The wooden shaft of the lightweight, powerful longbow was warm and dry, rough yet smooth in the huntress's palm. It was comforting beyond words to feel the muscles in her arms tense with the buildup of power within the bowstring, to feel the familiar weight pressing upon the thin, razor arrow that she would let fly should any danger present itself to her. Kynnolia crouched, reveling in the sensations of the hunt, the burning of limbs trembling with exhaustion, the subtle aroma of the cedar arrows in her quiver, the cries of wildlife, birds and boars, wolves and bears…
The knocked arrow lifted, the bowstrings creaked and the wood flexed…
Ffwsht. The deadly missile shot through the air at such a speed, sight of it was lost until…
A dark hand raised, a ghostly aura of some pale green mist emitting from the palm, hitting the arrow and freezing it in place with a string of ice attaching the wood to metal a foot away from the gauntlet-encased flesh. Within the glistening sheath, the finely-crafted piece of ammunition began to visibly rot. Decay took the cedar, rust stole the iron, but the small, bright green feather was untouched. The feather that was diamond-shaped, transparent and appeared to be a gem rather than an actual feather. The gem of an Emerald Spirit.
Cursing wildly, the young, feisty night elf sprung to her feet and raced through the brush, leather-clad feet and hands grasping at earth and bark, hurtling the lithe creature forwards at such a speed, she might've been mistaken for a wolf. Above, expertly dodging branches and clusters of leaves, a green, diamond-feathered owl followed the elf, his violet eyes piercing and wise.
Behind, a tall figure clad entirely in dark plate mail, wielding a burning sword of Outlandish craft that was larger than a fox and would be impossible to lift for a human, followed. The fiendish being rode upon a skeletal, gruesomely disfigured gryphon, who had eyes that glowed the same icy blue as its master. The beast tore apart the forest with ease, its long, scythe-like claws shredding at bush and bramble as swiftly as the dark rider's sword sliced away low branches and vines.
The Death Knight gained quickly upon the young huntress. With a terrifying screech, the owl plummeted downwards, talons raking at the helm of the figure and beak clicking just inches from the skeletal gryphon's eyes and ears. The glowing, overshadowed orbs that resided beneath the dark, crested helm turned to face the emerald bird's angular, violet ones, and a voice whispered incoherent words. The bird fluttered wildly in shock at the Knight's promise, even more so because she spoke in a tone the spirit owl knew…
"Stone," the elf said from beneath the helm. "It's me, Stone. I swear."
Stone the Spirit Owl turned, shooting back towards his master at a breakneck pace.
Huntress, the Spirit said, wings aflutter as his talons dug forcefully into the thick padding covering Kynnolia's shoulders.
"What are you doing?" the elf hissed, alarmed. "That thing is right behind us! Let go, Stone! Stone!"
At that very moment, ten feet away from the huntress, the Death Knight flung herself from her deadly steed, with a quick cry of "Halt, Eboniss!" in a chilling, echoing voice that was a shell of its former rich, soft timbre…
Kynnolia froze, her blood turning to ice and her skin crawling at the ghostly imitation that was so familiar.
The night elf woman, moving in a lithe and powerful stride despite her heavy, dark steel armor and sheathing the wicked, demonic blade in a strap resting in between her shoulderblades, reached out and grasped the huntress's wrist.
"Iche nu, d'ahl Diel, Sister," she whispered, releasing the quaking youth's arm and hanging her head as though ashamed.
"It can't be," mumbled Kynnolia after a moment of silent disbelief. "Tell me it isn't so."
The Death Knight removed her helm, and the huntress gasped.
Her face was pale, paler than usual, and her elven Markings had turned a sickly, mottled beige outlined in blood red. Her frosty white eyes had darkened to an acidic sky blue, like the flames that burned within the eyes of her gryphon, and her cheeks were hollow, with sharply defined cheekbones and creases near her now-bloodless lips that weren't there when she had lived with Kynnolia. But the worst change that had taken place was her hair. No longer did she have straight, perfect locks of pure, lustrous blue, but lank, sickly strands of pink-tinged white, like rotten flesh.
Tears formed in Kynnolia's eyes, and her lips trembled. "O Sister of mine, what have they done to you?"
A small, humorless smile that only added to the grotesque, unwholesome, diseased-looking transformation of her flesh appeared upon her mouth. "I know not, even now… after so long of being lost and alone in a world of death and decay."
Unwillingly, yet knowing it was necessary, the huntress slid a long, ornate dagger from a studded leather hilt by her waist. "What is it he wants me for, Death Knight? Are you sent to destroy me, or is this some personal venture to gain moral strength?"
"I," she said, stepping back and holding a fist to her breastplate, "am no longer enslaved by this monstrosity we call the Lich King. Arthas has no hold over me, and I am, as I once was, Kynnsaythe. I may no longer be a Priest of the Light, nor a Servant of Elune, yet my mind is whole and untarnished by evil as my body may be. You may not feel fit to trust my word, as I would not doubt you for feeling so. However, know this, Sister-ever since my soul has been freed, ever since I gained the power of my own will, I have been searching for you. You were the first and last one I've ever grown to love. Mother was dead, Father only had eyes for… Kynnyin, and my eldest sibling was…"
"A fatheaded, pride-drunk, pompous, arrogant ass," Kynnolia interrupted, a smile flickering across her face.
Kynnsaythe the Death Knight night elf froze, mouth agape as she stared at her long-lost little sister for almost an entire minute in shock, and suddenly, she laughed.
And as frosty and cruel the deformed voice was, beneath it resided a warm, grateful, and endlessly relieved feeling that reached Kynnolia's long, tapered ears and allowed her to accept this wonderful revelation, for before she would not let herself believe such happiness in case it was false, for fear that her heart could not withstand such a feeling being torn from her again.
The two embraced, Stone crying happily above and flapping about with such intensity that once he managed to somehow "trip" over his own wings.
Huntress! he bellowed mentally, emotions so powerful and joyous he could not be human, for no mortal has the potential for such range in feeling. Priestess!
Kynnsaythe looked up at the glorious form of the beautiful, gem-encrusted being above them, and a cold, happy tear rolled down her cheek, traversing the mottled Marking that resided there and falling upon the dark metal over her chest, glimmering like a precious shard of diamond.
Sister.
After so long, I have found you again…