Warning for lots of info! There's a safe repository on Ao3 with a full extract of a book mentioned in this chapter, called Starsurge: Codex (as well as fanart! :D)
Feel free to check over there as well, if you wish.
Darnassian:
Arane: A curse or expletive. Figurative translation for "nightmare/s".
Izal-Shurah: A library, publicly mentioned as "The greatest library of Suramar".
Calendar: Embrace (Joining of Elune and The Child): (1:500). Current year: 30:2. (Check author's note for more information).
Stormrage
It had been exactly three weeks after the Moon Festival when the only feeling that threatens to tear off his throat is pure, unadulterated laughter—just laugh at the irony of it all and laugh it out loud, uncaring of anyone who may hear him.
Illidan is quite aware of his fame, yet who'd have said it? This time, for real, the beguiler had become the beguiled.
Syrana had already spilled her whole glass of Nightpear Cider when he'd summarized her the events of that night—one-quarter apologizing and feeling sorry for his misfortunes, three-quarters cackling and barely crying with laughter at the almost unbelievable events he endured.
Then, after the serious talk, buried under the couches of his small house, he and his friend spent the rest of the night undergoing the really serious talk. The kind of "… and then, the woman I was trying to court ends up to be a Highborne" talk—and they both ended up spilling their too many drinks at that point, but Illidan would never admit that to anybody.
Still, it'd been definitely a joke. That beautiful, long-haired, Moonberry wine devotee, amazing dancing partner, with the most mesmerizing silver eyes he had ever seen… a Highborne—a Stareye, of all Houses in Suramar.
Was that for real? Mylenne arane Stareye. It must have been a joke.
"Ooh, you have it sooooo bad, Lid…" Syra had spurted on the couch of his house, almost falling down to the floor and barely keeping herself from laughing louder. She had exploded either way after taking a single look at him. "Just look at your face! Ha! You've fallen soooo hard," She insisted, her words slurring.
"I don't fall for anything or anyone," He had complained, setting his best irritated face at her—a little difficult task after so many drinks.
Yet she only had dismissed his grumbling with a flick of her hand, threatening her balance in the process. "How does it feel to get your tricks back at you?" She teased, sending a knowing look at him, "Oh, but you liked it. Better yet, you loooooved it! I bet you can't stop thinking about her now…"
At the time, he'd refrained from answering, pretending to be busy with finishing his drink. But, who was he lying to? He hadn't stopped thinking about her—and two weeks later, he certainly must admit that he can't stop either way.
How long is it since he had been in so much trouble?
It is so, as Illidan spends the rest of his night at the armory—offering to take up Lothrius' duty of weapon cleaning too eagerly for his officer's suspicion—he chooses to ponder over the last events once more, this time with more than the fair quote of self-honesty.
As he picks the cleanest rag and takes the closest two blades to place over his lap, the man first takes some minutes to enjoy the solitude of the room. For the last couple of weeks, he had been self-indulging in many of his personal pleasures in some petty attempt to recover some control of his own disturbed mind—or perhaps to only fix the cracks of that hard wall of arrogance he'd worked so much in building, protecting him from any further disappointment.
He had been drinking too much, working too much, walking too much, even spent three nights sleeping with Syrana—only sharing a bed, though, for he'd been less than willing to add more problems to his already long list, but the feeling of a warm, female body next to him had helped for a bit—and still he couldn't stop his mind from racing.
Even when Illidan made sure of keeping himself busy, surrounding himself with people, filling his hands with books, swords, hard spells and bottles of Cider, then the picture of that woman had started to assault his dreams, the sound of her musical laughter following him everywhere he went.
Yet, his brain is surely exaggerating, isn't it? He couldn't be developing a certain obsession with Mylenne; that couldn't be right, not when they had… how many? Four encounters? And that if he doesn't count two of them being merely by accident.
You'd been interested in other females with half an encounter, Stormrage, and don't remember half the faces and names from the ones you bedded with. I'd say that's more than your fair share for this one, the mocking voice of his conscience remarks for him—almost as if it scolds him for allowing himself a moment of self-doubt.
Illidan indulges himself a blank minute by picking some more oil and a cleaner rag, then takes care of the next sword, watching how—below the layers of dirt—a pale silver color starts to show over the blade. He blinks twice, a pensive hum escaping his mouth as he frowns deep in thought.
Exactly, the inside voice returns, that's what you need to do: Get to the bottom of this. You can't assume anything about her when you don't even know a quarter of it.
That's how, an hour and a half later, he reports to Officer Hargo'then and gets free for the rest of the night, climbing the stairs two steps at the time to reach the dressing room and find Syrana. The silver hood that hangs next to Lothrius' training armor gets to be enough of a message for Illidan to not disturb his friends at the moment, anyway. So, he takes off his dirty shirt and wears his off-duty robes in record time, arranging his ponytail hastily on his way out of the Stronghold, too entrenched in his thoughts to be able to say farewell to the men and women that get in his way.
Figuring that Syrana wouldn't mind, he takes off his silver crescent moon necklace, leaving it hanging where the reins of Syrana's saber used to be, mounting atop the dark-furred beast and going at full gallop to the streets, his destination clear.
The tall alabaster columns surrounding Izal-Shurah can be seen from several streets away before arriving—half an hour later—right before the wide silver gates of the building. As he dismounts with practiced ease and ties the saber's reins around the closest tree, the sun is close to rising when Illidan enters to the library, walking past quiet hallways and beginning his search.
With warm candles floating around the place, he finds the History sector on the second floor of the building, fingers brushing the books placed by alphabetical and Embrace order on the wooden shelves. Five minutes later, he finds the book he's looking for, using two fingers to extract the large tome off the shelf. Over the dark-leathered surface and written with white ink, it reads: 'Lineages: The Houses of Suramar, Tome 3 (Embrace 20-30)', by Lorekeeper Kildrath.
After taking a seat Illidan's fingers dance in the air, the soft purplish mist of magic enveloping his hand as he scrolls through the pages of the big tome. Lots of House names are shown before him while he keeps scrolling; Shadowsong, Silversky, Springblade, Staghelm, Stardawn… and there, he finally finds it, fingers roaming over the page 264.
"House Stareye: Formed around 15:4 with the union of Hethaes of House Nighteye (from Then'Ralore) and Eradris of House Starsong (from Suramar). See Tome 2 for more information."
Illidan turns over the page, not quite interested in the chronological events of the House just yet—there aren't many remarkable events after all, as for having only one generation of kaldorei with noteworthy significance.
"Sigil: A violet eye with a three-pointed silver star. (Originally: A four-pointed star, its north point in golden. Remade by Lord Desdel Stareye around 27:5).
Markings: Two vertical violet stripes, from forehead to cheek, curved inwards."
A snort escapes Illidan's lips, not believing his stupidity for missing the obvious clue of Mylenne's face markings. And while it's true that any kaldorei caste is allowed to wear markings, it'd always been quite easy to notice the ones belonging to noble families—as for them having brighter and more elegant lines painted over their faces, more of a work of art rather than a simple distinction.
Omitting unimportant members of the House, his fingers trace the page 266, a known name catching his eye.
"Silgryn Stareye: Date of birth: 20:2 (midnight) in Suramar. Dark-violet hair, silver eyes. Firstborn son of Seldron (formerly of House Fogmane) and Laenia.
Title: 'The Wandering Star'.
Presented first signs of magic at childhood, first pursued studies in Enchanting, then graduated from the University of Suramar in 21:7 with honors in Ancient History."
The picture of a young man with violet hair—long and past his shoulders, almost in a similar fashion to Illidan's own—adorns the corner of the page, a surprised hum escaping his lips. He hasn't figured for Silgryn having close to five thousand years old.
"… Both Stareye siblings became famous for their beauty and well-known to be inseparable, although unlike his younger sister, Silgryn remained unmarried. After Aedriel's marriage in 25:3, Silgryn abandoned his post of Archivist to travel around the world.
His current whereabouts are unknown, yet presumed alive."
He taps the page absentmindedly, brows furrowing in thought. "Well, that's interesting…" He mumbles to himself, quickly scrolling the pages to find the notes about Silgryn's sister. Something about the vague mentions of her from the man gives Illidan an odd hunch, feeling close to finding the answers he's looking for.
"Aedriel Stareye: Date of birth: 20:6 (sunrise) in Suramar. Violet hair, golden eyes. Daughter of Seldron (formerly of House Fogmane) and Laenia.
Title: 'The Golden Star'.
Presented first signs of magic after birth, graduated prematurely from the Nar'thalas Academy in 21:8, with the highest degree in Arcane Manipulation.
Aedriel first followed a career under the Moon Guard order, becoming the youngest Conjurer in Suramar (with 1600 years old), resulting in her promotion to Arcanist. Famous for her beauty as well as for being one of the greatest sorcerers of her era, Aedriel joined the Grand Magistrix's court of Advisors in 24:1, achieving the highest position of power and nobility status for House Stareye and therefore, dozens of marriage proposals."
Illidan barely throws the book away with the shock that overcomes him, wide-eyed and a fist covering his mouth, keeping him from disturbing the silence. Every single kaldorei in Suramar—or, at least, everyone that knows a thing or two about the Highborne—have heard of that name.
And he's included, of course, as for Advisor Aedriel still being one of the most outstanding sorcerers of all times, a very symbol of his own order. Even Magister Phaedris' skills—the current leader of the Moon Guard—are insignificant in comparison to that famous woman.
After recovering some of his composure, he keeps scrolling the pages, not bothering to read the long list of Aedriel's achievements and spell creations—Illidan knows most of them anyway and, ten Embraces later, all her arcane spells are still used, himself included on the list of sorcerers which attempted to improve and enhance them over time.
"… Previously engaged to Duke Ran'thos of the Great House of Lunastre, Aedriel annulled her betrothal to instead marry Desdel of House Blackoak (from Kal'delar) in 25:3."
Illidan spends some time pondering about what he just read, too many questions assaulting his mind. So, was she supposed to be a Duchess? He can understand how Aedriel canceled her betrothal—only someone quite close to the Grand Magistrix' inner circle could be able to request for such a bold thing as that, and Aedriel indeed was one—but the real question was why?
Highborne Lords and Ladies have arranged their marriages ever since 5:1—if Illidan could recall correctly, that is—and that have been the normal procedure for millennia; it's not actually a proper law but the usual way to keep and maintain their noble caste. Also, it had been the perfect way to produce children high or average-skilled in magic, but with magic within them regardless.
So, with that regard, could that be that Aedriel married Mylenne's father because she simply… loved him? But then, how such a remarkable woman as her could hold any dear sentiment towards an infamous man as Desdel Stareye?
It results that, as Illidan turns to the next page, a last line from the book reminds him that—at least for public records—it had been entirely the opposite.
"After a report from her husband of an assassination attempt on him and their daughter Mylenne, Aedriel got stripped away from her magic and banished from Suramar around 27:2. Her current whereabouts are unknown, yet presumed deceased."
Illidan sighs heavily, looking at anywhere in particular and deep into his thoughts. He'd heard and read about the tragic fall of Aedriel Stareye—everyone had. About how rooted and strong had been the arcane within her that, ultimately, it had driven her utterly insane; her magic reaching such powerful levels and becoming wild, uncontrollable, corrupting her mind and destroying all that she had been before.
Some people have said that her corruption started when Aedriel got pregnant, some others when her brother left her side. From the Sisterhood, a certain number of Priestesses claimed that it had been the Goddess' punishment to Aedriel for going against of what she had always been destined for—to become a Duchess, allowing her bloodline to ensure sons and daughters of the higher caste as possible and, perhaps, one of them resulting in a Prince or Princess.
An odd image takes form in Illidan's mind, for—if agreeing with that claim—in another life, then Mylenne would have been a Princess.
All in a sudden, the most perfect picture of her flashes before his eyes: Mylenne wearing an alabaster gown, fitting into it like a second skin, her impossibly long violet hair waving with the soft caress of the wind, decorated with delicate multicolored jewelry. An embellished silver diadem adorning her head, the color matching her stunning eyes—eyes which could only smile at him, two bright silver orbs shining like beacons…
A longing sigh escapes Illidan's lips, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart. He seriously needs to stop fantasizing about her—she couldn't be any more attractive for him either way, fantasy or not. Yet he still needs to stop, at the very least for his own sanity, it's already enough to have the woman haunting his dreams for him to evoke her when he's awake.
However, now that he ponders about it, Illidan realizes he's getting more questions than the answers he'd been looking for when he arrived at Izal-Shurah. Running a tired hand over his face, he focuses on the tome once more.
"Desdel Stareye (formerly Blackoak): Date of birth: 20:8 (nightfall) in Kal'delar. Midnight black hair, silver eyes. Son of Thedras (formerly of House Springblade) and Tysha. See 'Lineages: The Houses of Val'sharah, Tome 2' for more information.
Title (granted after marriage): 'The Nightsaber'.
Born with no signs of magic, little records are shown for Desdel except for his initiation in the Black Rook order, around 23:9…"
No new information, there—perhaps the knowledge of his Highborne title, but certainly nothing of interest for him. But then, his finger twitches as he stops, pointing at a very particular line.
"… Desdel and Aedriel amassed a great amount of fame and wealth before the birth of their only daughter, Mylenne, in 26:2. When presumed dead after the Raid of Kal'delar (See 'Wars and battles of the kaldorei empire' by Lorekeeper Javon, for more information), Desdel later survived an assassination attempt on him and his daughter around 27:2. He reported Aedriel as the responsible, resulting in the banishment of his wife."
Something about the whole ordeal feels pretty wrong for Illidan. At first, the idea of Aedriel losing control of her magic by only getting pregnant—he's no healer, that's for sure, but pregnancy it's certainly not a disease or a curse; if anything, and given the low pregnancy rate for kaldorei, it's a blessing—sounds quite unbelievable.
And then, it's almost hurtful to think for someone to reach so far, to have such a brilliant career… only to fall harder in disgrace.
Besides, he can't miss Desdel's mysterious appearance on Aedriel's life. From Kal'delar to Val'sharah, traveling to Suramar and meeting the Golden Star—a warrior, an unknown from a low caste and from a distant village, suddenly coming to one of the greatest Highborne cities and having the opportunity to meet the right hand of the Grand Magistrix.
At any rate, it's a very curious encounter and, as for Illidan having some knowledge of Lord Stareye infamous nature, one pretty hard to believe it real.
But as the first sun rays creep through a high window and some movement is heard from the floor below, Illidan realizes he's running out of time and the library is about to close its doors for the night. So, he scrolls over the pages, omitting some events from Lord Stareye he's definitely not interested to read, getting to that precise page he'd been looking for since he started reading that book.
"Mylenne Stareye: Date of birth: 26:2 (sunrise) in Suramar. Violet hair, silver eyes. Daughter of Desdel (formerly of House Blackoak) and Aedriel.
Title: 'The Violet Star'.
Born with no signs of magic, first pursued studies in Astronomy, then graduated from the University of Suramar in 27:4…"
He goes through the last line three times before really understand what's written on that page. "This is a mistake. It must be…" Illidan muses to himself, astonished and wide-eyed.
'No signs of magic'? Mylenne's the first woman he had ever met with arcane energy almost pouring out of her skin! He'd ever seen her casting a spell to cut a chunk of her hair the first time he saw her.
The text doesn't have any sense for him. Or could it be that she developed her magic at a later age? Otherwise, the description gets to be completely inaccurate.
"… In between 27:5 and 29:0, Mylenne turned literate in the arts of hunting, local fauna and religious studies of the Moon. Her knowledge and passion for star charts also earned her a mention in 'Astral Encyclopedia, Volume 3', written by Star Augur Etraeus.
Mylenne currently resides at the Stareye Manor, undergoing negotiations to a possible initiation into the Sisterhood of Elune."
From his periphery, Illidan notices some of the candles flickering off and a couple of abandoned books close to where he sits starting to float, drifting away with soft purplish mists on their way to their previous places on the shelves.
All in a sudden, the tome of 'Lineages…' flies away from his hands, eliciting a startled gasp out of him. "Alright, alright, I'm going," Illidan grunts as he gets up, growing more irritated within each second passing. For a mere moment, he wants to snatch the book back—library's rules be damned—and take it to his home for a reread. Maybe if he only duplicates the pages he needs, hiding them under his traveling coat…
But he had just run out of time, dark curtains pulled over the high windows and candles lit off, the floor enclosing in darkness in no time. Grunting under his breath, Illidan only can climb down the stairs in a rush and stride outside before the library closes its doors for the night.
Feeling more frustrated and useless than earlier, he climbs to the saber, galloping to Syrana's house without giving it too much thought. He seriously needs to vent... and probably drink himself into a stupor.
Five weeks later.
Illidan shuts close his locker door with a little more force than necessary, jaw tightening and sharp teeth clenching. "… 'Fine'? Just fine?" He sneers, trying his best to recollect himself and not to snap in the next moment. "Really? That's all you have to say? Fine?"
"Whoa, whoa, Stormrage! I'm sorry, alright?" Lothrius holds his palms up defensively beside him, his voice genuinely apologetic. "Honestly, I don't have much to say. She seemed… fine. How should I know? I'm not a mind reader!"
Cursing under his breath, Illidan sits on the bench of the dressing room, rearranging his cobalt ponytail. "Bah! I should have taken that guard instead of you," The man grunts as he kicks off his working boots, massaging the back of his neck in order to ease down his growing frustration. "But, really? Isn't anything that you can tell me about her, Loth? What about Lord Stareye?"
"Oh, that man means trouble," Lothrius concedes as he takes a seat beside him, brows furrowing in apparent worry, "He had this… devious smirk all over his face, it was pretty unnerving, to say the least," The man explains, shoulders tense as if holding back a shudder and focusing on taking off his boots, "Well, I actually do have something to tell: He didn't spare a single glance to his daughter for the whole night."
"What do you mean?" Illidan frowns, resting his elbows on his knees, "I thought you said Mylenne hadn't attended the meeting…"
"Well, she did eventually, if only to play the host with Lady Ailen," His friend adds with a shrug, "What I'm trying to say is, when she was at the Main Hall, it was like Lord Stareye seemed to avoid looking at her. Almost as if he didn't want to acknowledge her, acting as if she wasn't there at all…"
Illidan stays still for a moment, sharing a look with his friend before mulling over what he just said. At least that clears one of his big suspicions, and Lord Desdel Stareye really isn't what people believe he is. There has to be something odd about him if his own daughter seems to want anything to do with him, hiding away from his sights at the very first chance she gets.
Although once more, he has more questions rather than real answers, and he's starting to grow tired of them.
He pats Lothrius' shoulder before heading out of the Stronghold, taking one of the free sabers and deliberately ignoring Officer Hargo'then when he bids him farewell, holding back a threatening growl on his way out.
Oh, yes, Illidan have already heard about that man shamelessly flirting with Mylenne; it'd been the first thing that Lothrius revealed to him when detailing the events of the previous night. However, if that man believes for a mere second that he's going to have his easy way with her—with the woman that Illidan laid his eyes upon way earlier than him—then no matter, for Hargo'then is more than invited to step up into the game.
And that's the main reason of why, instead of heading to Meredil and the unappealing silence of his home, he then turns left, going at full gallop to the Temple of Elune.
… But she's nowhere to be seen.
Two months later, he still comes back; taking different routes and schedules just to make sure he's not missing her supposed end of shift. During all those mornings and every time he visits the Temple, he stays atop his borrowed saber, watching at the Sisters walking down the streets—feeling just as unlucky as the night before when not a single flash of violet comes across.
Sooner rather than later, it starts getting utterly frustrating.
He even dares to face Tyrande and ask her for Mylenne's whereabouts one stormy night, also pretending to be oblivious to Sylenna's longing glares, from the main chambers of the Temple. To his surprise, not even his old friend has a clue of where her fellow Sister could be—she only admits to wondered about it for a while, after Mylenne's sudden absence, yet never dared to ask the High Priestess.
However, he's not that bold to ask Mylenne's friend—the silver-haired woman, Maiev—pretending to be wandering around when the Sister shows up at the marble balcony, another cold night.
When Illidan is about to give up and shrug it off for good measure, as well as for his own sanity, it's that particular night when he comes across a glimpse of dark-violet, galloping around the corner of the Temple.
His breath hitches. Silgryn Stareye… how could I forget about him?
"Hey! Hey, Silgryn!" He yells from the other side of the street, pulling at the reins of his saber and managing to trot to his position. But the man never turns around and not even flinches, keeping on his route, seemingly oblivious of his callings. Illidan swallows a grunt, plain irritation showing in his voice when he next shouts, "Stareye!"
Silgryn's mighty frostsaber stops its trot all in a sudden, dull silver eyes behind a small curtain of dark-violet hair turning to look at him, a challenging gleam over his gaze—as if he's seemingly readying for a fight.
"Watch that tongue, lad." A growl follows—from the man as well as from his beast. "Nobody rather uses that name much anymore. Even less so such as boldly…"
A-N: The calendar: Hours, days (well, nights in this case), seasons and years are classic, but the kaldorei calendar is based on Embrace periods. The Embrace is an extraordinary celestial event when Azeroth's two moons (Elune—or the White Lady—and the Blue Child) are in an extremely rare conjunction. This happens once every 500 years, so (1:500).
Time is expressed with the Embrace next to a 50-year type unit, from 0 to 9. Example: The current year on the novel is (almost) 30:2 (15100 years). Another example: Mylenne was born on 26:2, sunrise, giving her an age close to 2000 years old. The Stormrage twins were born on 25:4, sundown, so they are close to 2400 years old.
Trivia: Golden-eyed kaldorei are used to born on daylight. Kaldorei celebrate birthdays (Kal-tora, which stands for "Birth night") every 100 years.
