To Callane, an amazing writer who encouraged me to keep trying and have been there when I was near rock bottom. All my love goes to her :)
Now go and shove her with kudos, comments, and love! She totally deserves them :D :D

Not so much TWs this time, probably warning for lots of plotting (?)


Darnassian:

Quel / Quel'dorei: Children of noble birth, also slang for Highborne.

Dorei: Shortened for Kaldorei. May refer to a person (regardless of gender), a youngster and also can be used in plural.

Min'da: Mother.

Erana-dora isil: May translate to, "A thousand thanks upon you".

Dalah'dorei: An endearment. Can be translated to "My child/children" or "Child/children of mine". Trivia: Despite 'dalah' being literal my/mine pronouns, 'dorei' doesn't necessarily refers to a youngster in some cases.


Stareye

One month later

Even with the huge wall made of ostentatious cerulean trees providing some shelter, Mylenne has the need of adjusting her fur coat over her shoulders, a cold shiver sending her skin into goosebumps as the autumn wind reaches her spot. As she lets her mind wander, she idly strokes the silvery fur of her cloak, silently thanking her uncle for his latest gift and for his constant ahead thoughts—as for their people being close to face probably one of the coldest winters so far, if the harsh autumn hadn't said so just as clearly.

It's a wonder how she keeps a cool composure when she spots her friend coming over to her bench, face slightly scrunched and silver brows furrowed, speaking volumes about his current state of mind without having the need to voice it. It's fortunate she hadn't had the need to wait for their meeting much longer, sending a quick smile his way before moving to give him a spot on her bench to sit.

However, Jarod looks skeptical to oblige right away, arms crossing over his broad chest as he stands before her, "Well, you genuinely surprised me with sending me a letter all along," Even with his clear irritation plastered on his face, his tone is softer as he speaks, seemingly more curious rather than anything else. "With Silgryn finally in town and so many sorcerers around you, for a moment I thought you forgot about your old, real friends…"

"It's not—ugh, Jarod," She sighs deeply, eyes dropping as a sense of shame assaults her, not having the strength to properly scold him for that awful remark, "I know we've been apart for longer than usual. In all honesty, I thought we both needed some time for ourselves to figure some things out," A slight shrug follows, unwilling to look at him just yet, "You with Maiev and the Rooksguard. Me, well, with her too and all this… utter mess that is my life so far,"

Her comment prompts Jarod to shift uncomfortably in his spot, leaning his weight on his other hip as a tired sigh escapes his mouth, arms falling to the sides in apparent defeat. "Yeah, I guess we're both to blame on that," He admits—if with some reluctance in his voice—before taking the offered seat next to her. "Sister's coming back soon, though. Here's hoping I can see her before returning to duty, maybe we can set up a weekend and hang out, the three of us,"

The tint of hope in his voice brings warmth blooming along her chest, a pleasant feeling that not even the cold weather can take away, "I'd very much like that," Mylenne smiles, gloved fingers interlocking with his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Silgryn and his friends will be delighted to see you both, I can tell. At least I know Vanthir would love to drag Mai into exchanging kimchi recipes," An endearing chuckle escapes her as she has a mental picture of her childhood friend and the bartender, probably too engrossed in a discussion about proper cooking to pay attention to anyone else. "Just remind me of keeping us away from playing cards with Arluin if he happens to be around. He's a cheater."

"Yeah, well, about that…" Jarod's face becomes somber and skeptical once more, biting his lower lip as he lets go of her hand and rests his elbows on his knees, making her frown worryingly at his renewed distraught state. "Are you going to explain what really happened the last month at the Hold? Don't I deserve to know?"

Mylenne can't help with imitating his posture, a tired sigh following after having to face that conversation way earlier than expected. Sure enough, she owes him as much and he really deserves to hear the whole truth behind their sudden assault at Black Rook Hold—if anyone ever does, it's definitely Jarod.

Regardless, at times like those, for her it's easier said than done.

She spares a glance at him, silence stretching over them, tension growing alongside the sudden rising of the autumn wind, goosebumps showing on the portions of her exposed skin. "I… I wasn't lying when I explained our situation, back at the training yards," Mylenne begins, hesitating to take his hand in hers again, yet deeply wanting to soothe him somehow, "Ugh, look, I know what we did was wrong in so many ways. We weren't really looking forward to assaulting the Hold like that, Jarod. At least I wasn't, and you know how much I hate fighting,"

"But you went on with that anyway, Mylenne," He nearly snaps, moving away from her as he faces her properly, jaw clenching in a seeming struggle to keep his composure. "And whatever it was what you wanted, you still killed some of my colleagues in cold blood. I… I still can't believe what you and your uncle did,"

She does her best to hold his offended stare, a hard lump forming in her throat, "I know, and I don't have any excuse for what I did, except for my truth," Without thinking so much about it, Mylenne takes his hand again, unconsciously looking for some tiny sense of comfort—something they both seem to need. "Honestly? When I saw father's guards attempting to cuff Sil, I got truly mad; I couldn't do anything else but react," She shakes her head sharply, unwilling to summon the memories of what followed next, "You have to understand, Jarod. The mere thought of something happening to Silgryn…"

"And honestly," He remarks, adding with a quirk of his silver brows, "I'm still thanking the Goddess for my group not being on patrol that night." An exhausted sigh follows, the man staring at nowhere in particular as he runs a troubled hand through his silver mane, cascading over his shoulders. "At least you get something good from all the chaos you made?"

How she's managing for one of her longest and dearest friends to not be seriously mad at her just yet, Mylenne has no idea. However, she's not the one to look a cat gift in the mouth. "We brought Arluin back and alive. I'd say that's enough of a reward for our efforts," She shrugs, trying to look nonchalant, not bothering to comment further on it and remark that Arluin is still recovering—it's not like Jarod wouldn't know her father's twisted methods on gathering information anyhow.

Somehow, from the way he slightly shivers in a distressed manner, that tells Mylenne he had probably been thinking about the same thing. "So, you got to kill some of your father's guards in the process. Silgryn must be pretty much happy with that outcome," A colder gust of wind rushing from the bay up north prompts him to rise, rubbing his hands and blowing air on them as he looks for a better spot to perch on. "Ugh, let's get out of here before my ears fall off. This is really the worst place to be, right now."

Agreeing wholeheartedly—along with mentally cursing herself for her poor choice of place to meet—she's quick in edging closer to her friend, sharing their cloaks and sticking together rather clumsily, attempting to share some body heat. "Goddess, I truly hate this weather. If I only could summon my magic to get us warm…" Mylenne laments, thinking out loud as she allows Jarod to lead the way out.

Inhaling a sharp breath, Jarod tugs at the front of her cloak not-so-gently, pulling her closer. "No, Myl. Don't even think about it," His face tightens, nearly stopping short yet seeming to force himself to keep moving. "It's unhealthy for you to even try doing that. And I'd appreciate if you stop making me worry every time. I'm already having my hands full with Maiev, mind you,"

Clearly unwilling to summon another delicate topic, she only sighs heavily and keeps silent, the biggest park in Suramar City disappearing from sight as they turn around the corner. The pompous streets are surprisingly not as crowded as expected, allowing the pair to settle for some small talk—still, keeping their voices low, always wary and careful for whoever might be prying around the false safety that always has been the Highborne streets.

Eventually, Jarod prompts his friend to tell him how the previous unfortunate event had started. "Sil found out of father's plans for us. That's how everything started, so to say," She waits for a random merchant to pass by before continuing, tucking a little closer to whisper. "At first, he only knew father was arranging a marriage for me, so Arluin offered to investigate further. None of them knew you were involved until I admitted so, though, but now I know father's already working on it. His guards have been informed already, so I can't think otherwise…"

Jarod hums low, his lips pursing as if pondering over the information. "But how did Arluin managed to get captured?" He wonders, glancing at her half suspiciously. "For a… slippery dorei as him, it does sound somewhat odd. You know that, at least?"

Mylenne nods in admittance, turning around the corner and avoiding taking the streets leading up to the Bay. "From what I know, Arluin was planning to intercept one of father's couriers," She continues, trying to recall everything she can, "However, in the middle, father somehow found out about Silgryn's return to Suramar—and his prying—ending up with Arluin's people getting killed and he getting captured." A tired sigh escapes her lips, growing disgusted at the mere thought, "Arluin got it easy, but those poor people… he's not handling that well, Jarod. It's still hard to take that my own father is to blame for all this…"

"I can't say I'm surprised," Jarod snorts, teeth clenching hard behind his pale lips, tight and perturbed as the rest of his scrunched face. "But what was that courier carrying that was so important for Arluin?"

Creases show on Mylenne's lavender forehead as she frowns harder. "A sealed letter to Duchess Lunastre, that's all we know. It's not hard to guess what was possibly written there, though—either the formal request for our… union, or one to allow Silgryn to be banished and ripped off from his title. Maybe both,"

It's not particularly a surprise to bring up the topic of Lord Desdel's dispute with the second head of their Household and rightful heir of Aedriel Stareye's legacy. It's always been known for her father to spend his entire life to keep improving his status—consequently, never seeming to find a limit in his goals—and still, going to such lengths only to get rid of his 'contender'? Mylenne has always considered herself quite ignorant regarding Highborne politics, but then the mere thought of being involved or even participate in the twisted Game of the Court disgusts her to no end.

Their walk remains silent for a while, both her and her friend quite lost in their own thoughts as they turn around another street, a moderately big crowd appearing before them. "This is pretty hard to take in. As much as I want to help you, I'm afraid my hands are tied, Myl." Jarod ends up lamenting, "My career… Mother Moon, my own head is at risk if I decline the arrangement," He remarks with a shake of his head, sharply rubbing his face as they go, "Ugh, if only Maiev was here, she'd know what to do…"

Whatever further comment gets lost in Mylenne's tongue as the growing crowd captures her attention, not noticing before they had arrived at the Court of Stars. Curiosity narrows her lavender face, prompting Jarod to follow her and taking some stairs up, looking forward to having a better position so to see what all the fuss is about.

Minding with covering her head and noteworthy mane with the hood of her cloak to keep herself from being easily found out, Mylenne then leans her arms against the railing, watching an event which seems to already have started. Violet brows quirk up in surprise as she spots a lot of members from Elisande's Court below and ahead—the very Grand Magistrix sauntering up front, her loyal Advisors and Arcanists at the back and right behind her heels, all taking places around the tallest of stages.

From their far ahead position, neither of them can properly hear the speech of the Grand Magistrix to the crowd, but it gets easier to recognize the particular purple robes that could only belong to members of the Moon Guard; the Spellcasters straight and still as a statue, blades and staves shown proudly as they make a physical wall between quel'dorei and the rest of the commonfolk who happens to be around.

A particular cobalt mane among the Guard brings out a sheepish smile to Mylenne's lips, keeping her eyes on him as Jarod joins her, leaning his side against the railing. "Well, you already know I have more… tolerance than my sister regarding this," He has to admit, not bothering to watch the show below and facing his friend. "But honestly, Myl, Sorcerers? Do I still have to remind you how dangerous they are? At least he's keeping his magic away from you?"

Mylenne snorts loudly, rolling her eyes and glancing away from the nice view below, a sense of irritation following with the mere topic brought up. "Stop that, Jarod. Illidan's different," She says sharply, flicking a gloved finger in the air and close to his face as if to prove her point, "He's really a good dorei. We have grown pretty close in the last years, and even Silgryn has also grown fond of him. That should say a lot…"

However, it's as she insists further with defending Illidan, Jarod's eyes grow slightly wide, his face narrowing with evident confusion. "Uhm, I… was actually talking about that one," He explains, stabbing a thumb in direction to the current event they're attending. "What was his name, Hargo'then?" His nose and mouth scrunch, a mix of mortification and amusement plastered all over his face. "Er, has that changed while I was away? Switched Sorcerers all in a sudden?"

Mylenne's cheeks darken in a mere instant. "W-what? No! I'm not with Illi—no, no!" Wanting to smack her face, all she can do is look away from Jarod, sheer embarrassment covering her features. "Illidan and I are just friends, that's all there is!" She insists, completely unsure why she does so—and with her best friend, of all dorei—feeling like sorely wanting to drag her stupid self into a hole, only to come out on the next Embrace.

From her periphery, she can only notice Jarod's silver mane waving as he shakes his head, "Uh… alright?" Luckily for her, he doesn't insist or get nosey in the matter, apparently not as interested as she'd thought at first. "I must admit, I think I prefer your current lover, though. Maybe because he looks way more harmless than this Illidan," A shrug of dismissal follows, prompting Mylenne to stop trying to hide her mortified face as he gently tucks a hand under her elbow, "It's not my business who you bring into your sheets, either way…"

They don't have a chance to continue their conversation as the mindless chatter from the crowd around stops all in a sudden, all kaldorei eyes focusing their attention on the Grand Magistrix and her court as a big line spreads before them. While a tall woman dressed in flamboyant purple robes approaches to the stage, escorted by two taller dorei who can only seem to be the First and Second Blade of Elisande, all heads courtly bow before her—some of the commonfolk following their respects with the sign of Elune.

As the Sorceress kneels to Elisande, Mylenne can't help but wonder if the Grand Magistrix had smiled so dearly at her mother, Aedriel Stareye, when she proclaimed her as Advisor the same way she does with that one. "You came to me as a Conjurer," Elisande begins, her assured voice booming all around the Court of Stars as she carefully places a bright, heavy diadem over the woman's teal-haired head, shimmering in shades of silver and purple. "Now rise and claim your rightful place among my Court, where you belong…"

Besides her, Jarod doesn't seem to be quite comfortable with the scene below, yet it's as an expectant silence falls over them all and the crowned woman turns to the crowd with a big smile, dozens of memories from another lifetime assault Mylenne's mind—recollections of the assured dorei Aedriel Stareye once were, proudly carrying the weight of her position and name as she walked the Highborne streets of Suramar, her golden diadem high and mighty for everyone to see and admire. Even as a child, Mylenne was never oblivious to how important her rank appeared to be for her Min'da, always looking like the place she really belonged; the path Aedriel was born and fated to take.

"My beloved citizens, I am delighted to present this one now joining my Court," Mylenne's breath hitches in sudden surprise as arcane sigils begin to flare above the woman, giving her a more impressive appearance—grandiose, imposing, larger than life. "Here stands before you, Thalyssra, First Arcanist of the Court of Suramar."

Jarod gasps at the sight below, slightly flinching away from the railing they're still leaning onto, yet even with standing beside her, Mylenne can barely hear a small sound of protest coming from him with the crowd exploding in a round of applause and blessings. "Erana-dora isil, people of Suramar, for your faithful support on our beloved Grand Magistrix—" Thalyssra begins what it seems like a humble speech, bringing her much adorned hands to her chest in a grateful manner.

Neither Mylenne nor Jarod gets to listen for long before deciding to take their leave, taking some advantage of the bursting crowd below to pass unnoticed as they walk down the stairs, arms linked tight. However, they don't get much further before the sound of a clearing throat interrupts their way out; Mylenne's hold on her friend tightening pretty much unconsciously, prompting Jarod to rest a gloved hand atop hers in a soothing manner—and a silent sign to stay calm—before glancing behind his shoulder.

Violet brows quirk up in both suspicion and curiosity as two familiar sisters appear at the bottom of the stairs, the tallest woman sending a sly smirk and a brief wink her way. "Uh, Lady Starweave?" Mylenne doesn't particularly voice it as a question, patting Jarod's hand as a sign for him to relax before joining the women—Jarod growing suspiciously silent along the way.

"I… must admit I was not really expecting to meet you around here," Mylenne smiles sheepishly, nodding at the pair in greeting, keeping the best courteous behavior she can manage, "I had figured out you two would be among the guard or at the Temple,"

The Sorceress merely snorts. "Nah, initiates weren't allowed to assist," Syrana brushes her off with an elegant flick of her wrist, her midnight blue gown shimmering faintly under the moonlight, "But still, where else would we be, milady? Honestly, I'd thought I'd be seeing you alongside Lady Ailen this evening," Without any remorse nor shame, her golden gaze roams all over Jarod, her smirk widening, "But your current company seems to be far more… interesting,"

Syrana's sister elbows her on the side, a faint blush clinging to her cheeks, "Sister, stop it—" Shalasyr says through gritted teeth, sending her sister a brief—yet quite obvious—glare, "You're already making me regret coming with you. Worst part is I didn't even have to come in the first place…"

"Bah! And keeping my lovely sister from having the most boring evening in decades?" A near laughter escapes Syrana, her dim western accent making it somehow musical, resting a gloved arm over her sister's shoulders, "Besides, someone needs to start teaching you the ways of the Court before you end up as clumsy as Lady Stareye here," Syrana explains, tilting her head in Mylenne's direction, "… No offense, by the way,"

"None taken," Mylenne only shrugs nonchalantly, noticing the only man around shifting somewhat uncomfortably beside her. "Uh, ah, yes, talking about my clumsy manners; Jarod, this is Lady Syrana of House Starweave, and her sister, Lady Shalasyr,"

With no small surprise—at least for a dorei like Jarod—he bows elegantly before the women, a very polite smile narrowing his face, "It is my pleasure, Lady Syrana," He acknowledges the taller one before delicately grabbing her sister's hand with both of his, kissing the back of it, "Shalasyr…"

Syrana and Mylenne share a funny look, the latter blinking thrice in some confusion. "Ahem," The Sorceress in the group clears her throat pretty much exaggeratedly, yet Jarod seems to pay her no mind—his silver gaze still set on Shalasyr's growing flushing face. Eventually, Syrana opts to give up with recalling the other pair's attention, "Anyways, I'm sure you'll know better than me, but we've encountered a… bird among the crowd, and I believe this is for you,"

From a small blue sack clinging on her side, Syrana brings out a rolled piece of parchment, sealed up with what could only be the old sigil of House Stareye—with the usual violet eye and silver star, yet this one having its northern point in golden shades.

"Send Silgryn my regards, would you?" Syrana adds, returning to link arms with her sister, seemingly attempting to take her away from Mylenne's friend as subtly as she can. "Oh, and tell him mother says hi and welcome back!"

Jarod doesn't seem at all pleased with the sisters leaving, long ears curving downwards—if only briefly, recomposing all in a sudden after noticing Mylenne's fully amused smirk. Knowing she will only bring out a defensive attitude, Mylenne merely makes a gesture of sealed lips, filling what seems like an interesting conversation for later as she focuses on opening Silgryn's letter.

"Dalah'dorei,

Ah, I can't believe how horribly the sart of your father has decorated this lovely house of my childhood. Honestly, sometimes I can't figure out why Drie married him, at all. This isn't a silver tapestry, it's flat gray, and the most hideous and depressive gray I've ever seen in my life! A stupid rock has more life than this horrible shade, I'm serious!

Anyways, why don't you come over and help me with some… redecoration? I'm feeling like throwing a party, you know, for old times' sake. This Manor has so many memories it's starting to stink in here, so I could do with my favorite niece around.

Eh, to be honest, I actually need you in here. Bring Song Boy if you want! Yes, I know you're with him—and don't mind this very particular dorei doing a remarkable job of sulking too much when he found out about it. You just be thankful I'm fond of Sulky already, but next time I'll kick his handsome ass if he keeps nosing about and around. Really, you should keep a leash on your Sorcerers…

Now come over! I'm getting way too bored, and you don't like me being bored. Boring it's bad.

Your favorite dorei in the world."


The moon is close to coming to her rest for the night as Mylenne and Jarod arrive at the Stareye Manor, although the two friends don't get to reach the main gates before being greeted by one of Mylenne's maids, Loratha. "Mistress Mylenne! Oh, thank the Goddess you came!" The woman pants as she rushes to them in a haste, "I am afraid we are dealing with a certain… inconvenience at the moment,"

Mylenne only snorts, flicking her wrist in dismissal, "No need to tell me about it, I know uncle Silgryn's here," She explains, resting a gloved hand on her maid's shoulder, allowing her a moment to have a breath.

The lack of any guards on their surroundings gives away the absence of the resident Lord and Stareye patriarch, leaving the Manor pretty much uninhabited; merely with some house cleaners here and there and Mylenne's maids to wander about. As Jarod takes care of closing the main gates, he's forced to wait briefly as Rak'shareh—not surprisingly—appears out of nowhere past the corner of the outskirts, trotting in and bumping Mylenne on the side in a greeting manner.

Mylenne rubs her saber between the ears before the beast makes her way to the gardens. "The master will not be pleased with this, milady," Loratha makes a remark as she leads the two kaldorei into the house, casting a worried look at her while she holds the door open for them to enter first. "Do you think you can keep Lord Silgryn from—aah!"

Loratha's first instinct is to cover her head while a porcelain vase clashes against the wall, making all of them startle and jump away. A shameless snicker leads Mylenne to the direction of the dorei demolishing the decoration, bowing at her in an exaggerated manner. "Elune-Adore, milady! Your timing is impeccable!" Silgryn Stareye beams at them, looking terribly pleased with himself, "And you brought little Song Boy with you!"

"What in Elune's name are you doing?" Mylenne barks, not bothering to greet him properly—not when she'd last seen him first hour on the evening—holding her chest in an attempt to calm her racing heart. "You're scaring the servants, uncle! You want to drag all of them in here?"

"Well, duh, that's the point?" Silgryn clicks his tongue, swaggering into the main hall without looking back, dark-violet hair falling over the thick fur of his shoulderpads, "Besides, I already told you Lord Piece of Shit has a horrible taste. I'm merely doing us a favor,"

"Stareyes butting heads. Why am I not surprised?" Jarod scrubs his face tiredly; nose scrunching as if he'd already smelled something wrong.

His comment prompts Silgryn to cast a hard look at him over his shoulder, "Aha, and you genuinely thought I'd leave all this be, just like that? After what he did to Arluin?" He sneers through clenched teeth, yet his annoyance doesn't last for long before returning to his usual arrogant demeanor, "Now, boy, what about you help with calling the rest of the servants so we can get this party started, shall we?" Jarod grumbles something under his breath, shaking his head in apparent defeat before retreating with Loratha to the opposite room on the Manor.

However, a sort of reply comes from behind Mylenne, "Oh, I can't wait…" They say, a baritone voice rumbling with deep sarcasm.

For the second time in the evening, Mylenne outright jumps away, a small squeak escaping her lips. "What the—? What are you two doing here?" She exclaims as she turns around and to the source of the familiar voice.

Sitting atop the long table in the middle of the main hall, Illidan casts an alluring smirk her way, his golden gaze gleaming in some amusement before returning it to a book he'd apparently been reading in her absence—and snatched from her personal bookshelf, if the cover is anything to go by. While Mylenne's somewhat aware she should feel offended by her acquaintances nearly invading her place, it's as her handsome friend's smirk widens when she can't help but sigh in defeat.

"In our defense, he dragged us," Lothrius states, having some decency of being seated in a chair, unlike his best friend, pointing at Silgryn with a letter opener, looking utterly bored while cleaning his long nails with the sharp tip.

"And in my defense, they were pretty fine with obliging," Illidan merely shrugs off Silgryn's remark, not bothering with insisting otherwise nor glancing away from the book he's reading—although making a terrible work of pretending he's reading something at all. Mylenne can only snatch her book away from his hands before being interrupted by Jarod and the servants arriving at the hall.

"Well, that was fast. You even saved me from making more excuses," Silgryn looks surprised, all eyes turning to the six servants acknowledging him properly as they gather around, silent and obedient as usual.

"Alright, thank you for coming, guys. Sooooo, ahem—I, Silgryn, firstborn son of Laenia and Seldron, rightful and only Lord of House Stareye… blah blah blah," He begins with a solemn tone, although it doesn't take long for him to brush off the annoying formalities. "With Lady Mylenne as my witness and by the title that's been granted to me, I now release you from your faithful service to this House. We are deeply grateful for your centuries of dedication to us, but from now on, you'll no longer be required."

Sheer silence overcomes the hall, Mylenne's eyes blowing wide at the sudden announcement, her maids looking rather confused as well. Did her uncle just kick all the servants? By the Goddess, father's going to be so pissed with this… "Oh, and by the way: If someone asks, Mylie actually wasn't here," Silgryn takes care of adding, stabbing a thumb past his shoulder and in her general direction.

Mylenne finds herself lost for words—the tome nearly falling from her hands if not for Illidan quickly retrieving it with fast reflexes—merely left staring at her uncle slack-mouthed as he has a brief chat with the servants, already pondering the possible awful outcomes this action would bring upon her. Illidan doesn't make a comment, however, only casting a worried look at her, dropping the book somewhere else afterwards to gently grab her gloved hands; words not needed as he rubs his thumbs in soothing circles on her wrists.

She sends a brief thankful smile his way, knowing she'll have Illidan's support no matter what—although it's hard to tell if he could actually be of any help when Lord Desdel finally finds out about Silgryn's schemes. I can't believe how much my family sucks.

"This is a nice place, though. I don't really get Silgryn's complaints with the décor," Lothrius breaks the silence, throwing his feet over the table and besides his friend, prompting their attention, "What can I say? The drapes look silver to me…" He shrugs, looking quite sincere.

Mylenne's aware the pair of Sorcerers are only attempting to distract her in some way, a fact of which she's deeply grateful. "And that's why we should thank Elune for having Syrana among us," Illidan snorts as he makes a barrier between Mylenne and his friend with his knee, in a sort of protective manner, "That's gray, not silver, Loth, and indeed not really appealing to the eye. You should stick to making music, because I'm afraid your lack of proper style is quite disappointing…"

The only Lady around is about to make a comment, but the growing relaxing mood gets brushed away when her uncle returns to the hall, a very frustrated Jarod following his tracks. "What? You thought I wouldn't ever make use of my Lordship? Well, flash news, boy!" Silgryn cackles, slamming the big main hall's doors close with a click of his fingers, "Now, chop chop! Sulky, I need you to stop staring at my niece's tits and focus on me," The elder Stareye then deadpans out of the blue.

A mix of gasps and quiet chuckles follow, "Silgryn!" Mylenne exclaims, sending a shocked look his way while Illidan's fingers instantly stop toying idly with a strand of her violet mane, looking reluctant to say something with the men's scrutiny suddenly over him.

Silgryn claps once, "That's the spirit!" He smiles wickedly, definitely satisfied with their reaction, "So, now that we're away from prying eyes and ears: The main purpose of bringing you all here is because we're looking for a small metallic case, aaaand I may be in need of your fancy magics to locate it," Calling out the two Sorcerers, his long cloak waves elegantly as he saunters across the room, making Mylenne and Jarod wince while he settles for breaking another vase without care or shame in the world. "As far as I know, this case has magic resistance, so that should give it away somehow. Sadly enough, I'm not as skilled as you two and can't see runes for shit, so I guess that's where you come in,"

Not bothering to correct her uncle's awful language, Mylenne settles for giving up on whatever way of interfering, sighing heavily in defeat and flopping down on Lothrius' seat after he vacates it. Illidan gives her a friendly pat on her shoulder, yet he too obliges Silgryn's request—out of sheer curiosity rather than anything else, if she can tell by the quirk of his cobalt brows.

Jarod leans his side against the table and besides her chair, scrubbing his face tiredly, although either making any comment. "And what does this case has that's so important to you to drag all of us into my house?" Mylenne can't help but wonder out loud, Lothrius and Illidan's unfamiliar spells catching her eye as purplish waves of magic flare and swirl around the hall.

"Answers." Her uncle merely replies, definitely not looking like explaining further. It's as Mylenne casts a deep frown his way when he groans in protest, "Oh, shush, Mylie. You can't possibly expect me to hand off all my juicy secrets here in front of the kids—"

However, he gets interrupted with the sound of something snapping—surprisingly enough, this time not coming from Silgryn himself breaking more of the furniture. "Uh, Silgryn? Maybe you should take a look at this?" Illidan prompts everyone's attention as he points at the bigger bookcase on the hall, placed close to one corner, "This is the only location in the room resonating with magic, if faintly,"

The group gathers around the tallest of them all, Silgryn's violet brows knitting as if pondering hard about what they are staring at. "Ah, yes, the old vault! Why haven't I thought about it before?" The elder Stareye snaps out a moment later, rushing between Illidan and Lothrius after the former unveils a rune with a wave of his glowing hand.

Without further ado, Silgryn unlocks the rune by placing his palm on the surface, leaving Mylenne to stagger back in sudden surprise, bumping with Jarod as the books on the bookcase start moving aside, revealing a dark wooden door behind.

"Wh-whaaaat?" Mylenne gapes rather ridiculously, sharing an incredulous look with Jarod who seems just as astounded as she is—both slack-mouthed, blinking repeatedly as if not believing the sight. "How does this—why didn't I know about this before?"

"Because this is Drie's vault," Silgryn deadpans, not looking back as he brings a small knife from one of his many hidden pockets in his clothing, quickly working on breaking the lock. "You should stay here, though, Mylie. Can't really say what's lurking over there, but surely it's not anything nice," Easily enough for a dorei like him, he breaks the door open before throwing a brief yet grave glare at Mylenne, intent on cutting off any possible protest. "Sulky, Song Boy! What about lending your favorite Stareye a hand?"

Lothrius doesn't seem to mind staying around, shrugging in some sense of resignation, looking rather more interested in the odd rune his friend revealed rather than anything else. Appearing to be the most curious of the group, Illidan throws Mylenne a reassuring wink before leading the way inside, summoning a small flicker of purplish flames with a click of his fingers to light up a dark corridor further ahead—definitely ignoring Jarod's groans of protest as much as Silgryn does.

However, as some considerable time goes by without signs of the three of them, Mylenne begins itching with impatience, if she hadn't started so while pacing frantically back and forth in front of the bookshelf; her concerned frown becoming nastier and lilac face scrunching harder with every attempt from Lothrius to ease her up. She can't really say if it's her sheer curiosity or the worry for the dorei taking so long, although eventually Mylenne's patience wears thin, prompting Lothrius to keep guard and storming inside the unfamiliar vault—any objection from him unheard as she quickly disappears from his sights.

Despite being shrouded in darkness, Mylenne finds a way through thanks to Silgryn's chattering coming from somewhere below. "Ack! Anti-magic mechanisms? What in Elune's motherly tits was my sister thinking? I can't tell if she did this to prevent her husband or me from taking this…" Sticking to the walls near blindly, she stumbles upon a set of old stairs leading down and to where the three dorei are located, Silgryn hissing a moment later, "Arane! Fucking shit—! It's not giving away. Can you give it a try, boy?"

Mylenne figures out that even when she has no clue where the hallway is leading her, she seems to be close, if hearing Illidan's small humming is anything to go by. "Scrying stones?" There's an evident tint of amazement and exhilaration in her friend's voice—something Mylenne can't really decide if it's good or bad. "This is… incredible! You think we can—"

A small line of dim light shows at the end of the dark corridor, revealing a reinforced door barely open, appearing to be the only way to where the three men are. A concerned frown narrows Mylenne's face as—quite out of the blue—there's a noise of something snapping but after that, a sudden and near disturbing silence. An electric tingle runs through her fingers as her gloved hand comes in contact with the door, apprehension coursing through her.

Mylenne, my beautiful daughter… I knew you would find me…

A very familiar voice invades Mylenne's mind, making her breath hitch, freezing in place all in a sudden. As the door swings open, showing the rest of the group inside, she finds herself unable to move; her silver gaze locking on the sight of Silgryn below, thoroughly examining a small golden object in his hands. "Such a small little thing, yet holding so much…" Her uncle sounds incredibly far away, barely heard through her fast heartbeat and that voice whispering, assaulting her thoughts.

Once again, my brother meddles with forces he cannot understand. His curiosity will be the end of him. You must not allow this, dalah'dorei… I must not allow this…

Mylenne can't possibly figure out what's going on, her mother's voice clouding all of her senses, her body moving on its own accord down the stairs—guided by a strange force she can't struggle against, limbs slightly trembling as a cold chill overcomes her.

My child, he will ruin everything. You must not let him retrieve what is ours… what is mine!

She doesn't have a chance to decide otherwise as an awful snarl shows on her lilac face, pinning Silgryn with a fiery gaze as he finally takes notice of her arrival, turning around with a deep frown. "Wha—? Mylenne! Get the fuck out of here! What did I just—" A sharp hiss interrupts his rant, returning to glance at the small shard in his palm, a faint glow growing on it and before his eyes.

Mylenne's figure flares in bright purplish, making her feel empowered, more alive than ever before; the feeling growing like spider webs entangling over her skin, becoming stronger with every step closer to the golden shard in Silgryn's hands. A voice that is hers—while at the same time it's not—reverberates through the walls as she speaks. "I knew you would find a way to keep meddling with the hand of fate… dear brother," Reaching the end of the stairs, her glowing eyes are only for him, glaring menacingly, "But this ends tonight,"

Silgryn's breath hitches sharply, eyes blowing wide as if not believing what he's seeing. "Aedriel? How—?" He can only mutter, a shimmer of understanding flashing through his gaze a moment later, taking a precautious step back. "Shit… Illidan!"

A tall, broad Sorcerer gets in her way, familiar purple robes waving as he prepares a spell to cast in her general direction. However, while he looks skillful, he's far from fast enough for her to prevent it—not even needing to whisper a counterspell, merely flicking her wrist at him, brushing him off as if a fly would be, not looking away from her brother as the Sorcerer clashes against the opposite wall of the room.

"The shard is mine, Silgryn, and I will have it, in this Embrace or the next." She assures, making him back off to one corner, allowing him the chance to hand over the shard as she outstretches an open palm in his direction. "Such is the price they demand me to pay,"

Ever the rebel and stubborn, Silgryn doesn't look up to collaborate in the slightest, "Your time has ended centuries ago, Aedriel. My sister is no more and will not be anymore," He declares, fiery and obstinate, saving the shard in one of his many pockets, chin held straight, "I have pledged my life to make sure of that and will keep doing it until my last night,"

A faint sense of pity courses through her, but she's grown tired of his games and interferences for far too long—something she's decided to not keep allowing to happen, not anymore. "You cannot stop me from becoming whole once more. No one can." The room trembles with her booming voice and the might of her magic, just as her brother starts to as she effortlessly lifts him in the air with another unspoken spell, "It is written in the stars, it is my destiny,"

She never wanted to end up choking her own brother or ever using her unmatched powers against him—and yet, as a silver pleading gaze sets upon her, she knows Silgryn's aware he could never stop this from happening. "Your d-daughter's already… paying for y-your destiny…" He croaks with the last of his breath, blood falling from his nose and gaping like a fish out of the water.

However, she can't feel remorse or guilt; not after the lengths she went through, not after all the sacrifices she made, not after all she did to claim what's been intended for her since her birth. All her small worries are set aside as the golden shard falls from Silgryn's pocket, floating in the direction of its rightful owner—her features softening as she finally grasps the small object.

Her brother falls to the floor like a rock, wheezing and panting hard, but she only has eyes for the golden shard resting in her palm; its beauty and power… enrapturing, even more charming than Desdel's bright gaze on her. "After so many centuries, and it still calls to me…" She smiles in sheer relief, her chest heaving with the mere thought of so many promises about to become true and real. Without hesitation and with a renowned energy, she begins casting one of her signature spells.

Only for her teleportation spell and growing joy to be cut off all in a sudden, after the gloved hand of a kaldorei snatches the shard off her hands. Her breath hitches, a furious gaze traveling to the face of a third man in the room—a familiar silver mane shimmering with the reflection of the dim light upon it, memories of another lifetime assaulting her like a slap in the face. Could it be him?

For that matter, she doesn't have time to wonder about it, the boy's face scrunching briefly in a sort of apology. "I'm sorry, Myl…" It's all that little Jarod says before a fist connects with her nose, sending her stumbling back with a grunt.

When another fist lands on her cheek, Mylenne is knocked out; another two strong arms catching her and preventing her from meeting the floor, two bright golden eyes staring shockingly at her before everything goes black.


"Whatever that shard stores, it's making her very unstable." The world seems to be spinning wildly, white dots dancing before her, the light too bright for her to keep her eyes open. "It's trying to control her or something like that, I can barely contain it!" A baritone voice cries close to her, sounding more desperate than her liking.

"Oculeth, you need to bring her to Oculeth. He'll know what to do," Someone else pants heavily from afar. Mylenne wants to say something, but the mere act of breathing becomes to be a huge effort from her part, feeling like feverish hot.

A frail groan mixed with a wheeze is all that escapes her lips as her cheek bangs against a warm chest, apparently being carried Goddess knows where. The many voices speaking at the same time makes her dizzier, her stomach churning all in a sudden. It gets somewhat better as the cold chill from the outskirts brushes her then flushing face, yet it's not enough to bring her some strength to regain her senses.

A concerned hum from what could only be her frostsaber prompts Mylenne to summon whatever remains of her energies, faintly moaning in a sort of protest at the sharp motions coming from whoever's carrying her. Mumbling something unintelligible—even for her—she gets shushed right away, "Ssh, it's fine, Mylie. I got you, I got you…"

Illidan's deeply concerned face comes into view through crinkled slits, his soothing voice and careful fingertips brushing the hair off her face eliciting her to relax on his arms; feeling him making his best with seating atop Rak'shareh not so abruptly, still having a secure grip on her. "Hold on there, okay? I got you, no matter what,"

She can't say if he's trying to ease down her nerves or his own, but eventually she can't think straight as her head lolls to the side to rest on Illidan's chest, the world fading to black once more.


A-N: Oh. My. Goddess, it's been so longggggggg! I seriously want to hide in a corner for taking so much with updating, and don't really have words to say how much I'm sorry for this. But it's here! Like, really here!

And the plot has really moved forward with this one - even when I don't really feel it like the best update ever (and again, I'm so sorry about this, but it's what I have u_u). We now have our babe Thalyssra and the whole gang causing mayhem within one chapter - even a very small part I've been nearly dying to reveal!

As always, thanks so much to those ones for still keeping up with me and my dorks, like Callane and many many others who didn't give up and supported me in this very hard time I'm currently having. Starsurge is one of my most precious babies, and the fact of somewhere being out there waiting so patiently for me to come up with an update fills me with such joy I can't even explain with words. You really mean the world to me and I won't ever hesitate to remind you all of that.

Last but not least: Within these months of absence, I could figure out lots of issues I was having to keep up with the plotlines, but Lid and Mylie helped me a lot with sorting them out, sooooooo it looks like updates are coming faster now! YAY!
Then again, don't hesitate to reach out, ask away, or even say hi - Goddess knows how good is that for my soul, and I swear I don't bite :D