Hello, this is my first story! It was first posted on the WoW EU roleplaying forum, but I decided to move it here. Please post your comments as I'd like to improve the story and my writing skills.
All characters and content are made up by me, with the exception of the original Warcraft content and the part about Meren's crush, which was written by Natan from the mentioned forum and slightly edited by me.
All rights to the Warcraft universe are, of course, property of Blizzard Entertainment.
Elune Everwatching by Seagale
Chapter One
Varassil slowly opened her eyes. She had been sitting there for two hours now, meditating. Magic was flowing in her veins, and her eyes longed to see light again. She rose from the bed only to discover her dark room, with nothing but a small torch visible on the opposite wall. She was hungry. "Food should be prepared, not conjured." she thought, and walked to the door. She picked up the key and opened the door. As she stepped into the light of the hall, her bright yellow hair and deep blue eyes became visible. Alas, there was no living being there to see her. Pictures of old mages replied her with a solemn face, much like the one she had. "Hurry to the inn and return to the tower." she commanded herself, and so she walked down the spiral pathway of the Mage Tower and made her way to the Trade District among shorter humans.
A preacher stood in the
center of the district. A large crowd surrounded him, paying heed to
his words.
"Hear me, Stormwind! Your demons will not
liberate you, nor shall thy magic unshackle your sinful existence. Is
it your wish to see the Legion level the city once more? To see our
courageous fire extinguished again? Examples of the corruption are
abundant throughout out lands. Look at the Naga and the Highborne,
and you will be looking at your grim future. Darkness comes to
consume us all! Pledge your loyalty to the Holy Light, and you shall
spring free from the horrors the future holds! We shall gather
tonight for a prayer to the blessed Light in the Cathedral of
Stormwind! Let not darkness engulf you, embrace the Light and be
redeemed!"
The words burned Varassil's ears like flaming
metal scorching her flesh. She did her best to blend into the crowd,
remain unnoticed. She was taller than most of them, but the priest
didn't catch her in his eye. He would surely use her as a living
example, she thought, and made haste to the inn.
Old Town was
not the most inviting place in the city, lined with pickpockets and
thugs constantly watching her. She had only taken enough silver
pieces to buy food and drink, so she wasn't worried.
The tavern
was bustling with activity. The air was thick, the smell was bad, and
drunk Dwarves were spilling their ale everywhere. Unfortunately for
her, there were Night Elves present as well. She looked down and
entered, hoping to pass undetected.
Even among Dwarven curses
and Darnassian prayers a High Elf cannot hide. "Hey magic
addict!" shouted the overjoyed Night Elf in the corner. Laughter
ensued and the pack of Night Elves commenced their drinking. "Hey
paleskin, my chicken is cold!", "Why aren't you
meditating?" and "Go channel yourself some dignity!"
were among their jokes. "I wish I didn't speak Darnassian..."
She said softly, almost crying.
Varassil finally made it to the
bartender. She could not bring herself to look at his face. She
untied her coin sack, put it on the bar and said "Some Morning
Dew and wine please." while moving back and forth nervously.
"Calm down, lass." he tried to calm her, but to no avail:
The Elves' jokes were clearly getting to her. He handed her the dew
and the wine and she went on to find a lonely spot in the shades to
dine in.
When she was done, she hurried back to the solitude
the tower offered with tears running down her pale face. She wasn't
hungry anymore, but her soul was at unrest.
She entered her room
and lit the small torch. A bucket of water was waiting, which she
used to wash her face. Her clothes removed, she crawled into bed.
"Only 1886 years left" she whined, and with a sigh fell
asleep.
In her sleep, she
dreamt of what once was. Varassil dreamt of the safety of her old
home in the spires of Silvermoon, where she sat and watched the realm
of Quel'thalas beneath her, tranquil with lights of the magical city
reflected off puddles of rain scattered across the horizon. There she
sat, young, naive and completely ignorant of the horrors yet to
follow.
Her mother was standing behind her, resting her hands on
Varassil's shoulders. Looking out of the window she said: "What
a beautiful night, Var! Look! The moon is in that puddle!".
Varassil stared at the moon's reflection and smiled to her mother.
Then her mother began singing softly, nearly whispering:
In
the endless sea of night swim countless twinkles.
In the
boundless void of twilight tread numberless stars.
Clouds move as
the wind ripples.
Elune will heal you of your scars.
Varassil shut her eyes as she felt the singing enfold her. She began floating and eventually landed back in her bed in Stormwind. She slept until dawn undisturbed.
----------------------------
Noon came, and
Stormwind was baking in hot midday sun as it went about it's daily
business.
Yet cloudless sky escaped Varassil's eyes when she
finally opened them, as there were no windows in her room.
She
put on her traditional robe, which was given to her by her mother.
Then she proceeded to wash her face and put out the torch.
In the
hallway again, she saw paintings of great mages. Their faces were
solemn, but Varassil was too busy reciting her mother's song to
notice.
This time she went the other way, towards the rooms in
which they held lessons to teach young mages the art of fire, frost
and the arcane.
She heard Othrallas Firestaff, an old and
seasoned mage, rehearse his old speech in front of new students:
"It
is time for your portal lesson, younglings! We shall skip the boring
introductions and actually open some portals. We will not, however,
pass through them. We have much to learn and cannot spare time to
take the Tram back here. Oh, good morning, Varassil!"
Varassil
entered the room and took a seat near the door to watch, but
Othrallas spotted her. She was a gifted mage since birth, and didn't
need any lessons. She often had a trick to teach the professor as
well.
"Come here, don't be shy! Meet Varassil, everyone. She
is one of the few High Elves still left in our world."
Varassil
shook her head and looked down.
"She's shy, kids, don't
worry." he said to the bunch of 20 year old humans sitting in
front of him.
"Open your books and ready your runes! We're
going to make us some portals. As you can see, the two major anchor
points for our portals are being channeled by mages in Ironforge and
right here in Stormwind. A weaker anchor point is in Darnassus, but
you will need more skill to use it."
The word "Darnassus"
brought sadness to Varassil's heart, and she wrapped her arms around
her body, as if trying to keep warm.
----------------------------
Meren stared at the High Elf, a faint smile on his lips."So she's a High Elf, eh? She's even prettier than the books say."
Realizing he had spoken aloud, the mage went bright red, while the two mages beside him grinned.
"Oh, what's this? Young Meren got a crush?"
"Haha! He's bright red!"
Meren growled: "Shut up, you two..."
Returning to their studies, they worked on the portals, but it was obvious that Meren, quite large compared to those around, had his attention fixed on the Elf, and not his studies.
----------------------------
Othrallas walked
around the classroom while his students were whispering spells and
gaining experience. Portals opened and collapsed around him,
runestones were split and wands broken. He walked back and forth
between the students and his equipment cabinet, supplying them with
new reagents every time they turned them into trash.
Thoughts
were running through his head: "So this is the future generation
of mages, eh? Darn, I wish Quel'thalas was never destroyed. Look at
her, all alone by the door. She's ten times the mage any of them
would ever be."
He was about to approach Varassil to
hearten her when he was distracted by one of the tenderfoots;
One
of the apprentices in the class asked for his aid, and he plodded
towards him reluctantly.
Meren, bent on impressing Varassil,
was about to try that which he had been warned about. "A portal
to Darnassus shouldn't be much more difficult, and it's bound to
impress her!" he thought, and as time passed, the idea sounded
even better.
He waited for Othrallas to be distracted by one of
his classmates and when he was finally out of sight, Meren opened his
unused copy of "Advanced Secrets of the Twisting Nether: The
expert's guide to the Arcane".
The chapter about "How
to spot weak anchor points" was particularly interesting. He
ignored the warning that said
"DO NOT ATTEMPT WITHOUT
PROPER TRAINING"
and went on to open the portal.
He grabbed his runestone with both hands and began channeling a portal. The runestone started glowing red, as if it was burning in his hands. An unstable portal opened before him, twisting and warping, constantly changing it's shape. The swirling gateway was about to collapse, fading in and out. With each fade it released powerful wind into the tower. His hair was violently flung backwards by the force of the wind and his robe fluttered uncontrollably as he stood there trying to sustain the portal. The stone was hurting him, but he refused to quit.
When Varassil first sensed the opening of the portal, she rushed towards him and grabbed his hands to make him drop the stone. She shouted: "What are you doing!" But the wrapping wind did not allow him to hear her voice. He screamed with pain as the portal started throbbing wildly. The runestone exploded and the portal disappeared. Both Meren and Varassil were thrown backwards and passed out on the stone floor.
----------------------------
Varassil found
herself back in her old home in the high towers of Silvermoon,
watching the sun as it set slowly in the horizon, making room for the
moon. The sky was painted with rich shades of orange and purple, and
the moon was just becoming visible as her father entered the room.
She wasn't a little girl anymore, and she knew what he would ask of
her.
"Father" she said, and he immediately felt the
sadness in her voice. "I've never left the city before".
She turned around to face him. He kissed her forehead, hugged her and
said: "You're grown up, Var, and it's time for you to get
involved. Please, this means so much to me". She sighed:
"Alright, father. But the Dwarves do not know who I am".
"Calm down, my child. They will in due time. Well, have you
packed your bags?" he inquired. "Yes, I'm ready" she
replied reluctantly. "The carriage is waiting."
Down the spiral tower she went, and entered the carriage. Leaving the sun behind, the carriage started rolling slowly along the stone path until it eventually left the realm of Quel'thalas. It arrived in Aerie Peak the next day. Varassil was now grown up and was assigned the task of handling trade with the Wildhammer Dwarves for her father, who was a seasoned trader. They welcomed her and showed her to her room, where she threw herself on the bed and slept till dawn.
Dawn came inevitably, and with it came shouting. Varassil
woke up and walked to the terrace to see what caused so many Dwarves
to rise this early and assemble at the center of town. A herald
yelled:
"Hear me! News from the north have arrived!
Quel'thalas has fallen, Silvermoon is no more! Laid waste by an army
of necromancers and their skeleton servants! Our Elven allies have
been slaughtered and obliterated in this sad and dark day! It shall
echo through the waves of fate!".
Varassil's heart skipped
as she rushed out of the room, raced down the stairs and sprinted to
the Dwarf. "What did you say!" she interrogated him.
"Didn't you hear me? Quel'thalas has been destroyed, no
survivors! Get your ears cleaned, huma... Oh, you're not a human,
you're an Elf. Well, in that case, I guess this is your new home..."
he lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, lass".
She suddenly
burst into tears and fell to her knees. She keeled over, leaving it
to the Dwarves to drag her back to bed.
----------------------------
By the time
Varassil recovered from the explosion, she was all alone. She opened
her eyes to find herself lying down on a grassy plain, looking to the
sky, which was obstructed by enormous green treetops.
For the
first time in her life, the thirst for magic was quenched and her
blood was at rest. "Where am I?" she thought as she
regained her consciousness. Suddenly a face appeared above her. It
was a dark purple face with glowing eyes and a wide smile. "Are
you alright?" the face asked in Darnassian "You appeared
out of nowhere!". Varassil's heart began pounding when she heard
the hated tongue spoken. "You look a little pale. Here, let me
help you up" offered the face. The Night Elf grabbed Varassil's
hand and helped her on her feet. Her legs couldn't bare her weight
and she collapsed. "Put your arm around my shoulders. Like
this".
She carefully placed Varassil's arm around her small
shoulders and helped her into the closest building. So far, Varassil
has been surprised that the Night Elf helped her, but when she
pointed her eyes to the building, she shut them quickly and covered
her face with her remaining hand. The building was a colossal tree,
rising higher than anything she has ever seen. The tree was decorated
with countless twinkling lights and thousands of terraces sprouted
from it like branches. Inside she saw Night Elves of every shape and
size. A few came to help bring her inside. They took her to a bed in
one of the back rooms, where she rested for a few hours.
The
door knob was turned and a blue skinned Elf came in, holding a book
and a tray stacked with food while Varassil was sitting on the bed.
Varassil's heart began pounding again and she pressed against the
headboard and wrapped her arms around her body again.
"Don't
be afraid, sister" said the Elf. "Sister?" Varassil
asked in wonder. "Oh, you can speak our language! Splendid!"
the Elf cried out in excitement. "Yes, sister. You're an Elf,
are you not?" she asked.
Varassil relaxed her arms and let
them fall to the bed. She was too confused to be afraid. The Elf
presented herself: "I am Isólia, priestess of Elune.
Welcome to Darnassus, sister!". She stared at Varassil, waiting
for a response. Varassil looked at the bed, motionless. "I will
leave you then. Here's some food and a book you should read."
The priestess put the tray down and walked out of the room.
Varassil waited a few seconds and then picked up the book. The book
had a hard purple cover and silver letters shined on the front: "The
path of the Moon".
A song was written on the internal side
of the front cover:
Night comes and rises the moon
A
calm whisper gracefully strewn
Forever playing her soothing tune
Everwatching is Elune
"Why do I no
longer feel magic burning in my veins?" she contemplated.
"Why
did she call me sister?" she meditated.
"Why was I
given this book?" she pondered.
"At last you
return!" whispered an invisible voice around her. "I've
been waiting for ages!" it shouted faintly into her head, as
if excited.
Varassil leaped from the bed and left the room in a
terrified hurry. Her blood was rushing and her breath was heavy. She
stood with her back to the door, trying to convince herself she
didn't hear the voice.
A crowd of curious Night Elves watched
her, amazed by both the presence of a High Elf in Darnassus, and her
strange behaviour.
When she realized how many faces were turned
her way, she ran out of the tree, where she discovered green plains
of soft, everlasting grass.
She kept on walking, looking around
at the violet twinkles in the treetops, followed by bright azure
lights beneath them, and the magical skylight filtering slightly
through the branches. There were young trees everywhere, aspiring to
reach the height of their giant parents. Wisps were moving around
them in an enchanted dance, fascinated by their beauty.
Varassil
tripped over a small stone and fell to her knees on the tender grass.
In the distance she beheld a great stone building which presented a
great opening. A great lilac rug with a golden lining escorted her
eyes as they wandered into the old building.
"Go"
whispered the voice. "Enter" it cried.
So she began
walking towards the building, afraid of the unknown which dwells
between it's walls.
She walked past glittering water and wet
leaves reflecting the sunlight into her eyes.
She passed beneath
stone arbors around which plants grew in harmony.
Then she stood
in front of the majestic rug.
Varassil removed one of her shoes
and placed her foot on the rug. It was magically soft and inviting.
She removed the other shoe and started walking towards the
entrance.
In the building stood a huge fountain with bright magical energies swirling around it. It was a statue of a woman holding up a bowl of water, emanating peace and grace which Varassil felt immediately upon entering the temple.
"Elune" said Varassil in awe, marvelling the serenity
the place cast upon her.
"Very good! I take it you know who
Elune is?" said a voice coming from somewhere within the temple.
"Of course I know who she is!" she glared. The
priestess moved closer to stand in front of Varassil.
"May I
ask how a High Elf like yourself learns of Elune?"
"My
mother always told me stories about her when I was younger."
"Of course she did, I knew I could count on her."
"What does that mean?"
"Do you still have the
book I gave you? Open it and see the name of the owner for yourself."
Varassil opened the book and looked at the first page. At the
bottom it said: "Anquen Moondust".
"This book
belonged to my mother!" she asked in wonder.
"Yes, she
left it here when she followed your father to Quel'thalas. Have you
ever seen her cast a fireball, child?"
Then it all made
sense. She recalled that black night in Aerie Peak when Othrallas
came to bring her to Stormwind. As she sat on her bed and pondered
the Dwarf's announcement a few nights back, she overheard Firestaff's
conversation with one of them: "Aye, I come here to take the
priestess' daughter to Stormwind".
She recalled her mother
arguing with her father about Varassil's training as a mage.
"But
what do you have to do with my mother?" Varassil asked
curiously.
"Isólia Moondust, at your service, fair
mage" she replied with a long-awaited smile. "If I didn't
know An was dead, I would have thought you were her".
Varassil
shut the book and hugged her aunt tightly.
"I'm glad you're
here too, but I could still use some air!"
