Part I
There was never a prouder moment in her life. Mirava Del’Var Darkfyre had trained for years for this moment, even without knowing. She stood with her hands to her back in her full body catsuit specially designed for an agent of the Sin’Serrar. She had spent years in stormwind, surviving in the belly of the underworld as she had been abandoned, forgotten and left to die in the alleys of the human city.
It was then that she understood the true meaning of life, to survive. She had went from the apex of nobility to the lows of a street rat scrounging for the meager scraps to survive. And from that low she rose, in a matter of years she had cultivated a network of information dealers, smugglers, and gambling rings to become one of the most successful underground leaders the plight of the human city had ever seen. She had met, no exceeded the expectations of her grandfather who stood proudly as Mirava took her steps towards the fountain.
She began to peel off the suit from her skin, revealing the tanned, fit skin from underneath. It was a surprise how the scrawny even gangly young woman had matured to a blossoming woman of curves from the fruits of her children and marriage. It was attributes that aided her she had come to realize, that the hearts of men were often found in their loins. With long golden hair and brilliant purple eyes that made her exotic in the eyes of many she knew she was sought after and her commoner husband despised.
As per protocol, the group that had escorted her to the fountain had disappeared as the first meeting of the goddess and the new Sin’Serrar had to be private. She bathed in the waters, wading in the soothing warm liquid that seemed to ease all the aches and pains of life. The Shadow Moonwell was a product of her family's lineage and an aspect of her past ancestors. Though the majority of the Quel’dorei clinged to a light form of worship of Belore, there was a few select highborne that followed the old gods, specifically Shalla’elune. She was the daughter of Elune and the tricker goddess. It was her that was the patron of rogues, assassins and rebellion. Some say it was her that always supported the new ways and watched over the Quel’dorei as much as Elune watched over the Kaldorei.
Providing the ceremonial drop of blood from her own hand, Mirava watched in amazement as the waters circled around the drop and came to life. A figure materialized before her with dark almost pitch black skin with freckles of stars upon her shoulders and the bridge her nose. Her hair was as white as starlight, glowing under the darkness along with the moonwell. And when the goddess opened her eyes it was like the brilliance of the sun, almost blinding before it died down to a more bearable aspect.
MIrava grovelled, humbled by the sheer feel of this beings power, her knees falling to the floor of the well and almost submerging herself in the water completely.
“Rise my child... “ Shalla’elune said, indicating with a finger up as she provided Mirava with a warm almost motherly sort of smile. “I do not need someone to kneel to know my superiority.”
Mirava nodded nervously, standing up to meeting the goddess height which she was surprised was the same as her own. She always pictured the goddess to be a staggering giant like the titans of old.
“I am.. sorry my goddess. What would you have me do?” Mirava stammered.
“Are you so eager to accept orders young one? For someone who was giving orders so readily in stormwind... I’d figure you’d know -exactly- what to do hm?” The goddess said with a hint of amusement.
“That is different.. that was--”
“A crime ring orchestrated in order to survive?” SHalla’elune interrupted, “You give yourself too little credit.. you did more than survive in a hopeless situation... you thrived.”
The goddess circled her like prey, “Survival against all odds.. to adapt to our surroundings, meld our surroundings to fit us. That is what true power is.. not to be born with it, but to -make- it.”
It was then that she understood the true meaning of life, to survive. She had went from the apex of nobility to the lows of a street rat scrounging for the meager scraps to survive. And from that low she rose, in a matter of years she had cultivated a network of information dealers, smugglers, and gambling rings to become one of the most successful underground leaders the plight of the human city had ever seen. She had met, no exceeded the expectations of her grandfather who stood proudly as Mirava took her steps towards the fountain.
She began to peel off the suit from her skin, revealing the tanned, fit skin from underneath. It was a surprise how the scrawny even gangly young woman had matured to a blossoming woman of curves from the fruits of her children and marriage. It was attributes that aided her she had come to realize, that the hearts of men were often found in their loins. With long golden hair and brilliant purple eyes that made her exotic in the eyes of many she knew she was sought after and her commoner husband despised.
As per protocol, the group that had escorted her to the fountain had disappeared as the first meeting of the goddess and the new Sin’Serrar had to be private. She bathed in the waters, wading in the soothing warm liquid that seemed to ease all the aches and pains of life. The Shadow Moonwell was a product of her family's lineage and an aspect of her past ancestors. Though the majority of the Quel’dorei clinged to a light form of worship of Belore, there was a few select highborne that followed the old gods, specifically Shalla’elune. She was the daughter of Elune and the tricker goddess. It was her that was the patron of rogues, assassins and rebellion. Some say it was her that always supported the new ways and watched over the Quel’dorei as much as Elune watched over the Kaldorei.
Providing the ceremonial drop of blood from her own hand, Mirava watched in amazement as the waters circled around the drop and came to life. A figure materialized before her with dark almost pitch black skin with freckles of stars upon her shoulders and the bridge her nose. Her hair was as white as starlight, glowing under the darkness along with the moonwell. And when the goddess opened her eyes it was like the brilliance of the sun, almost blinding before it died down to a more bearable aspect.
MIrava grovelled, humbled by the sheer feel of this beings power, her knees falling to the floor of the well and almost submerging herself in the water completely.
“Rise my child... “ Shalla’elune said, indicating with a finger up as she provided Mirava with a warm almost motherly sort of smile. “I do not need someone to kneel to know my superiority.”
Mirava nodded nervously, standing up to meeting the goddess height which she was surprised was the same as her own. She always pictured the goddess to be a staggering giant like the titans of old.
“I am.. sorry my goddess. What would you have me do?” Mirava stammered.
“Are you so eager to accept orders young one? For someone who was giving orders so readily in stormwind... I’d figure you’d know -exactly- what to do hm?” The goddess said with a hint of amusement.
“That is different.. that was--”
“A crime ring orchestrated in order to survive?” SHalla’elune interrupted, “You give yourself too little credit.. you did more than survive in a hopeless situation... you thrived.”
The goddess circled her like prey, “Survival against all odds.. to adapt to our surroundings, meld our surroundings to fit us. That is what true power is.. not to be born with it, but to -make- it.”
Mirava stared at Shalla’elune, thinking of how a goddess could say that birth was not important. After all was she not the daughter of Elune? Was that not what gave her the power that she wielded.
“No, it isn’t. I had to kill gods and goddess alike to become what I am. I had to earn my place in the pantheon of Azeroth’s stars. And believe me.. to kill a goddess is not an easy feat.” SHalla’elune replied to the astonished young woman, “And yes.. I can read minds young one. And I can tell..... yes... you’re not ready. Not yet.”
“But I trained for this! I survived the trials!” Mirava suddenly bursted out, even slightly angry. She suddenly bit her lip, stepping down her tone, “I am sorry your goddess, but I know I am ready for this. I did far more than what was expected of me.”
Shalla’elune simply continued to smile, “I didn’t say you did not.. in fact quite the opposite. You are -deserving- my daughter but you are still not ready. And when you understand -why- you will be ready.”
Mirava stood with her mouth open, shocked, “I don’t understand! You say I deserve it but I am not ready! What is this some sort of test!”
“Such gumption now that you are unsure of your fate girl. Before you were humbled.. oh that fire... it will serve you so well in the future.” The goddess let out a laugh.
MIrava growled as she took a step towards Shalla’elune, “What am I to do to be ready?”
“Lose.” Shalla’elune said with a flick of her hand, dismissing the importance.
“What do you mean lose?” Mirava said, her head canted to the side.
“You’ve always won girl.. at everything. Arguments, battles even business strategies. You’re used to winning. You’re good at it.... but you also must be good at losing.” The goddess explained. “A survivalist knows not how to win but how to lose. You must learn to survive every situation that is thrown at you. You must learn to turn loss into gain. There are many things in this world that you will come to understand. One day you will have a moment in time that will affect you throughout the rest of your days. And in that moment, you will fall so hard that only rising is an option.”
“But where am I to go? All my training, everything.. I spent years for this moment goddess. How am I to be of use to the high home?” Mirava pleaded to the goddess.
“You trained of shadow and death. In many ways the Farstriders are not that different no?” The goddess suggested, “And your father had taught you to use a longbow since you were but a babe. Considering the ‘plights’ you have gone through, farstrider training would be an easy matter hmm?”
“You’ve always won girl.. at everything. Arguments, battles even business strategies. You’re used to winning. You’re good at it.... but you also must be good at losing.” The goddess explained. “A survivalist knows not how to win but how to lose. You must learn to survive every situation that is thrown at you. You must learn to turn loss into gain. There are many things in this world that you will come to understand. One day you will have a moment in time that will affect you throughout the rest of your days. And in that moment, you will fall so hard that only rising is an option.”
“But where am I to go? All my training, everything.. I spent years for this moment goddess. How am I to be of use to the high home?” Mirava pleaded to the goddess.
“You trained of shadow and death. In many ways the Farstriders are not that different no?” The goddess suggested, “And your father had taught you to use a longbow since you were but a babe. Considering the ‘plights’ you have gone through, farstrider training would be an easy matter hmm?”
The goddess grinned, putting a hand upon the young woman’s shoulders, “The Farstriders are the soldiers of shadow and deceit. Using tricks of the cover of the forests to inflict the most damage to our enemies. In many ways, the Sin’Serrar and the Farstriders are peers. And it will be the farstriders... who will defend our lands against the savages of the coming tide. I peer into the future and I see pain, bloodshed of wars that will define your people. And at the heart of that, the rangers of the quel’dorei will be the vanguard. I cannot think of a better place for you Mirava. Now.. with that, I will leave you to your disappointment.” She gave the young woman a warm smile then vanished in a brilliant flash of light.
With tears of sorrow and dread she fell to her knees. No... no no no she thought, how could this be happening? How could after all these years of struggling, fighting her grand father and being away from her own children.. how could she be left with nothing to show for it!
A ranger! She expected her to be a mere ranger! A soldier! She had trained to fight in the shadows, not on the battlefield. This was wrong, her talents would be wasted, discarded upon such trivial pursuits of what was professional hunters at best. Granted her father was a Ranger Captain but that was because he chose it! He wanted to be a ranger because of his love of nature and the outdoors. This was not what she chose.. she wanted power, power to manipulate the very shadows, to sway lords and kings alike to her way. And now this, she’d be a lowly servant of the high home.. was this her fall? If it was it was a fall she could not conceive to rise from!
Hate, she hated the goddess. That uppity bitch finds this amusing, how could I possibly lose my moment! She was a Del’Var! The cousins of the King! How could she possibly be shunned to this!
With tears of sorrow and dread she fell to her knees. No... no no no she thought, how could this be happening? How could after all these years of struggling, fighting her grand father and being away from her own children.. how could she be left with nothing to show for it!
A ranger! She expected her to be a mere ranger! A soldier! She had trained to fight in the shadows, not on the battlefield. This was wrong, her talents would be wasted, discarded upon such trivial pursuits of what was professional hunters at best. Granted her father was a Ranger Captain but that was because he chose it! He wanted to be a ranger because of his love of nature and the outdoors. This was not what she chose.. she wanted power, power to manipulate the very shadows, to sway lords and kings alike to her way. And now this, she’d be a lowly servant of the high home.. was this her fall? If it was it was a fall she could not conceive to rise from!
Hate, she hated the goddess. That uppity bitch finds this amusing, how could I possibly lose my moment! She was a Del’Var! The cousins of the King! How could she possibly be shunned to this!
Gritting her teeth, she pulled her catsuit back over her body, and made her way out of the well and towards her family. She knew she’d face the disappointment in her grandfather’s eyes, she playful but mocking laugh of her half-sister upon learning her big sister had failed in the most important moment of her life. Oh she knew she could become a Farstrider, that would not be difficult but it was beneath her, she was overqualified! With rage she left the well, only to find her family not even along the edge of the forest.
She approached the Del’Var Estate, a brilliant villa in the center of vineyards that overlooked the ocean. Its golden splendor and architecture a testament to her family's wealth and promise that had been brought by years of devotion to the Sin’Serrar. And as she approached, hearing the songs of celebration of a family so sure their chosen daughter would accomplish.
With a sigh she entered the open courtyard where servants and family members sang with jolly hearts. There was silence as all the eyes went upon her, “I failed.” She said as she simply journeyed through the center of the party and into the manor, towards her room of privilege.
Her room was fit for a noble woman, with the fine dressers holding the bountiful amount of garments for her everyday along with several bookshelves filled with books of adventure and even accounts of the Sin’Serrar accomplishments. Her eyes gazed to the portraits of herself, both as the young noble woman and the would be assassin. She looked to it all, everything that brought her to this moment just to have it all crashing down.
And crashing down it all went, in a fit of rage she pulled the dressers down on their side. She pulled the fine dresses from the drawers and flung them into the fireplace. With a light of fire she had seen them burn, feeding the fire in the room with more dresses.
As a servant opened her door to peek inside of all the nice, she was only lucky to duck as a vace came crashing towards the open door causing the commoner to scurry and flee or else face the wrath of the young lady in the estate.
Books, portraits, dresses burned in that fire as she stared at it with a burning intensity. I am soft, she thought. Thats why I was not ready, I had grown too soft. This whole way of life was not the way of power, it was the way of privilege! And in her own pride she had forgotten that she was at her best when she had nothing! It was not what she was given that allowed her to achieve, it was that what was taken. Perhaps, perhaps the goddess was right in every word. She was not ready, she was a spoiled rotten noble brat again - not the Raven as she had come to be called.
She approached the Del’Var Estate, a brilliant villa in the center of vineyards that overlooked the ocean. Its golden splendor and architecture a testament to her family's wealth and promise that had been brought by years of devotion to the Sin’Serrar. And as she approached, hearing the songs of celebration of a family so sure their chosen daughter would accomplish.
With a sigh she entered the open courtyard where servants and family members sang with jolly hearts. There was silence as all the eyes went upon her, “I failed.” She said as she simply journeyed through the center of the party and into the manor, towards her room of privilege.
Her room was fit for a noble woman, with the fine dressers holding the bountiful amount of garments for her everyday along with several bookshelves filled with books of adventure and even accounts of the Sin’Serrar accomplishments. Her eyes gazed to the portraits of herself, both as the young noble woman and the would be assassin. She looked to it all, everything that brought her to this moment just to have it all crashing down.
And crashing down it all went, in a fit of rage she pulled the dressers down on their side. She pulled the fine dresses from the drawers and flung them into the fireplace. With a light of fire she had seen them burn, feeding the fire in the room with more dresses.
As a servant opened her door to peek inside of all the nice, she was only lucky to duck as a vace came crashing towards the open door causing the commoner to scurry and flee or else face the wrath of the young lady in the estate.
Books, portraits, dresses burned in that fire as she stared at it with a burning intensity. I am soft, she thought. Thats why I was not ready, I had grown too soft. This whole way of life was not the way of power, it was the way of privilege! And in her own pride she had forgotten that she was at her best when she had nothing! It was not what she was given that allowed her to achieve, it was that what was taken. Perhaps, perhaps the goddess was right in every word. She was not ready, she was a spoiled rotten noble brat again - not the Raven as she had come to be called.
How had she been so blind to this? She remembered the nobles of Stormwind and how easy they were to take advantage of, how complacent they were in their fat happy lives. There was a moment when she would smile in pleasure at the mere expression on her victims faces when all that was give to them was taken by a mere street rat. And now, she knew exactly how they felt.
She collapsed to the her knees and sulked. Even the rug she fell upon was as soft as most feather beds, everything was soft. She had failed her family because of her family! What a cruel irony that befell upon her! And in that fit, in that rage she fell to sleep with soft wet tears in her eyes.
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