Nine thousand years ago.
Fall hadn't yet settled in, and only a few of the gigantic leaves fell from the canopy to the forest floor. Purple and green were the colors of the Ashenvale canopy, and stone grey along with dark brown colored the trunks. Rising high above and blotting out the sky, the trees had become their entire world over the past thousand years. They all felt tiny next to the living beings their people had been charged to protect, but they were very much in tune with all the trees and nature they found around them. The corruption their people had just finished battling had pained them down into their very bones, and thus they could feel the remaining effects as it all melted and died away.
En masse, the night elves marched across the grass; the trees were so large that there was ample space in between, and crowds from various different villages all converged at one hill. High atop the earthen hill, Raynewood tower served as a beacon as sentinels and druids from every sacred grove in the province all gathered at the regional capitol, having already completed their first ever farewell ritual.
Hundreds of faces, most of them somber, many of them sad filled the area as families met for the inevitable splitting apart. The balance of nature demanded much of its defenders, and the children of the stars found themselves giving up that which they held the most dear for the sake of their duty. Their decision was unflinching and unquestioning, but painful nonetheless.
A trio of elves from a certain unnamed grove in the southwest corner of Nightsong Woods found an empty patch of grass on the land overlooked by the tower, forming a triangle to say their goodbye. An archer led her daughter to the spot where they would tell the man of the household goodbye for a very long time. The men were given no more choice than the women; all were either druids or, in a few cases, the guards of barrow dens where the druids slept and communed with nature. Their world would be entirely based on a dream, the Emerald Dream, far removed from the harsh reality faced by the women who were suddenly thrust into the position of warriors and leaders of a militant society; talk of a Long Vigil, an eternal wait as they paid back their debt to nature in return for the immortality they'd been given, had already begun. And as the archer held the hand of her druid of the talon, a certain sadness passed between them.
Caledith regarded her husband with as much softness as their elven refinery and newfound militarism would allow. "I never thought this day would come," she murmured, enjoying his warmth as the two of them stood close.
Although the moon was beginning to set and daybreak was upon them, much of the light from above was blotted out by the canopy. Shadows were cast over his face naturally, just barely obscuring his eyes despite the amber glow that had begun to mark his growing power. "So much has taken our people by surprise, my love. When we first met, I would not have believe it had I been informed of what would eventually happen to the world." He ran his thumb over the top of her hand as he held it, and there was a strain in his features as well.
"So what is to become of us, then? Our family? Are we to be separated forever?" she asked, not so much distraught as almost frustrated by the task laid out before them.
"Impossible...the Burning Legion will not wait forever," he replied in a grave tone. "And when the time comes that our planet is besieged again, we will awake...and we will come back to you again. I hope that, even through such a long period of time...you're willing to wait-"
"Stop it! Don't talk like that!" Her tone was a mixture of sadness, shock and good humor, and she laughed while wanting to cry inside as well. "Even if I must wait an eternity, I will do so if we can be together again. Plus..." A wry smile worked its way across Caledith's mouth. "...there aren't exactly any other men around to tempt me, either."
"I think I've found an escaped demon right here," he chuckled in response. "Someone needs to inform the priestess that not all of the satyrs were caught."
Smirking in defiance at being the butt of his joke, she squeezed his hand back, pressing her thumbnail into his palm in revenge. The two of them shared another moment before Caledith turned to their daughter, Cioniel; the woman was already over two thousand years but neither mature nor independent. At least one part of their family would remain alongside Caledith in the waking world.
"Cio, come say goodbye to your father."
Shy at first, the younger elf eventually stepped forward. Though her face was like her father, her skin and hair were the exact same shade as her mother's, and she was very much still a dependent member of the household. Bowing respectfully before the man, she held her composure surprisingly well despite her somewhat deficient mental faculties. "Goddess watch over you, father," the woman said while formally bowing.
He returned her bow politely, returning her formality despite himself. "And you as well, Cioniel," he replied. When he saw the sentimental look Caledith was giving him, he pulled the woman of the household - now the head of the household, according to their society's new rules - closer to him for what would be the last time for a long time. "For three thousand years, we have endured, Caledith. We survived the War of the Ancients; we survived the Sundering; and now, we've just survived the Satyr War. We will survive this as well."
Her ears drooped even though she knew the government of their people encouraged such beliefs among them. "I know," she replied, only half certain of what she'd just said. Eschewing a formal bow to instead peck him on the cheek conservatively, she stepped away and looked at the grass between their feet, unable to meet his eyes. "Goddess, light your path," she murmured again, finding herself unable to say anything more.
Whether he was overtaken by emotion as well or simply found nothing more to add, be merely reciprocated the kiss on the cheek and stepped away. There were no attempts to tilt her chin up in his fingers and lie to her, or to falsely minimize the gravity of the task that nature had laid upon their shoulders. In the quickest and easiest way possible, he walked away, joining the droves of men who were led away by their local archdruid toward the various barrow dens that they would find themselves sleeping inside for goddess knew how long.
Left behind was a sea of women - mothers, daughters, sisters, wives, cousins, all walks of life mixed in to the crowd. They'd all known this time was coming the moment their people chose the path of the balance rather than the arcane in order to put Queen Azshara's machinations to an end; the call of nature for the menfolk to enter the dream realm had not come suddenly or as a surprise. But none of them, not one, was truly ready for the separation. For the first and last time, the night elves shed tears as their two societal halves bid each other farewell. In a sea of glowing silver eyes, Cionel put her arm around her mother's shoulder as she watched her father disappear into the forest, leaving them alone for an indeterminable amount of time.
