For some time the only companion she knew was the dark. It comforted her as much as it chilled her in its embrace. Every bit of her longed for the warmth of day but her fear guarded her tiny hand from reaching for the hatchway. So she waited with baited breath, broken by an occasional sob, terror still gripping her heart in a vice. In her mind she could still hear the heavy footsteps above her as the weight of them made the floor creak terribly. She felt fortunate they muffled her sobs and squeaks at the time as she sat huddled in a corner behind some old baskets of the tiny cellar. Then there was silence, and it was the most deafening of all.
Eventually her body began to hurt from the heartache and she succumbed to slumber. In her dreams she saw the hatchway lifted to reveal a beam of light from whence her mother stepped in to lift her, comfort her, and take her away from this place. Then she opened her eyes. The fleeting moment of warmth left her the moment she woke to the darkness of her dwelling, sobering her. So she waited longer but none came for her, neither friend nor foe. Soon she had forgotten how many times she fell asleep or for how long the cold kept her from such.
Eventually the line between dream and reality became blurred as the dark began to play tricks on her mind. She saw shadows moving, and glimpses of unsightly acts she had witnessed before. She saw things creeping towards her, forcing her to huddle herself against the wall even harder but there was no refuge from all the little creatures that crawled betwixt the many cracks of the walls that provided her with a shred of safety before. But now she felt things crawl all over her little body and she tried to scream yet her throat was horribly parched so no sound came, only more pain as something crept into her mouth, across her lips and tongue with its many tiny feet.
She woke, coughing terribly. It was another nightmare. She could no longer bear staying in her prison so she rushed towards the hatchway, climbing onto an old stool. The hatchet creaked with rust and old wood but barely budged. Panic sent her insides into a violent whirl, her tiny hooves becoming unsteady. She mewled in despair and tried again and again. Her short arms were weak from malnourishment but she had to get out because the darkness of her cell became insufferable. Her eyes began to hurt as she cried, barely a tear left to shed as she felt the darkness closing in on her, taunting her, ready to drag her back into that corner at any moment. She banged the wood with her tiny fists, catching a blister or two between her knuckles. It was all to no avail. She gathered her last bits of strength and pressed both of her palms hard against the wooden hatch. It opened wide, and in an instant she was bathed in moonlight, a fresh breeze brushing her as gently as a mother's caress.
But she cared little for it as she scrambled out of the cellar in haste, wanting to get away from it as far as possible. She managed to get as far as a bare column that once served as a beam for the very house under which she hid. What once was a quaint little village now lid in shambles with no other soul in sight. She froze against the stony column, her eyes still riveted to the hole in the floor she just emerged from as if fearing something might crawl after her. But nothing came. The little girl wished for a warm bed and a blanket to tuck herself under but thirst and the cold lifted her onto her tiny hooves. She looked around, hugging herself. Among the debris , in the dark, she spotted remains but whether those were burned corpses, books, or wooden structures she dared not think. Neither did she dare to think of what happened to the few other children.
She felt ill once more so she shuffled out of the village without knowing where she was going. Children of her age were often warned of the dangers of the marsh, and all the creatures that lurked beneath the murky waters. By the time she realised where she was she had already reached the creek somewhere betwixt the brooding trees of the marsh. Though the shadows they cast were nearly impenetrable the silvery stream gleamed alike a beam of light, guiding her upstream from whence the villagers used to gather fresh water. The stream of light came to an end just as her palms touched rough stone in the dark, and she fell to her knees, ripping her dress as she drank from the stream greedily. First she quenched her thirst, then she numbed the ache in her belly until she could drink no more. With barely any strength left in her, she sought for a warmer place under one of the nearby trees. After the cellar the marshes did not seem all that scary anymore. Despite that no matter where she put her hoof or where she placed her hand she felt moisture. With no choice left she settled for a thick bed of moss under a twisted root.
No dreams came to her that cold night but she could barely sleep. By the coming of dawn she felt nearly just as worn out, stiff, and her throat burned and so did her eyes. Part of her felt like staying, falling asleep, and dreaming of her mother and uncle coming after her, taking her someplace safe, tucking her into bed, treating her with some warm milk, honey and soothing words. But soon the comfort of such thoughts turned into despair. And how would they find her if she was told to stay in that little cellar? As much as she hated it, she had to head back.
Drinking water could no longer quell the ache in her belly but at the very least it offered refreshment. The little draenei stumbled back towards the village in her torn dress, feeling she might slip at any moment. Her knapsack was still in that cellar, she thought. There were still some dried rations left, perhaps enough for a bite or two. She never thought hunger could sting so painfully, albeit all other concern was stripped from her mind by it for the time being. Until she witnessed the desolation of her village the orcs left in their wake.
The light warmed but it also exposed the cold harsh truth she did not wish to see. The shock left her breathless until a fit of violent coughs racked her little body, just as she felt a lump build up in her throat. Faint and sick, Eireni found herself on her knees. For a moment she was even thankful she hadn't had any breakfast. Once she gathered herself once more she tried not to look between the crevices of the debris, dreading to see a charred corpse or a limp hand of another child just like her, an image carved hard into her memories during that terrifying night the village fell under siege.
The little bits of bread and a string of salted talbuk meat felt like a feast to her, and the cellar no longer seemed as suffocating when exposed to the morning rays of the sun. In fact, she felt a certain comfort here for it was dry. The old cellar remained her only refuge and so she closed the hatchway, and fell asleep once more.
The coming few days were filled with grave uncertainty and many dreams, both good and bad alike. They came easier to her while her waking hours waned due to her growing sickness. She dared look for others among the ruins, and on the outskirts of the singing marsh. She prayed at the ruins of the temple as was the custom of her people until she felt too weak to even reach the temple. The only thing to ruin her delirious sleep then were her coughs. She managed to find some half-burned rags to keep her warmer at night. But there was no water, no food, and no strength left to even visit the creak by the village. Eireni did all she could to take care of herself, and now her fate was in the hands of the Naaru to whom she dedicated her prayer, praying for the souls of the fallen, and for her mother's safe return. She did so in silence for her sickness had robbed her of her voice entirely. In fact she had not spoken a word since that dreaded night her uncle left her in the cellar and told her they were playing hide and seek. She was young but old enough to understand what was truly going on even if she simply nodded to her dear uncle Kevan before he disappeared, leaving her alone in the dark.
In her feverish delirium she lost trace of time as she could no longer leave her refuge. In her dreams she saw her mother calling for her, looking for her, crying for her, but Eireni had no voice to answer, not while awake, not while dreaming. Every time she watched her mother leave in despair as she could not find her precious daughter and it woke Eireni every time to the acute pain of her condition. Until one time she made out the sound of footsteps across the floor above her through the veil of her dream. She froze as the first thought that occurred to her were of the orcs.
'Eireni?' a voice called for her.
'Eireni?' the voice was heard once more. It sounded vaguely familiar to the rasp of the village elder who used to tell stories of Argus to her and other children.
At once, she wanted to cry for help but she could not find her voice. She could only hiss but it wasn't loud enough . Her name was called again, and again but it sounded more distant. So did the footsteps. Despair clutched at Eireni as if not wanting to let her go. All of her nightmares began to manifest in the dark, the very things that made her flee the cellar for the first time. No. No. Please. Don't leave me. she thought, struggling for breath to cry but her throat was too parched and sore. In her panic, she inhaled sharply through her mouth and it caused her to break into a fit of dry coughs. The stranger calling her name must have heard her. It was Eireni's only hope to ever see mother again.
The hatchway came undone, and cold light bathed the little cellar. It must have been a cloudy day but bright enough to sear Eireni's bloodshot eyes. She did not avert them, however, wanting to see her savior. But to her horror he looked nothing alike she would have hoped.
The cloaked creature that descended into the underground chamber was hunched and stocky as if her nightmares were given form once more. Underneath the ragged hood she spied a long face bereft of a nose, and lips. The tendrils that protruded under the wide chin made the creature vaguely resemble a draenei . 'Eireni? It's me, uncle Kevaan. I'm sorry…' the creature muttered in a raspy, almost watery voice as it leaned onto a thick stick. In truth the Broken was just as terrified when he saw the little girl but for different reasons. Every visible spot of her skin was caked in dirt. Her lips looked terribly chapped as if she had been chewing on them ceaselessly, her eyes were swollen, and her limbs were nearly stick-thin. Still, she backed away against the wall, terrified of this thing that claimed to be her uncle.
'Look at me, Eireni. Look at me... I won't hurt you.' the uncle murmured, somehow compelling the sobbing girl to look him in the eye despite his unsightly visage. It was only then that she recognised something familiar in the depths of those blue orbs. They bore a resemblance that could only mean kinship, and in an instant, she hopped onto her tiny hooves, forgetting all her fears, so she could hug her uncle. It had been long since she felt such warmth when she was embraced.
'Carry me home. Please.' she pleaded in a soft whisper, her strength fading once more.