Part One:

Conformity is not a task that can be done effortlessly. There are rules you must follow, guidelines you should consider, and above all, people to satisfy. It is forced down on you, and you are expected to do as you are told or face the consequences.

What are the consequences, exactly? Guilt, isolation, perhaps being thrown out of society all together? Those all seem rather extreme, but it's the bittersweet truth. One must either be like everyone else, or be the castaway. The outcast. The unwanted.

Sometimes, it's just simpler to do what is expected of you.

I for one, am not one of those people.

Before my birth, I was prophesied. My parents were told that a child they would bear, a girl with hair blacker than night, would bring deliverance to a broken world. I was destined to carry light to even the most desolate corners of the planet. They said my heart was essentially Azeroth; if it shattered, there would be another Sundering. If I fell in love, we could all find peace in one another and live happily ever after.

Sometimes, not everything goes as planned.

Instead of being the holy child my parents were expected to raise and cherish, I was one of those strange little kids who would use their smite on the ants on the walkways. I also collected insects toxic enough to kill a devilsaur and amassed the carcasses of dead animals and crafted them into marionettes. Such practices were reprimanded fiercely and I was thrown into a library to study myself to my damnation.

All those things, and the many more things I did that were considered blasphemous, were the first signals my parents got that perhaps I wasn't the right child. Maybe the prophesy was for another black haired baby. And so, they had another. Brown hair. They tried again. White hair. And again. White hair. And again. More white hair.

At this point, my mom had delivered six children: My oldest brother Timity, myself, my younger sister Evagria, my other sister Breen, my second youngest sister, Gilla, and the youngest sister, Abeth. My mother was then unwilling to have any more children and accepted the fact that the child must have been me.

Although, my father still had his uncertainties.

My family's blood runs as holy as it possibly could. My mother is a priestess, my father a paladin, and all of my siblings are also priests and warriors of the Light. I wanted to follow the path of the holy sword but I was forbidden to. My parents told me I was to be a priestess and that would be that. I was heartbroken, but as a young blood elf, I could do nothing more than listen to my parents, for their word was law.

I slowly watched as one by one, my siblings packed up and left to explore the vast world. Abeth was the last to depart and thus far I was still kept at home. Upon asking why it was so, my mother told me I had to help her and father with the family business. We owned a tiny herb shop near Murder Row and even with the little to no business we received daily, I was somehow required to stay put and help.

The shop's regular activity could have increased ten-fold and my parents would have still been able to keep the place in order. Why was I there, then?

I soon figured out that it was due to my lack of interest in the holy arts. I had managed to coax it out of my mother one evening as we were cleaning the shop.

"Mother, why can't I leave? Everyone, from Timity to Abeth have gone off to training, but here I am, sorting herbs in a dwindling, wrecked city! I am the second born child, shouldn't I have left years ago?"

My mother had stopped what she had been doing and looked me in the eye. I will never forget the raw look of disgrace that sparked in those emerald orbs when she spoke.

"You were destined to be a priestess of the Light, much like myself. We waited years for you to acquire your skills and fill the duty you were given to do by the gods. We spent our life savings on your training but yet you kept reverting to the shadows... I had four children after you because I assumed you were the wrong one in question. You weren't." She had been quick to turn her cold glare back to the equally cold floor.

I had widened my eyes in horror. Me, destined for the Light? Not once had I ever received some divine calling all the other children of the Light spoke about. No rays of light, no fiery tomes, no angels appearing in the night. All I ever heard were faint whispers and screams inside my head, the calls of terror that dripped with evil, breathing down my neck and raising every hair on my body.

"Why am I here, then?" I had asked again, my voice trembling.

"Your father wants to keep you safe. We can't let you embrace your shadows." I had been in utter disbelief. All those years, they tricked me into staying behind while my younger kin left home, because they said I needed to help them with the herb shop. They had lied to me for over a hundred years so they could keep me from myself.

It was at that moment I left. I simply dropped the bloodthistle root I had already crushed to ashes in my clenched fist, and left. I can't remember if my mother called out to me or not. All I heard were the angry whispers and screams that kept me awake at night. They had beckoned me, and I followed.

They led me to Murder Row. The place was notorious for murderers, thieves and fiends. I had never been allowed there, but the descriptions were more than accurate as I looked around.

Criminals and petty thieves alike squatted in the small, long abandoned houses along the small strip of road. Overgrown and gnarled, twisted trees stood tall and dead. The bushes that normally lined the roads were barren and ashen in colour. It had been as dark as hell itself, and the temperature was dramatically lower than the surrounding areas. Perhaps it was because the sun no longer shown there.

I felt more alive than I ever did in my entire existence as I stood in the shadows. The voices got louder, the screaming more intense. I was in a trance as I made my way to the darkest corner of the alleyway. Eventually, it was full-out deafening. The sound of my own blood pounding in my ears added to the mixture of shouting and shrieking. Time itself seemed to wither and stop completely as I stepped into the darkness.

Then all was quiet.

Only the sound of my shaky breathing could have been heard. I couldn't see a thing, it was so dark. I remember wondering then if I had died. Are these the symptoms of a heart attack? I won't even be able to pump my own chest!

Eventually, my body began to thaw out once more. My limbs had moved on my own accord then as I slowly stood up. I had to use the building I stood behind as support as my knees rattled beneath my dusty dress. I was eventually able to stand on wobbly feet. I then accumulated a few deep breaths and decided it was time to go home. Although I was scared out of my wits, I remember telling myself that my punishment would increase in severity the longer I was gone, and that would be more frightening than anything else I had experienced in the forbidden neighbourhood.

I calmed myself and started walking. The streets were just as deserted as they were when I arrived. Or so I thought.

In the span of a single second, my back was brushed against someone's chest. I was off my feet in a vice much like that of a snake's, there was a gloved hand over my mouth, and a knife to my throat.

After the initial shock wore off, I thrashed violently in the perpetrator's grasp. Judging from the arm muscles, the height, and the wide chest and shoulders that dug into my back, I had assumed I has been being held by a man. I shivered in disgust as his hot breath rolled down my neck.

"Now, sweetheart, give me whatever gold and jewelry you have on you, and I'll let you go in one piece." He had commanded me. I didn't care for his faked gruff, mockingly sweet voice. Instead, I had bit down as hard as I could onto his leather-covered finger. He emitted a girly shriek and stupidly let me go. My body hit the cobblestone and skittered a few metres away. Amateur, I thought bitterly as the skin of my knees broke against the abrasive walkway.

I turned my entire body to face him. He had been in casual black linen clothing with a matching hood. The glowing green eyes of fel corruption created a sinister shadow that hid key features from my own radiant orbs. I had frown in anger and got to my feet. In a foolish act that could have potentially ended my life, I stomped towards him. Gripping the disguise with long, thin fingers, I exposed his true identity.

"Goran!?" I had screeched. He then mirrored my surprise as he did a double take of my face.

"Estienne?" He had asked, bewildered. I scowled and cattily smacked the back of his head.

"Fool! What are you doing, prancing around a place like this, acting like a delinquent?" He had shrunk back at my censure. "Are you such a dimwit that you've forgotten this place is patrolled by blood knights?"

Goran scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"Esti," he whined pitifully.

I rolled my eyes then. "You utter idiot. Must you always get yourself in some sort of trouble?" He sighed and looked down at the ground. I had been harsh, but it had to be done.

Goran has been my best friend since we were toddlers. He was my only friend, in fact. He was also one of those weird kids, but the only difference between him and I, was that he had other friends. I had been extremely jealous, but he reassured me that he'd never let his friends take him away from me. I was always number one, and I stupidly believed him.

The blood elf in front of me spoke, breaking me away from my thoughts. "What are you doing over here?"

That made me stumble. What had I been doing in Murder Row? I sighed. I never kept secrets from Goran.

"The voices... they led me here," I tried. He merely blinked.

"What were they saying?"

In truth, I was never able to make out words. There were words, but they were of a foreign tongue that I could not decipher. "I don't know. It's just as if my body led me here on its own accord."

Goran shrugged. "I kind of felt the same way." My shock must have made him rethink what he was saying, and he was quick to add more. "Robbing you wasn't in my schedule." It was my turn to sigh.

A sudden shriek then filled my head and I collapsed to my knees from the searing pain it left. I clasped my hands over my ears and assumed the fetal positions as more screams and yells filled my mind. My body convulsed and spasmed on the cold road. I made out the shape of Goran hovering over me, absolute terror on his face. My brain couldn't register what was happening. My knees were to my chest, my arms wrapped around them as I kicked my feet against the road. I had been spinning myself around in a circle.

The spinning had stopped as the convulsions returned. I had felt my eyes roll back into my head and my entire body felt as if it was on fire. I tasted death, I heard the moans of tortured souls, and could see nothing but blackness. It slowly- agonizingly slowly -trickled away until I was left with a tingly sensation from head to toe.

"E-esti?" Goran whispered.

I then opened my eyes, blinded by the light. It was odd, as the place was usually so dark that when you looked down you couldn't even see your own feet as you walked through the deadly district.

As I faced my best friend, a halo seemed to hover above his head. I had narrowed my eyes, thinking I finally went mad. I rubbed them vigorously, the halo nonexistent when my eyelids parted.

"What the fuck just happened?" Goran had whispered in horror. I swallowed, my throat suddenly parched.

"To tell you the truth," I croaked, my heart still hammering in my chest, "I have no idea." It was then I noticed Goran was still looking down at me in unhidden terror.

"Do you... feel any different?" He had enquired quietly.

I scrunched up my face as I frowned. "No?"

He sighed. "Are you okay to stand up? You have to see this." The urgency of his ordinarily sarcastic tone had disturbed me. I nimbly tried to stand up, Goran there to help. Unsatisfied by my slowness, he then simply picked me up and hoisted me over his shoulder.

Goran had made great haste. As I looked around from my awkward position, I recognized the area. The shrubs and trees were trimmed into unusual shapes, unlike those in the rest of the city. He had been taking me to his home.

Scrambling up the few steps to his front door, he just about broke it down before pausing. Goran had removed a hand from my thighs to fish into his pocked. He produced a key and battled to unlock the door. He had been cursing extravagantly under his breath during the entire ordeal. It was then that I assumed the door had opened. The ground underneath me flashed and shifted as I was carried into the dark home. My loose hair was nearly caught as Goran slammed the door closed with a boot.

Rapidly placing me down on the rugged sofa, my head spun as he one by one lit the oil lamps and candles around the tiny room. My eyes had struggled to focus against the amber flames. Not waiting for me to even catch my breath, he grabbed my wrists. He hoisted me up onto unsteady feet and roughly led me over to his seven foot tall mirror.

I locked eyes with my reflection and nearly fainted.

The ragged sound that escaped from my throat couldn't even be classified as mortal. My reflection was a shadow.

"What happened!?" I screamed. Had Goran not have been holding me, I would have been a pile on the floor, possibly phasing through the earth itself and hurtling to the underworld.

"I don't know! It all happened while you were thrashing around like a demon on the ground back in the shadow district!"

The muscles in my transparent body tightened as my heart palpated.

"Oh, deities!"

Goran had given me a lost look through the mirror. I moved myself so I was facing him and looked him deliriously in the eye.

"It all makes sense now! The voices, the screams, the reason why my body went to Murder Row... this was my calling!"

His face had paled as he swallowed. "Are you trying to tell me that-"

I choked on my own saliva as I sobbed. "I'm a shadow priestess."

Goran had been seated across from me in a chair. He kept clasping and unclasping his hands in his lap while he chewed on his lip. The small actions irritated me. "Can you stop?" I pleaded quietly, causing him to just about fall out of his chair in shock.

"Sorry," he moaned. Closing his eyes and falling back in the cushion chair, his head sunk into the pillow attached to the top. He then sheltered his face with his hands and groaned loudly.

"You've been called to the shadows as a priestess, I've been called to the shadows as a rogue. What's next? Desra becomes a necromancer?"

Upon hearing her name, the little tabby cat in my lap looked to her owner in disarray and meowed.

I sighed, my face also dropping into my own hands. We had looked pathetic then, sitting in the dark room, all but ready to cry. Neither of us cared then. Abrupt fright had filled me as I took note of how low the candles had melted since Goran had originally lit them. I then recalled where I was heading prior to running into him.

"What time is it?" I had hissed, prying Desra from my lap and setting her down beside me. Gor frenziedly patted his pockets for a timepiece.

"Nearly 10pm," he confirmed. I smacked myself across the brow with the heel of my palm.

I made my way to the door. "I have to go!" As I turned around to close the door, Goran's dulled eyes met with mine. He was distressed. "Look," I said softly. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." I then shut the door and made my descension to the street.

I had sprinted home. As my lungs heaved and my throat burned, my elegant home came into sight. My brain never registered what would happen when my parents saw me. All I had been troubled with was how they would penalize me for being extremely late. I tripped up the floating, spiral staircase, fumbling for my own key in the exact way Gor had done just hours prior. I prepared myself as I opened the front door. Immediately, my ears picked up the sound of silk across velvet as my mother rocketed up from the couch. However, the moment her eyes landed on my transparent body, she crumpled into a heap of elegant material on the floor.

My father must have heard the racket as he had lumbered in from the adjoined kitchen. The cautiously crafted teacup he held between his fingers was promptly on the ground, much like my mother was. It was in that instant that I had heard my father curse for the first time since I was born.

"What the fuck happened?"

He rushed towards me, stepping over my mother and picking her up off the ground before continuing to me. He gripped my shoulders and shook me like a doll.

"I don't know! I had fainted and woke up in Gor's house! He said he found me like this, laying on the street. He didn't even recognize me at first!" I forced myself to choke on a imitative sob as I wracked my mind for more things to say. "I was evidently out for over three hours. He showed me-" I began crying, "-what I had turned into as soon as I came to. I thought I was having a nightmare."

The story was of course, primarily untrue, but I wasn't about to tell my father I had been, for the most part, aware that my body was leading me to Murder Row to be transformed into some shadow creature.

He looked me dead in the eyes and swallowed. "We are going to go see High Priest Aldrae, immediately."

Part Two:

My father had been pacing fretfully in front of my seat as the High Priest studied me.

"Toreth, you know precisely what has happened to Estienne," Aldrae spoke as he looked away from me. My father eventually halted in his step long enough to face the white-haired man. I couldn't pinpoint what expression was on his face as the two men gazed each other down. Whatever it was didn't seem too good.

"You gave us the prophesy, and nothing has gone accordingly up to this point. This is the final straw," my mother had uttered exasperatedly from her seat beside me. Confusion set over me as I glanced sideways at her.

"Prophesy?" I reverberated, understanding dawning. "I was prophesied?"

Everyone was staring at me now. My had blood boiled as everything seemed to fall into place.

"Is this why I was concealed at home like a prisoner? Never allowed to leave this blasted city, not even for a walk?" I was standing then, my skin just about as hot as my ire. "I'm naught but a pawn in your little game!"

I couldn't believe it. My entire existence had been a lie. What had made me furious was that I never had any suspicions. I had trusted my parents wholeheartedly, never once doubting their decisions before that day. It was then I decided that the trust I had with my parents was lost forever.

"I can't accept this!" I had shouted furiously, staring accusingly between my mother and father. "How could you do this?" My mother's white head was bowed in shame, but my father glared back with rivalling emotion.

"You have no right to look at me like that," I had told him as I pointed an accusing finger at him, his darkened eyes provoking me further. "You are not the one who has been lied to your entire life."

My father's lips had thinned before they parted to speak. "That may be true, but I gave life to you and raised you for over a century. I have every right to look at the biggest disappointment of my existence however I choose to."

His words had stung me more than I was ever willing to express.

"Precisely," I whispered. "I was nothing but a letdown. A failure. It's good that you two only raised me and didn't do anything more than you had to, like display love or care."

My mother began to weep as the words had left my mouth. I desired to say more, but held my tongue as I waited for my father's response.

The High Priest beat him to it as he strode towards me. "Parent and child should not communicate in such ways," his rich, fluid voice called. He placed a gentle, wrinkled hand on my shoulder. It provided little comfort.

"He is dead to me," I had hissed. I saw a ting of hurt in my father's eyes but I had felt nothing but satisfaction. Good, I thought then. Feel the agony and torment of a broken heart.

"I would like to speak to Estienne in solitude. You are dismissed," Aldrae had told my parents. I didn't face either of the blood elves as the elder priest led me through a shimmering cerulean curtain to a small room. From the soaring bookshelves filled with old tomes and trinkets, and the neat, mahogany desk in the centre of the room, I presumed it was his office. Taking note of the small, oval bed tucked against a crimson wall, it seemed it was actually his private quarters.

He didn't sit, but he had offered me a seat. I courteously accepted and lowered myself onto the furrowed fabric. I splayed my hands in my lap and looked up at him expectantly. He tilted his head up to the right and circled around me to his desk, recollecting words he seemed to have not spoken in many years but could have recalled even if his life depended on it.

"Sworn to the Light, a maiden with raven hair shall be born,

flourishing with Azeroth, and with it she will warn,

of upcoming dangers that lurk in shadow,

and save a fiery soul that shall set the world aglow."

I had been baffled. Perfectly baffled. There was no uncertainty that the first line of the divination had been about me. I was clueless towards the rest.

"What does it mean?" I tried. Aldrae pulled out his chair and at last took a seat in front of me. He joined his hands and rested them on the wooden surface.

"I believe I should be asking you precisely that," he murmured softly. I attempted to swallow what little spit I had been able to produce since I was told the actuality of my existence.

"Go now, Estienne Shadowsworn. You have a fate to fulfil."

I exited the Spire on trembling feet, the hum of blood in my veins and my heart set on my task. I would leave Silvermoon City for the first time in my life, leaving everything I knew behind me. My heart had pranged with pain as I realized I would never see Goran again. I knew I would have never been able to leave if I saw the sad, sad look in his eyes, and so I left wordlessly, and never returned.

Reuploaded. I'll possibly come back to this to re-edit it for the 3rd time.