Silence
The sky had never been a basic thing to her. The endless stretch of what was never a single colour – blue, purple, gold, white – had always been the substance of so many childlike fantasies. And then, when night fell, it would be illuminated by millions of tiny, sparkling dots – the stars. In the past, the sky had held so many potential opportunities for her; things that she may have been able to achieve – or, things she felt she may have been able to achieve. It was like a physical being to her. She felt that the sky could hear her – that it understood her. And that was the effect it had.
Of course, it was nonsense, really. When she was younger, the thought of touching the sky on the back of a dragonhawk had occurred to her, until her reckless, adolescent self had actually gone and tried to do it. Only then did she realise that she sky wasn't solid. But to her, it was still there. It still could hear her.
After that, she had to rethink everything that she thought she knew about what was above her. Was there anything beyond that? Perhaps she could go places – anywhere. Absolutely anywhere. And with that thought, she had hope.
Over the course of her life, she did go places. Spurred by that childhood dream, she travelled, met people, became a ranger-general, and continued to see the sky. So much sky. And when she felt that she had seen all that could be seen, she found something new, every time.
There was still so much out there.
But now, of course, she didn't care. She hadn't thought about the sky for a long time. Why would one, in undeath, care so much about something so mundane? Of course, now she knew that it was possible to venture past the sky, into other worlds, but she didn't care about this either.
Why would she?
Her life had been torn apart at the very seams, so why should she give a second thought about the damned sky?
It was pathetic. She had more important things on her mind. She was the leader of an entire race, and that was more important to her. She was a leader, and she was forsaken. Completely and utterly forsaken. She might be surrounded by others like her; but in her mind, she was alone. And the sky didn't care about that. The sky didn't care that millions of beings cursed just like her were shambling beneath it, and it certainly wasn't listening.
The sky didn't care, so neither did she.
And that made her want to scream. Being a banshee, this was almost her obligation, and it would be just fine if she did.
Yet she didn't.
Not out loud, anyway. Inside her head, however, she was screaming louder than any being was physically capable of. And somehow, Sylvanas knew that the sky could hear her.
The sky could hear everything.