Chapter 10

Slice. Duck. Kick. Punch. Roll. Jump. Slam.

I hit the ground again, Teir's tree branch at my throat, and she gave me a sly grin, "That's twelve for me and four for you? You're losing your touch kid."

I drew my legs and sent them up, kicking her in the stomach and sending her flying back. I leapt up, my own tree branch in hand, swinging it low and hitting her at the knees, sending her down to the ground and placing the tip of my branch at her neck.

"I do believe that would actually be twelve to five," I said, and she looked at me, grinning.

What better thing to do the day before a war than practice sparring with an immortal nutcase?

"Ready for round...what number are we on? 18?" Teir asked, using a band to pull her lanky hair back from her peeling face.

"I need a minute, I have this thing called an appetite, and I'm starved." I said, earning a laugh.

We walked back into camp, where everyone was moving around to get weapons sharpened, arrows fashioned, and letters home written.

Mother herself had bypassed wearing a dress, and was in armor that resembled a border guard, hair tied back with a headband, and hands wrapped in tight cloth.

"Looking for a fight there, Mother?" I asked, and she looked up, a thousand different emotions haunting her eyes.

"Not many are being left behind to defend the island. I decided that it may do me well to get back into it," she said, and respect for my beautiful mother filled me.

"See, now if Lo'Daras were here, he'd be useless-yet another reason why he's a bad idea," I said, and Mother snorted, sharpening her blade with a rock on the steps.

"You look enchanting, Elynae," Father said as he walked up, his arms filled with his equipment.

I noticed Teir had faded off into the shadows, likely to go speak with Sylvanas again, but I thought nothing of it.

"Would you like to practice sparring with me, Mother? Help get your muscles back into it?" I asked, and Elynae shook her head, strands of ruby hair flying free to frame her face. I noticed that her ears were gold tipped-the sign of a high-ranking guard.

Seeing Mother like this was both unsettling and amazing. She had given up her life as a warrior when Thessali was born, and she looked so…youthful. A leather vest covered her chest armor, which ended at about her belly button, and sturdy, well made leather pants with light chain mail over it went down into her equally sturdy boots. She had sheaths on her biceps, a holster with a loaded gun on each hip, thigh sheaths, and sheaths in her boots. She had a quiver and a simple bow, and she put pieces of metal on a few of her teeth, as a 'last resort method'. That she could be so well weaponized showed how Father operated when they were young.

"This reminds me of my ranger days, when you were stuck in the bush-"

"I wasn't stuck, I was waiting for those damned trolls and you chased them off!" Mother interrupted him, and I smiled at them, seeing chemistry that bubbled up when they got like this.

"Go fashion some more arrows dear, I'll get your blades sharpened and your armor's being stained inside right now," Mother said kissing my cheek and giving me a push towards the makeshift armory.

I walked through the rushing people, picking up the supplies for arrows and abandoning the chaos for a log on the edge of camp, cloak tucked tight around me as a cold breeze pushed through.

"May I join you?"

I looked up to see one of Sylvanas' dark rangers-the one who delivered the message to the temple.

"I suppose," I said, scooting a little and sliding my supplies over, continuing my work.

She was a small woman, thin and tall, and her skin was a stark white with bits of grey here and there. Her hair was a limp, deep red, as though she had red hair in her first life.

"I was wo-I mean my lady was curious after Teir," the woman didn't look at me, her voice soft as she made her own arrows, dipping the arrowheads in a suspicious green liquid.

"They've been speaking since we arrived on the island, ranger. You should know this," I said, suspicious.

"Well, yes but-I mean, your ladyship, how is Teir, really?" the ranger asked, and I eyed her for a moment.

"She is…she is sane. Her sanity has held up remarkably well the last couple of weeks. Is that what you wanted to know, ranger?" I said, and she nodded, her ears twitching above her head.

"Thank you,"

When I looked back, the ranger had faded away into shadow, and I was alone again.

I spotted Teir and Sylvanas across the camp, in another patch of darkness, and Teir looked…hurt, betrayed.

I strained my ears, but they were speaking in Forsaken, a tongue that I just couldn't figure out. Pity.

Suddenly, Teir stomped away, going further into the darkness, and I saw birds take off from the trees there.

I eyed Sylvanas, who was watching me in turn. She nodded stiffly, before fading into shadows herself.

The undead are a strange lot.

I absentmindedly made arrows, setting finished ones aside to be sharpened later, and observed the families present.

Tyrande Whisperwind sat beside her daughter, manipulating the light and speaking into the golden sphere at the centre, only for it to turn green and them to listen. They must be speaking with Malfurion. Kenlora Whisperwind was strewn across her mother lazily, babbling into the sphere in fast paced Darnassian.

Baine was helping his sun fashion a ram sort of weapon from a thick tree trunk, and showing the Sunwalker war paints that he and his warriors wore in battle. Len was a not unattractive bull, with deep brown fur and striking gold eyes, but he was youthful that he lacked discipline-last I remember, he was only 16.

Vol'jin was going over plans, while his son-Zengu'jin-was sharpening spears and mixing white paints for their skin. He wore feathers on his tusks, and a naga skull for a helm. He was a good friend, and he knew me well-I was visiting when he was learning to walk.

I sighed, the only companion of mine who knew what it felt like to feel this old were the Forsaken and the Court.

Jaina was holding a portal open under her tent, speaking in common to the shaky image of a young girl with ash blonde hair and dull grey eyes-entirely ordinary. That must be her daughter-the one Anduin is to marry.

That thought still struck bad with me, and I bit it down, swallowing past the bitter taste it created.

Speaking of Anduin…

I found his small camp off in a corner, where he and his devil father were sitting. Varian was shining armor and sharpening that dreaded sword, while Anduin manipulating the light, making shadows on the roof of their little canopy.

He caught me watching and raised an eyebrow, the shadows forming a question mark. I shook my head and looked away, observing further.

Mother and Father were back to back on the porch of the hut, Mother staining and mending armor, Father sharpening weapons and imbuing them with little bits of magic.

All of these families, and not everyone will survive this.

How many letters will be sent out to mothers who grieve, siblings, whole families just killed because Garrosh took control and abused it?

Suddenly, a shadow shot over the camp, and all eyes went up to see-

"Lord Zhu!" I exclaimed, jumping up and rushing to meet where the Cloud Serpent was landing, and I heard Anduin copying me.

The Pandaren jumped down from the serpent, bowing low and smiling, "Hello Jadearra, Anduin."

"We did not expect-is something wrong in Pandaria?" I asked, worried, and he shook his head.

"No, I have come to speak with the leader of this revolution about some reinforcements." Taran Zhu walked, and we followed until he gave us a look.

"You were not my students in Pandaria, and you are not here. Resume your work, children," he snapped, and we realized that we were acting like children.

My face heated as I apologized, turning only to bump into Anduin, sending us both to the ground.

"Ow- "

"Get off-"

"That is my ear you little-"

We scrambled apart finally, staring at each other with a mix of exasperation and amusement. After a moment, we snapped out of it, turning and going back to our respective work.

I sat down, watching out of the corner of my eye while my hands resumed their work.

Anduin walked over to where his father-and unsurprisingly, Jaina-were now waiting, and they both started wailing on him because how dare he interact with a Horde savage-

"Jadearra."

I jumped out of my skin, turning to see Teir looking at me, the cracks under her eyes oozing.

"Whoa what happened?" I asked, standing and setting my work aside again.

"I-Sylvanas-my head-" she fell to her knees, and I went down with her, pulling her hands away.

"Do we need to get you out of here, or can you hold?" I asked, and she shook her head.

"I-I-I don't know, my head is just," she keeled over, groaning, and I cradled her head with my arms.

"How can I help this?" I asked, desperate and worried.

"Allow me."

I looked up to see Kenlora Whisperwind standing there, green hair flying into her magenta face, white eyes on Teir. The woman towered seven feet tall easy.

She kneeled down and took Teir's head from me, cradling it in her arms. The grey skin was a not unpleasant contrast to the Night elf's skin tone.

"Shh, Teir. Breathe. Your mind is fighting back because you earned a memory," Kenlora was whispering, her tone holding something that made me overly curious.

I only ever heard that when Anduin was trying to get me to calm down.

Or when Father was consoling Mother.

"It. Hurts." Teir was gritting her teeth, clinging to Kenlora's knees and threatening to break skin, "Make. It. Stop."

"I can't, little one. I can only hasten the process. Will you let me?" She whispered, and I felt as though I was intruding on an intimate moment.

A granite coloured hand reached out and grabbed mine, the skin scraping against my own as she nearly broke the bones there.

"Fix. It. Ken." She grunted, and Kenlora started whispering.

With a gasp, I was dragged into Teir's mind.

It was hazy, but it looked vaguely like the Windrunner Spire-before the fall to the Scourge. This was ages ago.

Harsh breathing and equally harsh wind were all I could hear, and I looked down to see hands that were a deep, wooden brown clawing at the ground, my legs on fire from running.

Wait, this wasn't me.

This was Teir.

Red hair hung in our face-fiery warm red hair with golden undertones-and we shoved it away as we got closer to the spire.

She fell in front of the doors, and a high elf stepped out.

By the Sunwell that's Sylvanas.

Her skin was a pleasant peach, and her hair hung in golden curls down her back and shoulders. Her armor-now a rotted purple-was a deep, rich blue, with silver accents.

Crystal clear blue eyes eyed us with confusion and disdain, and a hand held a great bow.

"What brings you crawling to my spire…elf," she said, her accent thick and prejudiced.

"Please…need the money," we said, determination lacing our tired words, "Will...serve…need to save... my mother…"

Another set of feet ran up, and-

That's my father.

"Sylvanas! Undead hordes at the borders, attacking! Led by a butcher-they're raising our dead and fighting against us!" Lor'Themar Theron was a slender man in his youth, golden hair much closer cropped, and wearing ranger garb-he was Sylvanas' second. He had a woman in his arms-Mother!

She was weak, and she had a wound, but she was breathing.

"Who is this?" Sylvanas asked, ignoring us entirely.

"Elynae Bloodstrider-please, Sylvanas she's my life mate. Can she be given sanctuary here?" Father pleaded, cradling Mother with a love that has shown through to this day.

"Yes, take her inside now. You," she turned to us, "We're going to tag team a butcher."

I shot out of her head as she sagged against Kenlora, breathing hard.

"I didn't see anything, but I suspect you did," she spoke to me, and I nodded, looking at Teir worriedly.

"Jade…your parents…I've met them…before…" she pulled back from Kenlora gently, whispering a thank you before leaning against me tiredly.

"Care for her," Kenlora said, before she stood and walked away.

"Sylvanas…a butcher…" she flared, stiffening, and I gulped as she growled, "Arthas."

"Teir, breathe. Don't break now. It's all right. Please don't break," I picked her up and stared running.

There needs to be distance between Teir and Sylvanas right now.

I heard feet behind me, but I ignored them, struggling as Teir was shaking hard in my arms.

"Arthas…kill…" her voice was growing, layers of death and ice coating it as her eyes darkened from their wintry ice colour to that or torrential water, and her face oozed a black oily liquid.

I threw her forward, drawing a blade from my belt and bracing myself for one hell of a fight.

Teir came to her knees, bracing her hands on the ground and breathing hard, and it seemed to be a mental battle within her.

"Not…here…stop…" I heard her growl, and she face planted into the sand, screeching in pain.

"Kill…everything…blood…gore…secrets…" The sheer insanity that hid within Teir was forcing it's way to the surface, and the trees surrounding us died, the leaves browning and falling to the ground.

"Teir she told you her secrets. There are no secrets!" I shouted, shivering as the clearing grew colder.

She manipulated ice and death-this won't end well.

"So many secrets!" Teir screamed, her hands dug into the sand entirely as she panted, her entire body moving with her, "I have to kill everything!"

She broke, rising and charging me, screaming.

She wasn't armed, but frozen air solidified in her hands to make an icy blade, and I met it with my own, growling and trying to force out the cold.

"Going to freeze you. Turn you to nothing. Nothing!"

"Teir!"

She froze, teeth bared and eyes flashing at me, as her head slowly turned to see Kenlora there.

"Get out of here, night elf!" I shouted, eyes still on Teir, who's mouth was beginning to foam a little.

"Teir, calm down." She was moving her fingers against her palms, tapping out silent spells that encased me in a small sphere of warmth, and I realized that my skin had tightened and was turning grey.

"Kill…Maim…" Teir stepped away from me, nostrils still flared as she eyed the night elf, something unusual in her aura.

"No Teir. You hate this. You need to breathe. Please breathe, think. Don't give your mind over to this," Kenlora took a step closer, her white gown shifting with her legs, and Teir spasmed, falling to her knees.

"I…must…"

"You must be calm, little elf. Please calm down," Kenlora kneeled in front of Teir, not touching her still.

"I…Kenlora…" Teir passed out, falling to the ground.

The clearing was silent for a moment, spare for breathing, and I stared at Kenlora, startled.

"What just happened?" I asked, and the night elf gathered up Teir, holding her tenderly.

"Her mind is fragile. She fights the part of her that was in control during her service to the Lich King. She fights what she was in her first life. She has split herself into three different personalities that are in truth all parts of the same soul. She doesn't want to accept this…I will be trying to help her." Kenlora said, running a hand through Teir's lanky hair, watching quietly as it brightened under her touch, growing slightly and filling out-coming alive again.

"When did you…" I trailed off, watching her carefully.

"I ran into her a very long time ago…just before the fall of the Lich King…we have kept in touch," was all she would say, and I decided to slip away, to give them their space, as Teir was waking up.

I heard their voices, hushed and fast, and I tuned it out-Teir would tell me, when she was ready.

I returned to camp, only to see Mother finishing off my arrows for me, adding feathers to the ends. The sun was closing in on the horizon, and she looked worried.

"Your father and I…have something we'd like to give you. Come," she said, her gold tipped ears shining in the sunlight as she stood, and I saw that her eyes were lined with thin war paint.

My eyes flashed between her now and in Teir's memory-her hair matted with blood and her body covered in wounds-and shuddered slightly.

I gathered up my supplies from the log-my quiver was now filled to the brim with arrows-and followed her to the hut in silence.

She stepped inside, where Father was standing, holding a bundle wrapped in cloth, looking very much like he might cry.

"What's going on?" I asked, shutting the door behind me and setting down my quiver.

Father held out the bundle in silence, watching me intensely, and I took it, the weight throwing me a little.

I unwrapped it, to reveal-Oh.

I gasped. I'm holding the royal bow.

I'm holding Thessali's bow.

The white oak wood was carved from the mother tree in the Realm-over 12,000 years old, and imbued with magic. The Theron family crest gleamed red and gold on the side, small but standing out brilliantly. The string is cured dragon hawk muscle-taken from the first of their kind as the brood mother died of old age. The bow held magical properties, and would light the way through dark nights, and it would lead its hunter to their prey.

I ran a finger along the wood, and gasped as a small puff of mist filled the room.

You deserve this. Avenge me. Free our people.

I felt tears trickle down my face as I recognized Thessali's voice, and the scent of tanned leather and sunshine filled the hut-Thessali.

From the looks on my parents' faces, they smelled her as well, and I bowed before Father.

"I'm honored, Father. Thank you for trusting me so," I said, and Father nodded.

"You will be bringing her with you, and she will receive the vengeance she deserves."

Mother said, stepping forward, eyes burning, "You must bring him down, for all of us."

I was only partially listening to him, focusing on the mist creeping in through the walls, and the floor, and I heard commotion outside.

"We will speak!"

I gasped, suddenly in the centre of the camp, wearing the black robes of the Mist, and I was faced with two very popular people.

Firstly, a tall human with a baldhead and flowing beard, his armor shined like gold and had the emblem of a lion, as did his shield. He carried a phantom sword and an imposing aura that made me want to serve-He's a Lothar. He's…by the Sunwell, it's Anduin Lothar.

Secondly, Durotan of the Frostwolves, his brownish green skin and striking blue eyes, and tusks that were sharper than the blades in my boots.

A phantom army seemed to lurk in the mist behind them, and the power emanating from them allowed the rest of the camp to see them as well. Thessali stepped forward from this army, her aura and power much more familiar, "I told you I would rally."

"You brought me a Lothar and a Chieftain. I thank you, sister." I said, drawing to myself to my full height and eyeing the spirits.

"You wish war on the son of Grommash," Durotan grunted, his tusks scraping eerily.

"Any Orc war is one I will partake," Lothar said, gritting his teeth, "Though your allies seem remarkably similar to the ones I died fighting."

"Peace, spirits." I said, inhaling the air and tasting the memories, "Times have changed since your war, gentleman. I need your armies. I need all armies. You are strong hearted and strong-willed. I need your service."

"Why should we? You are an elf, you serve Lothar!" Lothar said, at the same time that Durotan retorted, "Your kind slaughtered us in droves."

I held up a hand, and they gasped, clutching at their misty throats, staring at me.

"I am your lady. I suggest you pay some respect." I knew I was doing the glowing thing that my power sometimes caused, but it was the only way to get to some spirits.

Thessali came forward again, her head down, and ears stiff, "Sister, this is not how you win allies, but they do owe respect. I have spoken with their officers-they have been watching since the mantle fell to you. They will serve."

I nodded, letting my hand fall and watching the men calculatingly, "What say you? Will you obey?"

They each took a knee, and in the tongue of the dead, I heard their voices entwine, "Yes."

I smiled, relieved, "Thank you. We march soon." I brought my palms together, and all the mist dissolved, leaving the camp crystal clear.

My clothes returned to my armor and my power receded, and I sat down hard, sweating.

Chaos erupted around voices, thumping and just insanity, and me but I tuned that out.

My eyes were on the glowing outline of Orgrimmar, far to the north, which ordinarily would be hidden from my eyes.

I felt energy and manic happiness, and dregs of power glow within me as my face broke into a grin.

I'm coming for you, Hellscream, and when I get there, business will be done.

A life for a life.

A head for a head.