BEYOND THE SETTING SUN

A Warcraft fanfic by Alfbie

Disclaimer: Based off the characters and events of the Warcraft universe, copywrite by Blizzard Entertainment and affiliates. I make no profit from this story.

Before You Read: Every chapter is written in the first-person point of view. However, the narrator will not be the same for every chapter, to exercise the essence of Warcraft - tension built upon misunderstanding. The narrator of each chapter will be identified, except for the prologue, in which that narrator is purposely left anonymous.

~~ BOOK ONE ~~

Prologue - Glimpse of Nightmare

18 months after the fall of Quel'Thalas to the Scourge...

I hated myself, hated anything and everything that was sin'dorei. If only I could control my addiction, little Linese would still be alive now. Ostus would still be my best friend. I'd probably be running my restaurant. I'd be blissfully oblivious to our pretentious society, just as blind and ignorant as the rest of them. What I wouldn't give to have that.

Instead I was a mana addict, a murderer and a coward. People like me deserved to die. I continued to sob ruefully, bitterly, into the moist earth and the sweet-smelling grass, knowing that I needed nothing more than to return to Silvermoon City, to allow anyone there to tear me limb from limb, to let Ostus finish me off in any cruel, deserving way he could think of. Whatever he needed to do to lessen his pain, ease his sorrow.

Where was I, anyway? A quick look around confirmed that I was still in Silvermoon, though in an area of our vast city that had yet to be restored. This area still captured the time of the third war, buildings now piles of rubble, thrashed items strewn everywhere. No one had lived here for a while now, the place devoid of all life. I noticed an unpleasant musty-sweet smell then, like something rotting. A quick glance in front of me determined that the smell was from a large puddle, almost a pond, long gone stagnant. I had almost fallen into it.

Ignoring the stench, I scooted closer to the foul water, gritting my teeth against the pain shooting in all directions though my body from my numerous injuries, leaning precariously over the water to glimpse my reflection. My tear-reddened eyes widened as I studied myself. Pale-white skin stretched over a narrowed face, thinned to a sickly frame from my weight loss. My tussled hair, streaked in blood, hung in large clumps to my skull, bits of it missing. I hadn't realized I had lost so much already. My eyes were still a fierce fel-green shade, a color I'd come to loathe, heavy purple bags hanging under them as though I had never known sleep. I missed the bright blue glow of quel'dorei eyes, that all of us elves once possessed.

Was this what a Wretched looked like? I had never seen one myself, only hearing about the outcasts of our society through rumors and gossip. I barely recognized myself, a new wave of sadness washing over me. So this is what I had become – a monster, both by appearance and by action. I would surely die as such.

"Another one joins our ranks."

I gasped, not realizing there was anyone nearby. I had gotten used to sensing people before even seeing them through feel of their magical energies. Why didn't I sense this?

I whirled around, coming face to face with what I at first thought was a true monster. Sunken eyes glowing a hollow shade of blue stared intently at me, framed by a grin lined in jagged, rotting teeth, skin as white as the moon. He or she – I couldn't tell – hunched over, me, something green and glowing that I couldn't quite make out protruding from its back. It fidgeted almost constantly, in tiny, jerky motions, eyes occasionally darting about, fingers twitching, feet shuffling as though ready to break into a run at any moment. The elongated ears and slight frame gave this creature away as an elf; I realized at once that I was looking upon a Wretched.

"They always come here crying," came another voice behind me and I turned my head to see another approach. They moved so silently amongst the debris despite their fidgeting, like phantoms in this forgotten, ravished piece of our city's past. Both wore grime-stained, tattered clothes, as though they had hadn't changed or washed in years. The awful stench permeating from both of them was proof of this.

"I'm not one of you," I found myself replying in a whisper, though I knew I was every bit a part of them. I had killed for my addiction, succumbed to my cravings, allowed my slavery to magic to consume me. Though I knew I belonged here, I could not resign myself to live with such filth. I showed remorse for what I had done, regret, and I wished whole-heartedly to find a way never to do what I did again. Surely that set me apart from the others, didn't it?

The first one laughed, the sound bitter and empty in my ears. "We are all the same – you, me, even them." It emphasized with a jerk of the head towards the direction of the rebuilt, civilized Silvermoon, where those that had yet to succumb to their darkness resided. "They just have yet to realize this."

"But they'll all come around in time," the second one drawled with a sinister, crooked grin. "Our numbers grow every day as more and more of them finally embrace what being sin'dorei truly is. They cling to their old quel'dorei habits, thinking that they are different somehow, but they have yet to truly evolve, to truly become. Accept your fate – you're one of us now, a true blood elf."

"Not quite yet." This voice was new, right next to me. I jumped, turned my head, almost colliding noses with this new Wretched, it was so close to me. I could feel its breath on my skin, smell its gut-turning stench as it leaned towards me. I cringed away, but this Wretched pressed forward, eyeing me intently…hungrily. "This one hasn't completely turned yet."

"Come off it," muttered the first one, "you know they don't have to look entirely like us to be completely turned. That's just the end result."

"Ah, but this one…" it paused to grin at me, a predatory hunger in its gaze. I realized at once that I was the prey here instead of the involuntary predator. And I was also surrounded. "…this one still has a little untainted magic flowing through his body. His mana flow has not yet grown completely corrupt, completely inconsumable like ours."

The others stopped their constant, nervous fidgeting, all eyes on me, analyzing me.

I swallowed, a new kind of panic beginning to rise. These beings would certainly kill me if I stayed here too long. But how was I to escape them? My eyes quickly scanned the area for anything I could use as a weapon. My father had been a sword smith – I was well-trained in the art of wielding blades of all sorts. The art of it only, for I had only ever used my skills to demonstrate how various blades could be handled – a sword dancer, of sorts. I had never actually been in combat, had never hurt anyone in such a manner. How would I fare defending myself from these creatures? But of course there was nothing sharp conveniently within my grasp.

Why would I even want to make the effort to save myself anyway? I deserved to die after what I had done – let these Wretched kill me as they drained what magical energies I had left within me.

Perhaps I hadn't made my loved ones suffer enough. Perhaps I had not done enough despicable evil in this world. Whatever the reason, my instinct for self preservation was too strong for me to ignore; I could not even bear the thought of allowing these creatures to snuff me out, let alone actually doing it. I hated myself for it – no better than any other cowardly criminal.

They all looked at me now with the same starved longing the third Wretched did, and I knew that my time was rushing to a very abrupt end if I did not do something soon.

"You're right," the first Wretched murmured, licking its lips, the sickening sound turning my stomach. "I can see it now, if barely, what's left of his untainted mana. This one hasn't completely turned yet."

"I wonder how long his energy can numb the pain," the second one rasped eagerly, and the other two chuckled in response. They all tensed their bodies at once, crouched to spring, fidgeting bodies suddenly morphed to still, coiled, focused killing instruments.

Fear took a choke-hold on my mind, giving away to instinct, and I acted, kicking the debris I had tripped over as hard as I could towards the first Wretched. I did not wait to see if the kick had connected, instead whirling around, moving forward even as I scrambled to my feet.

I could feel hands grabbing at me, claws digging into my skin, but I literally tore through somehow, ignoring the stinging pain against my skin as I broke through the snarling mob. I took off in a dead run, hearing their angry growls and desperate cries just behind me, feeling the thundering of their feet beneath my boots. I did not dare look back, did not dare think as I pushed forward.

I had expected their moves to be more animalistic; I expected to be outrun at once, surrounded and pounced upon like a pitiful human hunted by some horrifying beast of myth, but these Wretched didn't seem to move any faster or better than I did, frantic to gain as much ground as I was.

I didn't fare well to begin with, occasionally stumbling over debris of some sort, feeling the lash of claws as they tried to capture me. Still, I did not stop, my fear pumping adrenaline through me, fueling my body to push forward, my new temporary high. Admittedly it did offer a bit of relief against the Sunwell withdrawals, my mind and body too occupied with my current situation to dwell on the pain of my everlasting addiction. I welcomed this relief, embraced it like a hawk soaring through an unblemished sky as I ran ever onward. I hoped to never stop, to never let this new high end, even though raw fear tainted it, even though my lungs burned, my legs ached, and every injury on my body stung like a thousand red-hot needles pricking my skin.

The uneven ground of a ruined Silvermoon soon gave way to rolling hills, grass beneath my feet, dark shadows of trees cris-crossing what the moon could not cover. Still the wretched pursued me, so desperate for even the tiniest mana hit. Their noises did not cease, and it did not seem to slow them down either.

I didn't feel tired – the fear exhilarated my mind, but my body must have been otherwise, betraying me as I tripped over a rock. I hardly noticed the pain, a light flash of light against my vision, barely felt the crack as I broke my foot against it, the ground rushing up to meet my face.

I twisted my body to cushion my fall and cried out, painfully realizing that the piece of glass that I had fallen onto when escaping Ostus was still imbedded into my arm as I skidded roughly across the dirt on my shoulder, feeling the glass slice down my arm from the force of my fall. I barely had time to register this new, intense pain, did not have time to move in reaction to it before the Wretched were on me at once, like piranhas to meat. The weight of their bodies as they tackled me took my breath away. All I could hear was snarling, panting, lashing teeth. I could feel them tug at my limbs, feel their fingers dig into the flesh of my shoulders, my back. I writhed uselessly against them, but they had me pinned face-down into the dirt. At least I wouldn't see their faces as they killed me.

A strange new pain came over me. Iit felt as though my blood were acid eating away at my body- bone, then flesh, then skin, to finally dissipate into calm night breeze. My involuntary scream filled the air, this sensation intensifying the pain of my withdrawals a hundred fold. I never fathomed that the pain that I once thought unbearable could actually get worse, my vision reddening and blotched with stars, all my other senses shut down save for the feel of this monstrous pain. That was when I realized that these Wretched were mana-tapping me. I continued to scream, fighting hard now like a fish in the jaws of a bear, knowing in despair that this was what little Linese must have felt in her last moments of life. This was the pain I must have inflicted upon her. I stopped struggling then, wanting to also stop my screaming but I couldn't, allowing these creatures to devour my despicable soul.

This was it, this was my end. I found myself strangely unafraid of it at that moment. Would Ostus eventually find my body? Would it give him some sort of closure, some sort of peace to see his daughter's killer dead? Would a funeral be held for me or would they just dump my body somewhere? Who would mourn my death? Anyone? No one? Faces flashed across my mind. Among them, Ostus, his face whole and unscarred, grinning goofily at me. Sylann, my first love and colleague, rolling her eyes at me as she always did, stress written on her face as it always was, but the corners of her mouth lifted in a slight smile. Katlayna, her thoughtful expression, large, bright smile, the gentle blush that always colored her cheeks. Would I still be with her now if I had decided to accompany her to Stormwind a year and a half ago? I would have avoided the Scourge invasion on Quel'Thalas entirely, would maybe still be a high elf, with her, happy.

I could feel my consciousness begin to slip, witnessing now my last seconds of life - the unrelenting pain and the memory of Katlayna's sweet smile that I would never see again...