You passed away.
Away from me; away from your world.
A sacrifice for a cause-
The brutality of war.
You gave me hope; you gave me life,
And now, I reside invisibly in the growing darkness.
Where once was light
Now shadows creep across the land.
Where can I find courage,
When I once sought it from you?
It is now that the blood you shed causes for the sun to rise.
… and so I will meld away into the darkening abyss of my heart…
Death. The scent of mingling carcasses permeated through the air. A blood red sun slowly began its descent below the horizon. It marked the last day of the War of Kalimdor.
Darkness swiftly overcame the last remaining sliver of sunlight. Moonlight shone onto the bodies of fallen allies and foes. Pools of blood trickled gradually into nearby streams, immediately discoloring the water's clear surface.
There was peace, even in death…
Various insects chirped throughout the night. A massive and intimidating figure flew overhead, blotting out the moon. It was a chimaera, scouting the regions near Ashenvale Forest. It growled ferociously before flying off into the distance.
Stars twinkled brilliantly in the great beyond. It seemed as if nothing could disrupt the tranquility of the hours of darkness.
Weapons of various sorts lay littered on the blood stained grass. Cleaved axes took their places beside shattered swords and splintered bows.
Echoes ricocheted within deep ravines. Earlier in the day there had been powerful action: Swords hacking away at flesh; arrows screaming through the air; and the brutal aerial assaults upon unsuspecting soldiers.
The war had raged on until finally, the Ancient Wisps were sought for aid. Combining forces for one final stand, the Humans, Orcs, and Night Elves rallied their troops at the foot of Mount Hyjal. Their armies could not match up to the sheer size of the Burning Legion's, for they were gaining troops by the minute.
At last, the armies had collided. The Burning Legion hacked their way through troops, in a straight path to the Night Elves' beloved Mount Hyjal. Hope was nearly lost; the Burning Legion was rapidly progressing upon the mountainside. They advanced in waves, slaying any who stood before them. Many met their fate to the shards of ice spewed out from the ferocious frost wyrms, or fell mercy to the screeching gargoyles who continued their aerial strikes.
Suddenly, the air was still. A warm breeze blew in, whispering through the Night Elves' hair.
Archimonde's ascent onto the mountain was cut abruptly. A horn blew from the distance, sending a small quake under the feet of elves, orcs, and humans.
Enormous icy blue wisps appeared from the dense treetops of Ashenvale Forest. They whipped through the air, encircling the enraged Archimonde.
At once, their flight of fantasy came to a halt. Nothing stirred; it looked as if time had stopped. Then, as if on cue, the Ancient Wisps all bound themselves to Archimonde by a green channel of energy. One by one, each wisp glowed white, and then tremendous beams of light broke out.
It was a massive detonation.
The Undead could not withstand the breakout of light. The ghouls and the crypt fiends quickly scampered away, while the gargoyles and frost wyrms flew away as specks in the distance. It had been evident that Archimonde had been defeated.
Victory had been celebrated amongst the survivors, until they cast eyes upon the fallen. Whispers of prayers were murmured, before the races parted their ways and trudged on after their leaders. Their lives would continue; yet none ever forgot the sacrifice their fellow warriors had paid during the War.
A new sun had risen. A new day…a new life to live…a new life of hope, of courage, or ultimately… sacrifice.
That's it for the prologue! Hope it's not too short…I didn't want to go into too much detail about the War, because that's not the main point of the story! In the next chapter is when the real chaos begins! Please review! :D