Arcane magic. It was her curse, her salvation, and she hated it. Marcail concentrated as she sat facing the open window of her room as a gentle breeze caught her sheer indigo curtains that swayed to the rhythm of the wind. Eyes closed, lips partly open, cross-legged on the floor as she straitened her back. She gently inhaled, breathing in the sweet smells of Silvermoon and the smells of her mother's kitchen below her. She let her muscles relax, releasing the tension in her tired hands and back. She collected all her distracting thoughts into a pink bubble, and let it drift away with the breeze. She only heard her heartbeat, her connection to all living beings throughout the land. She could feel the land with her soul, as it bled from her body and connected with the soil. She was in utter peace and harmony, unable to listen to the distractions and busy pulses with the normal world. She shut everything out.

"Marcail!" A voice resembling her mother called from below her. "Marcail! Come down please!"

She sighed, and gently blinked her eyes open. And there goes my morning of peace, she thought to herself as she picked herself up from the floor and wrapped a turquoise blue sash around her white mage robes. She quickly glanced in the mirror as she combed her deep honey-blonde hair with her fingers. She was still pulling it back out of her face as she floated down the stairs of her parents large townhouse. Marcail was reluctant to be there, not because she didn't love her mother and father, but because her mind was elsewhere. The Lich King had fallen, but there was a whole new world to rebuild, including recovering the rest of Silvermoon. She had devoted her services in Icecrown, an area in desperate need of cleaning up in Northrend. However, with one note her father sent, the general laughed her out of the Argent Vanguard, and her help was no longer needed within the Argent Crusade. She held her head high as she left, not letting any of them see any less than the person she was. Marcail was a proud and powerful pureblood mage. Her bloodlines descended from powerful mages, like Prince Kael'Thalas who was a distant cousin of her family. There was a rumor about possessing the blood of Queen Azshara in their veins from before she turned Naga, but it was never confirmed. However, her family's magical gifts were kept secret from the Horde. Prince Kael'Thalas still betrayed his people in the end, and he was still viewed as a traitor. However, his talent as a mage was never questioned.

Marcail sighed again as her slippered foot touched the ivory stone of the first floor of the townhouse. She heard murmuring in the kitchen as she glanced to the massive courtyard, already covered in red, yellow and white flower decorations and tables with deep red silken tablecloths. The shrubbery had been manicured especially close and enchanted brooms and feather dusters roamed the house. Looking closer into the courtyard, an altar carved out of fel iron stood at the front, as it glowed with the powerful emerald fel taint that her own eyes glowed with. A shiver swept through her bones. In less than twelve hours, she would be standing on that altar, ready to be sacrificed like a lamb. She was no more than a mere tool, and she was powerless to fight it. A snort of irony came from her as she dropped her head into a palm. Her, a Dawnfire, powerless. Her father had preached to her so many times before that it was impossible.

"Marcail!" Her mother's voice called once more. "I do not wish to call you again!"

"Coming, Mother!" She answered, as she hiked up her robes and trudged to the kitchen. As she rounded the doorway, she caught sight of a tall, male blood elf with hair like her own.

"Hayden?" The girl's face lit up, as she recognized her younger brother. He matched her smile, and Marcail ran to him, jumping in his arms. "Hayden!" She squeaked.

"Marc the narc!" He teased, hugging her back. She pushed him away as her eyebrows and mouth formed strait lines across her face.

"I am not a narc," she crossed her arms. Hayden laughed as he tousled her freshly-made bun. "Sweet Sunwell, Hayden," she gritted through her teeth, as she ducked away from him and tried to fix the mess. "Why did you come again?"

"How could I miss seeing my sister get married?" He grinned.

"You are just begging for a frostbolt, aren't you?" She answered.

"Children," Their mother, Una, intervened, as she looked up from her workspace where she was making sweet pumpkin rolls. "You two haven't seen each other in years, and this is how you act?" Marcail turned to her younger brother. Though he was a pain, she really was glad to see him again.

"Have you cleaned up more of Kael'Thalas' forces?" Marcail asked.

"I think we have them under control for now, but you've got the short end of the stick. I heard Icecrown's a real picnic right now," he raised an eyebrow at her.

"I know," she rolled her eyes, "I wish I could be there."

"It's no place for a young lady of your stature," her mother chided, as she kneaded the light orange colored dough. Marcail wanted to fight back, she even had her words on the tip of her tongue to shoot back. Icecrown is excatly where a 'lady of my stature' should be! It's where you and father should be, too. But she had already gone through those words months ago. She was defeated. There was no other future for her than to get married to the man who was chosen for her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hayden grimace. Either he felt extreme sympathy for her, or he assumed he was next.

"Come, brother, let me reintroduce you to Silvermoon. There have been a few changes since you were last here." Marcail was anxious to get out of the house.

"Lead the way," he nodded, as they started for the door.

"No teleporting! You both need to be back in time to get some rest!" They heard their mother call after them as they reached the front door.

.

"Sweet Sunwell, you have no idea how crazy I am going here," Marcail explained as the siblings walked side-by-side down the golden streets of the Walk of Elders. "I've been trapped here for three months already!"

"I wish I could have made it here sooner," Hayden sighed, scratching his chin.

"You're here now," she gave him a weak smile.

"Have you even met the guy?"

"Yes." She answered, and paused. "He's friendly and polite. His younger sister is quite agreeable, and so is his father. However, his mother sends chills down my spine."

"Has she said anything to offend you?" An eyebrow shot up from her brother.

"No, nothing like that," a wave of her hand made him lower his brow, "she's just-" She thought for the right word, "different. She lacks the warmth the rest of the family has."

"A whole family of paladins," Hayden murmured.

"Yes, the Lightbringers, they're all very skilled. I've seen them fight. They're pretty ruthless. I've never fought any paladin, Horde or Alliance, more agile and powerful than Nellan." She explained.

"Is that his name?" Her brother asked inquisitively.

"Yes. On one of our 'outings' I asked to duel him. I didn't believe all the stories mother and father boasted to me, so I wanted to embarrass them. I was very surprised, I expected hubris attempts at cutting me down, but I was not expecting raw talent. It ended with a draw."

"Really?" Hayden couldn't believe what he was hearing. His sister was a frost mage, and nigh impossible to defeat. Even with multiple enemies, they would fall before her. He couldn't even match her power with his own fire magic. He got close a few times in childhood, but she always gained the upper-hand at the last minute.

"This is why I have been requested as his wife." She sighed. "I understand that our people have always had trouble with arcane magic, but I fear this is too much." Hayden blinked at her.

"You lost me, Marc. What in Sunwell are you talking about?" It was her turn to blink.

"What? They didn't tell you? But how," she stammered, "how much have they told you?"

"Father told me you were marrying into a family of 'pristine paladins' if I remember correctly. He told me he arranged the marriage and it was time for you to marry and carry on the bloodline since I've been gone so long." He shrugged. They both knew the relationship with Hayden and their father was strained.

"Hmm," Marcail frowned. "They left out something. They want me to marry Nellan because they believe our mage bloodline mixed with his raw talent and brute strength in the Light, will produce blood elves with enough arcane energy to be immune to our addiction. Our 'offspring' would be very, very powerful paladins."

"What kind of crockery is this?" Hayden demanded.

"Hayden, did father ever tell you he found a cure for the Wretched?"

"No, because I wouldn't have believed him!"

"Yes, you are very stubborn," she gave him a half smile, "Hayden, our blood cures them."

"That's impossible." He shrugged her off.

"You wish to see a demonstration?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh," Hayden hesitated, teetering on the edge of believing her, or believing her insanity.

"Come," she pulled a scarlet red cloak out of her bag and tied it around her shoulders. Then she grabbed his arm and started towards the gates leading out of Silvermoon.

.

Marcail took her brother to the ancient ruins of Silvermoon, where countless victims, who succumbed to their arcane addiction roamed free, hoping to prey on weaker magical creatures they could siphon the magic out of. Hayden grimaced at the zombies, moaning in search of their endless thirst. She pulled the hood up on her cloak, and stepped over the boundary into their territory.

"Are you coming?" She asked, glancing behind her to see her brother looking ill.

"The population has grown," he trailed off, as he followed his sister slowly. He felt sick to his stomach. He knew that one slip, and he could be one of these beasts. He observed the area around the Wretched's territory. It seemed like a fog had drifted into the land, making it gray and solemn.

"There," Marcail stopped in the path, and then ran behind some shrubbery. She motioned for Hayden to follow her. He knelt down beside his sister as he looked beyond, to see a Wretched, currently digging at the ground.

"What is he doing?"

"Who knows," she shrugged. "Careful, these guys are very feral and they will try to take you. We don't want to harm him." She whispered, as she came from behind the bushes, gently walking towards the corrupted blood elf. Immediately, he stopped what he was doing and rose from his spot, staring at her with a strange expression. The addiction had even contorted his face, as she couldn't make out if he was male or female.

"Easy," she cooed, showing her hands. "I won't hurt you." He appeared to be in some sort of trance in her presence.

"Marc?" She heard her brother's uneasy voice.

"Shh!" She tried to keep him silent as he came up next to her. He was currently looking in the opposite direction, away from the Wretched they discovered.

"Marc, look there," he touched her shoulder as she turned around. There were two more who were looming in, watching them.

"They're just curious," she said. "Get the goblet out."

Hayden removed a wooden goblet from his bag, as he watched Marcail take a dagger from her bag. The Wretched all circled them, hesitantly coming in closer.

"Give me your hand," she said, as she took the goblet from him, he extended his arm to her. She held the dagger to his wrist and brought the goblet below it. She looked into her brother's eyes as he nodded, allowing her to go through with it. She quickly sliced through his flesh, as Hayden hissed, but remained still, as blood seeped down into the goblet. Something stirred the Wretched beings, as they made feral noises and aggressiveness flashed on their warped faces. They snarled at each other, and drool dripped from their fangs.

"Don't make any sudden movements," she warned, as she took the full goblet and rested it down on the ground and stepped away. Hayden bandaged his wound, as he followed his sister by backing away toward the trees. They stood there and watched, as the three of the zombie-like creatures clearly showed an interest to the goblet of blood. One of them lunged for it, as he clutched the goblet and greedily drank from it, while another two pounced on top of him, trying to snatch it away. Hayden's blood spilled, as they all started to fight. One still tried to salvage the spilled blood on the ground, while another licked the goblet.

"I can't watch this," he started to turn away, when she grabbed his arm.

"Wait." Her gaze still on the unsettling scene. The one that got the first goblet dropped to the ground, rolling around as if in pain, as guttural yelps echoed through the trees.

"What is this? Have you gone completely insane?" Hayden was completely disgusted.

"Look, he's beginning to change," she pointed to the one who grabbed the goblet first. He looked closer and it was true! The gray skin started to gain color again, as mangled limbs from starvation started to change back to normal. His hair started growing back in seconds. Finally to complete the transformation, his eyes opened, and returned to the normal blood elf color of emerald green. The other two, however, kept trying to salvage the spilled blood and stayed as they were.

"Sweet Sunwell," Hayden swore as he was frozen in disbelief, but Marcail's reaction was different. She swore.

"The other two didn't change." She sounded flustered.

"What happens now?"

"Well," she looked toward the direction where the two Wretcheds were, as they had run out of the blood, and now were looking for more. "This might not end well."

One of them turned to the mages and let out a feral hiss. He lunged toward Hayden, but his sister stopped him with cone of cold. The creature fell lifelessly to the ground. She looked around.

"Where did the other one go?" Hayden asked. Their curiosity was short lived, as the second creature came from behind him, grabbing him around the neck in a headlock.

"Hayden!" His sister cried, as her brother struggled with the creature, before unleashing flamestrike, as a pillar of fire engulfed him. The creature screamed and fell to the ground, writhing in pain as the flames devoured him whole. Marcail scurried closer to her brother as she tried to get a good look for injuries. He squirmed, trying to keep her back.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he stated, shrugging her off. She backed away once she was sure she could believe him. As a fire mage, Hayden had grown an immunity to his own spells. "Why did that one attack me?"

"He must have wanted more blood," she trailed off, looking down at the two dead Wretcheds, as her heart ached for them. Seeing two more of her people, now lost forever from the addiction to arcane magic. She tried to focus on the one who had a successful transformation. Marcail came forward, kneeling at his side and pulling the hood of her cloak down as he began to regain consciousness.

"My lady," he said in confusion. "I was-" he stammered. "I was trapped in a nightmare."

"Yes," she nodded, offering him a blanket and putting around his shoulders. "Tell me your name."

"I-" He shook his head, "my lady forgive me I can't remember. I've been lost for so long. And you saved me?" He asked.

"You succumbed to your addiction," Marcail explained in an empathetic gaze, as she explained how her brother and she brought him back. She left out the blood detail, and when he asked how she shook her head and said she didn't know. She told him to seek refuge in Silvermoon.

"But don't forget to check in with Orick Lightbringer. He will give you aid in your new life." The blood elf nodded and thanked her, as he jogged out of the Wretched territory.

"I can't believe it, Marc, you weren't lying." Hayden shook his head as she rose from her position on the ground.

"I know it's not pretty, but there is something about our blood that heals them. Mother found out when she journeyed too far off of a path, and her hawkstrider lost it's footing, sending them tumbling down a rocky hill. She told me she had a bad gash on her leg, which seemed to extend from her ankle to her knee. Before she got a chance to bandage it, she noticed a lost Wretched lurking in the trees. She started to reach for her wand, but he lunged himself at her, and bit down on her gash." Hayden cursed. "She told me after she threw him off of her, the same thing we observed happened to him."

"This is insanity," her brother shook his head, as they started down the path to Silvermoon.

"It's the truth. This is why mother and father betrothed me to the Lightbringers. They have such high status as Blood Knights, and their own bloodline is full of paladins."

"Then why can't this guy marry another paladin?" Hayden demanded. His sister chewed her lip.

"I told you, they all think that mixing our bloodline will produce stronger knights." She shrugged.

"Didn't you fight this?" Her brother asked, curling his lip up in anger. She stopped walking and turned to him.

"Don't you think I did?" She demanded, fire flashing through her eyes. "I've been begging them for weeks to end this betrothal. They refuse to listen!"

"You need to push harder on this!" Hadyen frowned, "Anyway, why not use our blood for good? Like cure all of the Wretched instead of making you do this?"

"Hayden, we don't have enough blood to feed the entire horde of those creatures. As you saw, it requires a good amount of blood for it to work." She explained. "We could never cure all of the Wretched if we tried, Hayden." Her brother's expression grew stoic, as they continued to walk back to Silvermoon in silence.