#thrilling adventures of eona

[lothirielswanwarcraft]

“Boogeymen” [26] (SYLVANAS NIGHTMARE)

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Quest Objective: Bash old bosses.

~Sylvanas Windrunner, Eversong Woods~

Music. It darted in and out of the bone-white trees like the summer breeze. After everything, music had not forsaken me.

The woods were as I remembered them. Every branch had a graceful curve, housing crimson and golden leaves. The air was warm and sweet.

I walked in and out of shadow. The sunlight danced along the grass, dotted with yellow wildflowers. There was a natural perfection to these woods, a regality. I could never forget, no matter how hard I tried.

I followed the trickle of music. The birds called out like a symphony of bells. The last time I had been here, it was quiet. I could not recall what happened, but it made me grimace—or deepened it. Frowns were long-lasting. I could not remember why, and that was strange. It bothered me, like I was ignoring a dagger in my back.

I recognized the tune. I knew it by heart. Lyrics had not forsaken me. I murmured the words as I trekked along. I knew when I opened my mouth, the birds would stop to listen. They always did whenever I sang. There were others that stopped at the sound of my voice. . .I could not remember them…

I stepped into a clearing bathed in sunlight. A silhouette lounged on one of the pale rocks in the center. They were surrounded by an audience of wildflowers.

I stopped. I knew the loveliness of the lute. I knew the golden hair that shone in the light like the sun.

“Lirath?”

My brother looked up from his instrument. He smiled and waved. “Sylvie!”

I hadn't heard that nickname in a long time. It felt...odd seeing him. Almost wrong. Something happened to Lirath. I could not remember.

My younger brother stood and sprinted out to join me. I stayed where I was, on the edge of the shadows.

“Where’s Alleria? And Vereesa?” He asked.

I stiffened at the mention of their names. “I do not know.”

He scoffed. “Hiding, probably. We should go down to the shore again and pick shells, Suns versus Moons.”

His hair was golden like Alleria’s, shining like a beacon in the light. They were the Suns. My locks were silver, as were Vereesa’s. We were the Moons. We shined in the night.

I didn't offer a response. When it was evident that I wouldn’t speak, Lirath’s mouth opened once again, “So it's just us. That’s more than enough. Those nasty orcs don't stand against two of the Windrunner clan.”

“The orcs?” I said.

Lirath squinted at me. “They keep trying to invade Quel’Thalas. They’re like ogres and boogeymen. They must be stopped—it’s our duty, as rangers.”

“Boogeymen.” I repeated the word. No. I knew boogeymen. Orcs weren't those. They were many things; allies, enemies, but not that.

“Don't fret, Sylvie.” I flinched when Lirath reached out and touched my shoulders. It was a gentle and caring gesture. It was foreign to me.

“I’ll keep you safe from the boogeymen,” He promised.

I frowned—err, my frown deepened—as I studied him. So naive. So hopeful.

“No, you won't.”

A branch snapped across the clearing. My eyes left Lirath for a split second.

Lirath fell into me, gasping. “Syl…”

His body slumped, like a puppet with sliced strings. Crimson gushed from his torso. I felt my legs quiver as they knelt toward the ground.

“Lirath,” My gloved hand covered the wound. There was no arrow, no dagger or sword. No trace of ice or burnt flesh. Just red. Staining my fingers. Tainting the wildflowers.

My teeth grinded together. I was impressed I hadn't ground them into dust, everything considered (I couldn't remember why, of course). I pressed harder onto the wound. Blood drenched my fingers.

“Lirath!” I glanced up, searching for anyone, anything—

Him.

My lip curled up in disgust. I felt heat seep through my body, hot and branding like fire. Rage had not forsaken me.

Arthas Menethil stood at the edge of the clearing, on the line of light and shadow. When he stepped into the sun, the flowers withered and turned brown by his own insulting presence.

“You,” I growled.

I could still see his stupid grin on his loathsome face. He raised his arms, the metal plates of his armor clinking like iron on ice. “Me.”

I gathered up Lirath in my arms. “No. You can't take another. You can't take any more. You’ve already taken everything.”

“I took everything?” There was still that slight tremor in his baritone. Something unearthly. Something that repelled all life and still made me shiver. “No. What happened to loathing all life, Sylvie? I know you better than anyone, living and dead.”

I squeezed Lirath’s torso tighter. My arms were stained crimson up to my elbows. “No you don't!” I spat.

“Don't be angry, Sylvie,” Little rivers of blood spouted from Lirath’s mouth as he croaked. “You’re scary when you’re angry…”

“I think I do.” Arthas stopped before me and placed his hands on his hips, like he was reasoning with a child. He was the child! He was sick, he was the bastard who didn't know when to shut his damned mouth—

“You hated the dead—you loved me, of course—but you hated them. You joined them. You destroyed your own people, the living ones…”

I was weaponless. Grasping at straws and trembling with fury, I yanked a fistful of grass and dirt out of the earth and tossed it at him. “You made me do it!”

Arthas crouched before me. The stench of death lingered on his person like a perfume. “You didn't want to slaughter them. You don't want to slaughter her. You say you hate the living, but you can't lie to me. We’re connected. We always will be. You claim you hate humanity, yet here you are, standing between triumphant death and fading life. You’ve always stood between them, never belonging to either…”

Her? Slaughter her?

I glanced down at Lirath. Lirath was no more.

“Stars, Sylvanas,” Eona was limp in my grasp. Her skin was no longer the bright pink of a summer sky, instead the pale, violet-tinted complexion of Arthas. “You even have dreams about killing me? That is so wrong on so many levels. . .I want a raise.”

I stiffened. I couldn't kill her before. She was too much like…

“WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND THE LICH KING NOW?”

Oh, hell no.

I closed my eyes, inhaling even though the action felt odd. I reserved myself in what little way I could, and looked up again.

I glared at Garrosh Hellscream, standing behind Arthas, “There is a difference between me and this dim-witted moron! I don't have to prove anything to you, monster! You don't control me—neither of you do!”

“You tell ‘em—oh, okay, sure. Leave me here to die.” Eona coughed out a mouthful of blood as I set her on the ground and stood.

“You left me with the check at brunch.” I spat at her. “Taste vengeance.”

“It tastes like iron— bleck! —and rust.”

“Walk it off, Strider.” I turned back to my two enemies. I raised my fists, dripping with crimson.

They spoke as one, together, mocking. “You will never have control, Sylvanas. We will always be there. Humanity will suffer, and it will be because of you.”

I lunged with a shout. I aimed my fist at Arthas’ pathetic pale face.

My arm went through him. I was like a ghost. I was nothing. Just...faded.

I tried to swing at him a few more times, desperately wishing I could slam my fist into his smirk. I lunged at Garrosh. Nothing had changed. I went right through him. Nothing…

“Powerless.”

My nostrils flared. “I am Sylvanas Windrunner. I am in control.”

They uttered one word at the same time. “No.”

I screamed. I scratched and punched and hit.

Nothing.

“Poor creature. Life is agony to you, a disappointment.” A new voice snarled.

“Leave me alone!” I shrieked, and went again for Garrosh’s bald head.

“I can release you. I can take away the pain. All you have to do is release me. ” The voice declared.

I panted as I stood before both of them. There was nothing I could do. It was all nothing—Arthas and Garrosh and humanity. None of it mattered. In the end, there was nothing.

“There is no release…”

[lothirielswan]

“Wanna Smell Books with Me?” [19]

Join the journey on AO3 too!

Quest Objective: Someone please hold Jaina's beer.

~Wrathion, the Violet Citadel~

“You have what was promised?”

The banners of lilac and cobalt churned at the top of the alabaster steps. Torches played games with shadows across the floor. Dalaran was known for its knowledge, and yet everything seemed hidden by a layer of smoke.

Grand Magister Rommath gestured with his hands, and a wooden crate settled on the cold ground.

Left and Right guarded the staircase at the bottom, so no one would interfere with our transaction. Anyone who came close was given a death stare along with a long rifle pointed at their nose. Such ferocity. Such power.

I lifted a talon. Two more agents descended from the shadows and cracked open the lid with their blades. Rommath raised a slender eyebrow, but gave no reply.

The artifact rested on cushions of silk. It's intricate golden design was uncanny, created by beings of much higher thinking. Certain parts of the strange machine gave off a soft glow. There was a subtle familiarity to it; it looked exactly like my visions from the Thunder King.

“Our archeologists scoured Northrend, the Badlands, Uldum. We found the pieces scattered throughout.” The Grand Magister explained. His features were bathed in twilight hues of gold, azure and violet that made up the room. The dark velvet of my robes were sun-kissed by the gleam of the artifact, like the first rays of dawn. A new beginning.

I hummed with satisfaction. No more hiding. No more shame. The Black Dragonflight will reclaim what is rightfully ours.  

“It was a pleasure doing business, Grand Magister,” His title rolled off my tongue. I snapped my fingers, and two more lackeys emerged from the darkness of the room to carry the crate out of sight. Rommath’s quirked eyebrow grew more rigid.

“You have an abundance of recruits.” He said.

I lightly shrugged my shoulders with a pinch of modesty. “I’m comfortable. I’m afraid you can't say the same.”

I heard of the plight of the sin’dorei. The filthy remains of the Scourge still ran across their homeland, and the elves’ numbers were few. It was a shame, such powerful sorcerers turned to arcane addicts. They did not wander ruins simply for the joy of finding lost artifacts.

Rommath did not appear pleased to bring up the state of his homeland. “That is not a Black dragon’s business.”

“But it could be.” I said.

The bare muscles of his arms stiffened. Rommath muttered, “In what way?”

“I have plans, Grand Magister. Plans that will change the course of Azeroth,” Said I. I was poised and proud, shoulders out as if I had my wings on display.

“Your people are near extinction; I can modify that. Your forces can join mine, and I will reward you.”

Rommath was silent for a moment. “You sound like the Betrayer.”

Illidan Stormrage. Another famous figure. I never had the luxury to meet the former Lord of Outland, but he surely lived up to his reputation during the Legion’s recent invasion.

I replied, “The Betrayer did what was necessary to achieve a higher goal; he opposed the Legion-–”

“And many died in that campaign.” Rommath took another step closer. His fists were clenched like two threatening boulders of marble. The bridge of his nose creased like cracked alabaster. “Many suffered. Many are still paying the price. I would caution you with whatever plot you have come up with.”

“...So that's a no on joining me?” I remarked, unfazed by his closeness and the pain laced within his voice.

The Grand Magister’s head cocked to the side. “The fate of my people is not for me to decide; that is the Regent Lord’s will, what little remains of it. I will inform him of your offer, and the costs.”

Rommath gave a curt nod with his scarf still covering his lips, a last mockery that I still did not know everything he did.

His back was to me when I called out one last time. “Grand Magister?”

His shoulders slumped from exhaustion, and faced me with his expression still disguised behind scarlet silk. “Yes, Black Prince?”

My lips curled into a smile, baring my teeth with sharp points to be persuasive. “I urge you to consider my proposal. I doubt your people would like to be on the wrong side of history a second time.”

Rommath’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you should follow your own advice.”

~Eona, the Purple Parlor~

“Jaina, please-–”

“No. Jaina’s not here right now. Jaina’s on vacation.” Jaina held up a cautionary finger as she slumped down into one of the padded chairs. Her interest moved to the bookshelf near her as I pleaded with her.

“I don't know where Khadgar is and I got a bad-omens vibe from Chromie! Please? I’ll pay you back for the danish.” I replied.

Jaina shot me a foul look at the mere mention of the pastry. But she didn't answer. Instead, Jaina pulled a random book from the shelves, opened it, and hid her face behind the cover.

“Oh,” She moaned into the ink-smothered parchment filled with knowledge. “I miss that smell. I miss books. I miss my youth.”

I lowered her book so I could meet her gaze. “You’re still incredibly young.”

“Ha!” Jaina settled back in her chair and propped her feet up on the nearest table. “Young. What is young? Innocence. Ambition. Love…”

Her fingers suddenly clenched the leather cover of the novel. “Arthas is dead.”

I flinched and felt a pang of guilt. I managed a breathy response, “Yes, he is.”

Jaina gently tugged at the bottom of her braid. So much of her blonde locks had been consumed by the frosty white arcane. Her eyes were black and blue, like ice in the dark. Her voice was melodic like a river, and it had been frozen over. She was still young. But she looked exhausted, like the years had feasted on her spirit.

“It's an odd thing to say, but...I feel like him now.” Jaina’s attention was lost to some illusion that I could not see. Her fingers twitched towards the brooch. “Arthas, he was such a contradiction. He loved his people. He fought undead. He opposed dreadlords. Then he changed. He killed his people. He lead the undead. He took orders from dreadlords.”

Jaina stroked the crest with her thumb. “And now here I am. I used to have faith that everything would work out alright. I used to have faith in myself. Now...”

She shook her head, not for long, but with intensity, as if she could banish the thoughts like one could wring blood out of a healer’s rag. “Now I'm young. And my youth is gone.”

I didn't know what to say. I stole a chair from the other side of the table and dragged it next to hers. At random I plucked a book from one of the shelves and glanced over at her.

I bit my lip as I held up the novel. “Wanna smell books with me…?”

Jaina’s eyes were glassy as she stared at the cover. She nodded, a small smile on her lips. She wiped at her eyes. “I thought you would never ask.”

Our arms brushed together as I opened the first page and started to read. Yes, Khadgar and Dalaran needed us. But Jaina needed this more.

“The girl’s fiance dies in that one.” Jaina remarked.

I looked up at her smirk. “This is what I get for stealing your danish?”

“You brought a bookworm along to smell books, Eona. You should’ve known that something would get spoiled.”

~*~

We were still reading in the Purple Parlor when the air thickened from a teleportation spell. Arcane crackled across my skin and light filled the chamber.

I blinked a few times, stunned by the new change in the atmosphere. Jaina was used to the way of magics and was already standing, staff in hand. Her expression turned grim.

“Khadgar!” I ran to him as I made out his form.

I caught his arm as he stumbled, feeling the coldness of his skin through his dark blue robes. He was pale, and his forehead glistened with sweat as he swayed on his feet.

Archmages Modera and Aethas materialized on his sides. They wore the same drained expressions. Jaina helped Modera down as Khadgar teetered in my grasp.

“Eona...you never told me you had sisters,” Khadgar gasped. I held onto his arms, trying to still him as best as I could.

“Huh?” I said.

“Yes,” Khadgar held up a finger, pointing to the air around me. “There’s three of you...am I counting right? Aethas! What do your elf eyes see?”

“Stars...so many stars...” Aethas groaned and yanked off his hood to massage his temples.

I lead Khadgar to a one-armed sofa as he spoke in his dreamy state of delirium. “You know, I bet if Sylvanas raised me from the dead...I’d be like Beetlejuice.”

I sat the Archmage down and frowned as I leaned over him. “Please don't give me that mental image, Khadgar.”

“No, it's perfect! You can be Lydia! IT’S SHOWTIME-–wee!” I urged Khadgar down to lie on the sofa, smoothing out his hair as I did so.

I glanced over at Jaina as she examined the other two mages.

“What happened to them?” I asked. I wonder if Anduin is still here. He’s a skilled healer, he might know.  

“You know, Eona, you smell really nice.” Khadgar rasped below me. “Kind of like strawberries. Which is funny, you look like a strawberry. You’re covered in seeds…”

I crossed my arms. My white linen shirt came down to my elbows, so the freckles drizzled across my arms were still visible.

“Where were you last, Modera?” I heard Jaina ask.

I joined the two mages across the parlor. Modera seemed less hysterical than Khadgar, but just as exhausted.

“Violet Hold,” She gasped. “the prisoners escaped...we went to track them...they trapped us there. Kalecgos is still with them-–”

My eyes flew open. Jaina and I exchanged a look.

“–-then we faced the Vampyr…” Modera’s head tipped back as she gulped in air.

Jaina nudged my arm. She didn't need to. The two red dots on Modera’s neck said it all. I sprinted back to Khadgar. His skin was branded with the same two marks.

“Aethas too,” Jaina said quietly, smoothing her robes as she stood upright.

We backed away from the three limp mages, watching as their movements seemed to slow.

“If they…” I swallowed. “does that mean they’re stuck that way?”

“No. We have spells to remove it, and it's usually temporary. I can ask Anduin or Malfurion to tend to them.” Jaina glanced up at her own staff, then quickly retrieved the long weapons from where the mages lay.

I nodded, moving my hair away from the front of my face. As I did so, Khadgar leaned up slightly, sniffing the air.

“What about Kalec?” I said.

Jaina returned to my side with their staffs and her eyes flickered over the sleeping bodies. “We’ll get him together. I’ll meet you at Violet Hold. Let’s clean up the Kirin Tor’s mess before the summit has the chance to notice.”

We stepped back into the shimmering portal and our feet echoed as we appeared at the staircase of the Violet Citadel. Jaina raced towards the Anduin; I took the steps two at a time with my thoughts on Kalec.

I squinted as a familiar face lingered at the bottom of the steps. Grand Magister Rommath looked to my coming, his eyes analyzing me like a spellbook.

“Eona, I must speak with you.” He said as I was halfway down the mountain of steps. My calves were burning and I didn't care. Kalec’s face kept flashing before my eyes.

“I'm sorry, now is not a good time.” I remarked.

“It’s important-–”

“Then we’ll discuss it later.” I finally reached the bottom of the stairs and sped past him.

“You are going to slip if you move too swiftly, Lady Sunstrider.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I love cliffhangers :3

Chromie: Me too! Although, I usually see them coming with my powers, but they're still entertaining--but that's not why I'm here. Author, you're messing with the timestreams!

Author: Don't worry, I have a permit.

Chromie: I'm sorry, Author. That bowl of edible cookie dough that you offered the Bronze Dragonflight was delicious, but it does not allow you to go willy-nilly with the past. The Dark Portal was closed for twenty years, making Eona's existence impossible!

*Awesome freaky lightshow happens. Nozdormu, Lord of Time, appears*

Nozdormu: Author, well met. I must say, your work with this new future for Azeroth is...entertaining, but Chronomu is correct.

Author: Jeez, Marvel didn't have these kinds of laws set up--then again, Deadpool was my co-writer. Protectors of Time, please hear me out! I have a loophole!

Nozdormu: Very well, Author. Do as you must. We will be watching...and if you can spare me a cameo, it would touch this old dragon's heart. You even let Kalecgos have a minor role in this story, and he's practically invisible!

Kalec: ...Thanks.

Author: Will do, Lord Nozdormu! Thanks for stopping by, Chromie! As for you Awesome Adventurers, you can actually witness the first time Eona's parents met now, in the recently updated "Protectors of the Present"! Hope you enjoyed c: love, fortune and glory to you!!

[lothirielswanwarcraft]

“My Secret Is Cucumbers” [25] (KHADGAR NIGHTMARE)

Join the journey on AO3!

Quest Objective: Learn how to ride a Gryphon.

~Khadgar, Outland~

“I'm going to do it.”

“Hmph. You’ve said that for years.”

“I mean it this time,” Turalyon pressed across the table. The ashen walls of Shattrath City surrounded us with the mute sounds of refugees. It was a solemn and hopeful place. I couldn't recall why we were here, but it felt right.

“I'm going to ask Alleria to marry me.”

“You’re serious?” My eyebrow teetered with disbelief.

Lyon snorted and stood from the table. His blond hair glittered like the light of the naaru that gleamed up in a fantastic spiral towards the sky. “Watch me.”

“The floor is yours, ringmaster.”

Alleria strode to our abode. Despite her slender form, she was the most intimidating of our party. Blue tattoos marked her face. Regal demeanour. The hard stare of the hunter. She had an eternal youth about her, but something seemed amiss. There was more...light. A flicker in her eyes. I felt like they hadn't appeared that way in years.

“My lady,” Lyon gathered her hands and placed light kisses on them. I tried to ignore how uncomfortable the gesture made the atmosphere. “I would like to ask for a moment of your time.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“To ask you to share every moment after.” Lyon tossed me a wink. My eyes widened with Alleria’s as he kneeled before his sun, his immortal deity that he worshipped every passing day.

“I’ve loved you for a while now…” For some reason, I couldn't remember how long exactly. Lyon continued,  “and I will continue to love you for the rest of my life.”

“You’re proposing?” Alleria cut him off. It shocked me how nothing could rattle her.

“Erm...yes.” Turalyon hissed out the last word, caught off guard.

Alleria blinked. Then a small smirk spread across her pale pink lips, “Took you long enough. I swore I would have to ask.”

Lyon glanced at me, as if asking me what to do with his gaze. I shrugged, “They say time makes the heart yearn.”

“Right,” Turalyon looked back up into Alleria’s stunning orbs for eyes. “What he said.”

“And we already share a child, Lyon.”

“Uh...Khadgar…”

“Even after raising a child together, you still love her. That is an impressive accomplishment. Put that in the win column.”

Alleria chuckled, squeezing his hands. “Yes. My answer is yes.”

Turalyon leapt to his feet and punched the air with a wide grin on his face. “Yes!”

The two embraced and shared a loving kiss.

~Stormwind, Cathedral of Light~

Lilies sprouted at the end of every pew. I stood behind Turalyon, underneath the massive arch of blooming blossoms. Prophet Velen hummed under his breath as trumpets sounded.

Lyon leaned backwards towards me, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “This is the best day of my life.”

I beamed at him. “You deserve happiness, my friend.”

He laughed quietly. “Thank you, my friend.”

Arator stood at my side, casting a look out at the many eager faces. The double doors at the end of the hall of light creaked open.

Alleria did not wear white lace or layers of silk. Her armor gleamed like a thousand shimmering crystals. A longer cloak trailed after Alleria, and wildflowers entwined through her hair and leather garb.

I looked over at Turalyon. He had the face of someone gazing out at a breathtaking sunset, the kind that brought tears to the eyes that life could be so beautiful. Turalyon wore that expression, and so did the woman walking down the aisle.

They exchanged short yet heartfelt vows (I ended up writing both of them) before sharing a kiss, and the cathedral rose with applause. Pink petals fell from the ceiling like freshly fallen snow.

The reception was to take place outside, near the edge of Elwynn Forest. There weren't many traditional qualities to the wedding, but nothing about Alleria and Turalyon’s relationship was traditional.

I sat at one of the many round tables with white skirts, sipping wine idly as I stared at the happy couple.

“Khadgar? Is that really you, after all these years?”

What in the Light’s name—? The familiar voice made my head snap up—but not too far.

Eona’s mother, Zeldormu, stood before me.

She didn't stand too far from the ground; her half-orc, half-dwarven form was short and muscled. Everything looked the same: the dark hair with crimson tips, the tiny tusks poking out at her lips…

Zelda smiled. That smile...I hadn't seen it in...I couldn't remember how long. But I knew it was a while. I hadn't seen her this jubilant since...what was his name? He was very important, very clever…

“You haven't aged a day,” Zelda teased and took the chair next to mine.

“My secret is cucumbers—don’t tell anyone,” I raised a mock finger to my lips.

Zelda laughed. I felt like I hadn't heard it in years. “I’ve really missed you, Khadgar.”

“And I you, Zelda.” I bowed my head. I had missed Zelda. I missed her strength, her unbreakable will—we had been through much together, but I couldn't recall any of it at the moment. Something to do with the Betrayer…I heard whispers…

  ‘I'm stuck here, on this new planet I don't even know, pregnant. This is not where I was supposed to be in my life right now.’

‘I suppose we’re both stuck in our lives, in places we aren't supposed to be.’

Zelda had always felt like an equal. There had always been an unique understanding between us, uncommon to every other friendship I had. Nothing compared to Zelda.

“It's been so long—it’s good to see you.” The emotion made my words thick. “It really is. How are you? You look so…”

“Happy?” She guessed. She laughed again. “It's the strangest thing. I never thought I would be after everything...but I am. Thrall sends his regards—his children are lovely. I had a drink with Arthas on my journey here, I never thought I’d say this, but...he might actually be pulling off this king-thing. Jaina’s a good match for him.”

“And him?”

“Who? Oh…” Zelda glanced down. “You mean…”

“Yes.”

Her lips curved up. “He's perfect.”

Warmth seeped through my chest at her joy. Zelda was completely content. For one brief moment, there seemed to be justice in the world. Everything was—

“Khadgar! Come meet this young man, I think you’ll like him.”

My fingers clutched the stem of my wine glass as I stood from my seat. I looked over at Turalyon, “Who is it—?”

I stopped short. All of the breath in my lungs emptied, like it had been knocked out of me in battle. Turyalon’s hand clapped the shoulder of a thin man draped in simple robes. His hair was dark, like the feathers of a raven. His skin was marble, polished and gleaming with youth. His blue eyes were familiar.

Because I saw them every single time I looked in a mirror.

“This youth is a mage,” Turalyon introduced him, shaking his entire body as he patted his thin shoulder.

“There will be no introductions.” The dark-haired mage said. His voice was not commanding. It was soft yet sure. “We’ve met before.”

The dark-haired mage left Turalyon’s side. He walked towards me. He made no sound as he moved across the grass, silent as a snake.

“We met long ago, when memories were young and dreams were big and grand.” The dark-haired mage declared.

A shriek cut the silence of the forest. A flash of black flew before my eyes. Startled, I looked down at my feet. The raven’s feathers were sleek and shiny with its own blood. The body was twisted and mangled, broken beyond compare.

When I looked up, the dark-haired mage stood before me.

“Yes. We have met before.”

The forest had disappeared. The air was chilly and electric with arcane. The wind tugged at my robes.

We were atop the tower of Karazhan.

“Do you honestly think you fit in with that world? Weddings, smiles, joy.” The dark-haired mage spat the merry words.

Wind shrieked in my ears like a wailing child. My lips had pursed into grim line. “I know who you are.”

“The past. Regret. What you could have had, all of the opportunities. They’re gone now.” His eyes glowed blue.

“There is knowledge—” I began.

“That is all you have now. Books. Little fantasies to drown out the truth, to make it hurt less,” The mage’s breath hissed as he drew closer. “They mock you. They let you escape your mind, but not your body.”

I started to retreat as he advanced. My boots scraped against the dark stone as I moved backwards.

I was suddenly more aware of the wind. How strong it was—or how incredibly weak I was. The wind was like time, and I was at its mercy. Would there ever be true justice? When would the blizzards cease, and breathe a soft summer breeze?

The wind tousled through Young Khadgar’s hair. “Enjoy the books. There is no happy ending.”

His wrinkle-less hands rose and a beam of arcane shot out. Pain erupted in my chest. I stumbled backward—

And my foot jerked in the open air.

I screamed as I toppled off the side of Karazhan, like a raven with broken wings.

The wind burned as I fell. It tugged and pulled with invisible claws as I kept falling, falling, falling…

“Haunted by the past, tormented by it's empty promises. Khadgar, the most powerful, and the most powerless.” A blood-curdling voice entered my mind.

“I will set you free. Release me, and I release you from the harshness of reality.”

I knew that voice. Yes! Sael’orn! It felt like ages ago since our scuffle in Dalaran. Was all of this her…?

I can't set her free. Then everyone else is tortured by their reality.

Silently, I fell, fell, fell…

[lothirielswan]

“Pastry Crimes” [20]

Join the journey on AO3!

Quest Objective: Save the mages (I’m talking to you, Thedas).

My feet squeaked on the tile as I came to a stop. The world felt hazy around me, like I was trapped in a dream--or a most terrible nightmare.

He knows.

My boots let out another shriek as I spun on my heel. Grand Magister Rommath’s face was mostly unreadable, but his stare was as watchful as stars in the night sky.

“How…” My voice was far more scratchy than normal. “how did you know?”

The Grand Magister seemed a lot taller than he did before. Intimidating. Threatening. My wild imagination twisted reality and I suddenly felt like I was standing before my own Vampyr, draped in blood-soaked robes, barring his sharp fangs. I wanted to run, and when I realized why I couldn't, my legs trembled.

I was terrified.

My family was filled with social pariahs, but I had kept one part of that lineage secret. It was one less thing I had to worry about on a new planet. Now the flat of the blade called vulnerability slid across my skin with a cool caress. I’m the daughter of the so-called monster and the faraway coward. I am the spawn of the outcasts of Outland. And it has come back to bite me in the ass.

“I had my suspicions...the Black Prince confirmed them.” Rommath said.

The daughter of a traitor was betrayed...how ironic. I didn't have to believe Rommath’s words, but I knew the truth had a habit of stinging. It was searing in my chest now.

I couldn't decide between fidgeting with my fingers or fixing every strand of hair on my head. I settled for crossing my arms across my torso, steeling myself for how bleak my life was about to become. “Are you going to kill me, then?”

“No.”

“Are you going to arrest me?”

“I should.” Rommath mimicked my actions as his bare arms folded across his chest.

I loathed the new position that Wrath had put me in. Rommath knew my secret, which meant he had leverage. He had power over me. Wrathion had placed me on his chessboard, and now I was stuck taking his punishment for the game.

A banging started in my head. Only when Jaina spoke did I realize it was her footsteps on the stairs as she fled down them. Her blue skirts fanned around her like choppy waves.

Blue.

Kalec.

My inhale was deep and painful as I looked up at Jaina. She had no idea of my lineage. I preferred to keep it that way, but Kalec came first.

“What are you doing? We need to move!” Jaina’s voice was back to it’s grim determination, young yet aged, and she grabbed my arm as she passed.

I glanced back at Rommath one last time. What would he do next? Inform Sylvanas, and lead her to the peak of anger towards me? Set me up to an impossible task, bound to his will?

I had no clue. And the unknown clawed at my insides like a caged beast as Jaina blinked away from the Violet Citadel.

We suddenly appeared before the thick double doors of Violet Hold. Two guards stood at attention, adorned with troubled expressions as Jaina approached.

“Questions will be answered later. Double the patrols of the city.” Jaina shouted orders like a veteran general and strode with the grace of the tides. The two guards raced down the coral ramparts. Jaina and I stopped before the crippled metal doors.

“Prisoners will spread across Dalaran. I informed council members Ansirem, Karlain, and Vargoth. We will rescue Kalec, and join them in the fight on the streets. We keep this as covert as we can.”

At least one of us has it together. Jaina really does deserve a vacation. After this, maybe Kalec can send Jaina to some island getaway where she can smell a bunch of books--and I’ll send her a danish. Oh, food. I miss the comfort of food right now--dammit, stomach, not now! Kalec and my future are on the line!

Jaina pointed her staff at the entrance and the doors shuddered. The battered doorway was forced open by an incredibly unhappy host, coming to throw out her rude guests.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness quicker than Jaina’s. Embers emitted a weak lavender glow in braizers. My sight felt strained. There was a thickness in the air when I breathed in. I had become accustomed to the air saturated with magic as I stayed in Dalaran, but this was different. It was like trying to breathe underwater as something foreign filled my lungs.

My hands immediately went to my goggles, securing them on my face to mask the glow of my eyes. The shadows welcomed me with open arms, and I greeted it with both knives in my grasp.

I glanced back at Jaina. The glow of her staff was the brightest object in the room; she was a lighthouse, searching the ebony seas for Kalec.

“I smell fel.”

Lord Malgath--I remember him. It's sick and sad that I do.

I sensed something else in the dark with me. I stayed away from the walls and empty cells; being cornered in my profession was a death sentence. I stumbled on something as I backed up into the middle of the room.

“This behavior will not be tolerated.” Jaina’s tone was stern, like an adult addressing a child. “You will return to your cell or face the wrath of the Kirin Tor.”

I did a costly move and glanced down at my feet. Once again, my vision was deceived, like a veil suppressing my view. Inside my leather gloves, my fingers ached from how tightly I held my daggers.

“Ha! The Kirin Tor is nothing to us--beware the might of the Legion!” An orcish voice howled.

Jaina’s eyes blazed with an icy blue light. “Beware of me!”

In one swift motion too perfect for mortals, Jaina pointed her staff at the empty space beside her. The air caught fire and red flames roared.

Lord Malgath’s form was released from the shadows, crying out in pain. I wanted to extract my own hatred on the Legion, but I was onto something. I jammed one of my fists in my pockets and threw a flare at the ground.

Light popped into place like fireworks and the ground was illuminated. Kalec’s dragon form towered over me, drenched in some dark mist.

Stars! I can't get rid of that junk…

“Jaina!” I juggled sharp objects in my hand and blasted my pistol at the fel orc. The archmage looked over at me, the source.

I gestured with my gun at Kalec. “Switch places with me!”

“We’re in battle, Eona! You could use a more formal term--”

“Can you teach me proper grammar and word choice later?” I said and raced back towards the entrance. My words were wispy against the wind and my knives whistled as I gained speed. Jaina ducked as I leapt over the stairs and planted my foot in Malgath’s abdomen.

Jaina went off to undo the warlock’s bonds. I was alone, my mind distracted with thoughts of Rommath and Kael’thas and impending doom.

I wanted to gag as Malgath panted from my blow. His breath carried the heavy stench of the Legion; brimstone and sourness and decay. It made me feel younger and smaller, summoning memories of days long ago when I visited the toxic lands of Shadowmoon Valley.

I was supposed to be fast and fatal. I was supposed to be a tornado, unleashing the ferocious fury of nature in quick, twisting blows. But I was none of those things; I was just a scared kid running around in circles.

My footing slipped and I crashed down the stairs. The sharp edges of the stone cut into my side, promising bruises and slightly cracked ribs. The pain was nothing as my skull knocked against the tile floor. Foreshadowing resonated to intensify the agonizing throb.

“And another so-called hero falls to the Legion,” The orc was cloaked in shadow, but I could imagine the satisfied smirk on his face from his tone.

My fingers hastened back to the depths of my pockets and shook as I tossed a handful of little paper balls packed with ammunition at Malgath’s looming silhouette.

As my to-be murderer was stunned by the popping lights and stinging pain, I yanked my boomstick out of it's holder. I winced as the weapon went off. The sound of Malgath’s corpse hitting the ground followed.

“Jaina,” I called out from my upside-down position, staring up at the inky-black ceiling that threatened to reign over my whole world. “I’ve fallen...and I can't get up.”

Kalec’s half-human, half-elven face hovered over mine. The long tendrils of his hair eerily reminded me of Malgath’s magic. The longer I stared, the more he started to sway...he multiplied into three Kalecs, each of them bearing a look of weariness and worry.

“Before you get on to me about my carelessness and pastry crimes, I have to tell you...what do I have to tell you?” I asked, my eyebrows scrunched together as my thoughts scattered like a pile of dead leaves.

Six Jainas appeared with her braid swaying like part of an old clock. It was a dizzying, hypnotizing motion that made my head spin.

“Are you alright, Eona?” The Jainas asked. Despite the many voices talking, they sounded faint.

“You know…” I held up a finger as I pondered what I wanted to say. “if Khadgar was turned undead by Sylvanas...I think he would be a lot like Beetlejuice. I see it now.”

“...Damn, I broke her. Sylvanas is going to kill me now,” Each Jaina said and pursed their lips. But now all of the copies were fading, and the endless night was taking over.

“Wait...isn't that...isn’t that my line?”

Before I could catch her response, darkness took over.

~Anduin Wrynn, Violet Citadel~

Aunt Jaina desperately needs a vacation. It takes me a while to recall the last time she smiled, or laughed, or a time when her goblet was filled with water instead of a...stronger substitute.

“You look troubled, Your Majesty. You’ve looked troubled for quite some time.”

A larger figure caught up to me in the carpeted halls of the guest suite. The scent of crushed leaves and fresh dirt crossed my nostrils.

Father?

I buried the thought as soon as it came. I didn't have the time nor the strength to dwell on it. The true figure striding beside me was the night elf leader; Malfurion Stormrage. His form was truly unique; from the antlers that rose high above his head to the feathers that billowed down his arms. Malfurion was the embodiment of nature.

I straightened my back and offered him a polite nod. “Thank you for your concern, Archdruid. I learned the look from Lady Proudmoore.”

Malfurion’s lips smiled beneath his owl-shaped nose. I was allowed to utter such remarks in his company; we spared together many times. Playing Hearthstone, of course.

“I’d rather you acquire that than Greymane’s stubbornness,” Malfurion’s voice lowered as we passed closed doors along the way. The halls were lit with faint candles and furnished with violet silk. The pearlish texture of the walls was far more refined than the halls of Stormwind Keep. Dalaran held a faint resemblance to my home, but there was a strange feeling to it; the exotic energies and the endless knowledge. Aunt Jaina was lucky to spend time in such a bizarre place.

Aunt Jaina spoke of some accident that occured, and I was to tend to the victims. Malfurion was given the same orders, and we reported to the Purple Parlor together. When I activated the portal to the tower, a tingling sensation raced across my skin. The magic of mages was thrilling, but I preferred the warmth and peace that radiated in my core when I used the Light.

My gaze flit across the seating area to the three limp bodies. Archmage Khadgar, Archmage Modera, Archmage Aethas...they’re the most powerful mages in Dalaran! What in Azeroth’s name happened here?

Malfurion and I exchanged a look before I walked over to Khadgar. He appeared older from the aging spell, but in this moment, he truly seemed weak and feeble. His skin was pale and his chest rose with uneven breaths.

“Our archmages seemed to have a run in with a Vampyr,” Malfurion gestured with his claws beneath Khadgar’s neck. Two small entry wounds swelled at the base of his throat.

“How did this happen?” I asked. My brows furrowed together as I looked up at the green-haired elf.

“It’s Dalaran, King Anduin. Mages are known for their dangerous practices--you’re questioning the lot that juggles fire with their bare hands.” There was a hint of distaste in Malfurion’s voice when he spoke of them. I chose not to address it.

“So how do we tend to them?” I said.

“Hmm...perhaps you could burn the venom out with the light, and I will remedy the rest?” Malfurion offered. When I nodded, he took a step back, “I’ll restrain the other two. Be careful with that one.”

I kneeled down next to the archmage and pressed my fingers over the two small gashes. I jumped when Khadgar’s eyes flew open.

“You smell…” He sucked in a heavy breath like the air was wine. I didn't budge. I murmured a prayer and a refreshing wave of light flew to my fingers.

I liked to think that I knew Khadgar very well. We exchanged many letters and met secretly during the recent Legion invasion. He was one of the few that did not detest my belief in peace, and did not require me to have the same intimidating presence of Father.

“Anduin…?” Khadgar rasped. His heavily dilated eyes focused on me. “What...where is...where is Eona?”

My face felt hot at the sound of her name. My skin tingled like I was calling upon the Light. I looked down and shook my head. “I don't know, Khadgar.”

Another thought came to me. I glanced back at Malfurion. He was too busy directing the potted plants of the room to restrain the archmages. Khadgar may not remember me asking, with the loss of blood and all. I’ll be lucky if he understands a word I'm saying.

“Eona and Ranger-General Halduron seem close,” I said carefully. “Are they…?”

“No, thank the Light. The whole ‘sexy cheetah’ nickname concerns me,” Khadgar groaned and turned over. I rose to my feet to keep my hands on top of his wound, whispering another prayer. Some color returned to Khadgar’s skin when the light faded in my palms. “But she’s chosen worse.”

I froze. “Chosen worse…?”

Khadgar nodded into one of the pale blue pillows. His voice was muffled as he said, “There was this goblin on Draenor that reeked of sarcasm--but I’ll never get over her first boyfriend. Who names their child Om? Must’ve been a troll thing, or a food craze. He died, found an Alliance banner on his dead body one day.”

My eyes widened. Well then...irony at its finest.

I thought back to my history. Have I been with anyone else, in the romantic sense…? I was always trying to convince diplomats of peace, and studying the Light. It was hard to incorporate any other personal affair with everyone always leaning over my shoulder--and Genn shoving suitors at me. Every person I met through nobles and diplomatic gatherings was so proper and precise. I think I have enough of that in my life, Eona is different. I feel like I’m allowed to be human around her--I’m allowed to be myself.

“But there was one…” Khadgar tapped the edge of the pillow. “Yes, this one fellow in Pandaria that she dated. Eona really liked him--she wouldn't shut up about him.”

My face grew hot again as he continued. “--Then Alexstrasza threw a bunch of suitors her way. Those did not end well.”

“Anduin? The cleansing only works if you summon the Light,” Malfurion’s voice shook me from my daze.

“Right--! Sorry,” The rest of the time I cared for Khadgar was spent in physical silence, but my mind was filled with ramblings. When I first met Eona, she never showed me any hostility. Yes, Garrosh was chasing both of us around with a giant stick, but she never mentioned the troll that died because of my people.

I finished my work with Khadgar and removed the venom from the rest. It was a tense job, but I completed it unscathed. The portal to the Purple Parlor shimmered as newcomers arrived.

Jaina had become a pillar, supporting the sagging Kalecgos that leaned on her and carrying a limp form in her arms.

I stood as soon as I recognized her. Rosy-pink skin and copper locks like the birth of the day. Freckles like the lingering stars of the dawn. Eona’s smile was like the early-rising sun, but it did not shine in this moment.

“You really need to lay off the pastries,” Jaina cast a glare down at Eona’s unmoving form, then her eyes sought mine. “Don't tell Sylvanas.”

[lothirielswan]

“The World’s Smallest Violin” [13]

~The Darkmoon Faire~

I saw him first. The case to my violin fit perfectly in my hand as I walked. Braizers spat violet flames. The Darkmoon Faire was a carnival full of magic and mystery. It only seemed to remind me of Lisa.

It was late in the evening, where shadows played tricks on the mind and people flocked like moths to the one source of light. Rides with blinking bulbs were blocked by crowds as I strolled to the patch of picnic tables and set down my case.

“So who won?” I asked Kalec.

Kalec’s eyes were wide upon first seeing me, but there were more pressing sights, specifically him. His leather armor was tattered and the cream-colored shirt underneath was in shreds.

Kalec didn't answer. He simply took a long drink from his mug and muttered in a hoarse voice, “Wrath’s a bastard.”

The wooden seat creaked as I sat down across from him. I edged my violin case to the side and positioned my bright-colored boots on one of the ledges below. “At least he can't say you’re invisible anymore.”

Kalec just out his jaw and my outfit. “Neither can he say that about you. What in Azeroth’s name are you wearing?”

“This?” I glanced down at the glistening teal fabric that would mean death in my rogue profession. That was not my job today. Gallywix–erm, Jastor had paid me, not in gold, but with a gig. He must’ve noticed the sheet music lying around my house. I wasn't serious about my music, but this opportunity lifted my suspicious mood. It seemed like a secret message from Jastor, specifically saying, ‘I like you, but I can still stick you wherever I want, Red–be a lamb and skin an exotic animal for my Pleasure Palace.’ Maybe it wasn't entirely that, but somewhere along those lines.

“Performers wear exotic things, and I thought you knew it's my job to embarrass you.” I teased.

“I thought your job was making me uncomfortable.”

“That’s part time. Different hours.”

“Ah. My mistake.”

Kalec sighed. His massive shoulder slumped forward, and I caught a glimpse of the bruises left behind in Wrathion’s wake. I squinted at a deep gash above his brow, “Wrath really did a number on you.”

“I don't know who taught him to punch that hard, or throw dirt in my face–” Kalec took one glance at my face. “–nevermind.”

I was about to say something else when Kalec’s gaze left me. He was staring at something behind me. It left him with a puzzled expression.

“You know...I think I need to go find something,” Kalec stood abruptly from the table. His mug still remained where it was, little drops of dew chasing each other down to the wooden counter.

“What's that?” I asked.

He smirked. “The world’s smallest violin.”

He ran off without another word. When he was out of sight, I glanced down at his unpaid drink and sighed. He didn't even leave me any. That's not funny.

“Eona?”

I looked up at a dark hooded figure. He was disguised well, but his posture was too perfect to be anyone else. I recognized the shadows of his face and smiled. “Hi, Tall, Dark and Mysterious.”

Anduin eased into Kalec’s empty spot, fixing his brown hood as he cast a look around. His stare trickled down to my outfit, “Greetings, you look...stunning.”

I tucked my bangs behind my ear, “Thanks, I guess we’re both wearing disguises. What’s the story behind yours?”

“You first,” He chided, resting his arms on the table.

We glanced up as fireworks fizzled across the cloudy twilight sky. When I shrugged my shoulders, the rubbery fabric seemed to give off its own light. It hugged my figure well and left my arms bare to the gentle touch of the breeze. “I play music. Jastor set it up for me.”

“You play?”Andy glanced at the black case with interest.

“Mhm.”

He grinned. “I’ll have to hear you sometime.”

I bobbed my head at his faded leathers. “And you?”

“Genn thinks that he's the new authority figure in my life and grounded me. I snuck out,” He explained with just a hint of irritation.

My eyebrow rose, and I wore a playful smile as I said, “How devious.”

“You should see me when I’m playing Hearthstone,” He replied.

I laughed, my fingers locking into knots on the table.

“So why did you come here?” I asked.

“To see you, actually...I have something for you.” Andy’s gloved hands searched his coat pockets until he came across a crinkly item. He gave me a letter.

“What's this?” I stared at the parchment. There wasn't wax sealing the opening, and the paper looked too fragile to be new. I glanced up at him for an answer.

“Not too long ago, you sent me a letter when…” Anduin paused. The words that came next were barely above a croak. “When my father died.”

My eyes widened. He went on, “I can't thank you enough for sending that...it gave me hope. I wrote a letter to you, in response to it, but I wanted to give it to you myself...and I have no idea how you got yours to Stormwind Keep.”

I smirked, but I didn't reveal my secret yet. I held up the letter, “Do you mind…?”

“No, not at all. It's for you, please,” Andy made an encouraging gesture toward it with his hand. The paper whispered it's protest as I undid the flap and my eyes flit over the slightly aged words,

My Dearest Eona,

I miss you more than ever. I miss your warmth, your liveliness, your laugh. I loathe the formality and distance that others treat me with, especially now. My father is gone, and I do not even have the luxury to grieve. There’s just the invasion...and the throne.

“You sound like you were in love with me,” I couldn’t stop my lips from curving up. He did write me one or two letters when we dated. I loved them–I think they’re probably still at my house. The curse of the dragon, finding value in everything. I can never throw anything away.

“I cared about you very much, and it was an emotional time.” Anduin licked his lips. His face had aged twenty years. I continued on,

Yes, I did get your last letter, and I don't know how you did it. How did you get the Alliance to accept your letter? It’s another one of the beautiful mysteries I remember about you, and hopefully one day, you will tell me. It is still my objective to achieve peace, I just wish my father would have seen it...the pain that I still receive from when Garrosh dropped the bell seems like a reminder. A reminder that in the end, I’m broken. A reminder that I failed once before, and it can happen again. I just hope everyone else doesn’t suffer with me.

Thank you for reaching out to me. I lost my father, but at least I still have you, Pink Rose. I wish you all the luck in the world to fight the Legion.

~Always Yours,

Anduin

For a long moment, my attention lingered on the last pair of perfect cursive words. Always Yours. We had gone our separate ways after Pandaria–I even started to see someone else when I was chasing Garrosh across a lively Draenor. Was it as serious as what I had with Anduin? Perhaps not. But this letter wasn't that old–a year, at least. It was recent.

Wait...pain from the bell?

I remembered my deal with Alexstrasza the Life Binder. I would spend time on the icy continent of Northrend, and she would heal Anduin’s wounds from the incident. I did what I was told. I endured my pain so she could take away his. But now...it was all for nothing.

I glanced up at Andy’s face, shocked by how much older he seemed than a mere handful of years ago. I finally recognized the slight indent of his brow, not out of concentration, but of restrained agony.

Anduin knew nothing of the deal, and I didn't want to discuss it now. Everything else I had read came back to me.

“You’re not broken, Andy,” I said, reaching across the table to give his hand a comforting squeeze. “Your father would be proud of you. You are a magnificent ruler.”

How could Varian not be proud? He’s so endearing–DAMMIT.

Anduin smiled, but it appeared more like a grimace. The air had gone from merry to melancholy. He dipped his head, “I believe you...thank you, Eona.”

He lies. I hide. We really are quite a pair.

As silence settled upon us, I plopped a few of my earnings in Kalec’s empty mug and slid it away. The blissful mirth of others mocked our ears. Two kids sped past, chasing one another. Despite the foul mood, a smile crossed my face.

“You like kids?”

“Hmm?” I glanced back up with surprise, my chin propped up by my elbows. Anduin’s gaze was curious. I said, “Yes. I babysit for Aggra and Go’el sometimes…”

“You never struck me as someone who wanted children,” Andy’s tone was softer than the hollow form it had taken on earlier. There was more life in his eyes.

“Liking little ones doesn't mean the same as wanting them,” I cautioned with a finger, “but in this case...I do. There weren’t a lot of children around on...where I was raised. I always thought it would be nice.”

It was a sad, hopeful dream born of a crumbling rock and the girl that lived on it. A cozy hearth. A jubilant family. My mother would dismiss it, finding it unfulfilling. In a way, I had already come very close to it. But I wasn't there.

“Let’s play a game,” Anduin said, straightening himself and returning to his poised, elegant state of sitting.

I smirked, “Andy, we both know you’ll beat my ass at Hearthstone. You don't have to prove that point again.”

“Not that,” I earned a chuckle from him. Andy continued, “We’ve been catching up already, but I want to try a different way.”

“Alright…” I found myself stiffening, as if expecting a blow. “What do you propose?”

Anduin stood from the table and presented his hand to me. “Truth or Tale?”

“You first.” I replied, rising from the picnic table with my instrument case in hand.

We walked side by side, a shady stranger and a wild-looking gypsy touring the Darkmoon Faire. Sizzles and pops and flashes tricked my senses as we strolled together. Anduin had offered to hold my case like the courteous gentleman he was, but I politely refused.

“Alright, I think I’ve got one,” Andy replied as we continued down the dirt row and passed tents full of applause. “I thought I saw my mother attend my father’s funeral.”

My feet came to a halt on the earthen path. He never mentioned his mother before.

“Truth?” I replied, willing my legs to keep moving as we heard the soft beckoning of the harbor.

Andy nodded. I asked, “You really think you saw her?”

“I never even met her; I barely know what she looks like. Used to have dreams about her when I was younger…” Anduin was full of wistfulness as he seemed to see something else besides the pointed roofs of tents. After a while he returned to the present. “Your turn.”

“Um…” My grip tightened on my case as I thought of what I could say. Hmm, should I use…? No, that’s too personal. How about…

“Vol’jin is the actual owner of my house,” I said.

Andy’s eyebrows furrowed. “Tale?”

There was a slight shake of my head. “Truth.”

“How come?” Andy asked. We came to the end of the Darkmoon Faire, looking out at the sea that surrounded the whole island. Waves reached out across the sand for a lost loved one that was no longer there.

“After chasing Garrosh…” Across Draenor. “we decided it was in everyone’s best interest that I retire.”

“How come?”

I leaned my case against the dark wood of the dock and faced the yearning waves.

“It's your turn.” I rasped.

[lothirielswan]

“A Putz and a Shady Businessman” [12]

I rolled over, little bits of sand clinging to my damp clothes as I looked out at Stranglethorn’s beach. The coast reminded me of a treasure chest with slopes of pearls and gold coins.

Who knew being a reckless teenager would pay off years later? If only my mother knew that.

Gallywix squeezed water out of his top hat as he sat up on the beach. “I don't know who’s gonna pay for my drycleaning, but it ain’t me.”

Salt water burned my nostrils as I kneeled on the shore. Khadgar was closer to the water with his cobalt robes lined with foam.

And Velen…?

Gallywix screamed as a violet hand erupted from the sand, and out followed the rest of the Prophet. The elderly draenei coughed as he dusted off his beard and hummed like he had just finished a mundane task.

“Well then, maybe your mother shouldn't have yelled at you all those years for visiting the marsh,” Khadgar’s voice was even more hoarse than usual as I helped him up from the bed of wet sand. He had reclaimed his staff, and wiped off the wooden head carved into a perching raven.

“You want to tell her that?” I remarked with an arched eyebrow.

Khadgar’s arm stiffened beneath my touch. “Heavens no.”

My gaze drifted to the ocean and sky, blushing with reds, pinks, and amber as the sun kissed the day goodnight. My eyes widened as I remembered Tera’s words. My buccaneers found it and they’re selling it this evening in the lower ramparts of Booty Bay.

I looked back at Gallywix. “The painting!”

The Trade Prince moaned. “Curse the pirates! They ruined my life!”

Khadgar and I turned to each other, sensing the clock that ticked above our heads. “Tera said the deal would take place this evening.”

He nodded, his hands igniting with blinding arcane light. “Right. We’ll be there, hold on!”

The arcane glow expanded and feasted upon our surroundings. In a mere moment, the angelic sigh of the waves was replaced with the overworked groan of timber planks. We were stationed in front of the gaping tunnel that lead to Booty Bay.

The wooden structures creaked with the reminder of how long they had been there. The village faced the sea at a curve with open arms, exchanging ships with the waves from the busy harbor. The only extravagant thing was the laughter off in the distance, ringing with richness and purity. It was one of the most endearing–er, charming places I had seen.

I tensed as the sun bobbed on top of the horizon. Khadgar’s fingers gripped his staff and swiped a look at me. There was urgency in his tone, “You’re the fastest. Don’t wait for us.”

“And get that painting by any means necessary, or you’re fired–! Sorry, force of habit,” Gallywix dismissed his empty threat as I sprinted away from the tunnel. I scanned the awkwardly-set buildings and searched for a way down.

Despite the circumstances, I think I would like this place. It’s warm and lively: it's not Pandaria, but it's homey.

I sucked in a breath as I stumbled on one of the nailed floorboards. The long, deadly gap between the wood and the stone cove hugging the town loomed before my eyes. Two arms caught me before I fell down to the life-taking depths.

“Careful, this ain’t running terrain, sweetheart.” The dark-haired human pulled back. For a minute I was dazed by his eyes: they were a rich gemstone blue that reminded me of Anduin’s. I cursed myself for lingering on them–I was losing precious time.

“The lower ramparts,” I spat out the words as I felt the thin, uneven slabs of wood below me shudder. “Where?”

“This way, hug the ends, and ya see that ramp by the overturned boat–” I sped off before he could finish, shouting my thanks over my shoulder as I ran.

I faltered a few more times, tripping on nails and slippery seaweed. The human was right: trying to move swift here was suicide, and I sharply avoided goblin-appointed guards as they became trampling hazards.

I can't let Gallywix lose this painting. I’ve gotten to know him, and he might be a putz sometimes, but he's not some shady businessman…! Alright, he is a putz and a shady businessman that will sue me if I fail, but I like him. And the Horde has enough problems with the summit.

My breath caught as the floorboards transformed into uneven bamboo strips. I bit back a hiss as the rough ground scraped against the bottom of my boots.

I arrived at the last ramp with my bare, freckled shoulders slick with sweat. I scuttled to a stop as I looked down at the bottom floor.

We’re too late.

Two parties shook hands at the bottom. One group was clothed in the crimson bandanas of the Bloodsail. The buyer was a wealthy-looking undead in a business attire, flanked by two elven bodyguards.

“This will make a fair addition to my collection,” The undead businessman handed a portrait hidden by a drape to the blood elf on his left. “Give Tera my regards.”

The Bloodsail shared mutual nods. The wealthy undead glanced over at the ramp I was stationed on and frowned. “Is this...another one of your associates?”

The orcish woman in charge of the Bloodsail party looked at me, clutching a bag of newly-acquired gold. Like Tera, tusks sprouted from her jaded lips like the talons of a vicious hawk. Before she could speak, I finally found my voice, “No, I'm not with them. Is that...The Goblin Lisa?”

All of the Bloodsails’ hands were suddenly positioned at their waists, where pistols and cutlass’ were sheathed. I heard more footsteps, and my companions reached the top of the rampart. Khadgar took his place by my side and silently assessed the situation.

The undead smiled at me, and while the blood elf woman was still holding it, he raised the drape covering the portrait. The lively-looking picture of a goblin woman’s face stared back at me, with a faint but knowing smile. The undead handed the beige sheet to the male night elf on his right and gestured at his prize, “In the flesh, my dear.”

A flicker of emotions crossed Gallywix’s face, but they were chased away by a grotesque sneer. “Ey! Give that back–!”

“Finders, keepers,” The orcish pirate snapped.

Khadgar and I exchanged a look. We could fight them. If we did engage in a skirmish, the painting might be damaged...and the pirates would be killed.

Is there another option?

“I have a proposition for you,” I replied, shrugging of the shoulder straps to my pack. A breeze swept through the cove and I finally noticed my rebellious hair. The goblin products I used to tame it had been washed out by the tide, and it cascaded down in puffy, sunset-bathed waves.

As I dug into the contents of my belongings, the Bloodsail aimed their weapons at me. Khadgar’s eyes widened and raised his hands up in surrender. His curious gaze flit back to me as I held up the shiny object.

“This is the brooch of the infamous Prince Arthas Menethil,” I said, forcing my voice to sound confident as I flashed the pin that was larger than my hand.

The Bloodsail leader’s nostrils flared as she recognized the crest. “That is ours!”

My head tilted to the side slightly at her. “Finders keepers.”

I strode down the ramp to the undead businessman. “Sure, it’s a well-made painting. But I think the past makes my trinket a little more...valuable.”

I shrugged, the brooch still clasped in one hand. “Perhaps we could make a trade?”

My heart pounded as he pondered the decision. He was undead; by Sylvanas or by Arthas, no one could say. It could be of importance to him, or it could be a scorned artifact of time.

I could give this to him and lose my chance to reunite Jaina with it, or I could spill more blood on an already tainted history.

“Or not,” I said, lowering the arm holding Arthas’ brooch and slowly spun around.

“Hold on.”

I stilled, flashing a smirk at Khadgar and then turning an innocent gaze back on the undead businessman. “Yes?”

His eyes, two pools of light, flickered on the gold trinket I held. “I want that brooch.”

“And I want that painting,” I said. “That's my price. Are you willing to pay it?”

His bodyguards moved with him as he took a few more steps towards me. “I will.”

The Bloodsail still watched with furious gazes, fingers on their triggers. Khadgar acted as my bodyguard and stood close as we exchanged the two relics.

The undead sighed as he traced the boon of Arthas with flesh-deprived fingers. “Such bloody history...”

I clasped the frame of the painting and turned to Gallywix, who already had his arms outstretched as if to embrace a long-lost relative.

The undead bowed his bald, gray head before he ascended the ramp, “Ladies.”

Part of me grieved to see him pass Velen as he left: Jaina had been attached to Arthas, the prince, before he became the king Azeroth remembered him to be. But that Arthas was gone.

“You dare to steal from the Bloodsail?” The orcish woman hissed. The cutlass she held shined with the last rays of sunlight.

“You dared to steal from me!” Gallywix snapped.

As the two bickered and pistols were pointed, I leaned back into Khadgar. I muttered, “I think now would be a nice time to…”

“Disappear?”

“Yeah.”

Khadgar smiled as his fingertips let off a soft glow, “As long as there are no spiders on my head, I’m happy.”

~Gallywix’s Pleasure Palace~

I watched as Gallywix set the painting back up on the tacky banana-stamped wallpaper of his home. His estate was much larger than Aggra had told me, and he invited the us there to celebrate our victory.

“And viola,” The Trade Prince stepped back, dusting off his fingertips as we stared at the painting. Lisa still had her mysterious aura about her, with her plump lips in a remote, secretive smile. Perhaps she smiled with the knowledge that this Lisa had of her son, and the true Lisa never bothered to learn. Was I right? I would never know.

“Gallywix–” I started.

“Call me Jastor, Red,” The goblin leader winked as he retrieved his martini glass from a nearby dresser.

“Jastor,” I corrected myself with a smile. “why keep the painting?”

Jastor swished around the liquid contents of his glass as he stared at the hazel eyes of the portrait. As he stared at that secretive smile that seemed to know all the enigmas of Azeroth, his answer trickled from his lips, “I’m a businessman, Red. I got a lotta jewels, boat loads of rubies. Those things, they don't go away unless you’re stupid or you wander into a casino at night. But people can disappear even faster. And you can't always earn them back. So I treasure all those people, past and present.”

I smiled, “That’s very sweet.”

“Good, tell Fairbreeze’s Fables I said that,” Jastor raised his glass in a mock toast.

We fell silent. Still we stared at the mystic face of Lisa.

“Ya know, Red, out of all the people at the summit, I think I trust you the most right now.” Jastor’s tone had gone surprisingly hushed. “And that’s why I’m gonna tell you this.”

I turned away from The Goblin Lisa. Jastor’s features were bathed with an extra green layer of eerie light from the string of bulbs across the walls. The sickly glow faintly reminded me of the Undercity canals filled with mysterious, deadly toxins.

“Sylvanas, she’s a smart lady. Pragmatic, a lotta vengeance, lotta ambition.” Jastor slightly shook his head at just the thought. “But nothing good comes from tryin’ to bury your past. You didn’t hear this from me, but...I don't think it's gonna turn out the way she wants unless some new...epiphany, comes along.”

“What are you saying?” I leaned closer, searching another face that knew a secret.

Jastor suddenly cackled, drops of liquor staining the zebra-carpeted floor as his body jiggled with laughter. “Look at your face! I got you good, Red, I got you good! Oh, this alcohol works fast, man–”

His lighter tone broke off and he shot me another serious look. “You don't tell...a single living soul about this.”

I was at a loss for words, so I settled for a slight shake of my head. Jastor never seemed like the mad type. He released a puff of air and muttered to himself, “She hates all living souls, anyway…no faith in humanity. Heh, business preys on that. But I don't want it dead...I don't want them dead.”

~*~

I left Gallywix to divulge his mysterious outburst to the painting as I stepped outside. The Pleasure Palace stood high above Azshara, with party lights twinkling like the first night I had pursued Gallywix. I passed palm trees probably imported from Stranglethorn Vale as wandered to the pool.

Khadgar had already made himself at home on one of the floats, bobbing atop the clear water as he playfully froze and boiled the pool’s surface.

When Khadgar saw me, he rolled off his float and into the water. He popped back up on the edge of the pool, water droplets cascading down his face. “Care to join us?”

I wanted to, but after Jastor’s words, I couldn't stop thinking about the Warchief Banshee Queen. Relaxing had been kissed goodbye tonight. I smiled politely and shook my head, “I think I'm going to call it a night, but I’ll see you at the summit.”

Khadgar vanished with a splash and went back to his float, humming as he gazed up at the stars. I passed Velen’s lawn chair next and waved. “I’m afraid I’ll be leaving now. Thank you for your help, Velen.”

The elderly draenei perked up, rattling the row of finished glasses beside him. “It was a wonderful adventure, Scout Strider. Don't forget to give Lady Proudmoore this.”

I gaped at him as he opened a purple hand and offered me Arthas Menethil’s brooch. I wondered if it was a figment of my imagination, brought on by a long, tiring day. Velen pressed the cool gold into my palm, and I accepted it as reality.

“All the Stars in the Night Sky...this is amazing, Velen! Did you steal this?” I glanced up from the treasure as Velen shot me his own doe-eyed look.

“Just because I'm old doesn't mean I can break the rules too, Scout Strider.” Velen winked. “Get that to the Lady of Kul’Tiras as soon as you can.”

“I will, my gracious thanks,” I added a little bow as I juggled my hearthstone in my other fist. But before I whispered an incantation to get home, I glanced up at Velen.

“Yes?” He looked at me curiously.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Tera seemed nice.”

“She was indeed.” Velen agreed. “But there is a chance that she survived, and is looking up at the same stars we are now. I suggest you think of that ending, Eona.”

The stone bloomed with light like a star in my grasp as it started to grow hot. Then the rest of the stars in the sky faded into nothingness.

[lothirielswan]

“I'm suing all of ya, and taking your stupid possessions! I own your mounts, your light coin purses, and your cheap shivering timbers!” Gallywix spat upon the searing hot sand and I half-expected the saliva to sizzle. I squinted against the harsh glare reflected off the Stranglethorn beach we were escorted along. The carpets of gold were laid out before the blue waves, like a long dress that fluttered across the surface. I gazed longingly at the warm banks, wanting to feel the gentle caress of the water with my bound hands. Beaches were my favorite part of Azeroth, and despite our situation, I couldn't help but admire the scenery.

“Quit your blabbering, or we’ll throw ya down to Davy Jones’ locker!” The golden-toothed human remarked beside me. Khadgar shuddered behind me as drops of saliva spat when the pirate spoke.

“And we ain’t givin’ you any limes, either!” A Bloodsail tauren glanced back from the front.

“Limes?” I asked.

“Arr! They battle the worst enemy at sea!” A female gnome replied as her pink pigtails bobbled.

“And that is?”

I wanted to cringe, but I held my ground as the human leaned close, teeth bared and glinting in the sun. “Gum disease.”

“Hmm.” Khadgar’s deep voice rumbled in his throat. “Have you ever considered flossing?”

“Bah! Who has time for that when yer riding the horizon and a parrot can talk for ye?”

Wow. And I thought I had a rough upbringing.

The Bloodsail halted close to the sighing waves. The pink-haired gnome left her post by Velen and faced a palm tree with a clutter of bushes.

I listened closely to the clicks and whirs that followed. My eyes narrowed as it seemed almost...familiar?  

“What is that?” Khadgar asked, leaning forward only for the human to block Khadgar with his own staff.

I answered for her. “Naga machinery.”

The naga were serpent-like creatures that flourished among the banks of Azeroth and the swampy confines of Zangarmarsh on Outland. The dark metal machines were usually used for controlling large amounts of water–I didn't know they had some on Azeroth, or perhaps the Bloodsail took it from the other world?

The gnome nodded, looking up from the parted greenery to confirm my suspicions. Nestled in the rubbery leaves was a set of nozzles and levers. “Aye. You’d make a fine pirate, lass.”

An undead pirate who gave off a putrid stench in the hot sun agreed. “Well, X marks the spot. How’d you get that mark on your nose?”

I’d forgotten about the tiny X-shaped scar on my nose. I glanced down at it temporarily, then answered, “Ettins with sharp nails. Nasty business.”

The human leaned close again, this time with his finger raised. “It looks so...lifelike.”

I edged away this time with a glare. “You boop my nose and I punch you in the face. Captive or not.”

“Eona, play nice!” Khadgar warned.

I blew my bangs away with more force than necessary and settled for a lethal scowl. I'm a redhead, I scream violence.  

The Bloodsail fanned out around us, digging for something in the sand. The outline of a silver platform poked out of the sand, searing bright beneath the fuming rays of sun.

The gnome pirate nodded and yanked one of the levers. She scuttled onto the platform as the water from the surf churned. Foreshadowing struck in the back of my head with the jabbing force of a thousand forks. Gallywix let out a shout as the tide rose up. The tiny tsunami roared over our heads.

And crashed down onto the beach.

I expected to be whisked off to sea, drowning in the magnificent yet deadly waves. Instead I sat up and looked around my new dark surroundings as they groaned and cried out in pain.

The sound of a match cursing as it lit up was followed by flames eating hungrily at the end of a torch. The Bloodsail tauren’s face was bathed in the orange as he said, “Welcome to the lair of the Bloodsail.”

We were on the inside of a gnome-made submarine, furnished with wooden staircases and eerie red lighting. Torches illuminated where flashing lights couldn't, and revealed the clusters of pirates settled above us on high ramparts.

Gallywix whistled, and the sound carried across the domed iron walls of the hull. “Let the IRS try to catch me in this tin can.”

But the tin can wasn't all metal. As I stood, I glanced at the tiny round windows. The submarine was at the bottom of the ocean, lurking with sharks and other secrets of the sea. So much for sneaking out of here...

The undead woman nodded, her unmatching jaw dipping down on one side. “Those buffoons in Booty Bay underestimate us. Come, our leader will decide what to do with you.”

The gnome stayed behind to fiddle with the other set of naga machinery as our party was forced onward. Bloodsail members leaned on the metal railings glaring down at us with flasks clutched in their fists.

“Oh my,” Velen was the only one who didn't seem troubled by our new environment. His hooves clattered against the metal floor as his head craned to take in the massive hull.

The one time Jaina doesn't appear at lunch, and we end up in a ship underwater. She would love this–speaking of Jaina…?

“Um…what is that?” I bit my lip to vanquish a snicker as we crossed something in the center of the room. A statue of my best friend towered over me in glimmering marble. It seemed more like a shrine with all of the candles and fanart nestled at the bottom of the pedestal. But something seemed wrong with the statue–every once in a while, purple light radiated off the stone.

“A shrine to the Bloodsail’s most beloved heroine; Lady Jaina Proudmoore, of Theramore, and of Kul’Tiras.” The human pirate replied as the other two paid their respects. Khadgar and I exchanged a look and our gazes returned to the statue. An amused smirk rested on my face. I can't wait to tell Jaina about her army of lime-loving fanboys.

“The Lady of the sea,” The tauren kneeled before the statue as violet light twitched about it's form.

“What is that light coming off of the statue?” Khadgar asked, his expression turning uneasy at the flashes of lilac.

“The statue was made from the ruins of Theramore, out of respect to what our Lady lost,” The undead bowed her head. Khadgar’s eyes widened with almost a fearful glint. The mana bomb...

“We also stole a precious artifact from the icy slopes of Northrend to honor our Lady’s painful history. Behold,” The human proudly raised his arms towards something glimmering that sat at the base of the statue. “The forsaken brooch of Prince Arthas Menethil, bearin’ the crest of Lordaeron. He wore that when he kissed Lady Proudmoore...and when he cut off the heads of children in Stratholme.”

Gallywix’s eyes went as wide as coins as our eyes settled upon the adornment of the famous wearer. I covered my mouth with both bound hands to hold in a gasp as I studied the intricate golden design. A relic of Jaina’s past. Arthas...if anyone deserves to keep that crest, it's her.

But after all these years, would she want it? Or would she discard it as a fragment of a faraway past?

The pirates left the glitching statue in peace and we approached one of the cabin doors at the end of the hull. The two guards that stood at attention were the only orderly thing I’d noticed about the pirates as they saluted in sync. With a word from the tauren, they knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

The metal door whined as it opened. A human woman sat at a desk in the center, feet propped up and glass in hand. We were pushed in not long after as the woman sat there in inquisitive silence. Eventually she gestured with her drink at the guards, “Close the door.”

My eyes narrowed at her request as the pirates gave her puzzled looks. “Ma’am, are ye sure–?”

“I'm in charge here. Do as I say.”

The Bloodsail obeyed and our small party was left alone with the leader. As she sipped her alcohol, her green curls tumbled down her shoulder. My eyes were drawn to the awkward way she sipped from her glass, and realized that it was from the tiny tusks in the corners of her lips.

She must be half troll. When the Dark Portal reopened, I had a half-troll friend that I used to spend time with...I haven't thought about that in years…  

“ ‘Names Tera, daughter of Fleet Admiral Tethys. What can I do ya for?” She asked with a smirk, the hazel liquid sloshing around in her glass.

“Do forgive our intrusion,” Velen was the first to speak, taking a step towards the desk. As he hovered many feet above Tera, I still pondered why she insisted being alone in a room with us.

“We were looking for a painting called The Goblin Lisa, and I believe your organization knows it's whereabouts. Would you tell us where it is?” Velen asked politely.

Tera just stared at him for a minute. Then she slowly started to nod. “Yeah, mate. My Buccaneers found it and they’re selling it this evening in the lower ramparts of Booty Bay.”

All of us gaped at her except for Velen. What in the bloody red roses…?

Velen smiled softly. “Thank you.”

Gallywix was the first to recover his voice, “Uh, what just happened?”

Velen blinked like he had been shook from a daze. “Priests have the ability to control the lesser minded, or in this case, those who are too intoxicated to put up a defense. A very useful trait.”

I thought of Anduin. “Do all priests have that ability...?”

“Yes,” Velen confirmed. Tera was still in a state of limbo beside him, looking off into space with her drink teetering in her grasp.

“Then why the hell didn't you use that trick on our captors? Or on my party crashers?” Gallywix demanded, his flabs of skin jiggling from his outburst.

“Because our captors did not have the information that we sought, but they could lead us to it. As for the pirates at the party…” Velen’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of violet. “I was also too...intoxicated...to do much about it.”

“So...how do we get out of here now?” I said.

My companions froze. We stared at Velen the Mastermind for our answer.

“I did not think that part through yet,” He admitted sheepishly, the blush on his cheeks growing.

“Can't you sneak us out?” Khadgar asked me.

“I could, but that's also taking into consideration that we don't disturb anyone when we’re hidden by the shadows. Besides, the only way out of here is that naga control panel,” I said, crossing the room to sit on the edge of Tera’s desk. A thought came to me and I looked over at her, “By the way, is the code to get out the same as the one to get in?”

Tera nodded, “Yep. Had to, we have too many simpletons coming and going.”

I felt a little guilty for taking advantage of her knowledge in her state and added, “Thanks.”

“So we need a diversion,” Khadgar had burned the twine that trapped his wrists and now stroked his stubbled chin. I was vaguely reminded of the beard he had for years on Outland as he did so. “That statue of Lady Proudmoore is pulsing with deadly arcane energy. I could tap into that, but it might also tear apart the ship…”

No one else offered up an alternative. I picked at the knots wrapping my wrists together before Khadgar gently lifted them up and undid them himself. Velen stared up at the ceiling, as if asking the Light itself for an answer. And Gallywix stared at all of us like we were his idiotic employees.

“That's the only plan we got?” Gallywix finally asked.

We nodded and he sighed, “We’re screwed.”

~*~

“Alright, we’re done here. Get them out of my sight,” Tera remarked as the door was wrenched open. I slipped through, goggles on, fueled by adrenaline, as I dashed across the floor. I could already hear the confrontation Khadgar had started behind me as I ran.

Get to the naga controller, that's my job–wait!

I made it halfway across the room and my feet had mechanically stopped on their own. I knew I this was the worst place to linger; Khadgar would be using the arcane-drenched statue any moment now. But that wasn't what caught my interest.

The brooch of Arthas.  

There was no one else around the statue. I kneeled down so I was eye-level with the infamous object. The faded form of my fingers tingled when they touched the dead-cold surface of the brooch.

Yes! It's not considered stealing if you’re taking it from bad guys, right?

I was already burying the shiny object in my pack when a shadow rolled over me. I tensed as I looked up at another human pirate.

With a slow inhale I steeled myself and took a small step backwards. It's alright–he’s human, he’s oblivious, he can't see me…

Then his form started to grow in a way I knew all too well. His nose stretched into a snout, and his red shirt ripped as claws sprouted from his hands.

...But he can smell me. Oh Stars.  

The worgen pirate swiped at the darkness surrounding me. I dodged, but I released a tiny yelp as I did so. The long, black ears on his head flattened as he stared straight at where I was located.

Just knock him out! Sap him and run!

I drew Sylvanas’ knife, twisting the weapon to where the flat part of the blade was showing–

The statue of Jaina Proudmoore exploded beside me.

The light was blinding and bright enough to fill the entire submarine. The air I breathed seemed more electric than before, filled with arcane energies. It popped and sizzled against my skin like a chaotic breeze.

I was still on my feet, and looked over at the worgen. He looked...the same. The exact same, actually. Same facial expression, same raised claw. I rose on my tip toes and poked his nose with my finger. At the lightest touch, his form crumbled into dust.

I gasped and staggered back. This is what Jaina endured...what she suffered, on a large scale, with people she knew and loved as victims…

I fled the pile of dust that was so much more than a stain on the floor, focusing on my previous mission. Energy spouted from the statue at whim, bursting into little explosions of light across the ship. The victims did not get up again.

There was a hum in the air even as I made it to the corner of the room. The atmosphere seemed to crackle with new deadly intent, a sinister hiss whispered in my ear as I looked over the controls. I studied the switches and knobs with forced concentration, feeling Arthas Menethil’s brooch pulling down my pack.

The gnome. I saw the gnome use it with my own eyes–

“Eon!”

I glanced over my shoulder and I wished I hadn't. Khadgar and a mighty Velen carrying a petrified Gallywix stumbled over the minefield of arcane explosions. There were few pirates left to thwart them, but a new enemy had arose. The arcane had attacked the walls, creating cracks and tearing holes in tough steel. Water invaded the submarine and worked together with the arcane to snuff out the last of life.

Dammit, he's right: this is the nethershard karma all over again.

I looked back at the controls, tugging at the hairs on my head as I examined the panel. I had used this technology when I was young, years ago when I snuck out to the swamp. That seemed so long ago now…

“Hey! What are ya waiting for, Red? WE’RE DYING HERE!” Gallywix’s voice wailed in my ears as he and Velen made it across the arcane field. Before I looked up to check on Khadgar, a hand fell on my shoulder.

“You can do this,” Khadgar assured me, squeezing my arm a little. There was a smear of blood on his face, likely from the pirates at the door. I had seen worse on him.

I turned back to the controls. Water approached our corner of the ship, flickering with the life-threatening tendrils of arcane. I turned a few knobs and I pulled the lever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Guess who found out how to use technology? :3 This girl! I love AO3 and Tumblr. I hope you enjoyed this one, Awesome Adventurers, and we’ll have some more out soon! I had an epiphany on Sylvanas that can’t wait to show you guys c: love, fortune and glory to you!!

[lothirielswan]

“Dorky Pineapple” [6]

Quest Objective: Don’t get killed with kindness

~The Undercity, Tirisfal Glades~

Sylvanas watched the Forsaken troops were ushered to what posed as an infirmary, but could also be described as an assortment of limbs. I stood next to her as her eyes landed on the linen-wrapped soldier that fell.

“Were there any other casualties?” She asked. Sylvanas’ voice was much louder as her echo bounced off the lofty gray walls of the Undercity.

My gaze teetered to Lor’themar on Sylvanas’ other side. “No.”

I stepped back a little bit and glanced at Lor’themar behind Sylvanas’ back. We were lucky, yes, but not that lucky. Maybe he’s lying...so Lor’themar’s troops don't become Sylvanas’ troops.

“Impressive, for the living.” The Warchief Banshee Queen turned to me. “Anything else?”

Here it comes. Lor’themar and I discussed this on the ship, knowing it was better for Sylvanas to be told than to find out. I steeled myself as I said, “We came across an Alliance party in Gilneas. We wanted to strike them down, but joining forces was necessary.”

“It was my idea.” I added as I caught the shift of Lor’themar’s plated uniform. Sylvanas’ head snapped to him with a speed impossible among the living. “You authorized this?”

Before Lor’themar could speak, I cut in, “It was the only way to stand against the undead worgen.”

Sylvanas was many things. Cold. Still. Breathless. Calculated. And in this moment, her face was as unreadable as a scroll left by the Titans. “Care to elaborate?”

I resisted the urge to fidget in Sylvanas’ presence. “We found them in the Blackwald. According to–”

Genn. “...the Gilneans, the undead worgen were from the first invasion of Gilneas...was that you?”

Her black and blue exterior flickered. “Greymane’s people are wild enough alive, they’re no use to me undead.”

“And what does that mean?”

“You are a an inquisitive, clever creature, Eona.” Sylvanas hand rose almost like she would place it on my shoulder, but instead she gestured with it. Lor’themar peeked over Sylvanas’ shoulder and his eye stared at her wide in shock.

Compliments are a rare thing from Sylvanas. It's obviously a diversion...how come everyone is giving me weird compliments?

“Thank...you?” I knew it was a trick, but it was still hard to process the words coming out of the Banshee Queen’s mouth.

“It is pure fact. You are valuable to the Horde. To us. And for that, I present you with this,” Sylvanas called to one of her personal guards stationed along the walls and they lumbered forward. The undead guard kneeled as she offered me a sheathed dagger.

I carefully picked up the light weapon from the rotting fingers of the undead woman. It was a welcome and suspicious upgrade to the sword lost somewhere in Gilneas. My stare lingered on the jeweled hilt before I looked back at a prideful Sylvanas.

This is unbelievable. Look at this! She’s throwing knives at the problem!

“This is too much,” I said, fully meaning it. Yes, this is too much. You’re just trying to keep me quiet with shiny things! I want to know what’s going on in Gilneas! I will give this back for answers...okay, I'm not giving it back, it's really nice and it’ll make Wrath jealous. But I still want answers!

“When you strike, you strike in the name of the Banshee Queen.” Sylvanas declared as the guard bowed to her. I was completely speechless.

Oh my Stars. Sylvanas Windrunner just killed me with kindness.

“Run along now, Strider.” Her tone once again became dismissive. “I will alert you when I need your scouting expertise again.”

“But…” I glanced between Lor’themar and Sylvanas like a child left out on the adult stuff. And technically I was, but that didn't make it any more fair.

“Go on. Go murder something with Halduron, you like that,” Sylvanas made a slight pushing gesture with her arms. Lor’themar watched the display with an exasperated sigh.

My head hung low as I turned around, sulking as I crossed the bridge to the other side of the canal. I am not a child! I am an adult that beats up dragons and bunny infestations. I am not a child, and neither is Halduron–

I saw Halduron on the other side with his tongue out, trying to see if there was a bruise on it. My shoulders sagged. Crap. I am the child.

“Any news?” Halduron noticed me and his tongue returned to his mouth.

I shook my head. “No. They kicked me out. I guess I’ll be returning home now.”

“Oh. Well, my thanks for your help. We could not have gotten this far without your aid, Sexy Cheetah.” Halduron bowed lightly to me as the canal beside us sizzled and hissed with sludge.

“I’ll see you at the summit... Dorky Pineapple.” I grinned with victory as I pulled my hearthstone out of my pocket and Halduron’s shocked face blurred with white.

~*~

My feet landed on the front steps to my house. I filled my lungs with sweet, fresh air to bury the smell of death that I had been accustomed to.

A hanging bench creaked as it softly dipped back and forth from a tree in my yard. I couldn't help but think of how much the creaking sounded like a flute until I saw Kalec sitting there.

The ripe green grass crunched beneath my feet as I left the bamboo steps and sat next to Kalec. The swinging bench was one of my first priorities when I moved to the Valley of Four Winds. I liked looking out at the hills, watching them move in and out of focus. Sometimes I would get lost in it and feel like I was flying. Not this time.

“How was Tirisfal?”  Kalec found his hands in his lap very interesting and stared at them. He’s talking, though–that’s a good sign.

“Full of questions. And I don't know if I want them answered or not,” I said, taking out the blade that Sylvanas gifted to me. I slid it halfway out of its sheath and caught a glimpse of my freckled face in the reflective metal.

“How was Jaina?”

Kalec grunted, and his feet kept the swing bobbing back and forth. “It was hard to say anything to her without it being...odd.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

Kalec’s gaze swept over the hills that moved like the choppy waves of Gilneas. “I said that I wish I had been more supportive of her. I was sorry that things turned out the way they did...we’re not dating, but she did ask for my opinion on an old mage text she found in Dalaran. It's a start.”

“It is,” I agreed, pushing the dagger back into its sheath. “You have Tyrygosa now...but I think it's good that you patched things up with Jaina.”

Kalec chuckled at the saying, but the laughter did not meet his eyes. “It's hard for us...you know. We make connections so much easier than humans, and then they just…”

Kalec thrusted both his feet on the ground, and the soft, melodic swinging ended. “Stop. And they get used to walking again so easily, but us…”

“We’re left swinging alone.” I said and patted his hand. It was supposed to be a joke, but as silence crept between us, it felt more like dark humor. It made me think of many things. Of my own relationship with Jaina. With Anduin. With–

Sylvanas.

I was critical of her when I was in Gilneas, and I had every right to be on the Gilneans’ behalf. But Sylvanas wasn't swinging anymore. That stopped with Arthas. Now she was stuck, trying to walk again without the luxury of warmth or food or life. Anduin had lost his father. Lor’themar had lost his people. Jaina and Genn had lost their homes. But Sylvanas lost herself.

“But I still have you,” I said, and turned to look at the second person who welcomed me to this planet. Kalec’s smile was sad, but also sweet, and he reached for my hand as we kept swinging together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Continue the journey to the next chapter here! 

Not sure where you are? Check the Caverns of Time for more chapters!

[lothirielswan]

“This Isn’t Darrell” [7]

Quest Objective: Hire better guards.

~Sylvanas Windrunner, the Undercity~

“Dark Lady, I have prepared what you requested.”

I regarded the apothecary that approached my elevated platform. Like all in his profession, he wore long robes stained with elixirs from his work. What I requested of him was a little more than a simple potion.

“Show me.” I ordered, and I followed the quick but limping figure out of my chambers. The guards along the wall saluted to me as I passed with their arms folded across their chests, like they were greeting death itself. It was easy to forget they were there; they could stand for days on end without a single clink of armor.

“The troops that returned have been...fixed up, and they are ready to serve your will once again.” The apothecary’s jaw was held together with a leather sleeve. These appendages seemed to bother the living immensely, but I didn't have the luxury to care.

“Good. They will do so soon enough.” I remarked. We weaved through the city at a quick pace with no need to catch our breath. There was no meaning to this life; no food, no rest, no training. Everything was kept in the same exact condition, in the same exact pain and bitterness.

I used to loathe these halls. I used to loathe the people, especially the living ones that paraded their liveliness when they visited. I used to loathe this life. But now, I focus on what I was given, not what was taken away from me.

I had no need of counting minutes, but I knew that we reached the Apothecarium in due time. Time was no longer a precious currency to me. We strode down the twisting path into the secluded chambers of the apothecaries.

The walls were darkened with stains and the wooden benches matched. I was sure it smelled foul to the living, but it made no difference to us. One of the empty slabs reminded me of it's old prisoner, Koltira Deathweaver. I didn't have time to relive those memories as I noticed two guards hovering around one of the slabs in the center of the room.

“You said this was Darrell. This isn't Darrell.”

“What happened to Darrell, dude?”

The apothecary shooed the two guards away from the slab. “I threw him in a river because he was a living insult. Now move.”

“That's rude! Darrell was funny...sure, he did stupid things, but he was fun to laugh at.”

“Yeah, dude. Why would you take that away from us?” The undead guards from Gilneas pestered endlessly.

“Because it became less funny and more of a healthcode violation–which we accurately follow,” The apothecary added as I approached the slab. “And if you call me ‘dude’ again, I’ll feed you to the giant slug one room over!”

It was the same linen-draped body that was carried in before, when I spoke to Eona–

Eona.

I wanted to kill her. It would be gentle, just like the end to one of her songs. Then she would be reborn into a new sonata. Even if death, I felt like Eona would be full of life.

And yet...

Something refrained me from giving Eona her inevitable fate. She would most likely predict it with her Foreshadowing , but there was another reason...no, it was not important. But it kept her alive. For now.

“So if this isn't Darrell...who is it?” One of the foolish guards asked.

My lifeless fingers curled around the end of the linen tarp.

“The one with the fullest quiver is the most likely to survive,” I said. “This is just one more arrow notched for our enemies.”

I lifted the cloth just enough to peer down upon the pale face of Liam Greymane.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not sure where you are? Check the Caverns of Time for more chapters!

[lothirielswan]

“Goblin Ikea Furniture” [5]

Quest Objective: Survive Dunkirk 2.0.

Maybe if I say more incorrect things about Lor’themar, I’ll lure Rommath out of hiding. I darted from one tree trunk to another, my back pressed against the obsidian bark. I could’ve covered my glowing eyes, but what was the point? Genn made it very clear my scent would give me away. Luckily the large party held most of their attention.

The pound of raindrops hitting the blanket of leaves above me mixed with the shouts and howls from our party. I didn't have a lot of time–the rescue trip would transform into a bloody massacre if I couldn't find Rommath soon.

I tucked my hair behind my ear as it started to rise in volume from the humidity. I don’t care if I might be sporting an afro, the Grand Magister is more important. Where is he?

I squinted to find bright green dots in place of red ones. The searing touch of Foreshadowing pierced back of my skull when I looked to the left. There was a slight tingle that accompanied the pain, like a reassuring tone.

I held my breath as I left the waterlogged tree behind and sprinted across the crimson-bathed grass. None of the undead worgen had made an appearance.

Did Sylvanas really raise them? There was a prominent tug in my chest when I thought about it. I suppose there’s no other option, it has to be her work. One thing I do know is that I shouldn't care this much, but I do.

I pressed a hand above my neck and held in a wince. No sign of Rommath.

In one moment of desperation, I whispered starkly, “Lor’themar sucks!”

I peeked behind a tree trunk and sniffed the air for the smell of strong hair products. Nothing.

Suddenly I spun on my heel. I resisted the urge to gag as a vile stench harassed my nose. Two rows of yellowing teeth protruded from the jaw of an undead worgen. As it raised a claw for a killing strike, frost grew from behind it's back and sealed the worgen in a block of ice.

I leaned to look out beyond the frozen cage and saw Rommath perched up on one of the high tree branches. “You suck.” He remarked.

I sidestepped the frost-bitten worgen and crossed my arms as I stared up at the Grand Magister of Silvermoon stuck in a tree. Did he think it was a shelf? Thank the Stars I didn't say that out loud.

“Can you make snow cones?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

It was hard to decipher Rommath’s actual expression with the bottom part of his face masked, but his squinting eyes said it all. “Silvermoon might have benefited from your absence.”

“That's a lot of high talk when you’re stuck in a tree–no pun intended.” I said, crossing my arms as I stared up at him. A scream erupted in the distance, reminding me of the gravity of our situation. The more I waited, the more our party suffered. “We don't have much time. We can't outrun the worgen–can you please turn them into frozen popsicle sticks?”

“I prefer a more formal term, but for the sake of simplicity, yes,” Rommath crouched atop his branch, holding onto the trunk of the tree as it teetered. “Do not repeat a word of this to Halduron.”

“Fine, let’s just go–ACK!” I barely had time to brace myself as the Grand Magister fell on top of me. Thorns and mud gnawed at my clothes when I hit the ground. I should really invest in a back brace.

Rommath stood and dusted himself off. He announced above me, “Something slipped my mind.”

I tried to control my lethal glare from the ground as I leaned up on my elbows. What? You eat more doughnuts than I do?

“I have the ability to slow my fall.” He said.

I released my irritation in one sharp, precise exhale as I blew my bangs away. “Silvermoon must really benefit from your absence.”

Thorns and twigs pinched at my skin as I rose from the ground. Rommath stared at me intently as I straightened my coat and plucked twigs from my hair.

“There is something...familiar about you. But I cannot fathom what.” He noted.

It was a peculiar statement that caught me off guard. When I came upon the realization why, my mouth was dry and wordless. Rommath’s inquiring gaze bore into me until I finally said, “Neither can I.”

I gestured back towards the struggling troops. “After you.”

~*~

The noises we overheard made my blood run cold as I lead Rommath back through the woods. I caught flashes of blood and gaping wounds as we intercepted worgen, undead, humans and blood elves fighting back to back.

Rommath stopped short and removed his glowing staff from his back. His demanding stare caught mine as he said, “Keep them off me.”

I spun on my heel as I searched for Lor’themar. He deserved to know that Rommath was found–for better or worse. I saw Halduron with a nasty scar across his cheek. The air was laid thick with the rusty odor of blood and deteriorating flesh.

Lor’themar broke away from the line of trees, his ponytail almost as frizzy as mine. He bowed his head to the Grand Magister and held his sword at the ready beside me.

Lor’themar’s words were tinted with the smell of wine. “Thank you.”

I nodded, feeling the greatest surge of relief since the start of this mission. At least something is going right. I managed to make this reassurance crumble with one question.

What about Anduin?

Thankfully, Andy wasn't hard to find. The white flashes came from somewhere in the center of the clump of soldiers. I couldn't determine what condition he was in, but I assumed he was the reason we had so few casualties thus far.

Rommath’s light had attracted the undead, and I used it to my advantage. As the creatures lumbered forward on long, fixed steps, I slipped on my goggles and became one with the shadows. My scent shouldn't be such an issue now–there’s too much commotion going on. The only thing I have to worry about is being quick, and not to think of what will happen if I'm not.

I didn’t strike killing blows–those would be ineffective and a waste of time. Instead, I went for dazing strikes. I stunned some by targeting arteries that shut the body down. Other times I used my pistol and shot close to their ears. I was nothing but an air of confusion that my enemies choked on. I didn't dominate with bright lights or battle cries; just utter hysteria.

I raced towards another target as the temperature suddenly dropped and caressed my skin with goosebumps. I looked back at Rommath as his eyes took on a white glow. Ice shot up from the ground and encased the undead worgen.

It’s not a competition or anything, but...Khadgar’s better.

The Blackwald was silent, but the heaves of our living party members filled the void. I overheard Halduron dare one of the rangers to put their tongue to the ice, earning a stern glare from Rommath.

“We don't have time to stand around, this isn't all of them.” Lor’themar shed the blood from his sword on the ground and returned the weapon to it's sheath.

Genn spoke to the rest of the party, “To Stormglen!”

His declare should have been comforting, but the look Lor’themar sent my way told me otherwise. We hurried past the frozen statues and I wondered how long they would stay like that. The line of trees lessened as we came to an a street lined with Gilnean houses. They were made in the same dreary colors to match the land and the windows were dark. I knew the look of a life left behind well enough.

Genn’s people did go through a lot. Sylvanas really wrecked these poor introverts.

Genn stopped short close to Lor’themar and I. He gestured with a claw towards the abandoned homes. “What is left of my people.”

Lor’themar had a dark glimmer in his eyes when he said, “I’ve seen worse.”

The plight of Sylvanas’ personal punching bags. My gaze flitted between the two leaders as Halduron passed behind me and leaned close to my ear, “If we’re bragging about whose life is more unbearable, my tongue really hurts.”

I had to keep walking and dragged Halduron with me so the two old men wouldn't see my smirk. 

When we ran out of cobblestone road and empty houses, a strip of packed, gray sand clashed with the whitecaps of the ocean. Two ships were wedged upon the shore hailing with the symbols of Stormwind and Silvermoon. Unease trailed it's fingers up my arms as I studied the two vessels for damage.

“Why haven't they fired on each other yet?” I whispered like the two ships would come alive if I spoke too loud.

The scar across Halduron’s cheek had dried, but I couldn't imagine how painful it was for him to talk as he hummed, “Lor’themar being the wise, considerate alcoholic he is left many kegs on our ship. Perhaps they’re drunk?”

“When are sailors not drunk?” I asked.

“When they join Sylvanas’ ranks.”

The two undead soldiers carrying the fallen body from before passed by, “He’s right, you know.”

Wow. They move surprisingly fast. I felt my ears prickle up at my sides as the undead skittered across the wet sand with skinless toes peeking out of their boots. They knocked on the hull to the blood elves’ ship and peered at the low deck.

Halduron’s long eyebrows went up and I looked to the soft crush of Anduin’s footsteps on the ground. Our party had caught up with us and hastily climbed the ladders onto the ship. The wooden vessels groaned as they rocked back and forth.

Halduron excused himself to help the evacuation as I drifted to Andy’s side. The wind lifted tendrils of his golden bangs and tugged them towards the sea.

“I hope this stays a rescue mission,” He said wistfully as he looked out onto the waves. The pattern of white and black along the water reminded me of piano keys.

Hopefully he's right. I nodded and moistened my lips. “Me too.”

When I was standing still, I could feel all the cuts and bruises from the Blackwald (and Rommath) on my skin. I couldn't risk Anduin healing me in front of the troops, so I kept my lips sealed about it.

I don't know how I'm going to keep all of this from Sylvanas...I can't. I have to tell her, I have too many witnesses. But...maybe I can spare Anduin from this story.

Andy’s head shifted towards me. “You still believe in peace?”

“When I lived on Outland, what mattered most was survival, not races or factions.” I said, plucking my goggles from my face. The cool, salty breeze stung my eyes as I looked out. There weren't any oceans where I came from. In some places, the breeze didn't exist either.

I pushed all of my hair onto my left shoulder so I could glance at Anduin. “We didn't have the luxury to nitpick...I see no point in doing so now.”

Andy smiled a little at hearing this. His elegant voice replied, “I'm glad to hear that. Perhaps we can continue this conversation at another time.”

“I’d like that.” I said.

We broke apart as the last few of the troops collected on the ships. Lor’themar followed up behind me on the wooden ladder that trembled beneath my grasp. When I reached the top, Halduron offered a hand and pulled me to the surface.

Halduron was right; I looked past the wounded and the soldiers at the drunk sailors hiccuping as they went. My eyes widened at the captain swaying on his feet.

Now I know what drunk pineapple looks like. You really do learn something new each day.

The fear of undead worgen had dissipated, but a new tension lay thick in the air. As the ship departed from the gray strand, most passengers looked over to the shadow of the Alliance ship on the horizon.

“Aren't we going to fire?” Rommath remarked. He leaned heavily on his staff, still drained from casting the spell that saved our lives.

I leaned slightly towards Lor’themar, “This is a rescue mission, not an assault on the Alliance, sir.”

“Thank you, Eona.”

“It's about the people.”

“I remember, Ms. Strider.”

“Sylvanas wants her troops back in one piece.”

“They can be reassembled.”

I bit my lip. “But do you think Sylvanas would want to put her people back together like goblin Ikea furniture?”

The Regent Lord was silent.

“...Do not attack the Alliance ships. Our mission is to get our people home foremost. To Tirisfal Glades.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Continue the journey to the next chapter here!

Not sure where you are? Check the Caverns of Time for more chapters!

[lothirielswan]

Masterlist/Caverns of Time

Author’s Note: Hello Awesome Adventurers! I’ve decided to post some of my story from Archive of Our Own onto Tumblr, because sometimes we have different reading preferences, and I’d love for you guys to join us on the journey! Down below, you can find the story of Eona Strider sorted and cataloged into its different books. I do update quicker on Archive, but both websites are usually updated on the same day. I will leave a set of links so you can choose what method you like best! I hope you enjoy c: love, fortune and glory to you!

Read on Archive:

Mists of the Past [COMPLETED]

Thrilling Adventures of Eona (in progress)

Read on Tumblr: 

Mists of the Past (Book 1) [COMPLETED]

1. This Is What I Get for Eating Too Many Doughnuts

2. A Cinnamon Roll Burnt in the Oven, Seething with Inner Fury

3. We All Scream for HELLSCREAM 

4. Pet Cemetery

5. My Compliments to the Chef

6. Garrosh’s Little Shop of Horrors

7. My Stuffed Animal Army That No One Should Dare Speak Of

8. Angry at Life, Smitten with You

Thrilling Adventures of Eona (Book 2: in progress)*

*The events in this novel are not from the Warcraft expansions; they’re original story lines by me! This is not out of injustice to Warcraft’s writers, but to have more power over the story, keep it more interesting for you guys, and to prevent anyone from reading spoilers about the game. Please enjoy!

1. The Freckle Apocalypse

2. My Adult Sanctuary

3. Into Introvert’s Paradise We Go

4. Cranberries of Death

5. Goblin Ikea Furniture

6. Dorky Pineapple

7. This Isn’t Darrell

8. More Burned Than Broken

9. My Hostile Mean Girls

Alternate Universes Timeline (Soon to come! So excited, stay tuned!)

[lothirielswanwarcraft]

Hi Awesome Adventurers!!

So sorry for all of the reblogs and the avalanche of posting at those times on this blog, that was only because I may be deleting them off my new personal blog, and you guys loved them so much, I didn’t want to permanently chuck them. This way you should be able to find everything here, tons of love and laughs that you deserve. 

But today we are going to have some actual new content! Yay!! Thank you so much for your patience, Awesome Adventurers. We’ll start off with some angst: We will have the last two chapters from my “nightmare” theme in my Warcraft series, but even if you don’t read Thrilling Adventures of Eona, I still think some of y’all might love to take a look at Khadgar and Sylvanas’ dark sides.

Please stay tuned for those, and much more! Thank you so much for your patience, loves c: my Warcraft stuff will be posted on this blog from now on. Love, fortune and glory to you!!