The Scryer's Library

Zyane woke abruptly in the middle of the night, heart racing. She had a nightmare, but she couldn't recall what it was about. She looked around the dark room. The only source of light was the bright moon shining in through the small window. Dallas was on the floor, snoring.

Zyane laid back down once she had calmed down. It must've been years since she had a nightmare like that. She sighed. Knowing she wouldn't get back to sleep in her current excited state, Zyane decided to get up and have a look around. Quietly, she stepped over Dallas and left the inn.

The night was cool and quiet; every so often there would be a caw of a bird or the flap of some feathers off in the distance. Fires lit in the oil lamps emitted a welcoming orange glow. This kind of peace was only known at night in the Outlands, when enemies and soldiers alike put down their weapons to rest.

There was a stone path that snaked through the Scryer's Tier. With her bare feet, Zyane followed it to a wooden bench that overlooked the city. Flower pots with a myriad of colors inside bounced up and down beside her with their magical suspension. She was reminded of her mother, and how Lor'thermar told Zyane that her mother used to cast the spells they held up the flower pots. "To be sure their beauty would not go unnoticed," he told Zyane. Absently, Zyane wondered if her mother would be proud of her.

The quiet was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Zyane looked out into the dark, unable to see. Cautious as her father taught her to be, Zyane conjured a small ball of flame into the palm of her hand and held it out. It casted enough light to see the figure of a woman approaching her. It was the girl Dallas was arguing with before.

"Hello, Princess," Cynthia sneered.

Zyane crinkled her nose. She didn't like that this girl had such a problem with her. For all Zyane cared, Cynthia could have Dallas.

"You know, Dallas and I have quite the history," Cynthia said, shifting her weight the side.

"Look," Zyane replied, stopping Cynthia. "I didn't want him to come with me; my father gave me no choice. He's been nothing but a pain in my side since we were little."

"Because of you, Dallas left me," Cynthia seethed, pointing an accusatory finger at Zyane. "But now that he's back, I won't let you come between us again."

For most of her life, Zyane had trained for combat, but she was not prepared for what happened. Cynthia cracked her across the cheek, catching Zyane completely off guard. She fell to the ground and clutched her face to stop the stinging. Cynthia left before Zyane had time to recollect herself and do some serious damage to the little wench.

Off in the distance, Dallas was calling Zyane frantically. He finally saw her on the ground and raced up to her. The blood trickling from the corner of her lip ignited his rage. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

"Please, just go away Dallas," Zyane whispered.

"What happened?" Dallas asked again, grabbing her arm.

"Let go of me!" Zyane cried. She ripped his grip from around her arm. "You have caused me nothing but trouble!"

Zyane ran off into the distance, back to the hotel room. She crawled under the blankets in the dark and cried until she fell asleep. Dallas came into the room later, quietly as to not disturb Zyane, and lied awake. Sleep would not come to him in this state, knowing that the only person who he really ever cared about hated him.

The morning brought a sense of ease to Zyane. She felt bad about yelling at Dallas for what happened; in reality, he had done nothing intentionally to hurt him. Maybe she had just harbored so much hatred for Dallas over the years, which wasn't fair. He had been nothing but protective and attentive to her since their travel to Outlands. She truly owed him an apology.

Looking over her bed, Zyane saw that Dallas wasn't there. His armor was still in the corner, but he was nowhere to be found. Zyane couldn't blame him for wanting to get out as soon as possible.

Zyane shrugged, knowing she would see him sooner or later, and decided to go have a look around. Once she was dressed, Zyane lumbered out into the cool morning air. Shattrath was humming with noise below. It wasn't the orderly hustle and bustle of Silvermoon City and Zyane realized how much she missed home. She turned her sights to the library.

The Scryer's Library was just what Zyane was looking for. The floors were marble white with gold trim to match the white walls. The circular windows donned red silk curtains that bled a pink color when the light shined through them. A familiar scent filled the air; the smell of parchment and ink. She ran her fingers over the spines of shelf of books, feeling every indent of every letter. Worry and doubt would be lost in the pages of fantasy and imagination written in these books. Knowledge was begging to be learned and used.

Zyane stopped at a thin book with an emerald cover titled Fire and Ice: A Mage's Guide. She pulled it from the shelf and took it over to a small desk. The day was lost in that book. Zyane never once looked up even as the sun disappeared behind the mountains and the moon shone brightly into the small circular windows. It wasn't until it was too dark to read that Zyane realized she had spent the entire day there, having gone without any food.

Standing was difficult, but after she stretched out her back, Zyane was fine. She closed the book, caressing the cover as if it was a child, and put it back. She was so excited to try what she had read!

Out in the twilight, shops and blood elves were packing it in for the night, happy to do so. Many looked relieved to be going home to a dinner or a warm bed. Zyane, however, didn't feel that way. She wanted to find the first open area she could.

Zyane's plans were quickly interrupted when Dallas came storming over to her, face molded with worry. "Princess," he sighed, "where have you been? I have been looking for you all day!"

Oops, she thought. She hadn't realized that she still had Dallas to deal with. "I'm sorry, I was just in the library."

"The library? You spent all day in the library?" Dallas asked, pushing his fingers through his blonde hair.

Zyane nodded. She looked around, past Dallas, into the woods. There, off in the distance, was a clearing. "Come on!"

Zyane dragged Dallas to the clearing, ignoring his grumbles. She looked up into the sky, sure that there was no branches. Then, she instructed Dallas to back up. Eyes closed, Zyane spread her arms wide and tilted her head up. The air warmed as if it was summer. Soon, Dallas was sweating from his brow, but he kept watching. All of a sudden, fire fell from the sky around Zyane but never touching her. Embers glowed on the ground, bathing Zyane in red light. Zyane unexpectedly opened her eyes and the fire stopped. She whispered something incoherent, closing her eyes once again. Now the air was cold, almost freezing. White balls of ice dropped to the ground, hissing as it hit the hot embers. Sapphire light shimmered all around Zyane as she drowned her world in cold.

Dallas never stopped watching, even when the fire and ice threatened to hit him. His eyes never left Zyane. He always thought she was beautiful – anyone could see how naturally beautiful she was – but she had changed his definition of beauty. She was all he imagined, all he ever wanted.

When Zyane opened her eyes again, she saw Dallas staring. She never saw him stare like this before. It made her blush.

"Dallas, why are you staring?" she asked, hoping to bring him from his trance.

"Oh, I apologize, Princess," Dallas stuttered. He rubbed the back of his neck. "You are…amazing. Your magic, I mean."

"Thank you," Zyane responded, remembering how rude she had been to him last night. "I am sorry for what happened last night, by the way. You have been nothing but kind to me since we've arrived."

"I'm sure I deserved it in some way or another," Dallas smiled.

His smile struck Zyane differently for the first time in all her years of knowing him, as if that childish gallantry had finally left and all that was left was a man with sincerity and courtesy. She looked at him with a sort of fond curiosity, similar to meeting an old friend again for the first time. Without so much as a whisper, Zyane wrapped her arms around Dallas' neck and held him to her. She could smell his musk and the cold press of his armor. He took her small frame in his hands, burying his face into her neck and allowing her curls to caress him.

They stood there like that, in the middle of the woods, with only the moon to see them. Dallas never made a move to kiss Zyane, much too afraid to even let her go. But when he did finally, Dallas took Zyane's hand in his and they walked side by side back to their room. He held onto her all throughout the night, and her onto him. Dallas wondered where she had been all his life while he slept; Zyane wondered why she hadn't really seen him before.