Disclaimer: I don't own Warcraft, World of Warcraft, or really any conceptual ideas belonging to Blizzard and their franchise. I do, however, own a pair of socks and a computer I can write about that franchise on, so here we are. No suing, please.
X_0_X
Lythea
"Incoming group from Azsuna!"
The call rang through the quiet halls of Netherlight Temple. In an instant, several priests began marching briskly towards the series of portals held open to key points on the Broken Isles. Lythea Spiritlance, a former inductee into the sisterhood of Elune in Darnassus, watched the new activity with tense wariness.
As one of the new acolytes assigned by the sisterhood to the newly formed order of priests in Netherlight Temple, the elders often took it upon themselves to give her and the other acolytes many tasks hardly qualifying as anything more than grunt work.
One of the portals flared, and a tall, misshapen figure appeared in front of it. Lythea blinked away the glare, and instinctively straightened in respect as she discerned the tall, robed figure of the temple's High Priestess, Ellessa.
The draenei was incredibly pale – comparable to some of the ancient highborn nobility of Lythea's own people – with black, inky hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. Her hooves, peculiar to few races on Azeroth, were hidden by the long skirt of her robes. Her stomach and much of her torso was bared by her outfit, as the silver material angled upwards to cover her breasts and circle her neck, but little else.
Compared to the heavily attired priesthood arrayed around her, she looked like a simple medicine woman, clad in rudimentary robes that seemed more at home on an erotic dancer than one of the most exalted priests of the order.
That is, until one noticed the magnificent staff she bore across her back. With the headpiece molded into the shape of a Naaru, the staff glowed with an inner light to rival the great beings themselves. T'uure, Beacon of the Naaru, was the high priestess' to bear, and marked her as the undisputed leader of their order.
She carried the limp form of a female night elf in her arms. Dark bloodstains showed on her armor, which was torn and slashed to pieces. The elf's skin was darker than most of her kin's, and was crisscrossed by the distinctive tattoos of a demon hunter.
A blood elf appeared from the portal behind the high priestess, attired similarly to the priestess' charge. She held a massive, intimidating scythe, and kept her burning gaze pinned on the limp elf. A few priests moved to intercept her.
"Do not worry yourselves, Allari is here by my permission," the high priestess said. Her rich voice was tinged by the distinctive lilt of her race's accent.
"And my insistence," the demon hunter added flatly. Lythea took note of several injuries scattered across her body. The other priests made no move to help her.
Ellesa brought the night elf over to one of the many beds set up next to the sanctuary of light, and began to minister to her. The draenei's hands glowed as she channeled the power of the light, healing the most crippling wounds she found and spreading to seal the minor cuts and vanish bruising.
The night elf might have taken an hour of hard work for any other priest, but she looked as if one resting now under the priestess' hand. T'uure twinkled merrily as she took it in hand to conduct a final check for injuries.
"You should have let me kill her, priest," said Allari dispassionately. Her hands tapped against her armor, agitated.
"If I had let you kill her, Azeroth would have lost one more defender," Ellesa replied.
"One less traitor in the world is one less enemy at our backs," the demon hunter shot back.
The high priestess was busily making her patient comfortable. Her pale fingers nimbly removed pieces of leather armor, baring the night elf's dark purple skin to the open air and showing the full extent of tattooing across her chest. Lythea averted her eyes, blushing lightly, as the high priestess removed her blood-caked breast band.
To her relief, she saw the majority of the priesthood doing the same, although a few were either jaded to such sights and felt no need to concern themselves over modesty, or merely enjoyed the chance for a peek.
While the light did not eschew romantic attachment, being a priest was somewhat stifling. Lythea didn't grudge the onlookers, although she did feel a light amount of disdain that she immediately smothered.
Negative feelings to her comrades might serve to harm them all in the long run. Her instructors had beaten that, as well as several other mantras, into her head. In the face of the ongoing invasion, even she, with her relatively short lifetime compared to many of her long-lived race, could appreciate it.
Soft robes covered the night elf's body now. Lythea pitied the acolyte who would have to wash the robe later; the elf's body was filthy with mud and sweat and blood. The priestess' healing would have disinfected any wounds, but that didn't alieve the need for a thorough washing after a battle.
"Allari," the high priestess said, finally looking the blood elf in the face, "She was our ally once. There should always be the opportunity to repent for one's mistakes."
This appeared to frustrate the demon hunter. "And when she turns on us again? What will your second chances give us?"
"A second chance is only deserved when one truly repents. If she is staunch in her new allegiance, then she shall be yours to do as your wish with," the priestess clarified. Lythea wished she could achieve the serenity that smoothed her words.
Ellesa walked with grace that few priests could equal. Never once had Lythea seen the draenei scowl or raise her voice in anger; there was always an air of calmness. Of total and complete benevolence that made her just as much a beacon of the light as the artifact she carried in her hands.
"Cyana is power-hungry. Now that she's had a taste of the Legion's power, she won't turn back," Allari said flatly. Her pessimism struck like a sledgehammer.
"Perhaps."
The blood elf growled, finally reaching the end of her patience. "How can you risk your order with this? She deserves death for her actions!"
"Because," Elessa said, placing her hand on the blood elf's shoulders, carefully avoided the shoulder plates to grip where her hands met creamy flesh, "All demon hunters have had to suffer hardship and temptation at some point or another. You are defined by your ability to resist, and must eventually fail and succumb. This is not fault, my friend, but inevitable."
Allari looked deeply uncomfortable with the priestess' hands touching her. Her body was taught, like a drawn bowstring.
"The Light forgives us for our faults. I have cleansed your friend of the taint that drove her to her decision. If she wishes to repent, now that she is free of her compulsion, then it is her right."
The Souleater's lip curled, "She is a traitor."
Ellesa smiled. "Did you not betray your people by accepting the fel? Did not your brethren? Demon hunters must betray everything they value and care for to achieve their goals. Why is Cyana different?"
The elf stepped back as if slapped. The priestess' words were soft and compassionate, but they cut as deeply as any blade. Her face closed off, becoming as unreadable as stone. "I will send one of my compatriots to stand guard over her. I am needed in Faronaar."
"That is unneeded, my lady," one of the zealots said, walking over from the small group of observers. He was followed by a tall, lanky troll garbed in a dark robe. "We are fully capable of restraining her, should she refuse repentance."
The demon hunter sniffed, and began walking towards the Azsuna portal with quick strides. Coolness was reflected in the faces of the snubbed priests.
"Allari," the high priestess called. She stopped near the portal. Evidently, Lythea guessed, her respect for the priestess ran deep enough that she would listen despite her disagreement.
"Call on me should you need my aid," Ellesa told her.
The blood elf nodded once, sharply, and left.
The high priestess stared after her, her smooth features unreadable but holding some emotion Lythea was incapable of identifying.
She jumped as a cool hand touched her shoulder. She whirled around to face one of the elder priests, who looked at her with unsuccessfully concealed irritation. "Acolyte, your task is not yet finished, and we require those linens on the upper floors immediately," they said.
Lythea guiltily looked down at the neat basket of bed linens in her arms. She had been distracted by the high priestess' return, but that was no excuse for shirking her duties.
The priest's expression softened. How they could always seem to do that, when her own emotions seemed to her to run as rampant as a drunken nightsaber, escaped her. "You will not receive punishment for your inattention. Your task was not urgent," the priest said, smiling, "And observing Priestess Ellesa is a more effective tutor than any lesson we might devise for you."
Lythea kept her head ducked in gratitude, murmuring her thanks. From the corner of her eye, she saw one of her fellow acolytes, Jayne, watching her with amusement. She was so timid!
"The lesson, however, is over. Go finish your task, acolyte," The priest ordered her, already moving away.
She obeyed, scurrying towards the staircase leading to the upper floors, all the while cursing her impotent efforts to adopt the grace her peers could emulate so easily.
X_0_X
Lythea later found herself in the Sanctum of Light, kneeling below the brilliant Naaru Saa'ra.
The being, composed of pure light, coalesced into physical form, was silent, as she often was. Her tenure as one of the dreaded void gods had left its mark on her. Deep introspection had become her defense against the reality of her former state, even as she helped the conclave with its efforts to fight back the Legion.
The night elf found it to be one of the naaru's more humanizing traits. Even the holiest, most powerful being in the temple had to close itself off for reflection, just as she had since childhood in obeisance to Elune.
She, like many of her race, did not channel the Light in the traditional sense. Their power came from a deeply fostered connection to the goddess of the moon. Elune's light was more apt to heal and soothe pains, rather than sear them away, but could erupt in fury to cleanse corruption when it was needed. The high priestess Tyrande Whisperwind had used her connection to her goddess in the – already near legendary – defense of the Temple of Elune from Ysera, exploiting Elune's supremacy over the Nightmare's power to bring down the fallen aspect.
Lythea had met the high priestess many times since her induction to the order. She had been one of her early tutors in Darnassus; instructing the new acolytes to perform their duties with grace and dignity. Lythea admired her passion – so unusual for experienced priests – for her people and her husband. It was, like Saa'ra's meditations, something the silver-haired Kaldorei could relate to.
The Light pulsed in and out of her vision as she stared deep into the basin of cleansing flame below Saa'ra. She embraced its influence, feeling immense relief as it raced through her blood, purifying her – if only for a moment – of her fears, doubts, and self-recriminations. She was lain bare before the light, and she relaxed as its warm acceptance settled around her like a toasty blanket on a cold, damp day above the cloud line in her home city.
The sound of hooves on stone echoed behind her.
"Achal hecta, Saa'ra, acolyte."
Lythea glanced over her shoulder and did a double take. Still in her revealing robes, the high priestess Ellesa had knelt just beside her. Her beautiful face was set in an expression of deepest serenity as she paid homage to the light and the Naaru above her.
A good day to you as well, Ellesa.
The naaru's high, sweet voice flowed like spring water through both of their minds, sounding for all the world like the sound of tinkling bells transformed into speech.
The room fell back into silence. Lythea found herself unable to drop into the cathartic trance as she had been able to before, though. Simply being near the high priestess made her tremble in abject terror, although she knew not what of. She held no doubt that the draenei would never harm her – unless she began working against Azeroth, at least – but she captivated her with the supreme confidence she held herself with; confidence she had never been able to properly emulate.
She whimpered quietly as she felt the draenei's warm, smooth hand touch her shoulder. If she had cradled a newly birthed starling, her touch could not have been more gentle. Against her will, Lythea felt herself lean into the comforting touch, taking strength from the aura of comforting energy that emanated from that hand – a trait bestowed to the priestess by T'uure to augment her healing abilities and enable her to more easily soothe any distress.
"Why do you fear me so, young one?" asked the priestess, her voice heartbreakingly compassionate.
Lythea struggled to find the words to convey her feelings. "I…I do not know, high priestess," she admitted shyly, ducking her head away from the smile the draenei directed towards her.
"Anchorite Toros told me that you had watched Illidari Nightglaive's arrival to our temple," she confided to the night elf. She cupped her pale chin, tilting Lythea's face up so that she had to look deep into the luminescent blue eyes of the priestess. Lythea swallowed heavily, her throat suddenly impossibly dry as she drowned within the fathomless gaze.
"Y-yes, high priestess."
"Does it perturb you, that one of your kin lies fel-touched within our temple?"
The draenei, Lythea noted absently, held a particular talent for picking out particularly sensitive subjects. As she had noted the parallels between Cyana's betrayal and the Illidari's betrayal of their races to Allari, she had struck at one of Lythea's current sources of extreme discomfort.
She feared Cyana Nightglaive. From birth, she had been raised to worship the goddess Elune and all that she stood for, and had never met another Kaldorei elf to act differently. She of course knew about rogue elements like Fandral Staghelm and his cadre of traitorous druids during the Cataclysm, as well as the Highborn nobles who originally betrayed their race to the legion, but Cyana was a known figure.
Lythea was young, by night elven standards. Less than a century had passed since her birth on a moonlight night in Ashenvale decades prior, but that was more than enough time for her to have grown and gotten to know her community before she joined the priestesses of Elune.
Cyana Nightglaive had lived in Lythea's home village of Astranaar as a sentinel. Though they had never interacted regularly, she was a common fixture in Lythea's memories, masterfully wielding her glaives when Ashenvale's rampant wildlife began to encroach into the town's confines.
She had disappeared with three other sentinels just a year prior to Lythea's departure to Darnassus. Whispers of Legion influence had reached the town from Demon Fall Canyon. They had assumed them all dead, but the young night elf was proven wrong.
Cyana Nightglaive had joined the Illidari – betrayed her position as a sentinel and defender of the Kaldorei people – and it had tainted her in ways unimaginable to Lythea. She could not fathom why the high priestess had chosen to grant the demon hunter a second chance at life instead of sending her back into the void.
"Y-yes, high priestess," Lythea murmured, dropping her gaze to stare at the draenei's lips.
"She will be an interesting test of character. Shall she accept my offer of clemency and fight for Azeroth once more, or is her soul lost to the Legion?" The high priestess released Lythea's chin, rising to stand at her full and impressive height. "I cannot answer until she awakens, but know this, acolyte," The priestess' gaze locked with Lythea's, who had started with her sudden movement.
"Those who may offer a second chance create the potential for a new beginning from annihilation. It is what separates us from the Legion," The priestess said staunchly.
Lythea could only feel doubt. What good were second chances when they dealt with the implacable Legion?
Ellesa smiled at her, kind and warm, but somehow chilling in a way Lythea could not place, "Do not mistake me. Should Cyana prove staunch, I will not hesitate to deliver unto her a swift death. The Light is forgiving, but cannot reach those who turn away from it."
A'dal journeys to Azeroth, does he not Ellesa?
Saa'ra had remained silent, but her spirit-raiding chime caressed their thoughts.
The high priestess faced the Naaru, losing the chilling edge she had momentarily possessed. "He and several of his other kin from Outland. The Legion is almost entirely extinguished on that world; it is safe enough there that he is comfortable bringing himself, Ve'ru, Xi'ri, and Ki'ru to the Broken Isles to direct the offensives in Faronaar, the Isle of the Watchers, and Suramar. A'dal himself will be present to advise the Council of Azeroth when we assemble once again."
It has been many millennia since I have last spoken with them. My darkening closed many doors.
If a Naaru could be said to be morose, Saa'ra had suddenly taken a downturn. Even her light, normally radiant and penetrating, dimmed under the pressure of her inner turmoil.
Ellesa raised her hands towards the Naaru in a supplicating manner. Above her palms, two spheres of light – too bright to look at directly – ignited into existence as T'uure began to glow with its own light from the high priestess' back.
"Do not grieve, Saa'ra," she said consolingly, the light in her hands streaming out to be absorbed into the Naaru. "You are reborn of the light, that is all that matters."
I am diminished. I fear even the light may be insufficient to restore to me a sense of abiding peace.
"I am with you, Saa'ra; even should the light fade from our world forever and the void encroach upon us all, we shall fight to restore order to chaos and heal the hurts of the universe," the draenei promised.
"I will help you too," Lythea blurted, her heart aching for the aggrieved Naaru. Realizing what she had said after a moment though, she burst into a furious blush and began stammering. "I-if you'll have me, at least. I am j-just an acolyte and probably not very-"
You hearten me. I thank you, Ellesa, Lythea. The darkness, I fear, is never far from my thoughts, but you continue to remind me of the virtue of the Light – and more importantly – its followers.
Lythea silenced herself by supreme force of will, her fair, pink-toned face stained with a darkening purple blush. She felt undeserving of the powerful Naaru's praise.
A tinkling sound, reminiscent of hailstones impacting against a pane of glass or a bell in a rainstorm, echoed through her mind, and Lythea realized that Saa'ra was laughing.
Acolyte or no, you are pure of heart, Lythea Spiritlance. Sincerity is a greater virtue than power, and is by great magnitude more impactful in the direst of times. You have my deepest gratitude for your words.
Lythea bowed to the Naaru, humbled by her words. "Thank you," she managed, without stuttering.
Saa'ra brightened, the orbiting fragments of light which made up her body shivering with delight.
Of course. Walk with the Light, Lythea.
"Indeed, and may you walk with the light as well, Saa'ra," Ellesa chimed in from where she had observed their conversation in silence.
Her gaze briefly unfocused – Saa'ra was certainly projecting words to her alone – before she nodded respectfully to the Naaru.
"Good day," she said.
Good day, Ellesa.
The high priestess looked at Lythea, and gestured for her to follow her outside of the sanctum of light. Briefly shooting a glance at the silent Naaru, the night elf quickly darted after the priestess, falling into stride with the long-legged draenei.
Lythea took a moment to thank Elune for the naturally long legs gifted to her people; were she a human she would have to run to keep up with the high priestess.
"Saa'ra is an excellent example of redemption, Lythea," mused the draenei, reminding the acolyte of her earlier discomfort regarding Cyana.
"She was irredeemable by almost any standard. Even the Naaru seldom hold out hope for their darkened comrades to return to the light, however overjoyed they are when it occurs. While all avenues of redemption are pursued, most void gods are simply exterminated to avert the rampant destruction they wreak on whatever world is unfortunate enough to house one," she continued.
"Saa'ra was an anomaly, much like Mu'ru in Quel'danas. Their corruption was total, but they were capable of turning away from the abyss towards the light once more. It is their example, among others, that reminds me of the virtue of mercy. I cannot ignore the chance to redeem a soul in need, do you understand?"
Thinking about the priestess' words, Lythea felt that she could. Saa'ra was still haunted by her tenure as a void god, but now stood as a paragon of the light once more. Why, then, couldn't Cyana?
It made her deeply uncomfortable – stories had been told to her since birth of the menace of Illidan Stormrage and the pall of dread he had cast over Outland, and the havoc he had wrecked against the legendary Wardens underneath Hyjal. Her race had had thousands of years to foster a lasting sense of loathing towards demon hunters in general.
They were the cravens; the fel-addicts; traitors to their people and the consorts of succubae and felguards.
But now they fought alongside them against the Legion.
"I understand, High priestess. I don't feel perfectly content with it, but I can understand," Lythea said quietly, deep in thought.
The draenei smiled, gripping her shoulder tightly. Lost in thoughts as she was, Lythea failed to tense at the action. "Understanding fosters empathy, which dispels uncertainty. Perhaps in time, you will reconcile your emotions, but continue to think - to try to understand why your actions are virtuous – and you shall go far, Lythea Spiritlance."
"Hey, Mon, I be in need of ya help ova' here!" came the loud voice of Zabra Hexx, one of the shadow-priests dwelling within Netherlight Temple.
Lythea jerked out of her thoughts, and made to run over to where the troll appeared to have spilt several bottles of ink onto the floor, when she remembered who she was walking with. She sent a desperate glance at the high priestess, whose eyes were alight with mirth.
A careless gesture of her pale white hand sent Lythea scurrying over to where the troll was gingerly cleaning the glass shards of a broken bottle off the ground.
"My tanks, acolyte. I be getting' tired and not payin' attention to what I'm doin'," Hexx admitted sheepishly. It was a decidedly odd look for the massive troll, who dwarfed Lythea despite her impressive height of six feet with his own towering figure.
"It is not of concern," she told him as she cast a small fire spell to burn away the ink. She would come back with towels to better scrub the area, but this way nobody would slip in the ink puddle.
"Ah, but I be takin' ya away from ya talk wit' da priestess. That be a damn shame, and ya have my apologies for it," he told her, an odd note of sincerity in his voice. She looked him full in the face, but saw that he was looking after the draenei with genuine respect.
"She be one of da best damn priests we got, dat Ellesa. I be knowin' only a little bit about her life, but if any of my experience in readin' people be worth da effort to gain, I be seein' multitudes within those eyes," Hexx said solemnly.
Lythea didn't often find herself talking with the shadow priests within the temple. They kept to themselves – separate from the majority of the conclave due to the nature of their positions. Worship of the void, and controlling its energies, was not banned by the conclave – they wouldn't be there otherwise – but had been mercilessly purged from many of their orders prior to the invasion, when they were separate, disparate factions of light-worshippers.
As a result, upon her arrival within the temple, Lythea had been thrust into close contact with shadow priests unprepared to deal with them and expecting a bunch of savage, untrustworthy cultists.
They had proven her wrong. While they had darker edges to them, and constantly vied with their darker natures – two shadow priests had succumbed to the madness of the void since the conclave's founding, and the accursed knife that had led the last one to murder an elder priest was now sealed away until a competent shadow priest could wield it safely – they were just as capable of respect and empathy as their lighter counterparts.
Case in point; Lythea had never expected to hear such profound words from a void-worshipper, much less a troll of all races. Even through the thick accent the entire race wielded like a blunt hammer, she felt his words wouldn't be out of place within a scholar's congregation in Darnassus.
"It's alright. Tasks like these give me time to think," Lythea told the troll, neatly picking up a few of the smaller glass shards his large, three-fingered hands couldn't grasp.
He grinned at her; "Ah, dat be good. Always be tinkin' about ya lessons. Ya be getting' wiser for it, and da loa be knowin' we be in need of wise priests," he said cheerfully.
Without intention, she smiled at the troll, liking his frankness. Unlike the quiet grace Ellesa carried herself with, which intimidated the pale Kaldorei, Zabra just felt like a friend. For a superior, that made him surprisingly easy to connect with, despite her never having really spoken to him at length before.
She walked over to a nearby waste bin and neatly dropped the glass shards inside. Hexx clasped her shoulder within his massive hand, which was so disproportionate to her own body that it fair disappeared beneath it, and grinned toothily around his tusks. It was rather intimidating, despite the friendly vibe he exuded – calling to mind midnight orgies of blood sacrifice and debauchery and prowling war-bands stalking through the jungles his race preferred as a home.
"Ya seem ta be a good little priest, acolyte. I always be lookin' for new friends ta talk wit', but dat be a little tough when I don't be knowin' ya name," he chuckled heartily.
"I am Lythea Spiritlance, acolyte of the Conclave of the Light, junior priestess of Elune, and former resident of Astranaar within the forests of Ashenvale," she introduced herself formally.
"Well, Lythea," he said, his accent lending an interesting lilt to her name, "I be Zabra Hexx, of da Darkspear Tribe and da Conclave of da Light. I used ta live in da Scarlet Monastery before those lunatic crusada's took it over, but now I just be goin' where I'm needed."
Lythea, finally swayed by his cordiality, smiled at him.
"It's good to meet you, Zabra."
X_0_X
Hello! It has been quite a while. I'm sorry if some of you are disappointed by the fact that this isn't Harry Potter, or that there is a distinct lack of smut contained herein - be not worried, I may go back to Harry Potter later, but right now it just isn't happening. The smut, as well, will be happening, it just didn't fit into the beginning of the story, since I intend to actually put an effort into plot and development of character.
As you've probably deduced, this is going to occur in Legion content. I intend to follow a similar format to the 'Lion of Azeroth' series, by the admirable Galaxywolf, who I've drawn inspiration to write for WoW from.
For reference, the robes Ellesa is wearing is cut similarly to the ingame Slavebreaker Robes given as a quest reward to the burgeoning priest at the beginning of Warlords of Draenor. I use the transmog for my own priest, who inspired the character :D
Farewell, dear readers, and have a merry bout of introspection and speculation about the future of this story,
-Valasania the Pale