I'm not going to lie,writing this story is getting harder and harder for me. But I promise, I WILL finish it, though it might take longer than I thought. Not only have I lost faith in Blizzard, I might be developing a writer's block with this story only. But like I said before, I will finish it, and that's final. However, I've decided to delete my other WoW story, "My guardian angel", until I've gotten more interest in it again.

This part of the story is very depressing... so I listened to Heavy Rain soundtrack just to get me in the mood...Q.Q

Chapter X: Blood and tears

There was nothing but silence.

There was no mother to hold her and tell her that it was all just a bad dream. There was no uncles to urge her on. No brother to protect...

Sylvanas had failed the duty most sacred to her heart. Even though she had fought until every last orc she set her eyes on lay dead at her feet; despite that she had helped secured a future for her home; it had all been for nothing.

The sorrow tore at her heart, as did the screams from around her tear at her mind. Alleria and her squad had arrived but a few hours ago, yet it seemed an eternity had passed since her sister had gone to see their mother's body. She could not recall how long she'd been screaming and crying in there, as if trying to put the blame on someone, something, as to try and make the pain go away.

Such thinking was foolish. This was reality.

The loud voices from the hospice lounge quieted down, only slightly, and Sylvanas slowly looked up from her folded arms. Family members and friends of all variants had gathered in the hallway to participate in the first stage of mourning. Some stood, stiff and blank along the walls - other had thrown themselves down on a sofa or chair where they buried their puffy faces in hands and shoulders. Alleria's attendant, Verana, stared off to the lounge door with a concern she did not try to hide. Her little Vereesa, the poor thing, seemed to have fallen asleep crying, head resting in the lap of her aunt. Her brothers each sat next to her on the sofa, tears slowly running down their cheeks. Or, the two that remained...

Sylvanas felt the tears boil up inside of her again, as the doors flung open with a slam. Alleria's golden hair stuck to her face in wet stripes, worn by the fast ride from the Alliance Camp. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, giving her a wild and ragged look. Without another word she marched out of the room, into the hallway and not a second later, Sylvanas heard the front door close behind her. Verana followed close after, giving the silent Windrunners an apologetic nod as she left.

The second sister stared up into the ceiling, fighting to keep her tears back. Her family was broken, and she doubted things would ever return normal, for she'd never get over their deaths. She was exhausted, worn, in despair. She wanted to go hunt for those bloody orcs who had torn her life to shreds. She wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep, to know she'd wake up from a horrible, horrible nightmare. Biting her lip, she slowly shook her head.

She felt a soft hand to her shoulder, recognizing the mild scent of her big brother. Ísen spoke quietly, almost in a whisper as if not to disturb the aura of mourning. Still, she caught the quiver of his voice. "Let's go home."

"I will not leave them here," was her stiff reply, referring to those who would never wake.

Ísen knew. He squeezed her shoulder for a moment. "I'll take Urondil and Vereesa back. If you... please, try to sleep, sister." His grip faded.

Sylvanas did not move from her position. A while later, she saw Urondil holding the exit door open for his brother, carrying Vereesa in his arms. Tears burned at her eyes as she saw the young girl sob in her sleep.

She clenched her fists. No. She would not leave her family.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Although it seemed unlikely, the day passed and nightfall started to creep upon the torn village. Buildings stood broken and damaged of fire, some trees and plants had suffered such injury from the ongoing battle that they'd most likely never recover, but at least the streets were cleared from bodies.

All fallen quel'dorei were waiting for a proper, honoured funeral, as soon as the body count was complete. Ísen would never forget that one glimpse he got of his murdered brother's face; bloody, eyes open, damaged. At least his mother had been given a somewhat pain-free death. From what he'd been told, she had fallen down the manor stairs while trying to escape the orcs which invaded their home. The mutilation they had caused her body had not been done 'til after her heartbeat stopped. He was unsure of how to feel about that. All he knew was that those monsters got what they deserved - now their bodies would burn and rot, far away from the thalassian border.

As he moved through the rubble of his fallen childhood home, he caught his friend, the ranger Halduron, trying to raise a stone memento that had fallen over. He struggled with his task, sweat smudging out the dirt on his skin. Ísen hurried over, relieving him partially of his burden. As soon as the bright-haired elf noticed the identity of his assistant, he softened.

"Ísen, please, let me take care of it..."

"No, I want to help." The oldest Windrunner child avoided the other man's gaze as he hoisted up the memento. Anything to keep it off of his mind. Halduron said nothing. They continued their work in the same grateful silence. Ísen appreciated that Halduron did nothing to show sympathy; surely he understood. After all, he like had lost loved ones too, just like any other quel'dorei.

By the time they finished their day's work, the two moons had slowly crept upon the night-clad sky. The last remnants of a crimson dusk lingered by the horizon, blowing a haunting breeze through Ísen's body.

Halduron looked at him thoughtfully. "Are you alright?" Perhaps he had thought him to be on the verge of tears.

Ísen shook his head. "Yes, yes I am. I merely..." His voice trailed off. The sound of hooves echoed through the dark and shattered village, and in a matter of seconds, the both young men could spot a ghostly white shape riding towards them in a quick pace. It didn't take long for the Windrunner son to recognize the rider. Not a ghost. At least, not a white one.

She was covered from head to toe in what could only be blood, eyes aflame. Her long blond hair fluttered behind her like a curtain. T he seen was haunting, and Ísen shivered. Of cold or fright, he could not tell.

"Alleria..." he whispered. Whether it was to call her, or to try and tell himself that she was indeed his sister, he was unsure as well. Nevertheless, she paid him not with a glance. She urged her mount onwards, her face stiff and covered in red and water.

Not thinking, Ísen ran after her. There was no telling what was on her mind, but he was worried. She was not herself. Not Alleria. About halfway through the village, she suddenly dismounted, and Ísen slowed down. She let the reins the mare fall as she proceeded by foot, a slight stagger in her walk, he noticed. He clenched his jaw and caught up with her.

"Sister!" he called. She did not flinch, and so he called again, grabbing her by the shoulder. Alleria looked grimly in his eyes. It was not until then, seeing her up close, that Ísen noticed that the blood which covered her body was not her own. "Alleria?"

"There's a mess to clean up, Ísen," she growled. She drew a deep breath between her gritted teeth, eyes staring at something he could not see. "A rotten, filthy mess."

She swatted his hand away and continued towards their home. A broken home.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Vereesa awoke with a sob. The image of Alleria's blood-soaked visage would never stop haunting her mind, and it kept her from her sleep. She, herself, was drenched in sweat and tears blurred her eyesight. Just sitting up hurt, her mind as well as her body. The memories would blur together, the horrific images... Lirath's dead body, father's crying, Alleria's flaring eyes...

She slowly swung her legs over the bed's edge, resting her head in her hands. It all felt so very hopeless. There was no need to even go on, was there? Because there was no one, nothing, that would make everything alright again.

Outside, it rained.