What he also knew, was that Xavius had
been slain for good shortly before the liberation of Suramar, which was a
relief. The fewer Highborne tyrants that remained, the better. Which probably *did* include members of his own family,
Evadras realized.

From where he was, he could just
barely see the crooked shape of Shaladrassil in the distance, rising high above
the surrounding woodlands. It was, however, little more than a twisted
silhouette from where he was standing. He knew that the Nightmare Lord had
corrupted it to its very roots, and he certainly held no intentions of going
there. Unless, of course, the pay was good enough.

When the larger of the two moons was
at its highest on the night sky, Evadras saw its light falling upon a small
clearing. However, there were people and animals there, with two huts facing
each other at the opposite ends of the clearing, and what looked like a den
built into a tall tree. He saw dryads and keepers wandering around the
perimeters, some immediately spotting him at they came closer. They seemed a
bit wary, but not necessarily aggressive. *I*
suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by a bit of suspicion. We haven’t exactly been
the best neighbors. *When he came closer, he saw plenty of Kaldorei, likely*
to be druids, all going about their own business, though a few glanced uncertainly
at him.

As a sign of what he hoped would be
perceived as respect and goodwill, he dismounted the harmless manasaber, and
walked on foot through an ornate gateway, taking note of the carved crescent
moon on top of the arch, with a silver light glowing in the middle. *Their faith in Elune remains as strong as*
ever. I suppose we always did care much for our traditions.

He stood at the outskirts of the
small grove for some time, resting his arms by his sides, as far away from the
sheathed blades at his back as he could without looking strange. Within a few
moments, a dryad noticed his welcoming demeanor, and rode up to him. Evadras
couldn’t help but stare at her. He had seen one from a distance when he was a
young man, traveling through Ashenvale, and already then was he awed by the
sight. Now, one of them stood right before him, looking down at him with a
great deal of curiosity, waiting for him to say something. However, he didn’t
just yet, and the silence was beginning to feel just a little awkward. Finally,
she cleared her throat, and spoke up a bit hesitantly, idly tapping a hoof
against the ground. “Ishnu-alah, shal’dorei. Welcome to Lorlathil,” she said,
though it sounded more like singing to Evadras, who was still struck by wonder.
“May I, uh, ask what brings one of your kind to our forests?”

He blinked, struggling for a few
moments to find a place to look at, before settling on her eyes.  “Well met, child of Cenarius,” he said, at
least remembering that much about the creatures. After his first sighting, he
had certainly become quite curious about the nature of the dryads. “And well,
I’m here to help, really. I have heard the druids here could need some help,
though? You know, in the wake of the Nightmare, and all that.” He gave a warm
smile, perhaps looking a bit too enthusiastic, judging by the dryad’s unnerved
expression. That soon turned to a more joyful look, though, as she realized his
intentions. “Work? Well, you definitely want to see Sylvia, then! She’s an
emissary for the Dreamweavers, and she’s been handing out work to adventurers
lately. Come, I’ll lead you to her!”  The
dryad galloped back into Lorlathil, leaving Evadras with no choice but to
follow behind her. When he came into the village proper, he saw the dryad
speaking with a Kaldorei, no doubt a druid judging by her attire that had a
repeating motif of leaves. Covering both her shoulders were branches covered in
green leaves, and even more leaves seemed to stick to her equally green hair. *Wait… Since when can women be druids?*

The woman looked away from the dryad, and then
over at him, nodding slowly, which prompted the half-fawn, half-night elf to
run off again. “A Nightborne in Val’sharah is a rare sight,” said the druid,
whom Evadras could only assume was the emissary. “So, Amira tells me you’re
looking for work?”

“From my experience, a female druid
is an even rarer sight,” he jested with a smirk, which seemed to earn him a
frown from the one he assumed was Sylvia. “But perhaps things have changed
while I’ve been away?”

Sylvia eyed him up and down, the
frown slowly disappearing again. “Indeed, they have. The druidic circles are
open to the women of our kind, just as the Sisterhood is now open to our
brothers.”

“Interesting. I hope priestly duties
isn’t the work you have planned for me.”

“For you? No,” responded the druid.
After a while, she spoke again. “You don’t look particularly pious.  You seem more like a… dangerous type. Not
what I’d prefer, but in times like these, it’s what we need. I assume you’re well-armed,
and skilled too?” Evadras grinned and nodded, urging the druid to continue. “Good.
I’d usually ask you to *cleanse* some
corrupted beasts, or aid a nearby settlement of humans, but… I’d leave that in
the hands of someone more attuned with nature. Meaning no disrespect to you, of
course.”

Evadras sighed, feeling himself
getting less patient. “So, what *do* you
have for me?”

The druidess looked a bit hesitant
to speak, and when she finally did, it was in a quiet tone. “I’m sure you’ve
heard of what’s happened in these forests. The Nightmare has corrupted our
world tree, and many of the sacred groves. All of this was done by Xavius, the
Lord of the Nightmare.”

“I know. But I thought Xavius was
slain? That was at least one of the rumors that was passed around during the
liberation,” Evadras said, sighing once again, urging Sylvia to get on with it.

“He was. We thought that would be
the end of it, and well, it mostly was. But even now, his presence is still
felt in Val’sharah, through those who once served him. In the last month, the
satyrs have attacked more druids and travelers than they have since Xavius was
controlling them.

“Though they’re not as great in
numbers, they’re as strong as ever. And we don’t even know *who* is leading them yet. There has been mentions of a powerful
sorcerer and warrior, but that’s really all we know. Our druids are spread thin
as it is, cleansing the Nightmare’s corruption, or the destruction left behind
by the Legion.”

Evadras listened closely, slowly
nodding. *Now that’s unexpected… and very,*
very interesting. *“So, what would you have me do? Go in and take out their*
leader?”

Sylvia raised an eyebrow, and slowly
shook her head. “No, no. As I said, we don’t even know who their leader is, or
where they are. We do, however, need your help to find out. A week ago, we sent
out two of our druids to get more information. They haven’t returned yet, and
we haven’t had any word from them,” she explained, sighing softly. “Find them
for us. Their names are El’enir and Yathiel. If you find them alive, help them
finish their quest, and make sure they return safely. If they’re… dead, then
return here with whatever information you can gather. We’ll send out a larger
party to avenge them, and take care of the satyrs. And you, of course, will be
paid well, no matter what” From Sylvia’s dreary tone, Evadras felt as if she
expected the latter to be more likely. He didn’t comment on it, but simply
nodded.

“Very well. I’ll give it a shot.
Where were these druids last seen?” he asked, feeling eager to help. *Always loved a good mystery.*

“Last we heard about them, was that
they stayed at the nearby Temple of Elune for a day to rest, before heading out
towards Shala’nir. It used to be a druid grove and town, but it’s now infested
by the nightmare. We don’t know if they ever made it that far, though. They
might have gotten lost anywhere along the path. I think your best option is to
follow the road north from here, and then turn east towards Andu’talah. It’s an
old temple, and it has a dark taint. From there, your journey will get
dangerous. If they aren’t to be found there, go north towards Shala’nir, and
keep an eye open for any signs of them. You got all that?”

Evadras did always have a good
short-term memory, so it proved a simple task to remember a few directions. “North,
east, Andu’talah, north, Shala’nir. Got it,” he responded with a smirk.

“Good. Stay safe out there, shal’dorei.
The Nightmare will do everything it can to make you suffer. The forest itself
will try to stop you. Do what you must to avoid it,” she said, not sounding too
eager to have a clumsy rogue tearing down the ancient trees. “Feonir in the
Traveler’s Den will help you to some supplies, if necessary, and from then you
can leave as soon as you’re ready. The sooner the better, though.”

Evadras nodded, already making his
way towards the doorway in tree. “Of course. I’ll be back soon enough. *Hopefully* with those druids of yours.”

“Good. May Elune guide your path,
shal’dorei.” Evadras grimaced at the verbal blessing from a Goddess he had
never cared much about, but said nothing. *It*
never hurts to be polite.

The innkeeper, a young man who wore
little more than a kilt and some armbands, certainly a sight for sore eyes, was
eager to help Evadras pack some supplies, and was even kind enough to give
Evadras a mana crystal that a traveler from Azsuna had left behind. Feonir
proved quite talkative too, and spoke about life in Lorlathil, his training as
a druid, and the fight against the Legion and the Nightmare. It didn’t take
long for Evadras to zone out, muttering some quite responses, while mostly just
staring at the young man. *I’d like you a*
lot more if you shared your bed instead of your life story.

It felt as if an hour or two had
passed, though in truth it was only half an hour, when Evadras left the den
with a bag full of supplies, including bandages, a bit of bread and lots of
fruit, and even a skin full of water, as useless as that felt. He saw that
Sylvia was busy talking with another traveler, and so he went out to the
gateway from where he first entered, and found his manasaber resting against a
tree. *As expected. Creature’s too old and*
lazy to even consider running off. *He gave the poor saber the mana crystal,*
and it quickly absorbed the energy stored with in, the beast immediately
looking refreshed and stronger.

Evadras lifted himself into the
saddle, and urged his mount onwards. He followed a small trail north of the
village, which brought him under a large root, before joining up with the main
road in the forest. From there he could see a shrine in the distance, a large
white statue of a stag with a glowing pool beneath him. *Probably some wild god. Too many to keep track of these days.* He
didn’t bother to take a look, as he felt that was in no way his business.

He followed the path north, as
Sylvia had told him to. A few uneventful hours passed, before a path showed up
to his right. He nudged his saber to the side, and it quickly followed that road
instead, going at a slightly more relaxed pace than usual. *Suppose it allows him to save his strength,*
Evadras thought, glancing around at the splendid green landscape around him.
The trees rose high above him, while stags and does lazily stared at him as he
came riding by, not caring about his presence in the slightest. After a while
he stopped paying attention to the road, and allowed himself to rest in the
saddle.

The change was sudden. His only
warning was a chilling breeze blowing against his face, Evadras fully awake
once more. It was silent, as if any creature that dwelled within the forest was
now far behind him. The only noise was the creaking and groaning of the trees,
and constant wind blowing through them. Behind him was the serene, idyllic
emerald forest. Before him was a twisted image of it, the grass and leaves were
grey and drained of all life, and the bark of the trees were black as coal,
with what looked red tumors and enormous spikes breaking through. *So, this is the Nightmare…* Evadras
thought, feeling a chill run down his spine. *And I’m standing at the very edge of it.* Everything about it made
him want to turn around and leave, but he just couldn’t. He had a job to do in
there. He reached forth, scratching the manasaber behind the ear, and giving it
a gentle pat on the head. It was shivering almost as much as himself. “Go on,
now. It’s just a few vines and trees. Surely nothing you haven’t seen before.”
He pressed a heel against the saber’s side, and it began moving forward. A
bridge let them over a nearly crimson creek. As soon as they were on the other
side, everything seemed to get a bit darker. And colder. *Don’t stop, don’t look back. Keep going.* And so he did, his mount
carrying him through the withered landscape, and further into the corrupted
embrace of the Nightmare.

#### Evadras: Departure

“You cannot be serious!
Suramar? Have you lost your mind?"

“Sister, listen to me.
It’s the safest place to go! The demons-…”

“Suramar stands *against* Azshara! They’re traitors! And
so are you, if you aid them!”

“You have to realise that
it’s the only option! If you got to Zin-Azshari, you’ll die with the rest of
them!”

“What other option do we have,
Evadras? Who else can keep us safe but the Queen? We are Highborne! We must
stand with *our* people.”

“I’d rather die now, than put my
life in Azshara’s hands.”

Valezsj was quick. In the same
moment Evadras finished talking, her hand smacked him across the face.

“Then you are a greater fool than
even I anticipated, brother. Go and die with the lowborn filth if that’s what
you really want.”

In the time it took Evadras to get
back on his feet, she had already left the room, slamming the door behind her. His
hand went to the necklace, near identical to the one Valezsj wore around her
neck. *Too damn stubborn. That’s our*
problem. We’re cursed to be a bunch of headstrong oafs. *Zin-Shal felt*
colder than usual. And far emptier. Not so long ago, it was full of life, with
grand feasts every fortnight, and countless guests from the local nobles. And
then there were the servants, the gardeners, the chefs… And, of course, the
rest of the Duskbreeze family. But father had been slain in a skirmish with the
Kaldorei Resistance, as had Kyurea and her mate, Anris. Hyraeth hadn’t been
seen since the beginning of the war. Mother refused to leave Zin-Azshari, not
even to see her own children. And Malaenia, Valezsj’s frighteningly talented
daughter had gone to stay with her grandmother just a week ago.

That left the Duskbreeze twins as
the only ones remaining in their ancestral home. And by the gods, it was empty.
For a mansion that could house over fifty guests, two residents were simply not
enough. It was haunting, in a way, to see such emptiness. The house had been
left as it was; beautiful, as was fitting for a noble family. And that only
made it seem more unsettling. The tables were still set, the fires had just
recently gone out in the hearths, and the beds looked as if they’d been made
this morning. Zin-Shal didn’t look abandoned. That was what made the silence
even more unbearable. It was as if the guests could come in at any moment. But
they wouldn’t. Neither would the servants, gardeners or chefs. Or any of the
remaining Duskbreezes. Evadras wasn’t even sure he could expect Valezsj to come
back now.

The air was crisp and cool, the
breeze creating ripples as it blew across the lake. The lake in which Evadras once
went swimming and fishing. Even now, he could enjoy the stillness, the
serenity. But that too felt hollow without all the rest. Not too far behind
him, the marble walls of Zin-Shal stood tall and proud, almost glowing in the
light of the moon. He sat down by the shore and let out a soft sigh.

He could not tell how much time had
passed, when he finally heard footsteps approaching. Quiet, gentle, rhythmical.
A perfect rhythm, at that. Something that only Valezsj or her daughter would
strive to achieve. He didn’t look at her, not even as she sat down beside him.
They sat there for a good while in absolute silence, as they had quite a few
times before.

“I’m going to miss this. All of it. I’m
not sure we’ll ever get to return here,” she finally said.

“Perhaps not. And if we do, it’s
unlikely to still be whole. Whether it’s the demons or the kaldorei who destroy
it, that’s another matter entirely.” He chuckled, a sound that was echoed by
his sister. “I assume I shouldn’t even bother talking you out of it? I don’t
see your staff, so you’ve already packed, haven’t you?”

Valezsj nodded.

“So be it. I wish you a pleasant
trip to Zin-Azshari,” Evadras said in the most formal tone he could muster. The
response was a punch against his shoulder. Soon, the twins were laughing
together again.

“I’m going to miss you as well.
Perhaps not as much as our home. But I will miss you.” Valezsj embraced him, a
gesture he could only make an awkward attempt to return while sitting down.

After a while, she finally let go,
and they simply sat there in absolutely silence, enjoying what would most
likely be their last moments together. Only when the first light of dawn could
be seen on the horizon, did Valezsj get up. *Mustering*
the courage to leave, *Evadras thought.*

“No matter what happens…” Valezsj
muttered, wrapping her fingers around her amulet, a soft glow appearing in her
hand. Soon after, Evadras felt a thumping against his chest, like the gentle
rhythm of a heartbeat. “Keep it close. As I will keep mine close. When all this
is over, perhaps we may find each other again.”

Evadras nodded, standing up to hug
her one last time. “I shall. Every night, and day too.”

“Good. You go have fun with your
rebel friends, then.”

“And you make sure to not be too
much of an embarrassment at the court.”

There was nothing more to be said.
With one last nod of mutual respect and affection, Valezsj departed, disappearing
into the forest.

For the first time in his life,
Evadras was completely alone. And something told him, that no matter what happened,
it would not be the last.

### Chapter Two: An Uneasy Alliance

*How did everything go so wrong?* Yathiel pondered, and not for the first time that day. *It was such a simple task. Damnit, El’enir.* Had
her companion not been so cocky, they wouldn’t have been separated. And if they
weren’t separated, Yathiel most likely wouldn’t have to hide in a tree for six
hours.

Compared to the band of satyrs that
awaited her below, however, that branch of hers did feel quite welcoming. It
was withered, its bark drained of all life, leaving it a dull gray, while the
leaves were red as human blood. But during the flight from the satyrs, it felt
ideal. No other trees were nearby, and the satyrs dared not climb up to her,
knowing fully well that a druid like her would have the upper hand, while they
would be practically defenseless.

“You can’t stay up there all night,
kaldorei! If you come down now, we’ll go easy on you! Might even take you
straight to Blackshade,” one of them yelled, though she wasn’t sure which of
them. They all looked quite alike. The enormous goat-like horns, the dark fur
covering most of their bodies, and their strange caprine legs were traits
shared by them all. The only thing that made one stand out from the other four
was that his skin was nearly gray, and his fur purple, instead of the furious
red skin and brown fur of the others. *He’s*
different, higher ranking perhaps? But he’s not Blackshade…

A twig snapped, one of the red satyrs
getting enough of waiting. With a crooked, seemingly wooden spear in hand, he
sauntered over to the tree, right below Yathiel’s branch. Driven by some
foolish thought, he poked the spear up towards her. Apparently, the fact that
she was still another twenty feet above that point didn’t matter to him.

“Nice stick,” she said calmly, even
offering a little smirk to the creature. He growled, then roared with fury,
throwing the spear after the druidess. To his credit, he almost hit. The pointy
little staff flew right past Yathiel’s face, who couldn’t help but flinch in
surprise. “Not bad. You have plenty of time to improve that technique.”

The satyr yelled something in that twisted
language of theirs, but the words had no meaning to Yathiel. *That filthy demonic tongue, no doubt.* She
sighed, leaning back against the trunk. *Might*
as well get comfortable.

El’enir might have had the best intentions
when he rushed the satyrs, before even discussing it with Yathiel. The exchange
went something along the lines of “there’s five of them, and two of us. We take
them out, and they’ll lead us straight to Blackshade.” What El’enir hadn’t
seen, was the other five satyrs waiting further away in the clearing. The
moment he entered his ursine form, he found himself face to face with ten of
the fiends. Yathiel had no choice but to come to his aid. Their odds were
already bad then.

And then, of course, the satyrs proved
quite adept at fighting off druids in their bear forms. They made the same
decision at the same time. Both ran away, split off, and fled into the woods.
Should all go well, they’d regroup near Andu’talah.

All did not go well. Yathiel soon
discovered the satyrs to be efficient trackers as well. Half an hour must have
passed, with her running back out of the nightmare infested forest, yet she
just couldn’t shake them off. She went well past her and El’enir’s meeting
point, instead ending up at a completely different clearing.

A tree stood there, and driven by her
druidic instincts, she climbed it. She’d have a vantage point there. They would
only be able to approach slowly, one at a time. And she had the high ground. It
would do, at least for now. *Until I get*
tired. *She knew as well as the satyrs that she couldn’t hide forever.*

*Hopefully El’enir is better off. Maybe he managed to take out the other*
satyrs. Perhaps he’s on his way now… *Yathiel sighed.* Has time ever felt
this slow? *There was little else she could do. Of course, she could just*
leap down, morph into a bear, and take on the five of them on her own. She
could do that. But they watched her every move. At least one of them was
staring at her at any moment. Yathiel would never be able to take them by
surprise. And she knew how well a gang of satyrs could fight. So, she waited.
For hours, perhaps. At least, it felt as such. The satyrs didn’t bother her for
a long time, but she could hear them talking with one another, muttering in
that illegible tongue of theirs. The longer she waited, the more tempting it
felt to just leap down there, no matter what would happen. *I suppose I was never known to be patient.*

Something had to happen. Anything. Yathiel
just needed… something to keep her occupied. She cleared her throat, then
called out to the satyrs. “You know, I always thought your kind was the worst
Azeroth has to offer. You’re foul smelling, and you’re even worse to look at.
That’s what I thought. I still do, but I’m willing to look past that. I think
that we could actually be friends…” A roar interrupted her, the violet-furred
satyr crying out to silence her, then tossed a spear towards her. That one
missed the tree by several feet.

Yathiel sighed, then continued. “If you would
stop trying to kill me, that is. You see, I don’t really care about any of you.
As long as you don’t cause trouble here, of course. All I want is for you lot
to behave. If you could take me to this
leader of yours, let me chat with him a bit, then we could forget about this
whole mess, and just go our separate ways. How’s that sound?”

The satyrs discussed that among
themselves, stopping to laugh several times. *Of course, they won’t take that seriously.* Then, the violet one
stepped forth. He stood beneath her branch, with perhaps the most mischievous
grin Yathiel had ever seen on his lips. “Well, that can be arranged! There’s
just one issue, you see. There’s no way we’re bringing Blackshade here! He doesn’t
like to leave his lair. And if you’d seen his lair, you wouldn’t blame him
either. So, I’ll give you a special offer. Follow us, and we’ll let you see it!
And, on top of that, you’ll get that meeting with Blackshade. So, will you come
down, elf?” *It’s more likely they’ll*
butcher me the moment I get down there… Not a chance I’m willing to take.
Damnit, think! There’s got to be something…

“Ah, that won’t quite do, demon,” she
said, putting emphasis on ‘demon’. “It’s pretty nice up here. Besides, I find
it unlikely that you’ll actually take me there. How far is this lair of his
anyway?”

“Not far! Not far at all. If you come down
now, we’ll take you there right away. Blackshade would be thrilled to have some
good company.”

“Does that offer extend to me?” That voice
didn’t come from a satyr. They all turned to look at the newcomer. *El’enir? No… His voice is deeper. This isn’t*
a druid. It’s not even a kaldorei. *The man stepped into the clearing, and*
Yathiel took a good, long look at him. She couldn’t see much more than the most
basic features. He was not wearing armor, but rather some simple, if somewhat
fashionable clothing. Clothing more fit for a casual stroll, rather than a
journey into the corrupt depths of Val’sharah. *White hair, dusky skin… he’s a shal’dorei,* she decided. *A Nightborne of*
Suramar. What’s he doing here?

The satyrs fanned out, forming a defensive line
between Yathiel’s tree and the stranger, their weapons at the ready. Their
purple-furred commander prepared some spell, his hands glowing an ominous red. The
man just kept walking, until there were just a few yards between him and the
satyrs. “Now, now. Don’t worry about me, friends. I’m not here for you.”

“Back off, Nightborne. You do not belong in these
forests!” One of the satyrs hissed at him, as he readied that crude-looking axe
of his. The shal’dorei offered just a brief glance, then scoffed. Even though
he was surrounded by four fully-armed demons, he made no effort to reach for
his own weapons. Did he even have any? *Has*
this madman come unarmed?

“I have heard the same said about you, friend. That
these forests belong to the druids, the Kaldorei, not… you. And I must admit,
I’m more inclined to trust the druids on that than you. Their half of the
forest looks prettier, sorry to tell you.”

The satyr snarled at him, yet he didn’t seem to care.
“As I said, I’m not here for you. I do, however, believe you’re in the way of
me getting what I *am* here for.” He
looked up at Yathiel, who remained unmoving in the tree, waiting to see what
would happen. Either way, it could prove the perfect opportunity to escape. Or,
even better, a chance to be rid of the demons. “Yathiel, I assume?” *He speaks Darnassian too.* She nodded.

“I said back off! This doesn’t concern you.” Spears,
swords, and axes were all ready to strike upon the Nightborne.  “And I’m not talking to you, demon,” the man
responded, his patience seemingly wearing thin. “Now, be quiet please. Yathiel,
I was sent here by… Sylvia, I think. One of your druid friends. Said you were
looking for someone called… Doesn’t matter. She said you were having trouble
with the local satyrs. Are these fellows among them?”

*Odd question.* She sighed, then nodded again. “They are. They forced me and my
companion to split up, then chased me up this tree. Oh, and they work for
Blackshade. I assume you know who that is.”

He shrugged, giving a playful little smirk. “I have
some idea. Sylvia told me. But, really, I’m just here to help you, and this
El’enir. Your companion, right?”

“Right. The other half of the satyrs chased him off.
If you help me get down, then we’ll go find him together.”

“Brilliant idea. Come down, then.”

*Is he serious?* “I would, but… You know, I’m not sure they’ll like that.”

The Nightborne raised an eyebrow, glancing around at
the satyrs surrounding him, looking as if he had only really noticed them now.

“They’ve talked enough! Put this fool down,” the
sorcerer cried out, with little warning.

Then, they attacked. Their weapons fell upon the
Nightborne, who remained standing still. Calmly, he reached behind his back. In
a strange, azure flash, the man disappeared, only to reappear behind the satyr
with the sword. Now he carried two daggers, the steel black as night, yet with
a strange blue glow to it. In the time it took for the satyr to turn around,
one dagger was buried to the hilt in his back. He cried out in pain, only to be
silenced once the other knife pierced his neck. The fiend collapsed against the
ground, as the others moved towards the stranger, looking unnerved by his
capabilities. *What was that? Is he a mage*
of some kind? Yet he fights with blades. Odd.

The satyr sorcerer roared a command, and the others
all rushed for the Nightborne at once.The
man ignored them entirely, remaining fully focused on their commander. Once
again, the satyrs struck at him. And once again, he disappeared. Yet this time,
it looked as if he slipped into the shadows, his own form fading entirely. The
three brutes looked at each other, then sniffed and growled as they tried to
find him. *And it seems they’ve forgotten*
me entirely. *There would probably not be a better chance to slip away, with*
no one noticing. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it. *He’s here to help me. It’d be wrong. I*
should help him.

The sorcerer did not stop preparing that spell of his,
the corrupt magic glowing ever brighter from his hands. A twig snapped
somewhere nearby, though Yathiel could not tell where exactly. Somewhere below
her. The satyr turned around with a roar, looking as if he was going to cast
that spell any moment. Just as he stretched his arms out, Yathiel saw the
Nightborne rolling out from the shadows, jumping slightly to kick the sorcerer
in the stomach. It was apparently hard enough, as the satyr then stumbled
backwards, his magic fizzling away. The Nightborne acted quickly, striking
before the sorcerer could regain his balance. One stab against the shoulder,
then the chest, and finally a swift cut across the throat. Yathiel could hear
the man panting softly, she could see the violet blood splashed across his fine
clothes. But what really caught her attention, were those daggers. They were
black as the night sky, except for the silver and magenta of the hilt.

The rest of the gang only looked enraged to see the
sorcerer fall, and there was a certain tenseness to the stranger now, as if he
was suddenly a bit less confident. The trio ran at him, ready to attack. This
time, he did not stand and wait, but rather ran to face them. He was met by the
one with the axe, who swung at him without a moment’s hesitation. It was a slow
and clumsy swing, and so the rogue had little trouble sidestepping, the axe
missing him by several inches. What the satyr lacked in precision, he made up
for in raw strength and speed, it turned out. By the time the rogue moved in to
strike at the flank, the satyrs axe was lifted and ready to receive the blow.
The magic dagger struck into the corrupted wood and went no further. He was
knocked to the ground by the handle of the battle axe, the satyr now lifting
his weapon far above his head. Then, he stumbled and fell with little more than
a grunt. Yathiel soon saw the reason; the other blade had been buried halfway
into his knee. As the brute fell, the Nightborne rolled off to the side, now
ready to face the two that remained standing. Those, unfortunately, were armed
with spears. *And he is left with only one*
knife. *The situation looked bad. And yet, he kept going, dancing on to the*
closest satyr, narrowly evading a jab of his spear. As it turned out, having
only a spear left one defenseless in close quarters. It looked almost
effortless, when the shal’dorei brought him down. The last one certainly didn’t
look willing to come closer. He didn’t have to, either. In those few moments of
hesitation, the Nightborne grabbed his fallen companions spear, and threw it at
him. He only had the time to flinch, before it pierced through him. And so,
four of them fell, with the last still remaining on his knees. He was reaching
out for his axe again, Yathiel realised. The Nightborne was just as quick to
notice, his moment of respite being cut short. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said,
sauntering over to the satyr. With the tip of his strange blade against the
demon’s throat, he leaned down to dislodge the other one. There was a slight
struggle, yet the satyr didn’t take the chance to strike back. And then, both
blades were against his throat. “Good, good… Now, I’m just fine with killing
you, but I think you could be useful to me. To *us*, even.” He glanced briefly up at Yathiel.

*How the hell did*
he… Magic. Plain and simple. They didn’t stand a chance against arcane magic,
combined with whatever that dancing was.

The satyr just laughed, at least until he felt that
cold metal closer against his throat. “I’ll have none of that. Now, do you know
the way to Blackshade?” The satyr nodded. “Good. And will you show us to him?
I’ll let you live if you do.” Some of that cockiness faded from the satyr. He
hesitated, then he nodded again. “Good boy. Now, do tell where it is.
Anda’talah? Shal’anir? Somewhere else entirely?”

As the Nightborne spoke, Yathiel picked up on
something else. A groaning, coming directly below her. *The sorcerer*. All she got to see was that red glow again, before he
cast something against the two others.

“Look out!” Yathiel yelled. The Nightborne looked up
in surprise, then to his side. Immediately he grabbed the satyr beside him.
Though he was taller, stronger, overall heavier, the Nightborne still managed
to get him up on his feet. The spell slammed into the satyr, disintegrating him
into dust instantly. The Nightborne flew backwards, only to slam into the trunk
of another tree. Though the sorcerer still bled from wounds that were most
likely mortal, it didn’t stop him from shambling over to the fallen rogue.

*Shit. Can’t let*
him do that. *And so, Yathiel took in a deep breath,*
as she crawled out on her branch. *There’s*
good distance between us, but maybe I can do it… *She leapt from the branch,*
making no noise. The sorcerer stood above the Nightborne, peering down at him
while preparing another spell. Focusing proved to be a hard task, especially
when Yathiel was rapidly approaching the ground, and only had one chance to get
it right. Dark, coarse fur grew on her limbs, all over her body, as her whole
body was rearranged into something far more bestial. Once, it had been horribly
uncomfortable, feeling everything shift around, but now it felt as unpleasant
as sneezing. Her nails crew into vicious claws, which fit perfectly with the
enormous paws that appeared soon after. *Just*
in time. *Yathiel crashed down on the satyr, his body crushed entirely by*
her ursine weight. And still, he lived, though his time was limited. He
struggled and groaned, reaching up behind him to grab onto the bear’s fur. A
spell was channelled directly against her, slowly searing her fur. Yathiel
roared in pain and fury. Her teeth sank into his exposed neck, and in one clean
tug she ripped off his head. The hand gave one last clench, then fell to his
side. *A bit excessive, maybe…* she
pondered, stumbling to the side as her form changed into that of a Kaldorei
once more. She took a moment to catch her breath, then noticed the figure
sitting against the tree, staring up at her with a look of intrigue. “Druids.
Never know what to expect from your kind.” The Nightborne chuckled.

“Are you hurt badly, shal’dorei? Need me to take a
look?”

“It’s not too bad. Think that beast took most of the
hit. Only thing that really did any damage was the tree. Still, I’d like a
second opinion on that,” he stated. “Oh, and don’t call me shal’dorei. My name
will do just fine. I’m Evadras.” He held out his hand.

She shook it briefly, then pulled him up in that same
motion. “And you already know my name. Come, now. Let me have a look at you.”

An hour, or maybe just half an hour, Yathiel couldn’t
quite tell, passed before everything was settled. Yathiel made some attempts to
learn more about him, yet he was mostly unwilling to share much. He left
Suramar, he wanted to go to Kalimdor, he needed coin. And so, he found work in
Lorlathil, which then led him to her. Under normal circumstances, Yathiel would
have entirely refused his help; trusting strangers could prove dangerous. But
he had already saved her life and proven himself quite a capable fighter at the
same time. She chose to trust him. He had a few burns and scratches on his
body, but nothing that nature’s gentle touch couldn’t mend in moments. Soon
they were on the road, moving back north again, whence Yathiel had first come.

It turned out Evadras had come on a manasaber, a
strange, old, purple thing. It had these strange runes in its fur, and it
almost seemed to glow with arcane power. Yathiel figured it was almost entirely
docile, a bit too old to bother with being aggressive. Evadras was against the
idea of them actual riding on it, explaining that it was too slow and too weak
to make much of a difference. And so, it simply carried their belongings,
making it an easier journey for all of them.

Hours passed in silence. They walked, and they walked.
Nothing broke that monotony. The silence felt unpleasant in those red, dark
woods, and yet the slightest noise brought forth these echoes that were even
more ghastly. Yathiel was used to silence, just not in such eerie surroundings.
*Everything about this place is wrong. A perversion*
of nature. Of the Emerald Dream itself. Disgusting. *Having some satyrs or*
other such corrupted creatures to strike down on the way would almost be
preferable. It would be less dull, less unnerving. They kept walking.
Eventually, Evadras also had enough. He turned around to face Yathiel, slowing
down until he stood completely still. Then he simply stared at her. *Strange. What does he want?*

He stared for some time, letting the silence become
awkward and then some, before shaking his head. “Something wrong, Evadras?” She
walked closer, lifting an eyebrow.

“No, no. Just thought you looked familiar. It’s
nothing.” Even then, he looked to be entirely lost in consideration.

“Oh? I wouldn’t expect you to know many kaldorei.”

“I don’t. Not anymore, at least. But I used to.” He
began walking again, scratching the ears of his saber along the way.

“You’re that old? You were alive before the shield
even went up? Before the end of the War?” He nodded. “Interesting. And… I
assume you’re Highborne?” He nodded again, yet more hesitantly.

“I am. I *was*.
I don’t want to associate with my circles from back then, though. That time is
long past.”

“Ah. I understand. I can respect that. Most Highborne
aren’t worth associating with at all, if you ask me.”

“I can only agree there. Are there that many Highborne
left? From what I’ve heard, all of Azshara’s court was lost to the sea.” As he
spoke, Evadras reached up for something by his throat, hidden under that scarf
of his.

“They were. Many more were slain through… various
methods. But some lived on in hiding, exiled under threat of death. And some
sailed east across the sea. Surely you’ve met their descendants?”

“Those small elves? They helped liberate Suramar. Hard
to miss them.” Evadras chuckled, and Yathiel soon followed. *He’s definitely trustworthy. We might just*
be able to take down Blackshade with his help.

“What about the remaining Highborne? Are they still in
hiding?” Evadras asked.

“They were for a long time. A few years back, High
Priestess Whisperwind agreed to let the refugees of Eldre’Thalas return to our
society, reuniting us all once more. It… somehow worked. As well as it could,
anyway.”

“Huh. You think I’d be able to return too, then?
Perhaps the other shal’dorei who are old enough to remember our true home?”

*Good question.*
The Horde seems to be working towards some sort of alliance with them. If that
works out, he’ll have a hard time gaining any kaldorei’s trust. *“Maybe. I could certainly vouch for you. If you help me with this*
whole quest, I’ll even have you labelled a hero.” They laughed together again.

*There. That’s*
better. Less silent. *With that almost jovial*
atmosphere, the journey felt easier, faster. The eerie forest around them
didn’t bother her as much anymore, neither did that painfully long road. *We should be approaching Shala’nir soon.*
Almost there.

An hour later, they still weren’t there. “How big is
this damned forest? Are you sure you even know this area?” Evadras asked,
scratching that old manasaber behind the ear. They were walking slower,
exhausted from their journey.

“Of course I know it. Well, I knew it. But the
Nightmare has a habit of twisting things. Making them unrecognisable.”

“Mhm, clearly. Quite unhelpful, wouldn’t you say?” The
Nightborne glanced back at her, not even cracking a smile this time. *He’s far more exhausted than I am. We should*
stop for a bit.

She pointed over to some trees, a bit away from the
road. “Look there. That should provide us cover, at least. You could lie down
for a bit, rest if you need to. I’ll stay up and take the watch. How does that
sound?”

Evadras grumbled to himself, then nodded. “The sun is
coming up anyway. I hate travelling in daylight. Too bright. Though, I guess
that doesn’t matter much here.” He was right about that. The thick canopy of
the infested woods did not let much light slip through. As he spoke, he reached
up under his scarf again. “Just a few hours, then.”

They didn’t bother with a campfire. Evadras laid up
against the trunk of one tree, while Yathiel sat in between two branches of
another. It was comfortable, especially when compared to the one she had spent
so many hours in earlier. And this one let her have a decent view of both
Evadras and the road, while also remaining relatively hidden herself. It was
simply ideal. The road remained empty, and the silence was once more
underwhelming. Yathiel sighed, looking back at Evadras. *Seems he’s fully asleep now. I’ll give him an hour or two, then.* For
a while she just watched him. Even as he slept there, his hand reached up to
throat, closing around something for a few moments, before once more resting at
his side. *Strange, that. What’s he hiding*
there? *She remained silent, staring at him. He kept during that, every few*
moments he reached up. Almost to check if it was still there. *It’s none of my business. Though… It would*
be unwise to travel with someone who’s hiding something from me. And
mistrusting him would make all of this so much harder. Just a quick peek.

She waited, just until he repeated the gesture again.
As his hand fell to his side, she crept over beside him, taking in a deep
breath. *I need to be quick. Gentle. And*
very subtle. *With all the care in the world, she reached for his scarf,*
tugging on it as lightly as she could. She saw a silver chain around his neck. *A necklace. An amulet, perhaps? Nothing*
unusual, I suppose. Though… *There was something else. A rhythm. Not one she*
could hear, but one she could feel. *Like*
a heartbeat. *It came from under the scarf, probably where the pendant was.* Alright. Might as well.

This time she lifted it instead. And there it was,
that beautifully crafted amulet. Four interlocking rings, and then that almost
glowing gem in the middle. There was something familiar about it. *It’s certainly Highborne craftsmanship. But*
I’ve only ever seen one like this. Those runes are just like… *Her eyes*
opened wide with that realization. *It’s*
just like Malaenia’s. Malaenia Duskbreeze. Is it the same one? No, no. She
wouldn’t know where to find it. Besides, how would he then end up with it? *She*
would have to ask him. But she couldn’t just tell him that she had looked at
his personal items out of suspicion. *It’ll*
come up somehow, surely. For now, I should just put it back…

A pained scream echoed through the forest. Yathiel let
go of the pendant immediately, jumping to her feet in the same moment. *Shit. Where did that come from?* She
reached for her staff, looking to see if anything was approaching. “What was
that?” Evadras grumbled, holding on to a branch to pull himself up.

*Seems I’m not*
the only one who can be subtle. *The rogue brushed*
the dirt and withered leaves from his clothes. Then, he stopped, staring at the
now exposed pendant. Yathiel moved over to the other tree, glancing around,
making sure to not pay too much attention to Evadras. From what she could tell,
he adjusted it all again, hiding the jewellery away under the scarf. “You did
hear that too, right?” he asked.

Yathiel placed a finger to her lips, a message he
seemed to understand. Some moments passed in silence, yet Yathiel felt her
heart beating rapidly. Then came a yell, a roar, and some mocking laughter. And
then another scream. *By Elune, it’s…* “It’s
El’enir. I’m sure of it. They’ve found him.” Evadras cursed under his breath.
He was already getting his daggers ready.

“Alright. We follow the noise, and we save your
friend. Let’s not waste any time.” Yathiel, having no better plan, just nodded
and followed.

It was dark by the underbrush. The road was gloomy
enough, but now that they were truly under the canopy of the forest, it became
an increasingly hard task to not get lost. By Yathiel’s calculations, it was
midday, or perhaps afternoon outside. But none of the light reached the
corrupted heart of Val’sharah. Crimson, thorny vines crept up along the sides
of… everything, really. Tree and cliff alike were covered in the tangled mess.
And they were easy to stumble over. Yathiel had already caught Evadras a few
times, just barely saving him from falling.

*We are*
definitely lost. I have no idea where we are. But we are getting closer. *The cries only came every few minutes, but they always came from the*
same place. And they were getting louder. *They’re*
hurting him. Badly. We aren’t going fast enough. *Yathiel breathed deeply,*
then broke in to a sprint. She just barely glimpsed the surprised look on
Evadras’ face, before he ran after her. “They’ll hear us,” he said in a hushed
whisper. “Maybe that will give us the distraction we need. I take them head-on,
you go in behind them. There’s probably another five here,” she said, taking in
fast breaths, not stopping at any point.

Eventually, she could hear their voices as well. They
were muffled, still a bit too distant and quiet. But they were there. Yathiel
stopped. There was a clearing up ahead, a place bathed in the nearly red light
from above. She didn’t hear him, but she saw Evadras moving up next to her.

“There’s two of them. Those who are speaking, at
least. Fewer than expected,” the rogue stated.

“Maybe El’enir took down the rest of them. Can you
hear what they’re saying?”

“Hmm… Only some of it. Most of it, I think, is in
their own tongue. But they’re speaking Darnassian too. Asking questions.
Mocking someone. Your friend, I assume.”

El’enir screamed again, the agony so clear in his
voice that it made Yathiel wince.

“They’re asking if-…”

“I don’t care what they’re asking. We’re going in.
Now.” She didn’t wait to see Evadras’ response. Before she knew it, she was
running towards them. It was as Evadras said. Two satyrs. And El’enir, bleeding
and bound against a tree. Yathiel roared. A bestial, furious roar. Her body
changed once more, taking on the brutish form of a bear. That seemed to get
their attention. Both had red fur, and grey skin. One was slightly paler than
the other. Yathiel felt an urge to kill. To rip and tear those who hurt her
companion.

The satyrs, however, remained still, fiddling with
their weapons. “So that’s where your friend is. Look now, little druid. If you
don’t talk, we’ll kill her. Slowly.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Yathiel saw the young
druid lifting his head. He was bound by his arms against the trunk, while his
ankles were bound to one another. *So much*
blood… *He only opened one eye. Yathiel couldn’t tell if the other was even*
still there. His once light-green hair was coated in his own magenta blood.
Long, jagged cuts in his purple flesh, horrid enough to make Yathiel feel
nauseous, even in spite of her own bloodlust.

El’enir coughed, then laughed. Even that hurt him, if
Yathiel was to judge from his grimacing. “I would… like to see you try,” he
said, showing no hint of the cheery tone she knew so well. He gritted his
teeth, before continuing. “I, alone, killed two of yours. But... It seems… It
seems she killed all five of your friends.”

The satyrs glanced at each other, then the pale one
chuckled. The other spoke. “It doesn’t matter. She won’t attack us.” He lifted
his weapon into the air, revealing the jagged tip of the spear. Then, that
point was pointed at El’enir’s throat. “Because if she does… Then you’ll die.
And so will she.”

*We will see*
about that. *She could not see Evadras anywhere, but*
that didn’t surprise her. That, apparently, was his thing. “What she will do,
is she will return to her normal form. Then she will surrender to us. And then
we’ll take you both to the man you’re looking for. Easier for everyone, I would
dare say-…”

Yathiel did not let him finish. With unnatural speed
and strength, she leapt towards him. He did not get to move that spear, not
even an inch. It fell to the ground, and so did its wielder, crushed beneath
Yathiel’s weight. She heard the bones cracking, and figured her job was done. *Might as well make sure, though.* Her
claws tore through his chest, rewarding her with a light spray of blood.

The other satyr had since moved. Yathiel couldn’t see
him. *Come on, Evadras. Where are you?* Not
even with her enhanced senses could she hear or see him. *Damnit.*

Then she heard it. Steps, right behind her. She placed
her massive claw on the handle of the fallen satyr’s spear. That claw then
became a hand once more. She grasped the haft tightly, and one smooth motion
turned around, the length of the spear raised before her. To his credit, the satyr
didn’t waver. His axe struck in to the spear, where it got stuck. The demon
growled at her, pulling with enough strength to drag her along with it. *Let’s see how you like this, then.*
Yathiel twisted the haft slightly, then pulled to the side. It snapped, only
half of it remaining in her hand. The right half. The satyr stumbled, and
Yathiel stabbed. The only noise he made was a surprised grunt, as the twisted
metal went into his shoulder. He dropped his axe. *He’s still a threat.* She pulled it out, then stabbed him further
down. As it was pulled from his abdomen, he roared in pain, intentionally
dragging the spectacle out. *Just some*
repayment. *The satyr cried out in pain.*

“It seems you should have been the one to surrender,
not me,” she said. He looked up at her, then laughed. “No. You should lay down
your weapon, druid. If you kill me, then both of you will join me.”

*What is that*
supposed to mean? *With another laugh, he nodded*
towards the nearby treeline.A
silhouette stood there, concealed by the shadows. “We thought it best to have a
wildcard ready, should someone come for your friend here. If you kill me, he’s
going to turns all three of us to ash.”

*No. That can’t*
be right. *Her hand trembled, the half-spear along*
with it. *How can he still win? I beat*
them. *She looked at El’enir. She couldn’t tell if he was still conscious.* He’s not going to make it either way. I have
to avenge him. I have to…

The figure stepped into the clearing. “Actually, you
may go ahead.” Evadras threw the severed head of a purple-haired satyr to them.
That cockiness soon left the satyr, and shortly after his life followed.
Yathiel pulled the spear from his throat in silence.

“Took you long enough,” Yathiel said, throwing the
bloodied spear tip aside.

“I saved your life. Both your lives, in fact. You
could stand to be a little grateful.” *Is*
he blind?

She pointed towards El’enir’s body, limp against the
tree. “We were too late to save him. *You*
could stand to be a little less complacent.” Evadras looked down, remaining
quiet. “Help me cut him loose. We have to bring him with us on the way back.”

The ropes were strong, but those strange blades had no
trouble cutting through them. Yathiel caught El’enir before he hit the dirty,
bloody ground. He coughed again. *Still a*
bit more life in him. But it’s fading fast. *“Steady, now. It’s alright.”*
She lowered him again, gently sitting him down against the tree. A moment
passed, then his remaining eye fluttered open. “Yathiel… I’m sorry,” he said,
his voice faint and hoarse. “I thought I could take them all myself. I only got
two before…” He gritted his teeth again, wincing and whimpering. “Y-you told me
to be patient, t-to wait… I c-couldn’t even do that.”

Yathiel shook her head, brushing his bloody hair away
from his face. Then she took one of his hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You
did great, El’enir. I’m proud of you. We’re all proud of you.”

That earned her a smile from the dying druid. “I… I
suppose it won’t all be for nothing. I found out about Blackshade… I overheard
the satyrs talking. His lair is near the roots of Shal-… Th-the tree…” He
winced again.  “He’s a H-Highborne
sorcerer… I h-heard them calling him Xynaras…” Out of the corner of her eye,
Yathiel saw Evadras’ head perking. *That*
name means something to him.

“Thank you, El’enir. You’ve been very, very brave. We’ll
bring you with us to Lorlathil, and then we’ll…”

“D-Don’t even bother, sister. I know it’s over. It’s
fine… Just… Please, make sure they t-take me to Winterspring. My family…
th-they deserve that, at least.” Yathiel lowered her gaze slightly. *I should have been honest with him.*  “I’ll make sure they do. I’ll personally
ensure you’re returned there, if necessary. This I vow.”

“Th-thank you, Yathiel. Now, please…” He took in a
deep breath. His last breath. “Make that b-bastard pay… For everything.” With
his hand in hers, he died. Peacefully and calmly, despite everything. *Fitting for a druid,* Yathiel thought. She
stood up again, hesitantly letting go of his hand. *I’ll have to give Tarellia one long hug when I next see her. He was*
barely older than her. He didn’t deserve this.

Only then did
Evadras more from behind the tree. “I’m sorry for…”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He sighed but nodded all the same. “Very well. Do you
want me to carry him? It’s a long trip back.”

“We won’t be going just yet. I owe him this, at least.
I don’t care if you’re coming with me or not. But I will end this.”

Evadras smirked. “You know, I was hoping you’d say
that.” He spun his starry blade in the air, then sheathed it behind his back. “Let’s
go pay Blackshade a visit.”

#### Yathiel: Promise

Sulfur. Ashenvale reeked of it. Black
smoke rose from the distance. From where Yathiel was heading. She could faintly
glimpse the orange and green glow coming from there. *So, this is fel. It smells even worse than I had expected. It’s going*
to devour the whole forest. I need to hurry. *She pressed her heels into the*
nightsaber’s sides. Immediately it sped up, running as fast as it could with
her weight on it. Her old comrades in the sentinel army had let her borrow the
mount. They, at least, understood the importance of her task, and they were
willing to help her, even if she was no longer one of them.

The Burning Legion had returned. Up
until now, Yathiel had not seen even a hint of their power. She did know the
scent of fel, or its intimidating green glow. But now she did. And now she
understood the gravity of the situation. *Arlyn.*
I need to save Arlyn. Tarellia too. And Raen. All of them. *A loud boom*
sounded somewhere close, and a green ball of fire rose above the trees, bathing
them in its hellish light. *Could that*
have been… No, no. That was too close. There’s a bit longer still. Near the
smoke. By Elune, I hope I’m not too late.

High Priestess Windrunner was
mustering sentinels and priestesses alike to stand and fight for their
homeland. By all rights, Yathiel should be with them. But her family was more
important. There was only the three of them. The last
Bluemists. Her sister, and her sister’s daughter, a child that was barely over
twelve years old*. Mother Moon, grant me*
speed. Grant me strength. Grant me time. Do not let them fall to the fires.

She was getting close. The bridge she rode over was familiar. And
the river. *Just around the corner, and*
then to the right. Near the pond. *Her nightsaber slowed down again.* Good, good. Quiet. *The smoke wasn’t coming from their*
house, it seemed. It was still a bit further away. *Thank the Goddess, they’re unharmed.*

A loud crash grabbed her attention.
Shortly after came the explosion. *No! Not*
them, please not them.

With as much grace as she could
muster, she leapt off the beast’s saddle, lacking the finesse she once had.
This time, the smoke came from their house. She could see it now. The purple
wood of the roof. Those cozy, brown walls. The flowerbeds which Arlyn always
struggled to maintain, so that Raen had the ingredients for his potions. It all
burned before her eyes. The flowers blackened, then turned to ash. There was a
hole in the wall, and by that hole stood a large, brutish fiend of a demon. In
his enormous hands was an axe that was even bigger than Yathiel herself. His
helmet was adorned with a great spike.

There was blood on his axe. Yathiel
just barely spied a leg sticking out of the ruined wall. *Raen… No, no… Elune, please don’t. Not again.*

She heard a scream, then a crash. It
sounded like furniture being tossed around. The demon went inside. *They’re still in there. I can save them, I*
can… *The door opened. Out came Arlyn, bloodied and beaten. She dragged her*
daughter by the arm. That pale, trembling little thing. She was sobbing, and
for a moment that was all Yathiel heard. Arlyn knelt before her daughter,
placing her hands on the child’s cheeks as she kissed her on the forehead.
“Listen to me, child. You have to run. Please. Run. Don’t look back. It’ll all
be fine.” From the house and nearby trees came not only demons, but also some
twisted, hideous monsters. They looked like corpses, though much of their flesh
had rotted away. They shambled towards the mother and child. *Six of them, and then the demon. I have*
enough arrows. I just need to get a good angle…

“Run, Tarellia. Run!” Arlyn cried.
She shoved her child, yet she just remained standing, her tears dripping to the
burnt ground. “Please…” In desperation, Arlyn turned to face the demon instead,
“Please don’t hurt her. Let her go. Please…” He just laughed, making a deep,
almost mocking sound. And then he struck her down. His axe struck her in the
abdomen, and she collapsed in silence. Before she hit the ground, the felguard
and his ghouls were moving for Tarellia, who seemed to almost be frozen in
place.

“No! Sister!” Yathiel yelled. All of
them looked towards her, even Arlyn as she led there, bleeding. The first ghoul
had scarcely moved before an arrow found his eye. And then another, and
another. One by one they fell. With two arrows in him, the felguard ran for
Tarellia. He was stopped as three more entered him.

For just a moment, all was silent.
Then, Tarellia managed to stutter a single word, still sniffling and
whimpering. “S-Shal’nar…”

“Yes, Tarellia. I’m here. It will
all be fine.” Her words must not have been particularly convincing, or then the
child was just too smart to be fooled. Tarellia shook her head, bawling all
over again as Yathiel ran a hand through her hair.

“Sister,” she heard Arlyn say. *I’m sorry. I was too late. Far too late.* But
when she looked at her sister, she was smiling. Yathiel knelt by her side. *She’s at peace with it already,* she
realized. Yathiel was not. She didn’t even get to look down at her before she
broke down in tears. “I don’t want to lose you too. This is all wrong. You’re
the youngest…”

“Shh… It’s alright, Yathiel. Be
strong. You were always strong.” She placed her arms around Yathiel, trembling
from the strain.

Yathiel didn’t even dare look down
at the wound. She simply stared into her sister’s eyes. “I… I will be strong,
sister.”

“Good. You have to. For Tarellia…
She needs you. And… I think you need her, too.”

Yathiel glanced back at the child.
She was quiet now, just staring down at her bare feet. She was covered in mud,
blood, ash, and so many other awful things. “I can’t, Arlyn. You remember what
happened to…”

“That wasn’t your fault. It never
was. And it won’t happen again. I know it won’t.”

“But, sister…”

“No ‘but’. Promise me you will take
care of her, Yathiel. You *have* to.
Promise me.”

*For you, sister. And for her.* She took a deep breath. “I promise. I will
take care of her, treat her as my own.”

Already upon hearing that, Arlyn
looked calmer. More at peace.

“Where’s my daughter? I need to… See
her…” Yathiel barely got to stand back up before Tarellia came closer. Slowly.
Each step riddled with anxiety.

“Min’da…” the child whispered, in between
her many sniffles.

Arlyn was weak, yet she reached out
to pull her daughter in all the same, though her arms barely seemed capable of
lifting themselves. “Come here, Tarellia,” she said, embracing her only child
as tight as she could.

“You’re safe now. Everything is
fine.”

Tarellia shook her head. “It’s not
fine, min’da! Y-you’re bleeding!” She buried her face against her mother’s
dress, crying her eyes out once again. Yathiel could scarcely stand to look,
yet she did. *She’s… inconsolable. I can’t*
possibly make her feel better about this.

“I… I am. Forgive me, child. I don’t
have long in this world. I’m… I’m forced to leave you, little one. I don’t want
it to be this way, but… I have no choice in the matter.”

Again, the child shook her head,
sobbing relentlessly. Her hands gripped Arlyn’s dress tightly, as if that would
keep her there. “No! You can’t go! You have to stay. Please stay, min’da.
Please…”

“I’m sorry, Tarellia,” she
whispered, one of her hands moving up to ever so lightly run through her
daughter’s hair. “Listen to me, sweetling. You must also stay strong. For me.
Do that for me, Tarellia.” Her hand came further down, gently cupping the child’s
cheek, guiding her head upwards. She managed that much at least, and soon
Yathiel saw the two looking into each other’s eyes, even as Tarellia’s tears fell
on her mother’s broken body. “Tarellia, you must go with your shal’nar now. She
will take you with her… She will take care of you.”

Stubborn as she was, the girl kept
shaking her head, those small ears drooping. It almost like they reached her shoulders.
“I don’t w-want to… I won’t leave you, min’da! I don’t want you to go, too!”

Arlyn closed her eyes, exhaling
deeply. Yathiel took a step forward, ready to act. Thankfully, her eyes opened
again, though partially lidded. “You have to, dear. I’m sorry. The Mother Moon
will take me and your an’da soon.” Arlyn drew her closer yet, till their foreheads
were against one another. It might have been the one thing that made the child
quiet again. With that, she kissed her on the forehead. “Tarellia… I know this
is… so hard for you. But you must be strong. I know how much this hurts. It
will always hurt. But, dearest, I’ll… I’ll always be with you. You might not
see me, but I will always watch over you from above…”

“From th-the stars…”

Arlyn smiled. “Exactly, Tarellia. I’ll
watch from my own little star. And know that… whatever you do, I’ll be proud of
you. No matter what. I’ll feel all your joys with you, watch over you in every
moment with… pride. Pride for my little daughter…” Arlyn’s own tears almost
glowed in the light of the fire around them. “I love you,” she whispered, faint
enough so Yathiel could barely even hear it. She kissed Tarellia on the
forehead again, then let her head lie back against the ground. With a smile on
her face, Arlyn died, still holding her daughter in her last moments. *May Elune grant you peace, sister. You and*
Raen.

Tarellia remained silent, confused.
Only when her mother’s arms fell to the ground, did she even react. Her
breathing got faster again, a fit of desperation washing over her. “M-Min’da?
No… Min’da! W-wake up! Please!” Those small, shaking hands gripped her mother’s
head, trying shake her, stir her from her rest, but no response came.

“Tarellia, I’m so-…”

“MIN’DA!” Yathiel bit
down on her tongue, trying to keep herself in control. She had to be strong for
Tarellia. She had to be the pillar that supported her. She knelt next to the
little child, and picked her up with ease, drawing her into an embrace. “Nooooo!”
she cried, giving a furious struggle. Yathiel did not force her to remain in
the hug; she did not wish to be forceful against the child. To give her any
more fears. It didn’t take long for her to stop fighting. Instead, she
collapsed against Yathiel, her intense, heartbroken cries and screams barely
silenced. Yathiel closed her eyes, exhaling deeply. She would give the child
closeness for now. Comfort. Talking could come later. *A shrine could be built here,* she thought, looking over the
devastation. *Yes. A shrine to her*
parents. To my sister and her beloved Raen. A sacred place. *Yathiel slowly*
moved a hand up and down Tarellia’s back, figuring it would soothe her. Sure
enough, it seemed to have an effect. And she remained that way for… longer than
she could tell. Minutes, hours maybe.

The fire was now just
embers in the blackened, ruined house. Yathiel took a last glance at her
sister. “Anu Dorah. I remember,” she whispered. Tarellia seemed unresponsive. Silent.
*The child has fallen asleep. Good.* That
was her cue to get up. To carry Tarellia back to her saber. To take the girl to
safety. *And I will take care of her.*
*Raise her. Give her the best childhood I possibly can. And this time, I will do*
better.

### Chapter Three: Blackshade

They found Blackshade's lair by Shaladrassil's corrupted roots. It was, to Evadras, an
underwhelming sight. A hole in the ground was all that marked the entrance. The
twisting vines and roots made it even harder to see. *Xynaras always liked his privacy,* Evadras thought. More surprising
was the lack of guards. Evadras could not see a single satyr anywhere around
them, and Yathiel had at least not made him aware of anything. And so, he could only assume that there
were no such threats.

The druid was the first to approach the cave. Evadras found it wiser
to remain a bit behind, should his talents be needed. He peeked from a bush as
Yathiel sniffed the air, and then quite obviously stuck her head past the
entrance. *Not an ounce of subtlety in her*.
He thought he saw her waving, but it was hard to tell. The vines, leaves,
branches and roots formed a thick canopy. No light came through. Though Night
elf and Nightborne alike were used to darkness, there was something different
about this. Evadras had never set foot in a barrow den, but Yathiel told him
that those were *almost* as dark. The
corruption was overwhelming in other ways, too. Evadras could feel it, smell
it, even taste it. And, sometimes, it felt like he could hear it. Strange
whispers, too quiet to understand, yet just loud enough to hear. Evadras could
do little more than shrug it off.

Something pulled him by the arm. “Are you listening? I said it’s
clear. Let’s get in there.” He blinked, then looked back at her. Blue hair,
white eyes, red markings. *It’s just her.*
But wasn’t she just in front of me? *He blinked, then nodded.* This damn forest is making me dizzy.

“Let’s go,” he stated, letting go of the hilt of his dagger.

Yathiel’s senses were, in every way, better than Evadras’. And yet
he opted to go in first. He just couldn’t be sure that the druidess wouldn’t
somehow draw attention to them. There was no arguing that he was the quieter,
stealthier of the two. The entrance was big enough for him to comfortably walk
through. But the ceiling got lower and lower. At the same time, however, the
tunnel itself seemed to lead downwards. Before long, he was crawling on hands
and knees, the walls of the cave hugging him on all sides. *I’ve had worse,* he thought, dragging himself forward. Still, he was
quickly growing exhausted. Yathiel, however, said nothing, the only noise from
her being the sound of her body dragging against dirt. *I suppose her barrow dens are equally uncomfortable.*

At some point, he realized that he couldn’t see anything. If there
was any danger lurking ahead, or a hole, or a dead end, he was oblivious. *This is an awful idea.* It still felt
like he was descending, but at this point he couldn’t tell. He didn’t talk to
Yathiel, and she said nothing either. Even if he wanted to, he was unable to
turn his head and look back at her. *Hope*
I don’t kick her in the face. She can’t be that close, though. *And the*
tunnel kept going. A scraping came from behind him. *My Starblades,* he figured. *If*
they’re hitting the roof, then… there can’t be any more than a few inches of
space. I should avoid lifting my head*. His amulet was spared such*
punishment, his garb keeping it mostly protected from the hard earth. It did
bring a small comfort, when pressed again him like that. Its warmth and faint
thrumming urged him on.

Something became more common, the further they went. There was
something thick and hard sticking out from above sometimes. *Roots,* Evadras realized. *But these are massive. We aren’t just under*
any tree. *He sighed.* We must have
been crawling for well over an hour.

Eventually, he was forced to push and tear and pull at the roots to
get them out of the way. *Gods, there’s a*
lot of these things. *And the tunnel kept going. A particularly large root*
stopped his advance entirely. Groaning, he reached out to pull it away. At that
point, he heard something shift in the ground. And then his hand was bound.
Something pulled it in against the wall of the cave. Evadras realised it was
the very same root, tightening around his wrist to an unbearable level. “Shit,
shit, not this,” he hissed, already reaching back for his blades. Something
that proved hard in such a cramped space.

“What is it?” Yathiel asked in a hushed tone.

“Come closer. I need your help.” And so she did, only stopping once
her hand was placed on his ankle, at which point she immediately withdrew it.
“No, no, it’s fine. I have my Starblades on the back of my belt. I need you to
take one, and hand it to me.”

“Starblades? Really?” She snorted, but obliged anyway, crawling further
up behind him.

“Hush. Just get me the damn knife.”

After some rather awkward fiddling, she managed to pull one out of
its sheath, the faint blue glow making Evadras sigh in relief. “Good, good. Now
hand it to…” The root tugged at his hand, getting even tighter than should be
possible. He bit down hard on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Give it to
me! Now!” he demanded. Thankfully, she didn’t waste any time. The comforting
feel of a Starblade’s hilt soon met the palm of his hand. In one swift motion,
he pulled his arm back up, and positioned the blade against the root. Putting
in all his strength, he cut into it. It responded by tightening up again.
Evadras cursed under his breath, sawing away at it like his life depended on
it. Which, in that moment, it very well could. The most incredible feeling of
relief soon found him. The root went limp, then let go of his wrist.

“There we go, that’s be-…” The ground shifted under them. Something
bended and snapped. And then they fell.

Down and down he went. Evadras could only assume that Yathiel was
falling with him. He heard a gasp when the floor gave in, and that was all. He
did not know how long they fell for. It felt like a lot longer in darkness. *This is it, then,* was his last thought,
before he hit against a root. It snapped, only to make him land on the next
one. This one held his weight for some time, only bending when Yathiel landed
on top of him. And so, pinned under the druidess’ weight, Evadras hit solid
ground.

*This area is bigger,* was the first thing he realized. *Far*
bigger. *As a matter of fact, he could stand up. When Yathiel finally got*
off him, that was. She took him by the arm and helped him to his feet. It was
still dark, yet further down, Evadras saw just a faint, red glow. “I think
we’re going the right way,” he said breathlessly. He laughed at his own words,
and Yathiel joined him. Without saying much more, they walked towards the
light. *Walking. Gods, it feels good. I’m*
sore all over. *He felt it would take quite a few exercises to recover from*
that.

Whatever was causing the red glow wasn’t as far as it first seemed.
It turned out to be emanating from around a bend in the tunnel. Once more,
Evadras went first. With his back against the wall of the cavern, he then
turned his head just enough to peek around the corner. The tunnel continued for
a bit, he saw, only to then expand into a far larger chamber. Enormous, in
comparison to everything else he had seen down here. *Could that be his lair?* Evadras intended to find out. He only got
to take one step, before Yathiel took him by the shoulder, turning him around.
“Wha-…” She held a finger to her lips, beckoning him closer. *Is she picking up on something?* Those
suspicions were immediately confirmed as she then pointed to her ear, and
towards the direction he had just peeked. And there they were. Voices. Muffled,
unclear, but there was no doubt that they were there.

Crouching, this time, Evadras went forth. Yathiel remained a good
few paces behind him, which only pleased him. *She’s certainly making more noise. Not enough to hear unless you’re*
close, though.

His body hurt. From the falling, from the crawling. Adding in some
crouching only made it several times worse.

Eventually, he entered the larger room. As it turned out, it was an *enormous* cavernous chamber, with several
levels to it. If he was to judge, he was on the very top level. Some yards
lower, he saw another tier, and then the ground floor even further down.
Several seemingly natural pillars held it all up, formed by stone. And yet, the
chamber was oddly… manmade. *Must be old.* He
crept over behind the nearest pillar and peeked around it. From the ceiling
came the reddish light, along with all sorts of massive vines, roots and
tendrils, dangling from above. Below were the satyrs. Evadras counted the ones
he could see. About a dozen were facing towards him, yet they were kneeling and
looking down. A few more stood further away. Those were armed. “What do you
see?” Yathiel whispered *somewhere* behind
him.

Evadras didn’t bother turning around. In fact, he moved closer to
the edge, keeping a tight hold around the pillar. “Most of them are kneeling.
Almost like they’re praying.” He placed a foot on a small outcrop on the pillar
and stepped forth.

“What are they kneeling to?”

“Exactly who you think, Yathiel.” He found a secure spot to hold on,
a pulled himself out onto the stalactite, and then he saw him. Blackshade.
Unsurprisingly, he had carved a little throne on himself, where he sat. He
looked larger than the other satyrs, and that wasn’t just due to his elevated
seat. His fur was a vicious, bloody crimson, and his leathery skin was like
charcoal. His eyes, like those of many other satyrs, were like embers. To
Evadras, Blackshade might just have looked like the embodiment of fire. *Not surprising. Xynaras was always a bit*
flamboyant. And he sure had a sense for fashion.

Xynaras’ didn’t look down at the gathering below him. Instead, he
played around with a knife. It was dark and red and twisted. Evil. As if it had
been carved of the Nightmare itself. Which, to Evadras, didn’t seem all that
unlikely. And Blackshade simply toyed with that cruel thing, using it to clean
his claw-like nails, then cutting into his own throne.

“It’s definitely him,” Evadras said, glancing back over his
shoulder. Yathiel was nearly right behind him.

“I don’t doubt that. I didn’t expect that there’d be *this* many satyrs. We’re outnumbered
about ten to one. We can’t just take them on like we did the others.”

“No, we can’t. We do need to take him out, though. Any ideas,
druid?”

Yathiel sighed, remaining silent for a good moment. “I could try to
grab their attention. While they’re occupied, you take out the big guy. That
might just get them to scatter.”

*Not the worst of plans.*
Could easily go wrong, though. *Evadras nodded.* Then again, any plan could. *He looked*
back to the sorcerer, who was still carving into his chair. Curiosity took
over, and Evadras moved closer. *Some*
habits die hard, I suppose, *he thought.* He
used to carve the strangest things.

“Careful, Evadras. They might see you,” a hushed voice said.

“They’re all distracted. I’ll just have look.”

He was almost right above the satyr’s throne. *If any look up, there’s no chance they’ll miss me.* Evadras leaned
out even more. If he had to jump at Blackshade, this would be the ideal spot.
In that moment he was more interested in sating his curiosity, though. He could
hear the scraping of the blade against the throne now. Blackshade moved his
arm, as if to reveal what he had written. *‘I*
see you.’ Ah, shit.

Slowly, the sorcerer’s head turned. Those red, piercing eyes met
Evadras’ gaze. He grinned. “Leave me.” His voice was somewhat hushed, a slight
hint of a growl following it. Still, his followers obeyed. They all rose, some
staring up at Evadras’ rather exposed form. Rather than doing anything, they
simply turned and left. All of them. Silently. They went towards a large tunnel
at the other side of the room, and one by one they disappeared. The armed
satyrs remained, however, their glaives and swords now at the ready.

“Get down here, intruder,” his voice came again. It was in every way
demanding. *He always did carry himself*
with authority. This has only enhanced it. *Evadras reached behind his back,*
gripping the hilt of a Starblade. Blackshade snarled and clenched his fist. A
mist formed around Evadras. It felt like something invisible was gripping him.
He could move, and yet he felt restricted. Then, Blackshade pulled his hand
back. Part of pillar followed Evadras as he was dragged down before the satyr,
held by an unseen force. Evadras gasped for air. “Yes. You will *kneel,”* Blackshade said, rising from his
throne. He still held his blade, but didn’t seem interested in using it just
yet.

“What brings a little rat to my home?” the satyr asked, snarling.
“Do you not know who I am?”

Evadras remained silent. He looked up, yet didn’t see Yathiel where
she had been before. *Either she’s looking*
for a way to help, or… she ran off. *Everything hurt. He was sore all over,*
thanks to the drop. The force of the impact would certainly have broken
something. Yet, it seemed that in some ironic twist, Blackshade’s magic had
also protected him.

“I do know,” Evadras said, coughing. “You’re Xynaras Blackshade. A
traitor to your people.”

That had an effect on the sorcerer. His glowing eyes opened wide. *Surprised. That’s good.* The satyr came
closer, now holding his weapon towards Evadras. *Oh. Not good.* Instead of killing Evadras right there, Xynaras
struck him with the back of his other hand. There was enough force in that blow
to make the rogue fall over.

“How dare you say my name? How dare *you* call me a traitor, shal’dorei? Who are you?” Now the blade was
pointed at Evadras properly.

“Someone who knows all the things you’ve done to fall this low.”

“I will make you regret your words. You don’t understand what you’re
doing here.”

*Well, I’ve fucked up. I*
need to act. Fast. *It stood clear that Blackshade*
was overcome with fury. One wrong word, and it’d be over. Evadras wasn’t sure
if there were any right words. *Actions*
speak louder than words, right? That’s what you always said. *He looked over*
his shoulder. The guards had come closer. He’d have to get past them. The
necklace pulsed gently against his chest. *Best*
chance I’ll get. *He reached up, clutching the amulet. He grinned at*
Xynaras, who had a look of… confusion. Consideration.

Drawing upon the arcane powers within, Evadras faded away. He
reappeared behind another satyr, who soon received a dagger to the neck. *Three more to go. And then him.* The odds
were, by all means, not in his favour. A satyr armed with a glaive ran at him,
only to be struck down by an amber bolt. He fell, crying in pain, struggling to
get up. *Just in time,* Evadras
thought, grinning back at Yathiel. “You take out the big one. I’ll hold these
off.” Before his eyes, the druidess shifted into the form of a great, grey and
blue bear. With a roar that made the cavern shake, she charged the two other
guards, leaving the way open to Blackshade. The sorcerer held out his left
hand, drawing upon the crimson corruption. It gathered into the shape of a
blade, this one larger than his physical one. “Come, then,” he demanded.

Evadras got both his Starblades out, then did as he was told. He
looked all over the room, looking for cover, high ground, anything that could
give an advantage. *My best bet is his*
throne, *he thought.*

“I never thought we’d end it like this, Xynaras.” He stood a few
feet from Blackshade, but the satyr didn’t move. He just stared at Evadras. At
his weapons. They held the same stance, Evadras realized. Both had their left
hand in front, holding their blade in a reverse grip. The right blade remained
lower, ready to strike. *Just as you*
taught me.

Xynaras’ ember-like eyes went wide once more. Recognition. Then came
the growling. Fury. *Ah, shit.*

“DUSKBREEZE!” the sorcerer screamed, even louder than Yathiel had
roared. The sound echoed around the chamber, which had fallen silent. The
fighting behind him had stopped entirely. That same red mist gathered around
Blackshade’s form, shrouding him in darkness. Faster than Evadras ever had a
chance to react, Xynaras came at him.

Fully empowered, the sorcerer moved like a crimson flash. The impact
of it was enough to send him flying. Evadras didn’t feel it, but he *heard* something cracking. Before he even
hit the ground, Blackshade was there with him again. In one brutal gesture, the
bestial sorcerer slammed him into the ground. This time, it was at least the
rock and dirt beneath cracking, and not Evadras’ spine. The rogue groaned in
pain. *I messed up.* He placed his
hands against the hard floor, pushing against it. *I need to get back up. I need to-…* The hoof of his foe hit him in
the stomach. He fell again, rolling onto his back.

“I should have known it’d be you. Has your kin not taken enough from
me already, Evadras?” Xynaras stood above him now, his gaze feeling as if it
pierced through him. There was no grin now. Only fury.  “I hear you’re the only one left. And with
you, your House will finally be put to an end. About time, too. Your tyranny
has gone on for too long.” The cold metal of Blackshade’s weapon pressed
against his throat. *What was I thinking?*
Did I expect to actually stand a chance?

“And it will all have been worth it,” Xynaras continued. The room
was silent around them, save for his growling. “All the pain I’ve endured along
the way. Every sacrifice. I twisted myself into… *this*. But it will have been worth it.”

Evadras coughed, trying to push himself up. A hoof against his chest
forced him back down. “This is still about the Bluemist girl, isn’t it?” he
asked. For a moment, just a moment, Evadras swore he saw glint of sorrow, in
those eyes that were so full of hatred. “Of course, it is. Xynaras, I did not
have anything to do with…” Another kick, this one with all the fury which the
sorcerer carried. Evadras rolled onto his stomach, crying out in pain. *Something must have broken… Damnit. Where is*
Yathiel? Did those fuckers kill her? Can’t be… She has to do something. Quick…

“You took her from me! Your whole family was in on it. Because of
your ridiculous feud.”

“I was your friend, Xyn! You, me, Thaliare, all of us! You know I’d
never want to hurt her! I tried to talk Malaenia out of it! The girl only
listened to her mother!”

“You could have stopped her. It was your *duty* to stop her. Did you not owe me that much, Evadras? After
everything?” It looked as if Blackshade was trembling as he stood there.
Evadras noticed how he, himself, was breathing faster, yet didn’t feel it. As
if he was looking at himself in one of his most desperate situations. *The past always catches up. He’s not going*
to listen to reason.

“But no. Malaenia murdered my dear Thaliare in cold blood. She
almost killed our daughter too! The child was scarred for the rest of her life.
They’re all gone now. Duskbreeze, Bluemist… When we’re gone, we’ll be history,
Evadras. Forgotten.” Despite his trembling, he picked up Evadras, slamming him
into a wall. From there, he could see Yathiel’s ursine form, standing above the
fallen satyrs. She just sat there, watching. *Do something,* he thought, silently mouthing the words. She remained
unmoving for now. *Something’s wrong.*
What’s this all about?

“Do you know what kept me going? Throughout everything? After losing
Thaliare, after Elaiah had to leave? It was the thought that one day, I’d repay
the debt in full. That I would get to wipe out your whole damned line, that I’d
get to level that abomination you used to call a home to the ground.” His hand
moved to Evadras’ throat, knocking his head against the hard wall.

“Yet I never really managed. Only one I ever got to kill was that
sleazy little bastard… Yallaeth, I believe. Not even a Duskbreeze.” Blackshade
chuckled, leaning closer in. They were practically completely face-to-face now.
“Oh, how he begged. Gave me the same excuses as you. ‘It wasn’t my fault!
Valezsj made me do it! I had to help my daughter!’ Have you ever seen a man so
terrified of his own daughter? Your sister never struck me as a threat, but her
daughter… A monster in elven form.”

The grip tightened, Xynaras’ furry claw making Evadras unable to breathe.
With no other choice, he desperately clawed at the hand. In that moment, he
felt the necklace beating louder than ever. Blackshade’s hand just barely
gripped the chain.

“And Zin-Shal… I came too late. I went there a few years back, you
know. It’s all gone. Someone else held a grudge, it seems. It was a pile of
rubble and ashes.” The satyr laughed, an undeniable bitterness in the rattling
sound. “I was disappointed. I wanted to be the one to strike the match. Still,
it meant the job was done. And until now, I thought that was it. The end of
your lineage. And then you show up here.

“What happened to you, Evadras? I thought you died millennia ago.
Instead, you became some lowly, shal’dorei filth. Killing you would be merciful
at this point. I can see the pain in your eyes. You spent all those years suffering,
didn’t you? Knowing that you would never see your loved ones again. I imagine
you knew that they’d all be gone. Don’t worry, old friend. I’ll let you join
them soon enough.”

*He’s gone utterly mad,* was all Evadras could think. Yathiel still did not move. *A spell,* he figured. *Bastard’s frozen her in place. I don’t stand*
a chance. *It felt like the necklace was hitting against him, with how hard*
it was pounding. The grip around his throat got lighter again. Evadras took in
a deep breath. “You’re wrong about one thing there, Xyn.”

The satyr blinked. Maybe he was surprised to even hear Evadras
speak. He didn’t say anything yet, and Evadras took that as an invitation to
continue. “There’s someone out there still. My House lives on, even without
me.” He grinned, trying his very best to ignore the pain.

Blackshade didn’t look fully convinced, yet still seemed rather
thoughtful. His gaze went to that necklace, slowly nodding. “I see. In that
case, I’ll kill them too. I know how those amulets work. I’ll find them.”
“Apparently, you don’t. They will only respond to one of Duskbreeze blood.”

The claw went from his neck to grasp the amulet. “That’s odd. Seems
I can still draw upon it just fine.” Blackshade chuckled. *Wait… Ildros said he felt it too. Something’s wrong*. “You don’t
mean to tell me that your bear there is your long-lost family, do you? With
that beat, they’d almost have to be right in this chamber.” He spun around,
facing Yathiel with a grin. “No. A Duskbreeze would never become a druid. But
maybe she has the counterpart.” Unsurprisingly, Yathiel remained still. “I’ll
just have to get a proper look.”

*He’s convinced she has it.*

“Wait! She has nothing to do with this. She just wants to avenge her
friend.”

Xynaras sighed, then simply snapped his fingers. With that, the room
got darker. That red glow became dimmer. Evadras looked up, only to see the
roots and vines creeping down along the walls.

“Xyn-“ He was cut off by a pair of vines, one going around his
throat, the other going just past his mouth, forcing him to bite down on it.
The taste of it was foul. As his teeth sank into it, it released some strange
fluid, which tasted and smelled of rot, decay. He swore it was acidic too; it
hurt all the way down.

Evadras saw how Xynaras clenched his hand, that red mist now
surrounding Yathiel.

“Let me see you, druid.” It wasn’t as if she could even obey that
request. With a swipe of one claw, the mists scatted. And there sat Yathiel,
now frozen in her kaldorei form. There was some level of movement, Evadras noticed.
Her face almost seemed to twitch, her teeth gritted, and her eyes moved freely.
*She was conscious through all this. A*
nightmare in itself, being a prisoner in your own body.

Blackshade didn’t move. To Evadras, he looked just as frozen as
Yathiel did. He squinted. *Strange…* The
satyr’s hands were shaking. He couldn’t even hear Xynaras breathing in that
moment. Not the faintest growl. *Like he’s*
seen a ghost. I did think she looked familiar…
“Yaelas?” Blackshade whispered, stunned. “No, no, you died. I saw you die. Like
your sister. Like Thaliare.” Yathiel’s ears gave just the slightest twitch.
Evadras saw how she struggled to stare up at Blackshade, just at the edge of
her vision. The satyr spun around again, roaring. “What trickery is this,
Evadras? First you kill my soldiers, then you come to my *home* and taunt me, attack me. And then you MOCK ME WITH HER?”

Evadras closed his eyes, hearing those stomping hooves coming
closer. The resemblance between the druid, and the long-dead Yaelas Bluemist *was* rather uncanny. At the same time,
blue hair and red-violet markings weren’t an unusual trend among kaldorei. *Yaelas had different markings anyway. And*
she was a sentinel. But that doesn’t matter to him, does it?

“Why must you torment me, Evadras? Your kin have brought me nothing
but pain. You will pay, as the rest of you have. And this time, I’ll get to do
it. The Nightmare will keep you alive through it all. Just to ensure you don’t
miss a thing. I’ll tear you into pieces, boy.” He was growling again, sounding
more like a furious bear than a satyr.

Xynaras waved again, and the vine disappeared from his throat. He
would have gasped for breath, were it not for the corrupted tendril still
gagging him. Thankfully, it silenced his screams as his old friend swiped at
his throat. He couldn’t see them, but he felt those three, clear lines on his
neck, blood flowing from them. He could taste it; it was running into his mouth
too. “And she will get to watch. She won’t miss a thing. She won’t even have to
blink.” Blackshade punched him in the gut, again and again. Evadras bit down on
the vine, replacing the taste of blood with that disgusting feeling of rot, of
death. It gave him something else to think about. *Is this justice? Dying for another’s sins? Thaliare didn’t deserve to*
die, nor did her sister. Do I deserve to die for what my niece has done?

“After I’ve made pulp of you, we’ll see what that necklace is really
worth, won’t we?” Another swipe against his chest, more blood soaking through
his clothes. *Should have worn armour.* Evadras
blinked. *The necklace… Why can he feel*
its power? Only a Duskbreeze… He has used it before, back then. He didn’t feel
anything, it was silent. This doesn’t make sense.Unless…

A strike against his nose forced him to pay attention again. It felt
like it was broken, yet it was of little concern. More blood. He felt it
sticking to his lips and chin. *Unless*
Valezsj left another spell in there. The necklace reacted like this when Ildros
had me cornered, soon to die. And now… Does it respond if I’m in danger? Can my
sister still save me? *He couldn’t help but laugh, something Blackshade*
didn’t seem to hear. *She could have*
fucking told me.

He blinked a few more times, staring up at Blackshade. The sorcerer
paused, furrowing his brows. He seemed expectant. After his first failed
attempt to speak, the satyr waved the other vine off. This time, Evadras did
gasp for air. “What is it? Are you really going to beg me? To spare you? To
spare her, maybe?”

He scoffed at the notion. “I hope you wouldn’t expect that of me,
Xyn. You know that’s not who I am. That’s not who any of us are. You know I’ll
fight.”

Blackshade chuckled, a truly discomforting sound. “Good luck with
that. You’re weak. You were weak before I even laid a hand on you. Suramar made
you weak. You were never strong before that. Just another pawn for your
family.”

“That might be. And yet, I’m the only one left, aren’t I?”

“Not for long. If I were you, I’d start thinking of my last words.
I’ll be sure to write them down.”

Evadras
took in a deep breath. “I’m afraid I’m not ready yet. There’s a few things I
need to do first.”

He
grinned, Blackshade soon mirroring him. At the same time, the satyr raised his
hand to backhand

Evadras
again. “I must respectfully decline, old friend.”

Blackshade’s hand came towards him. Evadras cried out, turning his
head. And then he clutched his amulet as tight as he could. There was one last
thump, loud enough to hear, strong enough to make his body jolt. And then, it
released the energy that it had stored for ten thousand years. The explosion
was deafening, yet Evadras didn’t feel much more than that. A massive, azure
shockwave came from him, shaking the whole chamber around them, if not the
whole cave system. Blackshade just got to give a shocked stare, before he went
flying several yards behind him. Dust, pebbles and roots fell from the roof.
Distant cries echoed through the tunnels.

Evadras blinked, once, twice, then stumbled forwards. He knelt down,
picking up both Starblades, wiping the dirt off them. Then, he looked over to
where both Yathiel and the satyr were lying against the floor. *Can’t have been strong enough to kill them…*
could it? *Regret immediately washed over him. That was, until Blackshade*
coughed, his claws digging into the ground below him. He was already getting
back up. “I must say… I’m impressed,” he hissed. “Should have expected more
trickery from you, Evadras. Of course, you would have something else up your
sleeve. Your sister’s doing, isn’t it?” Evadras said nothing. He just tightened
his grip around his blade. Moving closer could only go wrong. He felt dizzy
already, bleeding from half a dozen cuts. It’d make him slow, predictable. All
the things that would give Blackshade an advantage. From all Evadras could
tell, the satyr had just been staggered a bit.

Now, a red, glowing blade appeared in each, made of something that
wasn’t entirely physical. “Doesn’t matter. Not worth wasting all that time.”
Embers fell to the floor; the vines above were burning, Evadras noticed.
Eventually, whole pieces began thumping down from the ceiling.

Evadras didn’t really have a chance to prepare. Blackshade yelled
out, moving to rush him. And then he screamed in pain. The roar of a bear broke
an otherwise tense silence, making the cavern tremble again. Yathiel, now in
her ursine form again, held him from behind. It almost looked like she was
embracing a loved one. But Evadras saw those unbelievably strong arms squeezing
the satyr, crushing him. And crush him they did; several loud cracks being
heard before he finally fell to the floor. *Guess*
I broke the spell. Did something right, at least.

The sorcerer almost looked pathetic as he lay there, trying to fight
through the pain to little avail. He could not stand anymore. He could barely
move. *She must have broken his spine.*
Crushed his ribs to dust along with it.

Yathiel remained in her bear form for some moments, making sure the
danger had passed. Then she became a kaldorei once more. Her face and hair
looked somewhat singed from the blast, but otherwise she seemed to be in good
shape. The druid was breathless, still recovering after everything that had
just happened. She clenched her hands a few times, then shook her head, making
sure everything could move. She peered at Evadras, then down at Blackshade, and
then up at Evadras again. There was something thoughtful in those eyes. Yet,
she did not speak. Evadras shrugged, making his way over to Blackshade. He was
tempted to kick him in his broken ribs but held back. It wouldn’t feel fair.
Instead, he just gave a light shove, shifting them over on his back. The fallen
sorcerer groaned, still unmoving. “I’m sorry, Xyn,” he said, kneeling by his
side. He took the satyr’s hand, and to his surprise, Xynaras gave just the
lightest squeeze. Upon seeing his face, he noted that the man was smiling. “I
never wanted us to get to this point. I shouldn’t have been the one to kill-…”

“I see through the Nightmare. I see the truth now, Evadras.” Xynaras
turned his head. Evadras could only imagine how much it hurt. “It led me
astray. It fed on my anger and my sorrow. The Nightmare Lord knew just how to
use me. After my Thaliare was taken from me…” His breathing was ragged. *Yathiel has already killed him. Maybe it’s*
for the better.

“My beloved’s death filled me with a burning hatred. And then, my
little Elaiah dying in a land so far away from home, surrounded by strangers…
It was all Xavius needed.” Tears trickled down Xynaras’ cheeks. “Will you
forgive me, Evadras? Can you?” Evadras didn’t hesitate. He simply nodded.

“The things you did weren’t your own doing. The fury that guided you
doesn’t define you. That your love for your family was twisted… That was not
your fault.”

Xynaras closed his eyes, nodding. Evadras didn’t get to see those
glowing, hateful eyes again.

“Do you think that… That the Night Warrior will still come for me?”

Yathiel intervened. “I’m sure of it. I think you have proven that
you are still kaldorei at heart. The Dreamer was corrupted, yet Elune still
freed her before everyone’s eyes. She will take you too, Xynaras Blackshade.”

Xynaras slowly nodded, exhaling for the last time. “Then… Then I
will ride with them. Thaliare, Elaiah… I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. I’m
coming.”

At first, Evadras didn’t even see the change. How still Xynaras
became. *It’s over. Rest now, brother.* As
he looked down at the man’s corrupted, bestial form, he felt sorrow, but also
relief. Relief that his old friend was finally at peace. As he laid there, the
fur looked like it faded. His claws became normal hands. His caprine legs were
molded into those of a normal kaldorei. The monstrous sorcerer was gone,
leaving behind the shorter, broken form of Xynaras Blackshade. Evadras sighed
but didn’t hesitate. He picked him up. “I’m taking him with us,” he simply
stated. Yathiel nodded, with some form of understanding. They would both have a
body to bring home.

The druidess spoke up then. “Evadras, I’m sorry for-…”

“My loss? I did him a favour. I freed him from all that pain. Could
you imagine feeling nothing but fury and sadness for ten thousand years?” He
shook his head, moving towards the doorway which all the satyrs had gone
through when they first arrived. Embers and ashes still fell from above. “Let’s
get back to Lorlathil. I’ll get my reward, then go with you to Kalimdor. I’ll
bury his ashes with Thaliare Bluemist’s. It’s in Ashenvale.” For a moment,
Yathiel had a strange look in her eyes. “Very well. That should do. I’ll be
going to my home in Ashenvale anyway. You’re welcome to join me there.”

Evadras shook his head, making sure to hold his fallen friend as
safely as he could. “I have other plans after. I’ll be going to my ancestral
home of-…”

“Zin-Shal, yes. I know it well, as a matter of fact. I’ll go with
you, then. I have my own business to attend to there.”

“You have business in Zin-Shal?” *The*
place shouldn’t even be known by kaldorei. Most Highborne didn’t even know how
to get there. *“How could you possibly know of it, let alone the way there?”*

“I’ve been there many times, Evadras Duskbreeze.” She sighed,
looking back at him. Her eyes shone with what seemed like… mistrust. “I was the
one who burned it down.”