Trying to prevent me from doing something stupid was like trying to prevent the sun from shining. My Master's wisdom would try to keep me on the right way, but eventually I would wander off. It is my nature.
A lifetime ago, I was used to waking up with a shaft of sunlight hitting my face, the birds singing and the noise of the city coming from the open window. No birds were singing now, and a drift of cold wind found its way beneath my sheets, making me curl into a ball and pull the covers around me tightly. A lifetime ago I would wake at Silvermoon in my own warm bed, in my own home - that scent of herbs and potions, of hot and spiced infusions - and this seemed nothing but a poor imitation of that, a bad illusion of my dream of coming back to the time before the fall.
Once again I was awakened by the sun - a cold and pale sun, not warm enough to dissipate the shivers of the night from my freezing bed. I blinked in the light as I sat up and looked around. The first days were confusing to me, and I usually had to take a couple of minutes to look around and take in my surroundings as understanding slowly sank into my sleepy mind. I sighed, the same way I did every morning there, the moment I realized that wasn't the cozy and warm room of my childhood. I couldn't see my chaotic self in that room of naked walls and its few, simple pieces of furniture. My warm nature tended to own the place I would take as a nest, but this could have easily been the bedroom of a stranger - an outsider.
And as far as I knew, it was the bedroom of a stranger. I slid out of my bed and shuffled to stand before the small cracked mirror I'd hung on the wall, and the story it told me was the same as the day before: the reflection showing the tiny chamber of a pale elf with discrete dark circles under her eyes. The clothes seemed just a bit larger than the last time she'd worn them, and she had all the signs of a person who wasn't sleeping well. Or eating.
I tried pinching my cheeks to bring some color to the pale face in the mirror. I kept telling myself I looked paler because of the black and golden tabard I'd traded for the red and golden one. I wore the Scryers' tabard willingly, and at a certain point, with pride, but the change was certainly taking a toll on me. We surely couldn't have the same extremely luxurious life we had at Tempest Keep, but on top of that, I forced myself to a greater work load.
Once I made myself presentable enough to be seen by other people, braided hair and new tabard, I headed outside to get something to eat. The soft, lush red carpet muffled my footsteps as I took a good look at our recently finished base through the refreshing morning light. The building of the Scryers' Tier was done in a couple of days of our arrival in the city - it was now a small red and gold elven nest with the elegance and greatness we would never give up. The same magic that had allowed us to rebuild our beloved Silvermoon nearly overnight, made it possible for us to bring a piece of our essence to the Broken City in a matter of a few days.
But there was still something missing. Someone.
I trapped myself in my daily chores, working for the Scryers as a master alchemist. And if people would call me obsessed and feverish about my work, they wouldn't be wrong. As I entered my small, empty laboratory, I began my ritual: lighting the boilers; taking flasks and books out of the shelves; bringing them all to where my open notebook rested. My working place was a sturdy wooden table filled with alchemical utensils, pots and herbs, and I would rarely leave it during the day. I spent hours in front of that table, brewing potions and extracting oils, researching and testing. Alchemy was a part of me as much as magic itself, and now this perfectly set, focused and neat routine kept me sane, bringing some reasoning and logic to my mind. Sometimes I was surprised to notice the sun was already setting, while other times I spent so much time without eating anything that my vision got blurred.
I tried to make sure my days would go by fast, but eventually something happened to break the steadiness of one day after the other, every morning so similar to the one before.
The sun was already sinking to the horizon and I still was at my lab, trying to focus while my eyes insisted on sending me blurred images of my notes. A loud growl startled me, but as I looked around I realized it was only my stomach making yet another complaint. Reluctantly, I finally complied and took a break for a snack. It was while I was spitting out some pieces of pages I accidentally swallowed along with my sandwich - again - that Voren'thal showed up. I wish I could say this didn't happen so often, but I can't; either way, I didn't want the elder to see me like that. Trying to retain some dignity, I swallowed it all and tried to look excited for the elder.
"Voren'thal!" I got away from my table to show him some of my chaotic notes. "I think I managed to get what you requested. I'll only need some extra ingredients... I know where to get them, maybe tomorrow I can go out to search for them and start brewing the potion you want."
The older elf merely glanced at my notes, and even though he looked pleased, there were more wrinkles of concern in his forehead than appreciation in his smile.
"You're working too hard," he told me as he returned the notes. "I worry about you, child."
There was a moment of silence, as his warm gaze wandered from the dark circles under my eyes to my fuzzy braided hair, and I felt guilty for leaving him worried. He'd never seen me with such a bad appearance before, and his fatherly concern left me so embarrassed I tried to stand up straighter and more confident.
"There's nothing to worry about. I just get a bit carried away by my research," I said, and it wasn't entirely a lie, but I quickly fled the subject. "Did you need something, Voren'thal?" I asked.
"Actually, yes," he started, slowly. "Some draenei patrols returned a couple of hours ago. They got attacked and remain at the infirmary for healing - but the healers are exhausted," he said, and I almost didn't notice the hesitation before he continued. "Would you be a dear and take some potions to the infirmary? I know some of us are having a hard time with the Aldor, but I must insist we assist them whenever we can. Besides, a bit of fresh air will do you good."
"I take lots of fresh air during the evening, Voren'thal," I said. "You don't need to worry about me."
It was hard to refuse a request from the elder, so I went outside to find myself a robust gryphon - Ala'Nyr had gotten really mad at me, drowning in jealousy, but she wasn't robust enough for the load I was taking with me - and strapped a couple of crates filled with potions to its saddle. Voren'thal's request seemed completely ordinary for me, but I suspect he wanted me to go for other reasons. At that time, however, nothing like that crossed my mind.
I took flight, and took in the whole sight of the Broken City by the morning light. Shattrath has the shape of a circle or disc, the streets displayed in circles from the center. There were four bridges spreading outward from the inner circle of the city - the Terrace of Light - that went over the outer circle. This outer circle, at a lower level than the rest of the city, stood as a shadowy cleft of ruins, home of refugees, wounded and outcasts. The Lower City, my destination.
As I turned my eyes to the center of the city, I could feel A'dal's blessed magic and raised my hand to my heart, bowing my head almost imperceptibly in a respectful gesture he would never see. The temple, in the middle of Shattrath, radiated the respect and awe given by time to great buildings - the heart of the City of Light, still whole, was almost enough to make people's eyes ignore what was down below. The Lower City was the real Broken City. Ruins, tents and improvised buildings. Shuffling feet and wary eyes. Some original buildings survived - like the tavern, ironically - but the new buildings were pieces of patchwork sewed together. I've come to see with my own eyes creatures I only heard about before, nested at the deepest and darkest places of that sanctuary. For Shattrath is a sanctuary city and embraces everyone seeking for protection and healing, regardless of race. It was a magnet of outcasts of every single race there was in Outlands, from the boring and plain humans to the intriguing and mysterious bird men, the Arakkoa.
By then, I knew my way through the Lower City very well and flew smoothly to the infirmary. From the distance I could tell there was something wrong, as the usual silence and peace that took that street was replaced by turmoil and angry shouts. The ruins of a building were used for the wounded to rest and recover - since it didn't have a ceiling anymore, white sheets were attached from the remaining wall to the other, giving some protection to whoever was inside. But most of the healing was done outside, in the streets, and the general tension and restlessness I got as I landed was not normal for the infirmary.
A draenei woman with the looks of a priestess came out of the building and approached me as I guided the gyphon and tied its reins to a pillar. The streets were crowded, but all I could see so far were some draenei warriors and Vindicators, along some angry voices.
"A load of potions," I explained to the confused priestess. "Voren'thal hears you need help. I got some healing potions for the wounded, and some mana potions for the healers."
The woman gave me a warm smile, some sort of short lived relief taking her features before she could focus on her task again.
"It seems like some of you are not so bad," she said as she helped me unload the potions. "Your elder seems like a reasonable person."
"He is," I answered, although a bit distracted by the noisy crowd at the street, stretching my neck to see beyond the tall, bulky draenei warriors, as I unloaded my cargo. "What is happening there?"
The priestess made a sound that made me think she was trying to snort politely - if there was such a thing - setting the last crate of potions on the ground, and sighing.
"You guys," she started, crouching by the boxes to examine the content. "You guys seem to bring nothing but trouble for anyone."
"I thought we were talking about how nice we were," I said. "What do you mean?"
"Our scouts had quite the fight with a group of elves that showed up in the surroundings," the priestess continued, picking up one of the crates to bring inside the building. "Stragglers."
Stragglers. The meaning of that didn't immediately sink into my distracted mind, but slowly the pieces fell into their places and my heart beat rose. We were traitors, and word of our treason must have reached Tempest Keep. Stragglers... following us? People who supported us and were left behind?
Could it be...?
My feet started to move before I could articulate my thought, as if moved by hope. And my heart ached with yearning, wishing so hard to find him among the newcomers that every other thought temporarily fled my mind. I slid through the crowd with the ease a snake slides through the grass, and when I felt something in my chest seemed about to explode, I reached the scene of the main event, more than excited when I saw some new, elven pointy ears there. People left a clearing in the middle of the street, keeping distance from the few figures inside it, like a regular street brawl. But there was no one cheering, only a couple of brave idiots trying to prevent the fight from happening.
Most of the angry words belonged to a furious - and wounded - draenei I recognized as the stormy warrior we caught and released when we marched upon the city. He was the main responsible for making such a scene look like a cock fight, with two other draenei warriors as big as himself trying to restrain him, as he barked words of hatred. The target of his anger was a newcomer, a male blood elf apparently unharmed, wearing black and a confidant, mocking, irritating smile. I gave the fight a mere glance as my eyes were looking for someone more important, someone I needed to be there.
But my hope died as I soon realized Neph didn't come with this group of runaways. There was the elf in black, a dark haired elven maiden next to him and two or three more groups of elves, a bit far away from the fight, talking in whispers, with scared looks in their faces. I saw some crowns of golden hair among them and spent more time than was sensible searching, hoping, expecting my tall, broad shouldered man to be hiding behind a small and shy weakling. But he wasn't, no matter how much I looked. And when disappointment came, a wave of bad thoughts intruded my mind.
Why Neph didn't come? Was he being held? Was he in trouble because of me?
The most obvious question didn't come. Did he want to come?
Paralyzed by disappointment and hopelessness, I eventually realized the fight went on, despite myself. Despite my suffering, my angst, my pain, they continued as if I didn't exist. The world didn't stop spinning, it didn't crack open - at least not for them. And despite myself, rage started to bubble in my stomach. Tears could have seemed more appropriate for that moment, but wrath was easier for me.
"THIEF!" the draenei roared, barely contained by his brothers of arms. "How dare you ask sanctuary, you worthless thief?"
"You're mistaken, my friend," said the elf in black, with that smile I learned to hate. "Whatever you're talking about, it must have fallen when you buried your head on the ground..."
They were so noisy and their quarrel seemed so unimportant, whatever it was...
"Stop it, Thelius, please," pleaded another blood elf, a young newcomer. She approached the angry draenei with caution. "Don't listen to him, I'm sorry about that. Please, let me help healing you, I can..."
If only they would shut up...
"I don't need help from you!" he said, disgusted, waving her out of the way as easily as flies are swept by a wind whirl. "You DARE touch me, and I'll-"
"SHUT IT!" I yelled with all the strength my lungs could gather, and perhaps I had underestimated the power of my rage. All my frustration, angst and sadness were converted to a rage-filled scream and then directed to an unaware victim. My magic reacted to my rage, and I felt irradiating a wave of arcane power, great enough to send chills up one's spine and make their hearts forget beating for a moment. With the corner of the eye I saw the parchment paper someone was holding burst out in flames, while a flask spontaneously exploded in the hands of other person. A child started crying somewhere. This reminded me of the saying: When a peasant has his moods, he kicks the dog; when a mage has his moods, a town disappears. I felt all heads of the surroundings turning to me, and a heavy silence covered the scene, the fight nearly forgotten. People had already told me how they felt like children being scolded by their mother when I reprimanded them, and sometimes I believe it. When I stepped forward I saw the draenei warrior couldn't find his rage, and even Thelius forgot his mocking smile for a moment. I turned to the angry draenei.
"If you want to keep that pride, step aside and don't be a burden for those trying to do something good here, but if you're the example of righteousness we are supposed to follow, you've got nothing to blame us for," I began, and as the wheels started to spin, I could see his rage blooming again. "Your Elder expects that from you."
The draenei stood up, and besides the fact there was an angry, beefy warrior at least twice my size towering over me, with fire in his eyes and hatred in his huge fists, it was kinda funny. He was puffing his chest and standing straight, making himself as big as he could get, and that was impressive - but I couldn't stop comparing him to a cock preparing to fight or a puffer fish swelling so much he seemed about to explode.
For all I knew, if he decided to take a good swing at me, I was done. But it was one of those rare occasions where Fate was at my side.
"Krayel!" I heard a powerful roar, the kind of deep voice tailored to command, and it was followed by the authoritative figure of a Vindicator. I didn't need to see the way people got out of his path or lowered their eyes to understand his influence. He was a Leader, someone used of having people's trust - and lives - in his hands, and bear the consequences of that. His skin tone was a bit lighter, his armor shone as if it had Light on its own and his presence seemed to neutralize all violent emotions, like small pebbles are swallowed by the sea without affecting the waves.
There was something familiar in him. I soon learned his name was Azluun, Vindicator, some sort of commander - I didn't bother to understand their hierarchy. He started to speak in that foreign and slightly harsh language of the draenei, and though it didn't sound like he was giving Krayel a scolding, his face turned red out of embarrassment and forced his wrath out of him through a heavy panting. Though Azlunn wasn't physically between us, it felt like his mere presence was enough to hold Krayel's fists.
A small discussion followed, not with angry voices anymore, but still in that weird language. I turned to the remaining curious crowd and hissed.
"What are you looking at? Be gone with you! Don't you have something better to do? Shoo!"
Hesitantly, the crowd started to dissipate and slowly go back to what they were doing before. The group of newcomers remained together, and though they weren't fatally wounded, most of them were beaten up and tired - except Thelius, absolutely unharmed.
"Excuse me, elf...?"
After he was done with Krayel, Azluun turned to me. I realized I was afraid of facing him, so I spoke up before he could.
"I am sorry for this mess. I'll take the elves to the Scryers' Tier so that your scouts can recover peacefully."
"Would you-"
"I assure you this won't happen again," I said. "At least if I can help it."
Turning to the group of elves, I volunteered to take them to the Scryers' Tier to get some healing and rest, grabbed Thelius' arm and quickly left.
That was the first time I saw Azluun.
When we were back at the Scryer's tier, while other elves approached to greet the newcomers, I took the arm of the elf girl that tried to heal Krayel. She took fright and squealed at my firm grip.
"What was that all about? Why was the draenei so pissed at Thelius?" I asked, so bluntly it was a little rude.
The girl shrugged under the weight of my interrogation, hesitating a moment.
"Uh... He said Thelius took something from him, but Thelius denied it," the girl said. "And no one saw hi-"
That was good enough for me. I let go of the girl and quickly located Thelius talking to two other members of the Scryers. They all knew of my temper, so despite chuckling a bit at Thelius, none of them seemed to find it unusual when I grabbed the front of his vest and dragged him away from them, without uttering a word.
"Whoa, calm down!" he started as I brought him to an empty corridor. "I always knew you had a crush on me, babe, but shouldn't we be a bit more discrete?"
Once we were alone, I let go of him and faced him with arms tightly crossed.
"Give it back," I commanded.
"I'm sorry, what?" he answered, failing to look confused. How I hated that smug smile... My patience was so short I had to take a deep breath before continuing.
"Thelius, I would sooner believe a demon than believe you," I started. "So you better give it back what you took from that draenei idiot, or else I'll make sure you never get anywhere near my lab and spend your days here scrubbing the floor with your tongue."
"You're not that important here, Aiwyn," he answered, mocking my threat.
"And you might have had your way around Lord Sanguinar, but not around Voren'thal," I replied. "The moment he sniffs trouble between you and the draenei, you won't be trusted for anything more important than dusting shelves."
He hesitated a moment, and even though his smile never faded, I heard the wheels spinning in his head. I would have loved to threaten to set his head on fire, but that didn't work with Thelius. He wanted to be in the middle of the things, maybe not in the spotlight, but behind it - and he knew he wouldn't be getting anywhere if he didn't have Voren'thal's appreciation.
"Bah, you're so boring," he ended up saying, throwing me something that hit my face. I almost let it fall to the ground before taking it in my hands. It was a small charm, like a bracelet. When I raised my eyes to give Thelius another scolding, he was already gone.
By then I already foresaw it right: Thelius would still haunt me and bother me to no end.
After twilight, there were no chores to chain my mind, and so it wandered free through dark fields of bad omens and nightmares, always darker than the nights before. Most of my dusks were spent in the streets, as I would let my feet take me wherever they wanted, taking my body to exhaustion so that when my head would hit the pillow, no dreams would come.
I wandered. Alone, I would wander and often find myself at places I'd never seen. I wandered through the Lower City, without truly paying attention to my path. I wandered, feeling and looking like a mindless undead, endlessly searching for a song to fill my heart. But my nights were silent, despite all the noise in my head.
When I thought it couldn't get any worse, I realized that what really was bringing me down wasn't my beloved's mere absence, but the reason behind it. Disturbing questions haunted me. Could it be he didn't want to come? Could it be he didn't take the right path?
Could it be...?
The second time I met with Azluun was the day after Thelius and that group of blood elves arrived. He was watching over the training of some draenei warriors, and I waited patiently from a distance. When he dismissed them, I approached.
"Blood elf," he greeted me with a bow. "It's good to see you again. You seemed in a hurry yesterday."
Before saying anything, I reached out and gave him the small charm, resembling a rustic piece of jewelry with creamy pearl-like beads. Azluun shot me an interrogatory look.
"I believe it belongs to the hot-headed one. Krayel, was it?" I said as he took the charm. Azluun had a thoughtful look on his stern face as he turned the small charm on his big hands, and while the gesture made me think he was weighing the beads value, it felt as if he was weighing my actions and words.
"So your friend did take this from Krayel," he finally said softly, in that gentle and deep voice of a fair judge. His eyes were intense.
"He's not my friend," I quickly explained. "He is my burden now."
"How did you manage to get him to return it?" he asked.
"I didn't hurt him, if that's what you're concerned about." Only threatened, I thought. "Even though he deserved it."
Azluun smiled, and for the first time I relaxed briefly in his presence. He put away the charm, but his attention remained on me. The more I stared at him, the louder something in the back of my mind screamed; there was something in his features that was terribly familiar.
"You don't seem to enjoy him," he stated, slowly. "If you're giving this to me, does this mean I'm supposed to return it to Krayel?"
"If you would, please," I said. "I get the feeling he doesn't like me."
To my surprise, he threw his head back and laughed. Slowly, my mind made a link - a connection so disturbing I tried to erase it from my memory right away, fearing the draenei standing before me could feel the nature of my thoughts. I tried to smile.
"It's a shame you and Krayel started off with the wrong foot. I believe you two would give people a lot of trouble together," he continued, with a tender smile. "Are you frightened, my lady? No need for that. We are no longer enemies."
"I'm not afraid!" I answered, perhaps a bit too heatedly. "And I don't need anyone with me to give people some trouble." I said it with some pride, since it was true.
Again, Azluun threw his head back to have a good laugh.
"Of course you don't. You're just like my little brother," he said, and I felt my guts freezing, my smile almost sliding down my face. "He was Krayel's best friend. They gave me the most terrible headaches."
"'Was'? What happened to him?" I asked before I could contain my tongue. There was no need to ask - I knew what happened. But Azluun's smile didn't fade, despite the fondness he had for his brother, evident in those few words.
"War," he said. "War happened."
We happened, I thought. With a few more pleasantries, I fled the conversation.
I knew Thelius, and I already hated him. Everytime he smiled, I had to fight the urge of trying to pull out all his white teeth, one by one. So smug, so annoying.
And to make things worse, he became my personal burden. After all, he was a Master of Poisons, and I was the Master of Alchemy, and he needed my laboratory, my ingredients and tools. So, I had to endure his presence, day after day. I tried to focus on my research, rarely taking my eyes away from my books and notes, trying to forget his existence. He used the table as his shield, working on the farthest end of it from where I was brewing and studying, but there was no way I could shield myself from his voice.
"Is it just me," Thelius began randomly during the afternoon of our first day of work together. "Or was the look you gave that big draenei quite... meaningful?"
Only his voice was enough to disrupt my peace like that.
"I remember your face when he stepped in," I replied, trying to remain calm. "I bet that, at that time, if he had asked you to get down on your knees and-"
"What would Neph'Alor think?" he continued, ignoring me. The sound of my beloved's name on his tongue sounded just wrong. "I wonder..."
When I raised my eyes to him, I felt it wouldn't take much for me to make his brain explode just by wishing it.
"Don't. Thelius, just... don't."
"It was a surprise for everyone, you know? The treason, I mean," he showed me a smile that was meant to seem innocent, but failed. "But for your fiancee it was... it was... Well, I assume he still thinks you were taken against your will."
Thelius seemed to be voicing the fears I wouldn't dare. He liked to provoke and taunt, and his words were as precise and sharp as his daggers.
"Thelius..."
"And on top of that, there's this draenei now, like a paladin in shinning armor."
"Nothing happened be-"
"He is very loyal to you, you know?" he showed me a satisfied grin. "He gives no other woman a second glance."
"Shut up, Thelius..."
"Almost as loyal as he is to our Prince," he kept on talking. "Maybe even more!"
I realized my hands were curled in tight fists, messing and tearing up my notes.
"I heard him talking one night to that weird friend of his, before all of this" Thelius said. "He was talking about making a surprise for you. He was promoted, you know? Prince Kael'thas seems very interested in him."
And I knew that the closer he was to our Prince, the harder it would be...
"He is rising in the eyes of the Prince. His friend was even concerned that his affiliation with you would taint his image before-"
I had enough. There was an alcohol flask before me, and then there wasn't - the next thing I know is that it was flying in his direction. But that bastard was quick, and easily dodged the flask that exploded on the wall behind him.
"GET OUT OF HERE!" I yelled at him, losing it entirely.
"I work here," he said, before being forced to get down to avoid another flask. "Okay, I got it!"
He headed out gracefully in two large jumps, avoiding a third flying tool from hitting his head. Even when he was out of sight, I heard his laugh echoing through the corridor and then in my mind, mocking my fear and hopelessness. And when I realized, I had my face on my hands.
That was a particularly dark and melancholic night, as I found myself lost at Lower City in the company of a bottle of wine and a street cat. It's as pathetic as it sounds, I assure you. Even more for the fact I wasn't intoxicated, the wine forgotten by my side. I climbed to the top of some ruins and sat, laid my head back and closed my eyes, breathing in deeply to clear my mind, listening to the purring of the cat rubbing at my ankles. My mind was exhausted, trying desperately to find the way through a maze that would lead me to Neph. Soon I realized that reaching out for him wasn't hard, but rather coming back. I needed to make him walk the same path out of the maze - out of that golden cage - that I did. That was hard, and what Thelius told me had left me fearful and hopeless.
The cat started meowing and added to the noise in my head, so that's probably the reason I didn't notice the footsteps and the armor clinging.
"Lady elf?" I heard someone calling me, when my head was already exploding with bad thoughts.
"Leave me alone," I answered promptly.
"This is a dangerous place for a lady," the stranger continued - only it wasn't a stranger. I opened my eyes when I recognized that deep voice belonged to Azluun.
"What are you doing here?" I asked in a somewhat rude tone. He didn't seem to bother.
"I'm going home. I was at the tavern having a drink," he explained. Despite the fact I was sitting on top of the ruins, he was so tall that our eyes were on the same level. He seemed amused by my surprised face and chuckled. "What? Don't you think I drink?"
"You don't strike me as a..." I started, but then realized I didn't know how to continue. Instead, I changed the subject. "Where's the tavern? Which direction, I mean? I'm kinda lost."
Azluun shook his head at that.
"What? It is not proper for a young innocent lady to drink alone so late at night. Come, I'll take you back to the Scryers' Tier," he said. I let out an exasperated sigh.
"I'm not a lady, and I am not innocent," I hissed at him, but my rage didn't even move his will an inch. He crossed his arms and just stood there, his will unwavering, still like a rock. His wasn't the stubborness of a wrathful, wild bull, with eyes locked in the target and murderous intentions - his was the patience of a mountain, unbending, resolute and eternal.
I wasn't going anywhere arguing with him, so I jumped to the ground and started walking again, trying to remember the path I took to get there. I could hear him following me, even though he left a respectful distance.
"Your name is Aiwyn, isn't it?" he asked. He had no trouble following my hushed pace, his long steps covering as much ground as three of my own. "I heard you're the alchemist for the Scryers. You might want to turn left here."
I turned left, grumbling a bit.
"Your name is Azluun," I said. "Some kind of commander, I heard. Did you return that thing to the warrior, Krayel?"
"Yes, I did. He is quite fond of that charm. One of his nieces made it for him," he said, seeming amused by something. "And yes, I'm 'some kind' of commander," he completed, chuckling lightly.
"Don't you have something more important to do than picking on me?" I asked.
"At this very moment, no," he said. "I've seen you roaming the streets late at night quite a few times. What are you looking for? What's wrong?"
"Everything is wrong," I started, and it briefly crossed my mind that I don't usually confess my angst that easily, but perhaps I just needed that too much. "We betrayed our Prince, our way of life is damning us, we don't know what awaits for us in our future..."
"And you forged an alliance with the enemy,"Azluun completed. "I'd advise you taking the second entrance here."
"That's not what's bothering me."
"What is it, then?" he asked.
It was Neph. For the last years he's been the constant in my life, my compass and consort, the foundation upon which I built my expectations for my life. And now I feared he'd be dammed, that compass pointing at the wrong direction. But I said none of that, and Azluun kept a respectful silence that remained until I finally spotted the entrance of the Scryers' Tier at the distance.
"I believe you can find your way from here," Azluun said as he stopped. I stopped too and turned to see him give me a slight bow. "Good night, lady elf."
I almost called him back to thank me for showing the way, but instead just watched him walk away and dissappear, the sound of his footsteps fading slowly into the night.
After that, I met Azluun again. And again, and again. At first, our encounters were the result of the hatred between our factions - not a common thing to unite two people.
"It's the third time this week, my lady. We really should stop meeting like this," Azluun said with a slight bow and gentle smile. I could almost feel he was chuckling inside, so I simply rolled my eyes at him and turned to a couple of blood elves with a deep scowl.
"What were you idiots thinking?" I yelled at them. One of them had his head back, his nose still bleeding, while the other just tried to make himself go unoticed. "You think Voren'thal likes having to send me here to round you up like children?!"
Now Azluun was definitely chuckling behind me.
"Ekalia has a really good right hook," he said calmly.
"You got lucky the girl only wanted to rearrange your face," I kept on hissing at the elf. "If you decided to pick on a guy, we'd be scraping your brains from the walls! Or whatever it is that you got inside your head! Why are just standing there? Come on! Off with you! Voren'thal will want to scold you too."
When they started walking away, I turned to Azluun with a deep sigh and a don't-fuck-with-me look imprinted on my forehead. He just smiled and bowed again.
"Until next time, Aiwyn."
Next time turned out to be in a tavern, when he paid me a snack and drank my wine to prevent me from drinking it. The night after that, he actually taught me a drinking game, cheerfully admitting the contradiction of his actions.
"First, you take a coin," he was saying. "And an empty glass. You have to make the coin hit the balcony and jump inside the glass. Got it?"
"You can't play this game near a goblin," I said. "Once you let go of the coin, you will never see it again. What if I get it right?"
"Then I have a drink," he said. "If I get it right, you will have a drink. Don't worry, I'll take it easy on you. An elven maiden like yourself shouldn't be drinking anything stronger than wine."
Next day I woke up fully dressed in my own bed, with my hair wrapped around my brush and completely hung over. I could only assume I lost the game the night before and that Azluun's "take it easy" meant something else. On that evening, I taught him one of the games I liked. He didn't buy any drinks for a few days after that one.
And despite the glances of disaproval shot at us, the constant bickering between blood elves and draenei, both of us seemed to be stubborn enough to insist on creating something quite unusual for that moment and place in history: a friendship between former enemies, with the wounds of the conflict still open and bleeding. Perhaps this might give you the wrong idea we struggled for this to happen, but that's not true. It happened suddenly, smoothly, like a cat breaking into your house - you only realize it is there, and the next moment it feels there's something wrong if the cat doesn't come to sleep on your feet.
Whenever Azluun would drop that heavy mantle of leadership and duty, a much lighter person emerged. His burdens and fears stripped away, the apprehension of being in the presence of an authority would vanish as he would become the kind of person that laughs loudly over a mug of beer. His men didn't just respect him - they loved him, and it reminded me a bit of our relationship with Voren'thal. But Azluun, despite being as old as our elder, gave me a feeling of a younger spirit, lighter and still hopeful. Someone you could talk to on the same level, someone who would laugh over obscenities and play drinking games.
And he truly seemed to have the Light in his heart, as he spoke with words of wisdom and hope that slowly started to relieve my heart of the dark knots I made, leaving me much lighter and even... hopeful. I even caught myself talking about Neph to him, and only at that moment I realized how much I lowered my defenses and inhibitions to him, talking about the person I cherished the most in the world. Despite my crescent despair regarding the fate of my beloved, Azluun made me believe it was worth hoping for better days.
"It is remarkable, you know?" he told me once, with a dreamy look in his eyes and gentle smile. "I never even dared to hope of having this kind of conversation with one of your kind, and yet here we are. Never be afraid of dreaming and hoping."
On that day, I almost told him I knew his brother. It crawled up my throat, burning on its way, but I managed to swallow it back. Almost.
Thelius kept on being a pain in my ass, now dividing his days between using my lab to brew his poisons and sparring, training his combat skills with someone else. I had to start throwing books at him, or else there would be no flasks left for us to use for working. Whenever I could, I would send him away to gather ingredients, but I also noticed how his taunting and venomous words started to bother me less and less. Those were a good, few and kinder days that made me feel as if I was in the middle of the healing process of a sickness. This blind ambition, ruthlessness and greed that took our hearts since the fall of our kingdom was the sickness that would damn us all if we didn't do something. But I was only interested in healing one single person.
And now I believed I could do it. When the opportunity came, I immediately recognized it and plunged teeth and nails on it, afraid I could let it go.
I was coming back one of those evenings and on my way back to my room, when an annoyed voice came floating to my ears. It wouldn't have caught my attention if it wasn't Thelius' voice, so I stopped. I never saw him upset in any way, so it was intriguing to realize he sounded like a vexed kid - not to mention satisfying.
"But I can be useful, I know..." he kept on saying before being cut of.
"You'll be more useful here, Thelius," came a voice I knew to belong to Voren'thal. "You don't have a good image before the Aldor to work with them. You're not going to Area 52."
Area 52? I knew that place - it was a goblin city. Most goblin territory was neutral, and I always thought it was because that way they could deal with both Alliance and the Horde. Bloody mercenaries. But despite that, Area 52 was located at Netherstorm - at Tempest Keep's doorstep.
Thelius stepped out Voren'thal's study chamber and shot me a quick glance before walking away, with no smug smile, no sharp words. I approached and knocked at the door-post of the open chamber.
"Voren'thal? May I have a word?"
It was with a much lighter pace, in a much more beautiful night, that I found myself at the tavern looking for Azluun. He was alone by the counter, with a mug the size of a bucket in front of him.
"Rough day?" I asked as I took a look into his mug. A dark drink with a perfumed foam was spinning inside. "What's that? Can I have a taste?"
"Good evening to you too, Aiwyn," he greeted me as he put the mug out of my reach. "My day was great, actually."
"So that is just for chilling out? I wonder what you drink when you're stressed out," I said as I took a seat beside him.
"Water," he answer. "Never drink when you're in trouble, just when your life is good and there's reason to celebrate. Otherwise that's a path that can lead straight to addiction - and it won't solve your problem either way."
"Sounds reasonable," I said. "Drinking your sorrow away looks more like running from it."
"Precisely. Which takes us to the next level," he said, turning to the barmaid. "A cup of wine for the elven maiden here, please."
I stared back at him in disbelief.
"You seem to be in a good mood today," he explained. "I never saw you so bright. Got any good news?"
I hesitated a bit, since I planned on dropping the news smoothly.
"Actually, yes," I started. "Have you heard they plan to set a post at Area 52?"
"Yes," he said slowly. "Both Scryers and Aldor working together. That is a lot of ground for trouble, as you know," he said before taking a good gulp of his drink and looking at me. "You mean to tell me you're going too?"
"Of course I am," I said with a smile. "I'll leave anyone but Thelius in charge of the alchemy lab and hope to never see his face again."
"But you're not that happy just because you won't work with him anymore," he said, and as I turned to him I saw a wrinkle of concern on his forehead. For a moment I feared he knew what I was planning, and that he would try to stop me.
"I want to be useful. I know how all the mana forges work, their weaknesses..." I started.
"You'll also be close to Tempest Keep," he said. I waved that fact away.
"Are you worried I'm gonna betray the Scryers?" I laughed at that possibility, but that didn't seem to ease his worries - if anything, his concern was more evident.
"Be careful, Aiwyn. Don't do anything stupid," he said, and I felt my will shaking at the plea in his voice. Perhaps his experience managing Krayel gave him a good idea what I was capable of; perhaps he already knew I was about to do something reckless and unprecedented. And yet he didn't seem to want to confront me directly, and I wasn't sure if that was a sign of the faith he put in me, or if he had other reasons.
After a moment of silence, he shook his head and gave me a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Either way, I wish you luck on this new quest, my friend," he said, touching his giant mug in my cup of glass as a toast. "And don't drink too much. You don't want to trade one addiction for another."
As I stared at my glass of wine, untouched, something suddenly became clear in my head. And it was so serious, so vital and important that I had no idea how it slipped through my mind for so long. It was so central since the beginning, so critical that you may call it the first engine of this whole operation - deep down, the reason of it all, the treason, the suffering.
"Azluun..." I said slowly, still a bit dumbfounded.
"Hm?"
"I haven't tapped on any source of magic since I got here," I said, looking at my hands. They were firm and still. "And I've had no withdrawal symptoms."
Now his smile was true, and he even laughed at my face - no doubt I must have looked like a child finding the gifts under the tree at Winter Veil night.
"You said you took a potion everyday for this purpose, didn't you?" he said. "Although I believe it must also have something to do with A'dal."
"A'dal?" I asked, even though I thought I already knew what he meant.
"Perhaps you're feeding off A'dal's magic without even knowing it. You elves seem to passively draw the magic energy of great sources nearby," he explained. "It might be like..."
"Like what happened when we had the Sunwell," I completed. "How do you know all of that?"
"I'm simply a good observer. And listener," he stated, shrugging. "But if you allow me to say... at least A'dal's magic is of the purest kind. No harm will come to you for tasting a piece of his Light."
I was still trying to wrap my mind around that and didn't even realize I was smiling. For a couple of days, another feeling was nesting in my chest, making me feel lighter, brighter. Knowing that the healing we were seeking was also possible was relieving, as an indication that we were on the right track.
I was hopeful, for the first time in weeks.
That was a specially and unusually cheerful night, but the sound of laughing was still falling weird on my ears. Regardless of that I cheered, drank and celebrated that renewed hope. I assume Azluun guided me back home - again -, because there's where I woke up, with a terrible headache and a bad taste in my mouth.
Still hung over from the drinking of the previous night, we prepared for the departure. Azluun came to say goodbye to his friends and draw a lot of attention when he also opened his way to shake my hand.
"May the Light be with you, my friend," he whispered to me. "Don't do anything reckless."
Recklessness was so expected of me, there was nothing I could say that would ease his spirit, so I simply smiled. Truth be said, all those wise men showering me with their wisdom - my Master, Voren'thal, Azluun - foresaw it right: I was about to do something stupid, and I saw that expedition as my chance, maybe my only chance.
I had to do something. I had to meet Neph.