Soooo, HERE IT IS. THE CHAPTER WE'VE BEEN ALL WAITING FOR! (or, at the very least, from my part)

First and foremost, let me apologize for taking this long in updating - life has been hectic and terrible on this end from the last few months, as I'm sure some of you already know. But you all know, despite all intents and purposes, I just couldn't give up on Mylenne and Illidan's story.

Anyway, this is it, this is The Chapter you and I have been waiting for, and the inevitable turning point for the Starsurge 'verse. Hope you all enjoy it.

TW for Alcohol, much fluff and a heartbreaking angst (yeah, sorry about that).


Darnassian:

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

Kal-tora(i): Literal: "Birth night". (Trivia: Kaldorei celebrate birthdays every 100 years)

Sar'thera: A pejorative, meant for someone who's considered irritating or exasperating. Slang: Sart(e).

Nal'dore (New Moon): (Trivia) An ancient omen regarding the end, may it be for the end of a season as well as the end of a life. People born under a Nal'dore are partially looked down upon.


Stormrage

3 months later

He can see himself laying atop fresh cerulean grass, eyes shut close, the autumn wind hiding a portion of his face as it sways his cobalt mane, messing with it. Knowing it's no use to extricate himself from his nightmares and twisted memories, he just settles with crouching behind an oak tree, just as resigned and frustrated as the memory of himself before his eyes. Not like it matters where he'd stand, for he's merely an echo and doesn't need a reminder of that exasperating scene—and yet, not like his wishes have been of any matter when he's bound to walk among the realm of Azure whether he likes it or not.

With no small curiosity, the female voice speaking to his replica sounds miles and miles away as she does so, dropping to her knees and brushing away some strands on the man's sweaty forehead. "Illy, dear? You hear me?" Sylenna's tone is tender even in her evident concern, her silver-white mane swaying with the grace of the Priestess she's become; very long—the exact length he's fond of seeing in women—silky and bright as the Moon. "Are you okay? You just—"

"Don't," His replica cuts her off, merely a grumble, not bothering to drift his eyes open. "You wouldn't understand either way…" Illidan leans away from her touch and he's certain from the pursing of his lips how the past version of him seems to be containing himself from snapping something back.

Just as how he remembers, Sylenna looks taken aback with his replica's reaction, struggling to find proper words. "Want me to bring you some tea? You look quite pale, dear,"

"I want you to leave."

The fact of why he looks away from Sylenna's stunned face—shocked to the core at his past version's harsh words—is not precisely out of shame. In truth, he hasn't felt ashamed or guilty back then, it's not like his sentiments would change if reliving the scene either way.

"What? But…" She tries to mumble, shy, menial, servile as she's always been and is also demanded for; even then trying to amend something she never could or would have the chance to.

He's already walking away from the couple when his replica growls, "You heard me…" His voice reverberates through the deep dark surroundings, a mere expanse of stars acting as the only source of light. A dejected glance at the starry sky and the ever so present New Moon serves as an itchy reminder of where he is—the Moon has always been empty inside the realm of Azure—and yet, he doesn't have any interest whatsoever in keep witnessing a scene he remembers just as easily when he's awake and lucid.

"Illidan, what are you—?" Although the scenery isn't right; they weren't deep into the Val'sharah forests when that talk happened, but in his home at Meredil. Where are they, even? The eerie void and darkness descending over the two—three, if counting his own echo—of them also doesn't feel like the homeland of his youth.

Whenever they are, whatever is happening, neither he nor his replica seems to want to be spending any single second for much longer. Out of a sudden instinct, he knows he needs to take action and escape from that dreadful realm as soon as possible.

"Get. Out!" Illidan bellows, and the ground trembles at the sound of his raging temper. "Now!"

How good does it make to have a constant reminder of how he always ruins everything to dust and never, ever will get what he had always wished? At that point it's not even torturing, but pointless; even with being lucid he's completely aware nothing good ever lasts for a dorei such as him.

Out of nowhere, his breath catches as an azure mist begins to take form behind Illidan and Sylenna, twisted tendrils crawling to his direction, the fresh cerulean grass among them looking like burned out—polluted, contaminating everything it touches—within seconds. And yet, he can't help but stay frozen still.

Illidan's eyes start glowing in the familiar tint of azure, tainting the familiar golden tone as he stares straight at him, wide-eyed as if in near desperation. Right there is where he gets it, his heart missing a beat.

His replica's last bark was actually directed at him, not to his past lover.

"Arane, Illidan, get out of here now!" His replica yells once again and his words feel like a straight punch on his nose, threatening to lose his balance, knees wobbling all in a sudden.

Or perhaps he indeed got a punch, for then the corrupted azure mist looms over him, but the whole world fades to complete black before it reaches him.

A burst of bright yellowish light coming from the window stabs him in the eyes as he drifts them open. "Elun—crap!" It's all Illidan mutters before nearly falling off his bed, finding some purchase with the border of his night table. A dozen curses later, he ends up sitting on the floor, rubbing his face harshly and in some way to also avoid staring at the mess he just made while tumbling—his regular glass of Moonwell water pouring over the floor before him, droplets sparkling just like the hundreds of little crystals sprawled all over.

After the nightmare, the urge to down a glass of Moonwell tugs at him more than ever, both for physical and magical needs. For the matter, he's aware it's more imperative to find a way to stop such dreadful dreams from happening rather than just pump himself with more mana, but his self-conscious pride always gets in the middle. Besides, the only dorei with a mere inch of knowledge about the Azure Realm he knows happens to be Silgryn fucking Stareye, and Illidan would be long dead before asking him, of all people, for some help whatsoever.

And yet, the fleeting image of the elder Stareye helps with bringing him to his feet in an instant, the clawed azure hand always tugging at his mind beginning to fade when he recalls the particular date of the year. With a newfound purpose and energy, he dresses up while walking down the stairs of his house in a rush, downing a small vial of sparkling water he tends to save for reserve purposes in a small corner of his kitchen. As he brushes his hair and tidies it up in his trademark ponytail, Illidan makes a mental note of refilling his alcohol and mana supplies somewhere around the week before adjusting his purple vest properly.

Opting out for wearing his heavy Spellcaster cloak, he takes instead a lighter, midnight black coat while making his way outside. Illidan notices the evening hasn't yet arrived as he locks the front door, although it only means he has even more time than calculated for making all the arrangements he's been planning for four months or so; a little smile tugging at his lips, feeling grateful for the sudden luck.

He can most definitely brush aside the issue with his dreams for the night, for tonight is Mylenne's kal-tora. And Illidan has decided long ago that evening must be nothing less than perfect.


Illidan can't repress an amused cackle the first second his eyes lay on Syrana, leaning on the doorframe while having a chat with Oculeth. Sure thing, he'd taken precious care in looking presentable for the evening, yet his friend has a particular knack for looking flawless everywhere she goes—even in a regular bar on the outskirts of Suramar City. It's curious she arrived this early in the evening, but he's not about to complain about it in the slightest.

Nodding in greeting at the couple of dorei, they appear to be the first ones around the familiar place—that without counting the bartender and regular inhabitants such as Arluin. "I'm taking you brought what I requested last month,"

"Straight from Azsuna's best artisans, my friend. Funny how you spent all your savings in a present," Syrana winks shamelessly at him, a huge grin narrowing her face, "I hid it in the backyard for the moment, but go ahead and see for yourself," She stabs a thumb past her shoulder, following with a tilt of her head—the well-combed navy hair and slightly sparkling silver adornments perfectly in place.

"Later. I need to see Loth first," Illidan doesn't miss the curious look Oculeth gives him as he strides past the couple and inside the bar, passing his coat to Vanthir for the bartender to save elsewhere in the process.

The two dorei follow him as if they have nothing else to do, "Oooh, so is it true, then?" Oculeth sounds deeply thrilled while he makes his way to their recurrent booth, "The lad's having his debut tonight?"

"Hah, you thought Lothrius was ever up to being the main singer?" The only Sorceress in the place adds with a snort, unlike Oculeth striding to the stage—if to assure everything's in place or searching for something else, Illidan can't say for sure. "I don't really believe he ever will; better leave him behind with that stupid guitar he's so… smitten with,"

The jealousy slipping off Syrana doesn't go unnoticed, but Illidan doesn't get to make a joke about it as a man makes his appearance on the first floor, elbows leaning on the wooden railing in a nonchalant stance. "Hands off, Syra…" Lothrius sends a half-knowing, half-flirting look her way, enough sign for Illidan below to roll his eyes and minding his own business. Luckily—and so to help the slight itchiness showing—he can't afford much time for idling around, joining Lothrius and making all the necessary arrangements upstage, also with help from Syrana and Priestess Thania, who arrives some moments later.

As the Moon begins rising, the usual customers as well as more familiar faces start crowding the bar, although not precisely the exact lavender face he's been expecting—and at the same time he doesn't, given the… special circumstances—ever since he woke up early in the evening. Silgryn and Arluin stride in an hour later, arms linked and matching smirks, following by some of Mylenne's friends and acquaintances from the Temple; Syrana's sister, Shalasyr, the ever so temperamental Sentinel Maiev, and a couple of Sisters he can't place. Even his twin brother ends up showing with Tyrande, walking to him to greet him properly.

"We've got an invitation from Mylenne's uncle," Tyrande smiles and shrugs nonchalantly as he stares the couple down with a cobalt brow quirking up in question, getting on her tiptoes to give Illidan a peck on his cheek. "Is there something we can help you with, my friend?"

Illidan shakes his head in a more than evident nervous manner, yet he can't voice a negative before Silgryn joins in as well, slapping the couple on the shoulders from behind. "Better leave that up to the experienced musicians," The man winks, tilting his nicely tidied dark-violet head at the rest of Illidan's companions upstage. "Come over, guys! Just saved a very nice spot for the two of you," Before taking his brother and friend elsewhere, Silgryn glances at him from over his shoulder, "Oh, don't worry, lad. Mylie's still hanging out with Jarod, but they'll be here shortly,"

Nodding in acknowledgment, he returns to focus on the matter at hand, turning on the spare guitar Lothrius gave him a while back with a tap of his purplish glowing fingers. From the corner of his eye, Illidan can notice Silgryn saving one of the front tables for himself and his crew—surely including Hargo'then as well, given he's still hanging out at the bar occasionally.

The small thought irks him momentarily—his Moon Guard Officer and Silgryn had become pretty close buddies these late months, sharing more than the fair couple of knowing looks from time to time while on their regular gatherings. But for the matter, he'd stopped taking care of that sart long ago as well as worrying for whatever information would Silgryn share with him or not, ever since that haunting event back at Scarleth's brothel some years back.

In truth, Illidan has been taking businesses by himself and doing his own observations for the past few years, with some help from his closest friends and their particular connections. Something quite obvious—at least from him and Syrana's part—has been Silgryn's sheer interest in the Vashj Princesses, more precisely the mysterious Princess Azshara.

However, how she may interfere or participate in the intricate power plays regarding the Suramari nobility, neither Illidan nor Syrana had found out a reasonable answer. Merely that the Princess from Vashj'ir and first in line to the throne shared some interesting similarities with a late powerful Sorceress such as Aedriel Stareye; their perfect grades in the arts of Arcane Manipulation, their unmatched beauty, as well as their knack for many complex incantations as he'd witnessed firsthand.

His latest conclusion had been about Silgryn oddly worrying for Princess Azshara's state of mind. Yet even so, why would he be nosing and keeping so many tabs on way higher levels of the Highborne nobility? Whatever could happen to the Princess, that's up to the city's Courts and Queen Lestharia to decide and deal with, not a petty noble Lord who's even abandoned his Household for good so many centuries back.

A slightly insistent tap on his shoulder brings him out of his reverie, "We're all set, buddy," Lothrius' hand stays there for a tad bit longer than necessary, if to bring Illidan some comfort or reassurance, he can't tell. "Leave Thania and Oculeth to do the rest. Let's get some ales and chill for a bit," His words bring up the worst sense of anxiety to Illidan's gut, but Lothrius' soft smile helps with calming the impending itching as he gently pulls him off stage by the arm. "Come on, Lid, there's nothing else we can do here, everything's going to be fine! Let's go meet Syra at the bar,"

His nervous nod gives him away, but there's nothing Illidan can do right about then to be subtle about it—after all, if one of his best friends had just noticed the stress he's just carrying, then denying it or lying wouldn't do any good. However, Lothrius' idea and guidance seem to be one of the best ways to ground himself and knock it off for a while before Mylenne's arrival.

Since when did you start getting so itchy for anything, Stormrage? Calm down, everything's in your favor tonight and you know it already.

For some reason, the odd voice within him doesn't help in the slightest to tone down his anxiety; if anything, it makes it worse. He has been planning that night to be anything but perfect for months—rehearsing when she wasn't around, contacting Syrana's artisans, swallowing up his dislike for the younger Shadowsong sibling and arranging a meeting to keep Mylenne out of the bar and busy, even figuring out some ways to keep his plans hidden from Silgryn Stareye's ever watchful eyes.

What if something, anything goes wrong? What if he forgets the song's lyrics? What if Rak'shareh opts for wander off and leaves him alone in the middle of the outskirts? Or if Mylenne's uncle decides to pick him as the laughingstock of the evening—which wouldn't be unexpected given his nature?

A large glass of Cider appears on his hand before Illidan comes to notice the presence of his other best friend. "Drink it all, Lid," Syrana's tone doesn't seem to allow a negative from his part, staring at him intently as he downs the drink in two gulps, "Thaaaaat's it. Best Nightpear in town, am I right? I'd choose wine but I just happen to know exactly what you need. Now get another one," A half-chuckle, half-snort escapes his lips, not feeling up to making a retort as he signals Vanthir up.

Illidan's good with downing a second drink, and then a third and a fourth for good measure, his nearly painful fast heartbeat settling down to measurable levels, muscles relaxing and mind-numbing to a point he starts feeling at ease with. From his periphery, he notices Silgryn and his crew seemingly doing their best to not look up deeply amused, but at the fifth drink he reaches a certain point in which he just stops worrying and wondering about what they may be thinking.

That is, until a woman in a sky blue gown and a very long violet hair opens the bar's doors—all heads turning to her and her partner right behind. A moment later, the entire place echoes and nearly booms in the same chant.

"Happy kal-tora, Mylenne!"

Illidan's neck cranes in her direction rather painfully, standing up and raising his almost empty glass at her as every single dorei in the place does, many of them approaching to hug Mylenne or pat her on the shoulders and back. However, no matter how much he yearns to be close to her, his feet appear to be stuck in their place, heavy like two big rocks, unable to move. All he can do is stay where he is, his face softening drastically when their eyes meet—bright silver and golden, a relieved smile clinging to his lips.

She looks gorgeous, with a beauty that would match and beat the Goddess herself as she gently removes from all the hugs and people surrounding her, striding right in Illidan's direction with a firm pace, taking his breath away with the cheerful smile she sends his way—a smile only meant for him.

"I knew you'd be behind all this, Lid!" It's all Mylenne says before throwing herself into his arms—almost as she was meaning to do that from the very beginning. It doesn't help for his heart to nearly hammering its way out of his chest, but he doesn't care as an overwhelming sense of relief washes over him, meeting her midway and sending her spinning many times, careful not to crush her in his embrace. "I've been just about making Jarod spill out everything, but he didn't somehow. And I can be very persuasive with him, but he kept biting his tongue and didn't—"

"It wasn't only my doing," Illidan admits, the alluring scent of her going straight to his head as he buries his face in her neck. "I didn't do anything, to be honest. Your uncle was the one to send the invitations, and your band's been very helpful as they rehearsed with me for some months back,"

She lets go of him in sheer surprise, bright silver eyes wide open, although doesn't let go as Illidan fears for a moment. "My… band, you say?" Very slowly, an astounded smile clings to her lips, blinking many times as if she couldn't believe it just yet. "That's what you've been doing behind my back—?"

A tug in Mylenne's arm brings her away from him completely, the most temperamental of her friends coming to view, making Illidan swallow a groan out of politeness. "Come, Myl. Your uncle saved you a front seat for tonight," Maiev sends a forced smile his way, not letting go of her friend as she interlocks their arms together, pulling her further apart and to the biggest table in the bar. "You won't believe the cake we made especially for you,"

Illidan hopes the elder Shadowsong doesn't notice the annoyed rolling of his eyes, yet follows either way, his friends right behind him. Silgryn quickly gathers the entire group around his niece as the ever so servile second waitress of the bar, Verene, comes in between the crowd with a big moonberry cake—a silver crescent moon pointing upwards adorning the top along with some violet candles, flaring in pretty shades of purplish-blue.

Mylenne's face brightens with sheer joy as her loved ones join her at the table; her uncle and the Shadowsong siblings nearly trapping her in place as the whole bar chants the same line in a 'Happy kal-tora!'. Her deep blush before blowing off the candles makes Illidan grin from ear to ear, joining the round of applause as a sense of warmth washes over him with the mere sight of the woman before him looking so overjoyed and grateful.

For some suspicious reason, Mylenne's lover doesn't seem to be present, but Illidan isn't up to looking a cat gift in the mouth. Either way, they have been on the verge of a break up for the past two months, so perhaps it wouldn't be weird if Hargo ends up not showing at all, Illidan's personal feelings towards their relationship aside.

"Dear Goddess! This tastes like heaven!" Mylenne sighs heavily with half a mouthful of cake, taking a quick sip of the nearest ale to speak properly. "It even smells like it!" Casting a knowing glance at the elder Shadowsong, it's all it takes to give her away—for the first time in Illidan's life, being a witness of Maiev arane Shadowsong literally blushing.

"Heh, Vanthir's hands are on it as well," Silgryn remarks, the brightest of grins never leaving his lavender face. "Also, Margeaux and her lifemate send their regards, as I'm sure you'd already noticed the particular flavor," He kisses his niece's forehead fondly at the same time a hand lands heavily on Illidan's shoulder, nearly startling him—if it weren't for the previous heavy drinks he already had, unconsciously sending his senses on high alert.

Lothrius head subtly tilting towards the perfectly set up stage is all Illidan needs to get on the move; a nearly breathtaking sense of anxiety making his ears tilt downwards and sending his hands shaking, yet complying with his friend as they head away from the table.

Insecurity takes claim of his head once more; what if something, anything, goes wrong? What if Mylenne doesn't actually like what they've prepared for her? Maybe he should've picked a more cheerful song, given the special date, or perhaps something that wouldn't leave him as… vulnerable as he's feeling he's about to become. He should have left Lothrius and Thania do their magic, not put him in the spotlight exactly tonight. Surely Mylenne was only being polite when she once said some years back he had a lovely voice and nothing further.

The noise of a clearing throat breaks him out of his reverie, leaving Illidan hyperaware he's already seated in the front with Lothrius' spare guitar—in front of the whole bar, no less—the musicians ready for his sign to start.

For all intents, purposes and months of rehearsal as well, he's sitting right there in front of the public, Illidan realizes. He might as well—and quite literally—face the music. Taking a deep breath, his nails pull the strings of his guitar in a tentative try, noticing it right in sync as planned.

"Ahem," He flinches as his voice echoes throughout the entire bar, yet does his best to maintain his composure. Where has it been when he's been as nervous as then? "Well, I, um… I've heard a certain dorei saying they'd like to hear me sing, some years back. I guess I had to try, for what it matters," Feeling his face burning as he blushes, Illidan knows for sure he couldn't feel more embarrassed, not daring to glance at the crowd before him. "Now you can't blame me for not trying something new, Mylie…" The jest comes out of his mouth without any particular reason, a nervous chuckle following.

Lothrius pulls some strings of his guitar so to set the song in motion, but suddenly Illidan's throat feels closed, his voice not coming out. From his periphery, he notices Thania smiling in understanding, using her harp so to cover his rookie misstep. Half a minute and some breaths later, the song comes by itself.

"I'm looking at you through the glass, don't know how much time has passed. Oh, Moon, it feels like forever. But no one ever tells you that forever feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head," His throat feels tight and almost unused for several weeks, although at least his fingers work by itself with pulling the strings as intended, not missing the notes he's been practicing for weeks.

"How do you feel? That is the question, but I forget we don't expect an easy answer."

Illidan's head unconsciously tilts to the side, partially hearing his partners and doing his best to keep up—despite the incredibly fast pacing of his heart. "When something like a soul becomes initialized and folded up in shards and scrolls and little notes, you can't expect a bit of hope,"

He dares to raise his head, glancing through crinkled slits at everyone but the particular woman he's singing for, focusing on the pretty bluish patterns spreading across Syrana's sleeves. "So while you're outside looking in, describing what you see, remember what you're staring at is me,"

The words come out of his mouth before thinking about it, just as how's been practiced. "Because I'm looking at you through the glass, don't know how much time has passed," His eyes meet Mylenne's, yet only very briefly before glancing away, not ready to face her just then. "All I know is that it feels like forever, and no one ever tells you that forever feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head…"

As planned, his fingers move across the strings so very slowly, feeling the vibrations alongside his hands. "How much is real? So much to question. An epidemic of their fake smirks, contaminating everything," A fleeting knowing smile crosses his face, his eyes finally drifting to the front table, noticing the Stareyes having their attention completely glued to him—a pair of two silver eyes wide and big as two beautiful Moons watching him intently. Adoringly, even. "We thought it came from the heart; it never did right from the start. Just listen to the noises," Lothrius complies with his own line, adding, "Null and void instead of voices,"

The sight of Mylenne, seemingly fascinated, is everything that takes to spur him on; more motivated than ever before, his voice not so strained anymore as he properly faces the public as he should've done from the start, "Before you tell yourself it's just a different scene, remember it's just different from what you've seen,"

He stands tall and slightly imposing, an encouraging smirk from his musicians flashing on the corner of his eyes. "Because I'm looking at you through the glass, don't know how much time has passed. All I know is that it feels like forever, and no one ever tells you that forever feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head,"

The rhythm swifts into a faster pace, Thania and Lothrius joining hearteningly, the crowd nearly exploding as the three of them chant from the bottom of their lungs, "And it's the stars, the stars that shine for you! And it's the stars, the stars that lie to you as well!"

Mylenne and her uncle nearly jump from their seats, raising their fists and singing along with the entire bar—what may possibly started as a chill mood suddenly turning into a full rave. It doesn't take long for a good bunch to stride to the dance floor ahead, Syrana right on the lead, cheering and spurring them on. Funnily enough, Illidan's fears and insecurities fade away within each shouting from the crowd below, internally laughing at his own odd shyness.

He never had anything to be anxious of in the first place and right then, with Mylenne and Syrana beaming at him and gleefully shouting from the bottom of their lungs, Illidan can't come to understand how he'd the nerves to doubt of himself at the beginning—how mere minutes ago he couldn't even meet his friends' eyes or even walk upstage when actually it'd been exactly what he needed to strengthen his resolve.

Perhaps it's just the liquid courage finally working, but his gut tells him otherwise; it has been just the intensity in Mylenne's gaze, utterly glued on him—and only him—delight nearly pouring out of her and sending his heart to hammer its way out of his chest in sheer joy.

"And it's the stars, the stars that shine for you! And it's the stars, the stars that lie to you as well!"

For some reason and a painful minute, he doesn't want to finish the song, hesitant and clinging to that heavenly feeling warming him from the inside out. Surprisingly so, Illidan finds out again he doesn't have anything to be fearful of as Lothrius pulls the final strings and the entire place explodes in a round of applause.

It doesn't take long for Illidan to be pulled offstage and blend in as the 'experienced musicians', as Silgryn insistently remarks it, take care of keeping the cheerful party going. Taking precious care of staying in the quite opposite side from the Shadowsong siblings—not like it matters to the young one, Jarod, apparently more than entranced and dancing with Shalasyr, yet still careful and keeping a watchful eye on Maiev—Syrana, Mylenne and him take a safe and wide space to mingle and dance along, drinks coming and going as normal in celebrations such as these.

"I knew you had it in you," Mylenne insists while throwing her arms around his neck, feeling her slightly tipsy as she clumsily drops a tender kiss close to his jaw. "I'm so proud and glad you dared to come upstage and sing for us,"

"Bah, he just needed a little nudge from his friends," Syrana smirks at his periphery, not needing a partner to sway and enjoy the music by herself, purposefully giving them their personal space yet, as usual, showing her endless support—something Illidan has always appreciated and had been fond of a noble Lady such as her. "Aaaaand some liquid courage as well, but that's normal,"

Mylenne throws a genuine cackle in his arms, "Can totally relate with the liquid courage. First time I made a performance, people could smell the two bottles of Nightwine I had from miles away, believe me," Illidan sends her spinning twice but her merry laugh never stops, his grin growing wider as she leans on his chest and rests her cheek there for a moment. "What matters is that you dared, Lid," She whispers close to his collarbone, a slight shiver running down his stomach with the feeling of her lips slightly brushing his skin, "I couldn't ask for anything more this evening. Thank you so, so much for this…"

"Hey," He uses two fingers to lift her head by the jaw, properly facing her, "If you think your kal-tora is over, then it's safe to say you have absolutely no idea…"


"A remarkable evening so far," Silgryn starts, folding up the cards and throwing them around the table for each player to take, "Having a blast of a party in the middle of a Nal'dore. That doesn't look up to let pass unnoticed, don't you think?" A tilt of his dark-violet head follows, seemingly looking partially surprised for the turn of events as the group folds their own cards to play.

"That is, if you believe in such pointless events like those," Oculeth carefully exams his cards before making his remark, throwing a useless one to the pile and grabbing another in attempts to make a proper set. "The kiddo was born at sunrise, though, so it's not like anybody would look down upon her,"

Silgryn snorts in amusement and partial warning, his usual demeanor exactly on point. "Pfft. Just let them try," The entire table groans as he throws a neat set of Dukes for all to see, Syrana throwing her cards in evident annoyance and Silgryn's lover merely smirking in acknowledgment.

"Just let them try indeed," Illidan retorts, showing his own set of Magisters and winning the hand, a sly smirk narrowing his face as he brings all the coins to his side with a nonchalant flick of his wrist.

"Well, well…" Syrana adds up with both navy eyebrows lifting in surprise—although, knowing her as much as he does, not surprised at all, "It seems Lid is having his lucky evening of the decade,"

Illidan feels like wanting to remark 'finally, at last', although unfortunately, such words caught up in this mouth as he notices a long, tidied up violet mane from the corner of his eye, looking like having the time of her life on the dance floor. Jarod appears to have mentioned something funny, due to his elder sister, Mylenne and Thania—then having a break from performing—sharing some good cackles afterwards, the four of them swaying idly with the music. A small smile clings to Illidan's mouth with the sight, relief flooding through him, elbows leaning on the table as he relaxes further in his seat.

He keeps watching her for some more while Syrana's turn comes to fold the cards and start another game, partially lost and unable to look away from that joyful look on Mylenne's face. She, of all dorei, deserves a happy and relaxing night with the people she cares about, and Illidan can't help but notice he also needed to see her like that, even more so after all these tumultuous years and all they went through.

Aaw, this is quite unexpected of you, Stormrage. Who could have guessed that? You're falling for her…

Illidan shakes away the prickly voice of his head as subtly as he can, completely against allowing it to ruin the good evening he's having. Surprisingly so, something else happening on the dance floor catches his attention a moment later; a quite tipsy Mylenne catching Thania by the waist, a mug of ale on her other hand almost dripping its contents before all in a sudden, she leans down to the petite Sister's height, sloppily… kissing her.

Cobalt brows quirk up in surprise, his stomach making a twist—a sense of jealousy, awe, amusement and anger coursing through him altogether, unsure how to make or what to think of that sight. For the matter, apparently he's not the only one having a sort of weird reaction, catching Sentinel Maiev behind them seemingly looking as astounded as ever; however and just like Illidan, recovering her composure just as quickly as it came.

However, all returns to normal when Mylenne lets her friend go with an evident blush creeping on her cheeks, covering her mouth and going through a fit of giggles. Thania laughs as well, patting her on the shoulder and shying away from her friend's eyes, throwing her a flick of her wrist in the universal sign to just brush it off. Behind the pair, the youngest Shadowsong sibling helps with cutting off the awkward scene, gently pulling Mylenne to the front table where her closest group is seated—if in attempts for her to stop drinking or anything else, Illidan can't tell.

Obliging with her friend, a completely embarrassed Mylenne makes her way to them, "Mother Moon," It's all she can say, seemingly unable to still stop giggling, "I think I've had a liiiiittle too much," The men at the table share an amused laugh, but—and surprisingly so, given Silgryn's nature—none of them voice their thoughts on the matter, giving her some space to drop her empty mug on the table. "Looks like a proper time to go get some fresh air, I guess…"

"Mind if I join you?" Illidan's words come out in a rush, his mouth speaking before his mind gets able to process what he'd just asked. Syrana nods thoughtfully from his periphery—surely knowing what he's secretly up to—but he doesn't pay mind to his friend while Mylenne just stretches her hand in his direction, prompting him to follow her. Silgryn throws a low, dark chuckle, yet doesn't make a remark as Illidan grabs his niece's hand and follows her.

It's not that chill as he's thought when they reach the outskirts, although quite darker than he'd like, given the Nal'dore still on course. Mylenne doesn't speak yet keeps laughing silently as they walk together under a street lamp, leaning on it and apparently basking on the fresh air the night is giving them—silver eyes drifting close, a small smile still narrowing her lips.

Illidan takes the opportunity to use Rak'shareh's whistle, not so loudly so not startle Mylenne, prompting the frostsaber to stride in their direction at the calling. "Hey, baby girl," She mumbles softly, stretching an arm when the beast comes into view under the light. "How you doing—wait a second…"

Rak'shareh purrs under her hand, nudging it tenderly with her muzzle, inevitably showing the new saddle she's wearing—Mylenne's eyes going wide open at the sight. The silver seat fits her quite nicely, a violet leather cushion and a set of delicate feathers matching it on the sides softly waving with the night breeze. Illidan didn't have the chance to see what he's paid for, but mentally sends his thanks to Syrana and her artisans for the incomparable job they've done with the saddle, looking even more stunning than what he'd expected.

Mylenne looks lost for words as she delicately touches the violet cushion, her jaw nearly on the ground, eyes gleaming in sheer surprise. "This is… this is from you, isn't it?" It's all she can voice properly, brows quirking up as if unable to believe what she's seeing.

"I guess I must take you like it," Illidan grins, giving her some space with her beast and leaning against the street lamp.

His enjoyment turns into a slight trepidation a minute later after he catches a tear falling down Mylenne's cheek from the portion of the face he can see under the light. However, her body and aura don't show any signs of sadness or pain; in fact, the entire opposite. He's about to ask if everything's alright while leaning a hand over her shoulder tenderly, but the words get caught on his throat as she speaks first—merely whispering. "I never knew you could be like this, Lid,"

She turns to face him properly, quickly cleaning the tears falling down her face. "I mean, so incredibly kind. Caring, compassionate, genuine. After all these years, I just noticed…" Something catches in her throat and Illidan leans closer, brows furrowing in concern. For the matter, Mylenne's quick in dismissing his worries with a shake of her head, "When everybody did it at least once in their lives, you never, ever faked a smile at me. You never lied to me,"

Illidan can't help but throw a low chuckle at the comment. "And why would I need to do that?" All he gets is a shrug of her shoulders, but he gets what she's saying. "But, by the way… when have you started thinking so high of me?"

Her eyes unconsciously drift to the dark road ahead of them. "I have no idea," She confesses, "But before meeting you, all I knew about you was that… charming fame of yours with any dorei that would come across you," A knowing smirk spread across her lavender face, yet not meeting his eyes right away, "That you were a beguiler, definitely untrustworthy by regular standards. Driven by one single purpose, looking for magic and beauty,"

As if having a life of its own, his hand returns to her bare shoulder, squeezing it softly, "Power-hungry. That's the word you may be looking for. You know this by now, that—"

"Yeah, yeah. 'Magic is beauty, and beauty is power,'" Mylenne makes a show of imitating his own words said in the past, rolling her eyes in amusement, eliciting a soft cackle out of him. "Also, everyone said you were aspiring for so much and so high in the clouds it was just unreliable to have you close,"

Illidan tilts his head to the side, thoughtful, "Well, I can't really say those tell tales were all lies," He can't help but admit, "I never claimed to be a saint. Still don't think I am, for the record,"

A heartwarming light surrounds her body while Mylenne properly faces him once more—a silver-white light coming from the Moon just as bright as her gorgeous eyes, warming him from the inside out, time appearing to freeze all in a sudden. Illidan can't even feel his racing heart when he meets her gaze; raptured, entranced by the beautiful dorei that she is, smiles matching, the feeling of her even smelling like… home.

He notices her tugging at her leather straps tying her hair, helping her with the task in an unconscious manner—his fingers savoring the feeling of her silky violet hair as it falls down like a curtain. "So, what's changed?" Mylenne wonders, her voice so low Illidan almost doesn't catch it.

The answer comes just as simply as breathing. "I met you." Illidan says, catching a strand of violet hair in his hand, idly toying with it.

He can't possibly tell what's happening or what happens next, a silver-white light haloing her head, faint sparks of golden surrounding her. Or is it because of her bright smile directed at him? Illidan doesn't know how, but it feels as if her aura calls to him; beaming, slightly sparkling, pulling him towards Mylenne in ways he can't come to understand. Neither can grasp how the warmth from the Moon floods and courses through him, a sense of safety—of home—enveloping him like a blanket.

His vision gets blurry and dark on the corners, although Illidan doesn't even care to look away from that beautiful lavender face—so soft, tender, gorgeous, with a beauty that would match the Goddess herself. Or perhaps Mylenne is, indeed, an embodiment of Her, for he can't find proper words to describe how incredible, how unlikely, how seemingly impossible is to have such a woman facing him in the way she does right then.

Like witnessing real beauty in the flesh. The beauty of the soul.

For all intents and purposes, he may never know what happens or how he'd come to be so lucky to have someone like Mylenne before him—so at ease, with a sense of joy literally pouring out of her, washing over him as if a blessing would be.

All that he knows is how his body appears to have a life of its own, capturing a strand of her silky hair, leaning down and closer as he captures her mouth with his.

Time appears to stop, not even the breeze whispering around them, the need for breathing never coming. Or maybe it's him who doesn't even dare to do it, afraid to break that deep and heartwarming spell enveloping them both. Tentatively, Illidan deepens the kiss, although somehow it feels they've already gone through such intimate moment—the taste of her lips feeling like something intricately unique, definitely remarkable and totally distinguishable from any woman he'd once kissed before.

The only thing he can feel apart from the delightful texture and taste of her lips is the intense beating of his heart, nearly singing for her, craving to have her closer—a sensation that almost overwhelms him while slowly encircling her waist, pulling her further close, her scent of lilies going straight to his head and threatening to make him dizzy. A trembling nimble hand settles in his chest and sends a jolt of electricity throughout his entire body, heart jumping in sheer joy; something he's certain he hadn't ever felt before.

Like heaven, that's how Mylenne feels and tastes like. Like home, like a fresh breeze brushing his skin, like beauty incarnated, like where he—undoubtedly—belongs.

A soft gasp from her part makes time return to its course, their lips parting yet making Illidan very reluctant of letting her go just yet, leaning his forehead against hers. Mylenne pants, her breath fanning his mouth, numbing Illidan's senses, prompting him to kiss her again, and again, and again, until the end of his nights. Yet as something wet falls over the back of his hand and the smallest of sobs makes his ears twitch, he manages to contain himself from doing so.

His voice feels strained and weak, although he succeeds in coming up with words. "Say something…" Illidan pleads, cupping her cheek in one of his slightly trembling hands. "Please…"

The sound of someone clearing their throat sends her startling, although—and thanking Mother Moon and the stars above—she doesn't flinch away from him just yet. "Illidan…" He feels someone walking to their direction and her eyes drift to the side, but that only prompts him to keep her attention on his face, mouthing another plea, heart racing within each second Mylenne remains silent.

A trembling lavender hand cups his, slightly leaning her face on his touch, the most wonderful feeling of hope blossoming inside him. "Oh, Illidan, I'm… I'm—" Mylenne strains to come up with words, tears flooding down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

Illidan's eyes open wide, his breath hitching, all he'd felt mere moments ago disappearing within the next blink, something painful striking through his chest as if a dagger would be. It gets worse as Mylenne disentangles herself and glances away from him—sheer guilt narrowing her face. "Wh—what…" Her unstable aura is all that lights up their surroundings, a sense of darkness enveloping him. "What—Mylie!" She keeps apologizing in her quick stride inside the bar, her sobbing getting louder as she goes. "Mylenne!"

His mind races with many possible theories of what could make her react in the way she just did, but all Illidan knows is that he can't let her just walk away after what had just happened. With some surprise, Syrana's the first to get in his way, saying something that never reaches his ears, although he easily brushes his friend off and follows the long violet mane opening the bar's doors hastily, turning left and directly to the stairs leading to the rooms above.

Everyone's still celebrating, the mood and ambiance not appearing to change in the slightest, except for one small thing—a familiar man with short cobalt hair and dull golden eyes making his appearance on the first floor. The sight of Hargo'then somehow makes his blood turn into ice, yet it's not enough for Illidan to make him stop in his tracks; in fact, it's the entire opposite, going for the stairs in long strides, more than ready to face whoever wants to get between him and Mylenne.

Turns out, it's Silgryn fucking Stareye who does so, suddenly getting in his way and firmly grabbing Illidan by the arm, his face stern and hard as a rock. "Don't," It's all he nearly growls, clutching him harder after an attempt of brushing him off from Illidan's part.

"This isn't your concern, Silgryn. It's about me and Mylenne, so step aside and let me through—"

That only gets Illidan to be pushed backwards and to the bottom of the stairs, the elder Stareye's face twisting in near disgust, lavender jaw clenching almost painfully. "Can you just stop thinking about yourself for a fucking moment and listen to me?" Silgryn snarls, at least being decent enough to not catch the attention of the entire bar. "She'll be fine, just needs to process what you both did,"

What you both did? What in Elune's fucking sake is he talking about?

Behind the pair, Syrana appears to hesitate to get in the middle of them, yet after a tense minute and very heated looks between him and Silgryn, she appears decided to speak up. "At least listen to me, Lid. Please, come with me and look outside," He doesn't acknowledge her right away, his head racing with many questions regarding why, for the Mother Moon and all the stars above, everyone just suddenly decided to… contain him as they're doing so. "Illidan, please,"

He huffs in deep annoyance and rolls his eyes, but after a long breath Illidan can't think of anything else but oblige, following his friend and looking across the window. "… What?" Feeling frustrated in dangerous levels, he throws his hands in the air. "Seriously, what? Why are you all doing this? And what am I supposed to see?"

Silgryn comes to stand beside him, a shocked look on his lavender face. "Don't you get it, Illidan?" Cobalt brows knit in a deep frown, sharp teeth showing. It's as if they're talking in a language he doesn't understand—and at the most inappropriate moment of his entire life. "It started when you two were outside! Somehow, for reasons I can't come up to understand, it's like you two caused this. I may have a slight theory but still, it's… it's… unbelievable,"

Reaching the end of his patience, he's about to ask again what in Elune's sake are they talking about, but Syrana tugs at his wrist, recalling his attention. "Just look up, Lid," She insists in a calming tone.

Leaning closer to the window, he stares at the sky, the Moon's silvery-white light shining upon them, painting the outskirts in familiar pretty shades of cerulean and—

Wait.

Golden eyes drift upstairs to the locked room belonging to Mylenne, then return to look up again at the sky, realization dawning upon him, jaw nearly dropping and frown deepening.

For reasons unknown, the Moon is up there, shining bright and warm as usual… in the middle of a New Moon.


A-N: Song from Stone Sour - Through Glass.

As usual, I kneel to all those who've encouraged me to keep this story going. To be quite honest, I'm having one of the worst moments of my life, fighting depression as if fisting with Godzilla himself, and this hard battle has been taking a huge toll on me.

Updating Starsurge has been what kept me going as well as all your amazing words of support. I can't possibly tell with words how grateful I am to all of you, but in between working on commissions, illustrations and writing, it's 110% positive to say you are the reason why I'm still here, as strong as I can be, and there's no way I can thank all of you for how much you've been helping me.

For all intents and purposes, you mean the freaking World to me - and I know I've said this a dozen times, but seriously, I can't seem to find another way to genuinely express this apart from this. With your donations, requests, comments, commissions, you've all been saving my life, and that's more than what I could possibly ask for.

So, then again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I know this cliffhanger is sort of bitter for everything that's been going on in this update, but I can certainly promise there's more - a damn lot more! - on the way. And I can't say properly how glad I am for all of you to have stuck with me this year and forth with Mylie and Illidan's story.

Here's hoping to be hearing your thoughts, good or bad ones, from now on. And again, THANK YOU FOR YOUR ENDLESS SUPPORT!