A bitter girl and the wicked world

The ceremony was a simple one, at best. A few fellow sentinels had participated and spoken some kind words regarding their comrade, Sölvi's dearest of kin. They had been so few in their numbers, for many of Lyraniel's fellows had suffered a similar fate to her own. They had drowned, or otherwise been battered to death amidst the ruins of Auberdine when the earth crumbled beneath their feet. To mourn Lyraniel, they lit up lanterns and placed them in small wooden boats, which they sent out at sea. They sent her dead body away in a larger craft. Sölvi could not muster the strength to hold back her tears, as she watched her dead sister's pale face drift away, when the light from the lanterns played an eerie serenade upon Lyraniel's skin. One by one, the few who had showed up to the ceremony would part with silent condolences and attempts to comfort the youth. She heard their words, but they did not reach out to her in earnest. As such, Sölvi was the last living being to witness the final journey of Lyraniel. A journey from which the sentinel would not return.

Sölvi began to shut herself in, fending for herself. Her morale had taken a hit and she could not help but feel a sense of bitterness towards the pitiful gaze she received from others. More so than that, she grew resentful towards the lover that never had the decency to mourn her sister's passing. Atelniar Shadowrunner, they called him. Sölvi began to lose sight of what was right and wrong; she spent her days brooding over what to do. She could not find her place among her kin anymore. She needed to find peace. It was with that as her new ambition that the young elf left. Sölvi packed her items in a simple satchel and cloaked herself in a hooded cape, before abandoning the relative safety of the dreary place she once called home. Her steps weighed heavier than she had imagined before leaving the doorway. It took forever to reach the trail that led to the makeshift haven from which she could cross the sea, towards Darnassus. Ships were scarce and the coastline was in a deformed state. She leased a hippogryph, which would bring her across the vast body of water long before sunrise.

Upon her arrival in Darnassus, in the late hours of the night, Sölvi found her people left in a crippled state. She saw in their eyes a presence that reeked of heartfelt sorrow. The waters of Darnassus had always been calm and so had its people, but now there was a distinct tension in the air that enveloped her. Her footsteps led Sölvi through the eerie atmosphere and over the bridge, which was a pale reflection of the moon itself. It stood as a testament to elven quality and beauty, but after the loss of her sibling, there was little pride left in its presence. There was one purpose to her visit; she would find him, the one who had failed to show his face at Lyraniel's funeral. If nothing else, at least she could tell him about Lyraniel's passing, perhaps he did not know. She needed a sense of purpose, her deep affection for her sister made it difficult to ignore that someone so close to Lyraniel would not appear at the funeral and so she lost track of all other things that might have saved her from a lack of direction in life.

Her quest led Sölvi to trace every corner of the great city in order to find as much as a single clue about his whereabouts. The early hours of morn came before long, and the weary elf lost her motivation when not a single person she asked could tell her anything. His name was of no help in her search, it seemed. Her attempts at describing him met with heads that shook dismissively. It was obvious that he was socially elusive, or rarely in Darnassus. Yet, she had no other point of reference from which to begin her search. That gnawed at her patience as she went to rest, when daylight began to stir on the horizon. It did not take long for her to drift into a deep slumber. Fast asleep, worn out by her extended search in Darnassus, Sölvi saw a strange dream.

Wings fluttered around her, and below was a vast body of water. A sea. The waves frothed upon one another and turned to milky-white streaks that spanned as far as her eyes could see. The wind roared loudly all around her, but the landscape was barren of land. She had been on a hippogryph before; however, this experience was very different. She scanned the horizon for a long time. There, far into the distance she saw a streak of land appear. It stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction, but seemed out of reach. A long time seemed to pass, until Sölvi saw something move amidst the waves. It was not one item; she saw planks of wood, masts and torn sails. There was a large cluster of them all amidst the waves. Sölvi felt a sense of horror creep up on her, as she came to realise that it was not the remains of a single ship but a whole fleet.

The species of wood that made out the debris were native to Kalimdor. They were elven ships. Sölvi wanted to look for survivors, but the flutter of wings carried her onwards. The debris disappeared in the restless sea, as strong waves washed forth. Cliffs rose above the water's edge, far, far away. A vast coastline grew closer. Its shore seemed broken, as cracked cliffs gave way to beaches of gravel and rock. There, along the outline of the water, she saw the dead. Their corpses scattered beneath the waves, clad in a muddy carpet, visible from above where the water grew still, as rocky outcrops sheltered the shore. Crows shrieked and Sölvi woke up with cold beads of sweat trickling from her forehead, her hands were moist and shivered from the vision of her dream.

"Gilneas?" The word trailed off her lips dryly, as Sölvi had a pale shade upon her face. She had heard rumours about a fleet that set out to aid the gilneans across the sea. A fleet that set out just prior to the calamity that struck. Although she did not place her trust in dreams, she did remember her sister speak of the fleet. On one occasion, Lyraniel had seemed troubled by the idea of an elven fleet traversing the great sea. The elf got up, dressed herself and packed her items securely before leaving the inn in relative silence. It was a weak hypothesis, but there was something telling her to journey east.

She quickly paced across the paths that lead through Darnassus. There was a sense of urgency in her feet as they struck stone and earth with uneven force. Sölvi hastened across the pale stone bridge and below the carved tree, shaped as a ferocious bear, on her way towards the edge of the city. Upon her approach, she climbed onto a thick branch. It was as thick as a grown tree from the vast forests of yore. There, far above the sea, she called out with a high-pitched whistle. It could have easily belonged to a bird. Everything went silent, for a moment, until a flutter of great wings tore through the air. A full grown, rather imposing hippogryph landed a few feet away. The large branch she stood upon shook from the impact.

The hippogryph was a truly remarkable creature. Its feathers came in shades of a vibrant lake-blue colour and fiery red. There was a thick layer of dark-grey feathers beneath; they were only visible when very close. The feathers on the tip of the wings were grey as well. Long talons bored into the branch beneath it, as golden eyes glared at the young elf. Sölvi felt a sense of awe and terror at the sight, for the hippogryph was magnificent. Its antlers stretched above its already imposing height, for a creature moving on four limbs, and could probably pierce flesh as easily as the talons on its front limbs. The beak was pointed, narrow and long. It would part open and snap ferociously after the hand she had reached out. To pat it on the wing was not a brilliant idea, if she wanted to keep her hand, she mused before climbing onto the large creature. Its feathers felt soft and comfortable, but the glaring golden eye that peaked at her over its neck made her feel like a little babe. They were intelligent creatures; all she had to do was to indicate the direction that she wanted to travel. Before she could muster another thought, the powerful wings rose on both sides and caused a gust of air to sweep them upwards. Sölvi swayed as the hippogryph manoeuvred its way between the many branches of the great tree, before it gained momentum and tore through the air like an arrow. The creature's dive straightened out and Sölvi could feel the foam trickle upon her skin as its wings brushed against the waves. The beat of the hippogryph's wings carried the young elf towards the sky slowly. She could feel and hear the wind flow past her ears, the only other sound she could hear was that of the churning body of water below.

Time passed slowly in the sky and all things appeared so distant. Sölvi found herself wondering, if only briefly, what Lyraniel would have said about her current adventure. She had made no arrangements, had no connections that she could take advantage of while travelling and what she had brought with her would not keep her going for more than a couple of days. Sölvi knew what words her sister would have chosen; it was a fool's errand. That was the truth, yes, but at least it might give her some peace. "I will find him, or what is left of him." Her words drifted away with the wind, as she began to suspect Lyraniel's reason for being concerned about the formation of a fleet.

Eventually, the waves rolled onto the shore where Auberdine had once been. From above Sölvi saw a decimated shoreline. Stones had tumbled and moved, paths had cracked, buildings ruined and trees were broken. Sölvi came to realise, from her point of view in the sky, that there was more to what had happened than the death of her sister or the ruined state of Auberdine. Initially, the young elf had thought that the destruction was limited to the coast. She had been quite mistaken. The landscape was a cluttered mess, although much was still familiar. A massive gale tore through the air in the distance; Sölvi could feel the powerful torrent of wind snapping against the feathery wings of the hippogryph she was riding, blowing them both off course. A dark spiral of dangerous winds swept through the scenery within the old forest. It was a destructive presence; she would be better off avoiding the vortex by travelling along the coast.

It was there, when she drifted on the wind above the vast beach of Zoram Strand, that she saw more than natural disasters unfold. A large outpost of orcish origin reinforced by large walls, in the southern reaches of Zoram Strand, where the Horde now held a foothold in Ashenvale. From this stronghold, Sölvi witnessed orcs marching eastwards on Maestra's Post. She could see the mass of siege vehicles that moved closer as the hippogryph flew inwards from the coast. Her elven hands clenched tightly upon the feathers on the hippogryph's neck. The winged beast broke off its course and soared higher, to get out of reach of possible projectiles. She leaned into the hippogryph and said with a frightened voice into its ear; "Take flight due south east and take us over the Stonetalon Mountains."

It dawned upon her then, that borders would move as well. There was more than earthquakes, fires and floods, which could shake their illusions of peace. Tall peaks loomed on the horizon, before her eyes stood a tall mountain range. The Stonetalon Mountains laid south of Ashenvale and due west of the Barrens. A mountain range filled with harpies, kobolds, venomous spiders and wyverns. A place the elves cherished to that day. Far away, in the distance, she saw flames erupt from the ground and skies loom ever darker behind her. Sölvi began to wonder just how widespread the disaster was. Not only Darkshore was plagued, but also Ashenvale. In truth, the world she knew had turned wicked right before her eyes. The noise of trembling earth, crackling fire and tearing wind began to dissipate. The weary night elf was calm, but she could feel the fear that gripped tightly inside her gut. She would continue her adventure and find a purpose, even if it meant chasing a grudge towards someone she hardly knew. She knew well how illogical it was, but it was her only goal to strive after. Or so she thought, at least.