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Locked Away

    It was quiet in the dark cell somewhere in the depths of the Violet Bastion’s Estate. Having been taken into their custody as a criminal for disobeying the treaty between Alliance and Horde, she felt resigned to her fate. Was this really the will of The Master? Ever since that fateful day where she signed her life away in exchange for a method of sight so she could exact her revenge, she hadn’t heard any other decrees. All she knew was that one day she would have to heed his call.

    Tattered ears twitched as she heard leather soles steadily descend the seldom used staircase that lead down to the cells. It wasn’t yet time for a meal and as far as she could tell she was the only one down here. This visit was unscheduled, she surmised, though as the footfalls grew more near a fanged snarl parted her lips. She may be blind, but her sense of sight was more keen than others in certain ways. For she saw the energy of one’s being and the energy that flows through all life, but this presence set her on edge.

    “Well, I must say I expected more from the one called The Hand.” The husky deep voice of a male rang forth once he had stepped into the chamber. She did not need to see his smug expression to know it was there as it dripped from his very tone. 

    “What do you want?” She snapped at the man.

    “My, what temper!” A hearty laugh escaped him as he regarded her curiously, “I am Waren Fitzgerald, the Prophet that The Oracle spoke of and the keeper of your Prophecy.” After a brief pause to look her over her continued, “Ah, I see. You traded your service for sight. It must not be easy to see the truth that others are blind to.”

    Lilyda let out a low growl, she did not like being kept as a spectacle to be observed from within a cage.

    “Fret not, my fanged friend. I only came down here to see you with my own eyes.”

    “Satisfied?” She spat.

    “Very,” The grin was practically audible, “You are indeed The Hand and you will serve your master well.”

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Vengeance

    Carnage covered the scenery and blood soaked what was once considered sacred ground, but no longer. That was the last thing she saw before she had lost her sight and it would forever be the only thing she could picture in her mind, that and the burning of her home as she held her sister’s corpse. Burned so vividly into her memory despite the fact that her eyesight was stolen by the edge of an Orc’s axe later in that same battle. Darkshore was no longer home, it was a warzone. 

    While her sisters mourned and moved on with the truce that had been established between the Horde and the Alliance, she vowed revenge and she would have it. The invaders would be purged from her homeland and her sister would be avenged. Once a Sentinel, but no longer. Now she served only one; The Master. The one who provided her a means of sight in exchange for her loyalty and effectively the means to seek out her vengeance on those that took her home and her family away. The Horde.