Author's notes:
Hey, as I promised, the chapter has been rewritten. I think that I will write maybe one or two more chapters to this story.
I hope, you will end up liking it.
As always, thanks for everything, and see you next time :)
Changelog:
2020-02-19: The original chapter was posted.
2021-03-22: The rewritten version was released.
Schedule for the nearest future:
3. Until my last breath (next chapter).
4. Sometimes it's just better not to know (next chapter)/(possibly rewrite).
5. Exiled you say (next chapter).
6. Kiss the rain (next chapter).
7. Whispers in the Dark (new chapter)/(possibly extending beyond just 2 part story).
8. Story of one lost soul (2 next chapters)/(The war call|The heart not so cold).
9. Prisoner of Your Eyes (next chapter).
10. Black Diamond (2 next chapters)/(possibly finishing the story).
11. The rise of the Blood Moons' servants (2 next chapters).
12. Alone (2 next chapters)/(possibly rewrite).
13. Last Christmas (finishing up the story).
14. My home is where my heart lies (a long, possibly 10k + words chapter).
End of author's notes:
The Vindicaar was steadily floating through the atmosphere of the Draenei homeworld – Argus. To the people onboard, its movement seemed to be steady, smooth, elegant. Yet, in fact, the vessel could travel across the galaxy nearly effortless. It would not have been an understatement if one had called the ship the most technically advanced piece of technology found across all of Azeroth. The ship was at its own league, separate by many lightyears from any other technological achievement known on Azeroth. The vessel utilised the perfect mixture of raw magic and technology to enhanced its systems. Who was to tell with certainty how the enormously large forges – located deep beneath the living quarters – could concert raw magical energy into fuel. The vessel as a whole was one big mystery for both engineers and magicians.
It was safe to say that everyone who came inside the construction for the very first time quickly had found themselves amazed by it. After all, it was to be expected. Nearly the entirety of the huge ship could be called awe-inspiring. Inside the corridors, halls, an army could be hidden, waiting for the signal to descend upon the enemy. Such a situation was currently present. The armies of Azeroth gathered to defeat the Burning Legion once for all. Their goal was clear and easy to point out, yet its execution could be slippery, maybe even impossible.
Samara remembered oh-so-well how it had all unfolded.
They had not been granted time to recover after the campaign on Draenor. There had been no time to bury the dead, to morn them. Out of one hell, they had been thrown into another, she dared to call even worse. The first battle of that war had taken place on Broken Isles. That place had soon become the grave for many noble soldiers, heroes. During the battle, both sides – Horde and Alliance – had lost their leaders. The delicate balance across Azeroth had been brutally severed, leaving both factions significantly weakened.
The next chapter's beginning was a mass made of various images inside her mind. Everything back then had seemed to be happening too fast, memories blurring together. Before she had realised, Samara found herself in Dalaran, alongside many others.
Quickly it became apparent that someone had enclosed the central part of the isle with a powerful magical barrier. Without intel, the best solution was to split the forces and secure the grounds surrounding it. Command believed that it might expose weaknesses in the shield. Four vast regions had awaited the champions' arrival. Each had welcomed them differently. Even though they had all followed a similar plan, their action had yielded various outcomes. Countless encounters with Legion, many battles, losses later, the puzzle pieces had begun aligning.
After weeks of heavy fightings, the path to Suramar finally had been cleared. It had turned out that some of the Nightborne had begun collaborating with Legion. Those who had opposed the rulers had been banished, entirely cut off from the source of their magic – Night Well. One of them had helped the united forces to establish the foothold. Slowly, inch by inch, they had started to gain ground, secure strategic locations. The preparation for the final assault had lasted months – or at least, it had felt that way. It was vastly known that they had only one chance, one shot.
It would have been difficult for the young Night Elf woman to describe her feelings during the final moments of their encounter with Guldan. Had it been a surprise or happiness, she could not have said with certainty. After all these years, her presumably deceased father had emerged out of the crystal stronger than ever before.
Shortly after, she had returned to the place when she had once failed – Broken Isles shores. Legion's servants had taken control over the ancient temple of Elune, making it their operation base. The horrors found there still hunted the woman in her nightmares. She could still remember the fear she had felt back then. The images of the twisted, corrupted, wounded abominations that once had been Night Elves were engraved deep inside her mind.
Soon enough, one of the Legion's commanders - Kil'jaeden – had fallen, stricken down by whom he had once called a friend. If her father had not been there, it would have been the finish of the war, at least temporarily. Thankfully, he had been with them. Without an ounce of hesitation, the portal linking Azeroth with Argus had been opened. The words he had uttered back then still blared in her ears.
"Sometimes, the hands of fate must be forced," Illidan Stormrage uttered in his usual rich, deep voice, overflown with confidence.
Even though most of the commanders had not agreed with him, no other choices were left. It was a do-or-die situation. Their task had been evident – assault of Argus.
Gathering the remaining heroes had taken them more than it should have. Not many soldiers were happy with how the events had unfolded. They wanted peace, a bit of rest. And, yet, instead, they received another campaign.
Everyone had known that there would be no easy way to accomplish that challenge. It had been admitted openly that casualties were expected to be at least heavy. Frankly saying, most of the soldiers who were supposed to be part of that assault speculated that they would not make it out alive. Still, they had known that it must have been done. The simple pushing back of the Legion's forces would be only a temporary solution. Without a doubt, they would return stronger, with better coordination, with better commanders taught on their predecessors' mistakes.
Many people had considered that campaign to be a suicide mission, a one-way ticket to the grave. Even on the paper, the situation had looked dire. Apart from the Prophet's knowledge, they had no intel about the Legion's homeworld. There were no maps, plans, scratches. As soon as they had landed on Argus, there had been no remorse, no mercy. The kill-or-be-killed approach had been necessary to survive the very first days of the assault.
Even though they had the most powerful entity that Azeroth ever had given birth to, the waves of enemies were endless. Just like their name rightly described, they were Legion. They were endless.
During these horrific, dire days, they met with their new allies – the Army of the Light. Within their ranks, the long lost and nearly forgotten pair of lovers had been found. The renger general Alleria Windrunner and high exarch Toralyon were legends. Their story together had begun a long time ago. They had met for the very first time during the forming of the original Alliance. It had taken place after orcish Horde had emerged out of the Dark Portal for the very first time, after the fall of Stormwind. When the threat of Horde had risen once again, they had answered the call, crossing the portal, entering the devastated world of Outland. More or less about that time, the contact with them had been lost, the portal had been sealed. Many had considered them dead, lost to the endless waves of orcs and their demon masters.
And yet, fate had planned them to return to serve Azeroth once more.
Even though the Army of the Light's strength had been impressive, they would not have been able to win that war alone. Naaru's guide had been needed. It had taken them days to located the last piece of one of the Prime Naaru. To even gather, the intel had appeared to be a very costly operation. Still, the cost could not have been compared to what it had taken to recover the part. Many brave soldiers had given their lives, believing that their sacrifice would not be in vain.
Thankfully, the mission had succeeded. However, it quickly had turned out that it had not been a blessing but more of a curse.
Xe'ra had used all of her powers to overcome Illidan, to take control over him. She had tried to cover that evident violation with the reasoning of cleansing the demon hunter from his corruption. Her goal had been to create an ultimate avatar of Light, the vessel which would have represented everything that Ligh had fought for. To her utter surprise and disbelieve, her "gift" had been rejected. The Prime Naaru could not have stood that insolence. Believing in her superiority, it had decided to force the gift upon the previous master of Outland. Naaru had thought that it could have done it without worrying over potential consequences. In that case, it could not have been mistaken more. The grave mistake had been made. As soon as the unbelievable pain had run through Illidan's frame, it had been time for a show. Once again, the Betrayer had made it awfully evident that he had been on an entirely different level in terms of power.
It had taken one a few moments for the shackles made out of pure light energy to be ripped apart by the demon hunter. When the chains had fallen, the enormously powerful wave of arcane energy had washed over the ship. Just a couple of seconds later, the Prime Naaru had been no more. Its vessel had been shattered into millions of small pieces, quickly vanishing into the air. At that very moment, it had come up that the sacrifice had been, in fact, in vain.
Illidan Stormrage had fallen onto the cold deck, breathing heavily. The battle against Naaru had exhausted him, had drained his energy. Even though he had been undoubtedly powerful. Even though it had been apparent that he could eviscerate whole bands of enemies without much effort. He had had still his boundaries, his limits. Sometimes, Samara had thought that all that had fueled her father had been his pledge to stop Legion, to destroy it. It had carved his path, had given him directions. Due to it, he would have done everything to prevent history from repeating itself once again. It had been inevitably destructive. However, no one would have changed anything because it would have resulted in losing their accomplished soldier.
As it was to be expected, the high exarch had not been pleased with how the events unfolded. Calling him mad would have been an utter understatement. He had been furious. Turalyon had leapt forward, drawing his trusted sword in a matter of a fraction of a second. He had wanted to kill the demon hunter. The death of his master must have been avenged. The grey-haired man had stricken the former night elf with all the strength he could have mustered. To his utter disbelieve, shock, his blade had been stopped. To make the matter more ridiculous, the former master of Outland had only used his left hand. Even though he had been severely weakened, it had appeared that the paladin had not been a match to him. All that exarch's mighty strike had done was a shallow cut, a small bleeding wound. The disbelieve could not have been hidden in the paladin's eyes. The grey-haired man had been beaten by the exhausted abomination. To add an insult to the injury on his pride, the demon hunter had lectured him. Stormrage had spoken that there would never have been a chosen one, that if they wanted to live, they would have to fight for it alone. The fate of Azeroth, the fate of uncountable other worlds, had been in their hands.
A few days had passed from the moment the Prime Naaru had vanished into the air. The main offensive had been led by the previous master of Outland. The majority of commanders had agreed to pass the lead onto the demon hunter's hands. Even though the operation had been proceeding, it had taken its toll on everyone. As it had been expected out of the very beginning, the path to victory would not have been easy. It would have been paid with the blood of heroes. The armies of Azeroth had started to gain small footholds, allowing them to stay closer to the battlefield. Small victories had been the next part of the plan. Truth be told, every single one of them had been paid dearly. Still, the frontline had been steadily extended, pushed forward, forcing the demon to retreat, at least partially.
"Another report," Alleria announced before throwing the piece of paper onto the huge map-table.
"How many this time?" the Prophet sounded. His voice was low, sad, weak as if he aged significantly in the span of the last few days.
"Couple of dozens," Vereesa uttered in a whisper-like manner. "They managed to break through the demon's defence, but it was a trap. In the end, the ruins were captured, but many paid with their lives for it," she added, looking at the broad back of Illidan, sad.
"Pfff," Turalyon scoffed. "Yet another great decision of our oh-so-great leader. I'm sure you're happy to hear about the casualties. After all, your demon masters are winning, aren't they," the man mocked.
"Was his decision a mistake?" the old Draenei asked. "You allow your rage, fury to blind you, Turalyon. We are fighting a mighty enemy. There is no need for internal fights that you are trying to cause," he made a clear comment toward the exarch.
"I don't believe him," the paladin responded. "He's working for them. He's working for the Burning Legion. If he didn't, he wouldn't have destroyed Xe'ra – our only hope," the man continued to hiss.
"I will go and talk with them after the council is over," the exhausted voice of Illidan sounded. "But, for now, shall we tend to the next step of our plan?" he asked.
"There is no point in fighting each other," Samara said in a stone-cold tone, fixing her eyes onto the human paladin. "Let's discuss our next move," she added, coming closer to the table.
"Let's allow Turalyon to suggest the next move," Vereesa exclaimed. "After all, he thinks that one of us is sabotaging."
"Speak, paladin. It is your chance to take the lead," Stormrage uttered quietly. "We are listening."
"Very well," the human replied with a small smile. "I'm suggesting pushing Mac'aree frontline. We have a decent foothold established there, and there were signs of void manifestation in this area. With another push, we can deal with two problems at the same time," he tried to convince the rest of the commanders.
"There is no point in such a movement," Alleria was first to provide her opinion. "Burning Legion has too many forces on Mac'aree. The assault would cost us too much," she added emotionlessly. "Even though you are right - to some extent – I would not risk the whole campaign for a single operation."
"I would have to agree with you, Alleria," the demon hunter responded, finally turning around to face them. "Eredars dispatched a couple of additional units specifically to defend that area," he added, leaning over the map, then pointing out the mentioned location. "They know that the temple is very important to Draenei. They want us to attack there. If we make a mistake, we will give our enemy an excellent opportunity to crush our forces. It is really all they need. They already have a number advantage over us. Attacking there would give them a positional advantage as well," the night elf explained his thought process. "Instead of this, we could relocate some of our forces to Krokuun. We have already a sizeable presence there. With a bit of luck, we could possibly take full control over this area. It would decrease the number of fronts we are fighting on."
"I completely disagree," the exarch rose his voice. "The temple should have always been our priority. Only with the power of Light, with its guidance, we can win this war. We need a decisive victory to boost the morale of our forces. If we captured the temple, we'd achieve both," the paladin explained.
"Must I remind you that the dead do not have morales, exarch?" Stormrage asked in a bored tone. "You are talking about morales, yet, you are about to send these soldier to their certain demise. Even in the best-case scenario, even if we captured the location, the casualties would be heavy. Realistically looking at what you suggested, we have about a 10%, maybe 20% chance of success. Must I remind you that if that assault failed, we would lose most of our forces in Mar'aree, possibly all footholds there? For me, it is a risk not worth the possible gain," the demon hunter explained, fixing his magical gaze on the exarch.
"Coward, pathetic coward!" the human paladin denounced the raven-haired man.
"Exarch, your insolence, naivety never ceases to amaze me," Illidan started with a sigh. "You are like a small child that desperately wants to have a toy all for itself. Even though its parents are trying to explain that there is no need for that particular toy, the child wants it. The problem is that in our current situation, the consequences of such behaviour are far greater than just being shout onto. If you even read the reports, you would have never argued about that very case," the demon hunter finished. Discontent was easily visible all over his noble face.
"What are you talking about, abomination?" the paladin asked, raising his tone again.
"Ehhh…" the Betrayer sighed heavily. "Samara, will you be so kind as to explain to him how broad is his ignorance?"
"With pleasure, father," the white-haired night elf woman replied. "There are at least 10 scouts reports in regards to the temple. Each of them is slightly different, yet, the one aspect with which they all agree. To be precise, it regards the possibility of attacking the location. None of the scouts' leaders thinks that we could possibly capture the temple. At least 2 or 3 units were assigned to defend that place. According to the reports, the garrison is being reinforced weekly," the golden-eyed elf said in a stone-cold tone.
"I wouldn't belive a word uttered by these scums called scouts," Turalyon scoffed, making a grimace of disgust. "I'd suggest the same to most of you. After all, these scouts are the same kind of abomination as their leader, Illidan fucking Stormrage," he allowed himself to mock again. "All of them are you kind, demon hunter. You must be insane to even hope that I'd give a rat's ass about a single word they'd ever say. They're liars just like you," the man accused the former master of Outland.
"You need to stop that nonsense of yours, Turalyon!" the youngest of Windrunners' sisters uttered in a cold tone. "You are not required to like them, but they have already earned our respect. These demon hunters are the ones who are risking their lives to gain intel. During each of their missions, there is a high possibility for them to not make it out alive. If that does not earn them your respect, then you are not better than the monsters you are trying to fight," she finished, narrowing her gaze, clenching her jaw.
"You're naïve, Vereesa," the paladin replied. "You've been wrapped around the little linger of that creature," he added, pointing out at Stormrage. "I'm not going to waste my time, foolishly trying to convince you about him. If you want to respects these abominations, you're free to do so. However, I'm refusing to prise them. They're here only to repay for their sins. If they died during one of their mission, it'd only make this world a better place."
"I will not back you up, Turalyon," Alleria slowly whispered. "You have chosen a dark path to follow, and I fear that you might have been lost at some point of it."
"Splendid!" the grey-haired man roared. "Even my very own wife chose to side with these monstrosities. This day couldn't have been better," he allowed himself to mock.
"You are my husband. That is the fact. However, it does not imply for me to agree on everything with you," the oldest of Windrunners' sisters spoke in a hollow tone. "My love, look. They may be demon hunters, but for all of us, they are soldiers. They are not so different from us," she tried to convince her beloved.
"I can't believe what I've heard!" the outraged exarch uttered. "How can you possibly say such horrific things after witnessing, knowing what their leader had done? Why are you so blind, Aleria?"
"He only tried to defend himself," the blond blood elf warlock spoke.
"Who are you to even have the audacity to speak in that tone to me?" the grey-haired human roared furiously.
"I've been invited by Lord Stormrage to participate in this council alongside Samara and Ghren," the blood elf woman replied, not at all affected by the exarch outburst. "The Prime Naaru deserved its fate. If it didn't attack Lord Stormrage, it wouldn't be destroyed," she added with confidence.
"Silence, ou insubordinate filth! No one gave you permission to speak," Turalyon growled.
"They're free to speak up their minds," Velen stoically stated. "If they didn't, there wouldn't be any use of their presence here. After all, they've been invited here to help us. Our next decision will either result in making decent progress of the campaign or doom us. Must I remind you about that, high exarch?"
"They're not needed here!" the man replied in a slightly risen tone. "You should have left the command in my wife's and my hands. We've been leading for years by now. There's no one here who could do a better job in that field than us."
"I beg your pardon," the warlock scoffed loudly. "You're delusional if you really think so."
"You dare to speak to me in such a tone?" the human paladin roared once again. "You wouldn't even live if I didn't fight against the orcish Horde. You wouldn't have been even born if I haven't sacrificed everything to fight against their demon masters!" he kept yelling.
"You're succumbing to the madness, high exarch," the blonde warlock stated with a smirk. "I must have forgotten how brave you and your wife are. So courageous," she allowed herself to ironise. "However, I wonder whether you've ever thought about what you did in the past?" the woman asked, lowering her tone significantly.
"Pfff," the exarch scoffed. "I bet you're about to inform me about that. Go ahead then, little girl," he mocked confidently.
"Very well. I must inform you that what you're going to hear will be unpleasant," Valsendra Wintercloud threw through clenched teeth. "You," she pointed out at Windrunners' sisters. "You're a disgrace of our race of our people. You've both abandoned us to breed with humans. Your destiny was to give birth to another generation of Windrunners, to another generation of the realm's most formidable defenders. And yet, you've forsaken it. Maybe, just maybe, you two wouldn't have changed the final fate of Quel'Thalas. However, you'd have slowed down Lich King's offence. I have no doubts about that. You could have saved hundreds if not thousands of lives. Your very won sister – Sylvanas – sacrificed her life to defend our home. While these events were taking place, you two were enjoying your lives, sucking humans' dicks. There's no punishment severe enough for both of you to repent for what you did. You've failed us. For many survivors, you don't deserve to live," the warlock finished in a sad tone.
"Shut that filthy mouth of yours, or I'll force you to do so!" the grey-haired exarch threatened, preparing to charge at the woman. "You don't have a right to say such things!" he added, interrupting the warlock.
"I warn you, old fool. Take a single step in her direction, and I will kill you," the white-haired night elf woman made a threat of her own.
"Whom do you think you're?" the paladin replied, laughing maniacally.
"As I see, your sclerosis is progressing well," Samara uttered in a low, stone-cold tone. "I am Fyrerenna. Most of you know me under the name Samara. I am the leader of the first company and daughter of Illidan Stormrage," she added after a small pause. "My men and I are one of a few reasons why the demons have not won already, have not killed you yet."
"She is right," Alleria's voice sounded. "Her unit has been assigned to the most dangerous operation since the beginning of the campaign. They are the ones who always fight in the very first line, breaking through the demon's fortifications."
"As if it meant anything at all," the human paladin spatted. "She'll not defile my name, nor threaten me," he exclaimed proudly.
"Oh," Illidan chuckled loudly. "I am more than certain that she can. After all, she is the second in command after me," he added with his usual smirk playing on his lips. "And even if she was not, she could still end your miserable life in a span of seconds," he added, smiling mischievously.
"Who has given you such a power to assign ranks within our forces to your liking?" Turalyon asked, indignant.
"The answer is easy to answer. All it takes to find it out is to think for a few seconds," Valsendra chuckled.
"Don't play these petty games of your with me, filth!" the exarch shouted, demanding the answer.
"The soldiers have given my father that power," Samara simply replied. "They believe that their commander should stand right beside them, kneeling in the mud, fighting in trenches, not hide inside the ship. They also know that there is no one more powerful and experienced in the war against the Legion than him."
"It's insane. I should have been the one who commands!" the grey-haired man demanded.
"Keep dreaming, old man," Samara spoke. "You do not have the respect of your own men, not anymore. They see you now as a coward."
"You…"
"Shut up, already, and let the warlock continue," the bulked orc in a plate armour spoke up.
"Thank you, Ghren," the blood elf woman thanked for the backup. "As I was saying when someone rudely interrupted me," she fixed her gaze onto the paladin, not hiding the disgust. "There're a lot of people who in the past saw you as role models, figures to respect. Many considered you as examples to follow in the future. However, we found out that we had been wrong the hard way. Your actions have proven us wrong. Most of our people would like to see you both dead, to see you suffer what we've been through."
"I am sorry…," Vereesa started.
"Don't interrupt me!" the warlock spat. "Because of you, many people have died. After your departure, your units had been disbanded, then incorporated into the still existing regiments. When Arthas attacked, we had 2 companies less to work with, 2 formidable commanders less who could have made a difference. We were scattered. We weren't prepared for the attack. On the day of the attack, we've already lost."
"What is the connection between all of this and our relationship with humans?" Alleria stoically asked, focusing her sight on the warlock, watching her every move.
"Isn't it apparent?" the blood elf warlock scoffed. "They were the reason why you had left. You've chosen your own good over your peoples'. You've abandoned the people you had sworn to protect."
"I sense a lot of grief, rage inside your tone, inside of you. Whom did you lose?" the former Ranger General asked.
"Does the name Aelara Wintercloud speaks to you?" Valsendra asked, her eyes quickly becoming moist.
"Hmmm," Alleria hummed, thinking for a couple of moments. "She was a very young ranger. Or, at least, I remember her being when I was about to leave Quel'Thalas. As far as I can remember, she was meant to be assigned to my company, I believe. She bears the same surname as you. I assume she was your sister. What happened to her?" the woman wanted to know.
"Yes… she was my sister," the warlock replied sadly, allowing a single tear to fall down. "She died during Scourage invasion. After you had left, she decided to quit the Farstriders. You were her role model, the reason why she signed up to be a ranger, in the very first place. When you were gone, she left that she had nothing in common with the rangers. She became a jeweller shortly after her departure. When Scourge had come, she was unarmed. She couldn't fight. The death found her on the very first day of the invasion. The remains had been mostly eaten by the ghouls. There was barely anything left when I finally reached her," the woman shouted with more tears filling her eyes.
"It is a sad story," the former general admitted. "However, it was not my fault," she added. Still, she lowered her head, a gesture that contradicted her words.
"And you… Vereesa Windrunner," Valsendra said after a few moments of pause. "My brother was to propose to you. He was so madly in love with you that he hanged himself when he had found out about you matting a mere human," she added with her breaking down voice.
"I… I… I…," Vereesa began to mumble. "I am sorry," she uttered when she finally regained her composer, embarrassed.
"You two could have any man from our race. Why have you chosen humans?" the blood elf warlock desperately asked. "Cause of it, you've abandoned us. You've left the people who had believed in you, had put their trust in you, to die."
"It's enough!" the high exarch shouted. "Don't you dare to open your filthy mouth once more!" he made a clear threat.
"Have I not made myself clear earlier?" the cold tone of Samar sounded. "I have warned you, human. In my foolishness, I thought that you would understand that it was a clear threat. Yet, here we are."
Within a span of a few heartbeats, the night elf woman closed the distance between her and the exarch. A short blade was drawn without hesitation, then put to the Army of Light's leader's throat. She was towering over the paladin. The height difference was higher than a head's length - her face plain, emotionless.
"Utter one more word, and I will kill you, human," Illidan's daughter threatened in a low, stone-cold voice. "If you were listening to Valsendra story, you would know that you are one of the reasons why she had lost nearly the entirety of her family. Your choices are narrowed now. You can either stop interrupting her, letting her speak or… you can end up dying by my hand."
"Haha," Illidan chuckled loudly, openly. "If I were you, human, I would not try to challenge her. You are not a match for her."
"Changing of the plans," Samara whispered. "I have enough of you for at least a couple of day, old fool."
Without wasting even a fraction of a second, she hit the paladin. The strike was so fast that the majority of the gathered people saw it slightly fuzzy. Enough strength was put into the attack that the old man was knocked out instantly.
"You can continue, Valsendra," the night elf woman whispered - once Turalyon's body fell onto the stone floor.
"Thank you, dear," the warlock responded. "Alleria, I don't like repeating someone. However, what Lord Stormrage said is true. Samara isn't the person you'd have ever wanted to fight again," she reminded the former general when the latter reached for her bow. "I think that it'd be an excellent choice to meet your people. Consider it as the very first step on your way to redemption in the eyes of our people. You should witness their sadness, their grief. It's never too late to help, so maybe you should start now. At least admit that you're sorry. You own us at least that. You've failed us. You failed your people."
"Where are they?" Vereesa asked in a slightly muffled voice.
"We reside on the middle level of the ship," the warlock replied. "I'm pretty sure you'll have no problems finding us."
Without uttering a single word more, the youngest of Windrunners' sisters left the council. The provided response was enough for her. There was nothing more to add. She immediately headed toward the middle level of the vessel. Her cheeks were wet due to the tears rolling out of her eyes. The general of Silver Covenant felt embarrassed, guilty.
Opposite to her sister, Alleria stood still, numbed by the whole scene that just unfolded. It was evident that some kind of internal battle was taking place inside her mind. Still, she was not sure what to do about that.
"What about you, Alleria?" Samara whispered into the former general's ear.
"I… I… I…," the woman started to mumble just like her younger sister a couple of moments earlier. "I do not think I am ready to go there, to face them," she admitted after a few seconds.
"Hmmm," the night elf woman hummed. "It would be a shame if you did not go with your sister. How about me accompanying you?" she made a proposition.
"Why?" Alleria asked. "Why would you do something like that for me?" she wanted to know.
"You caught my eyes, darling," Samara whispered, lifting the former general's chin, looking straight into her eyes. Within a blink of the eye, Alleria's eyes became cloudly. "And… I can sense that you are afraid that they would try to kill you for what you had done. I think you could use someone who is respected amongst their ranks, someone … to protect you. So what is your decision?" she asked with a mischievous smile playing on her full lips.
"Yes, I have to take responsibility for my action, finally. Come with me, please," the former general of Silvermoon breathed out slowly.
"With pleasure, my dear," the night elf giggled. "Ghren? Could you clean up the body of our stubborn exarch from the floor?" she asked the orc.
"Yeah, it isn't a big deal," the orc replied. "Take good care of her," he added.
A few moments later, the oldest of Windrunners' sister was being led by Illidan's daughter out of the council meeting room. Alleria was walking beside the night elf commander. It felt so strange for her to leave like that. She did not care at the slightest what would happen with her husband. To some extent, she felt as if he deserved such treatment. Something was evidently, not alright. As soon as Samara began whispering into her ears, she started to feel strange. The heat inside of her as if it had wakened up, building stronger and stronger with every passing moment. The whole situation was confusing to the former ranger general. Yet still, she was following the snowy-white-haired woman without hesitation. A couple of moments were needed for the blond-haired elf to spot the aura around the night elf. It was radiating brightly. It was beautiful. In her eyes, the aura looked like the most beautiful flower than started to bloom. Slowly, the magical power was surrounding her like a protective shield, a barrier. Alleria felt weird out, for lack of a better word to describe her current state. However, somehow, she did not care at all. She let herself be led by the beautiful night elf woman, to be led by Samara. It would be ridiculous to say, but she was sure that she would allow the younger woman to do many more. She would allow Illidan's daughter to do so many things to her in the given moment. It terrified her. Yet, she had never felt more excited in her entire life. A thrill of the unknown, of new experience, the new sensation was intriguing her. That sensation seemed to be making her crave for more. Maybe… her life had not been defined the moment she had met her current husband. Maybe… there was so much more to explore. Would she dare to say it? Maybe… her future would be connected with this beautiful young night elf woman walking beside her. It definitely had its own charm. Something that she could truly desire.