I remember waking upon the shore and opening my eyes to a blinding light. My senses seemed to come alive one-by-one. As my eyes focused and my vision grew clearer, I could see the rays of the sun dancing on the ocean. My sense of touch came to life, and I felt the cold winds nip at the parts of my flesh that were exposed. It was then I felt the sting of pain in my abdomen and a wrenching feeling in my stomach. I raised one of my hands to try and look at it, and for a moment, my vision blurred. Then, as if I was looking through a clear lens, I saw the blood that was running down my arm. My hand gripped the arrow protruding from my body and, as if my hearing had just returned to me, my ears rung as I screamed. My nostrils flared, I could smell my own blood and the salt of the water. It was my thoughts, then, that came to me. How did I get here? Where was I? How did I get hurt? I tried to remember. Did I hit my head? A concussion, perhaps. I remained still in the sand, feeling like a disoriented beached whale. I don't remember how long I actually stayed there. Time was still, frozen around me. It must have been hours, and yet, I remembered nothing. Not my name, not my face, not anyone else's. The pines on the distant hills were whispering questions, and I had no answers.
Eventually, common sense began to kick in. I remember yelping, like a cat who had its tail stepped on, when I doused my wound in the water of the river and wrapped it with scraps of my torn robes. The hills around me had both low and high peaks, some topped with snow, and some with basic, wood-built lodgings. And everywhere, there were trees. Trees and great, golden-brown hawks that flew from treetop to treetop and gave echoing cries into a bright blue sky. I must be up North, I thought to myself. Northrend. Somehow, I knew that. What I still didn't know, was why. I walked, and walked. Eventually, I fell into a routine. Walk, find food, find water, find shelter, walk. I'm not sure if days went by, or weeks. I avoided the dwellings I recognized to be of Vrykul make; somehow I knew that, too. And I knew to avoid them. There was a road, and I followed it. Soon enough, the scenery began to change.
It was snowing, then. Light, whimsical flakes pelted me gently, and my boot-covered feet were crunching in the ice. Aside from the wolves, and the bears, I hadn't seen another soul. I tried to avoid the carnivores, too. Lest they would decide I'd make a tasty meal. The trees began to look more narrow, and snow turned into grass. With the passing of what must have been a few more days, I found myself at the lift. A wooden-made elevator that lowered travelers down into a basin, with Vengeance Landing at the opposite end by the coast. It was a Forsaken Camp, I knew. And from there, I would have passage back to Lordaeron. And so I began what I hoped would be the last of my walk.
The Forsaken were not friendly, and I hadn't expected them to be. Although my people and theirs were allies, I'm sure they did not appreciate a bloodied, dirty elf waking through their camp. I decided it would be best not to linger, and I walked up the long, spiral staircase leading to the zeppelin platform. I waited, and waited. When the airship arrived, I boarded eagerly and made my way downstairs. There was food, ale, and a hammock. I ate and drank my fill, and took rest. My voyage lasted a few days. I think I slept through all of them. The other passengers saw fit to leave me alone, and I was the last to depart after we had landed. Such a drastic change of scenery, making a shift from Northrend to Tirisfal. The ruins of the once mighty kingdom of Lordaeron lie before me in darkness, the trees like winding, wicked spires that twisted shadows into sinister shapes. Yet, this was familiar. I knew the history of this cursed land, and I knew of its people. Yet, why did I not know of my own?
After descending the winding, wooden staircase, I walked down the path leading into the ruins and made my way to the translocation orb our people had strategically placed there. It was second-nature to me, using the orb. I placed my hand upon its violet-pink surface and watched the inside of the glass swirl with the arcane, until I felt that slight pull and found myself no longer near the Undercity, but in our great capital, the city of Silvermoon. The rich gold and crimson halls, the ornate hangings and rich tapestries...- yes, this was home. Beautiful Quel'Thalas, land of the Sin'dorei. Such a contrast; I missed -home-, I thought to myself. But where was home..., exactly? Where did I live? Was my home within the city, or elsewhere? I walked down the long, lush ramp leading into the Court of the Sun, and stared at the magnificent fountain there, ever glistening in eternal sunlight.
Then, as I walked down the city streets, a young girl stopped me in my tracks. 'Auntie,' she called me. A man, was with her, the two of them with long, platinum hair. The man spoke so many words to me, that day. I was his sister, he told me. I had taken a fall after an attack while doing research in Northrend. We were a wealthy family, with a great estate out in the wood. I chose to go with him. I remembered nothing of him and this family, the house of Sunspear. But, I went with him anyways. Why would someone lie to me? There would be no reason for someone to do such a thing. And so, I believed him.
Karina. He told me name was Karina. And that those long, crimson tresses that framed my face were not my natural color. He bleached them swiftly, and had me groomed, and pampered, and fed. It was a nice feeling, admittedly. After long weeks, maybe even a month of harsh travel, this was most refreshing. The servants brought me fresh bread and red wine, and bathed and rubbed my feet. I met neices, and nephews. Young children. He wove a story into my mind: I was the wife of a great paladin, who had died in battle. We had children, who were away focusing on studies. I lived in the manor with my brother. I was a sorceress. There was some truth, to those words. I could feel that magical affinity running through my veins like my blood, and over time, I remembered my magic. I knew there was more I needed to know, more I needed to discover myself. Every time I asked a question, my brother, Fenladril, seemed to have an answer. I remember following him around, shy and afraid, trying to put all of the pieces together. Eventually, I grew comfortable. Maybe even a bit..., spoiled. But what I did feel, was restrained. Brother did not want me to leave the manor alone.
Months had gone by, and I began to question my reality. Whenever I wanted something, it was brought to me. Whenever I wanted to go somewhere, brother would take me..., as long as it was not a crowded place. I yourned for Silvermoon, for the city. But that was a place I would never go. I felt like a caged prized-pet, struggling against the confines of a decadent prison. Fen would bring the guards at my room's door, tell them to keep an eye on me. But what he really meant to say was that he wished them to keep me inside. Was he just being overprotective? I wasn't sure. But this certainly wasn't normal behavior, that I knew. He should have known I would have gotten out, eventually. Magic is a tricky thing to stifle, and he hadn't made an effort to go that far.
I was outside, that evening. I ran through the forest in my lush robes, silvery hair whipping in the wind. I adored Quel'Thalas, everything about it. From the golden-leaved trees to the whisps of arcane dancing in the blue-black sky. After a few hours of running, and walking, I found myself at the city gates. Before I was able to walk in, however, a figure steppped forward and approached me. A man, Sin'dorei, clad in black and crimson armor. Likely, a blood knight.
'M'am, is that you?' He inquired, and stepped closer until he was cupping my face in gauntlet-clad hands. I remember staring at him like a frightened child. He held me in such a way as to examine me, tilting my head back gently to get a better look. 'Lady Firestorm?' There it was. That name, which practically shot through my body and lit my eyes on fire. I remembered nothing, and knew only which was told to me. But that name reverberated through me like a song of angels. And it was in that moment, I knew I had been lied to. And I had no idea why.
'Take me home,' I said to him. But he refused me.
'It's not safe,' he said. He threw me over his shoulder and took me, instead, for a walk. I did little to protest, as the night had grown long and I was already so very tired, and full of questions. There was a translocation orb, hidden high in the hills behind the city. With another pull, we were in a dark, damp basement. I could hear water dripping against a cobblestone floor, and could see the faint light of dimly lit torches at the end of the corridor we walked along.
There was a light, at the end of the tunnel. A brilliant light, drawing me closer, and closer. The knight fell behind as my own pace quickened, for he was encumbered by his armor, and I was wearing naught but a fancy dress. There was something calling to me, like a faint echo, or a distant song. I felt as if I couldn't breathe, and then suddenly- I found air. The corridor opened into a large, brilliant chamber.
And at its center, a mirror.
Eventually, common sense began to kick in. I remember yelping, like a cat who had its tail stepped on, when I doused my wound in the water of the river and wrapped it with scraps of my torn robes. The hills around me had both low and high peaks, some topped with snow, and some with basic, wood-built lodgings. And everywhere, there were trees. Trees and great, golden-brown hawks that flew from treetop to treetop and gave echoing cries into a bright blue sky. I must be up North, I thought to myself. Northrend. Somehow, I knew that. What I still didn't know, was why. I walked, and walked. Eventually, I fell into a routine. Walk, find food, find water, find shelter, walk. I'm not sure if days went by, or weeks. I avoided the dwellings I recognized to be of Vrykul make; somehow I knew that, too. And I knew to avoid them. There was a road, and I followed it. Soon enough, the scenery began to change.
It was snowing, then. Light, whimsical flakes pelted me gently, and my boot-covered feet were crunching in the ice. Aside from the wolves, and the bears, I hadn't seen another soul. I tried to avoid the carnivores, too. Lest they would decide I'd make a tasty meal. The trees began to look more narrow, and snow turned into grass. With the passing of what must have been a few more days, I found myself at the lift. A wooden-made elevator that lowered travelers down into a basin, with Vengeance Landing at the opposite end by the coast. It was a Forsaken Camp, I knew. And from there, I would have passage back to Lordaeron. And so I began what I hoped would be the last of my walk.
The Forsaken were not friendly, and I hadn't expected them to be. Although my people and theirs were allies, I'm sure they did not appreciate a bloodied, dirty elf waking through their camp. I decided it would be best not to linger, and I walked up the long, spiral staircase leading to the zeppelin platform. I waited, and waited. When the airship arrived, I boarded eagerly and made my way downstairs. There was food, ale, and a hammock. I ate and drank my fill, and took rest. My voyage lasted a few days. I think I slept through all of them. The other passengers saw fit to leave me alone, and I was the last to depart after we had landed. Such a drastic change of scenery, making a shift from Northrend to Tirisfal. The ruins of the once mighty kingdom of Lordaeron lie before me in darkness, the trees like winding, wicked spires that twisted shadows into sinister shapes. Yet, this was familiar. I knew the history of this cursed land, and I knew of its people. Yet, why did I not know of my own?
After descending the winding, wooden staircase, I walked down the path leading into the ruins and made my way to the translocation orb our people had strategically placed there. It was second-nature to me, using the orb. I placed my hand upon its violet-pink surface and watched the inside of the glass swirl with the arcane, until I felt that slight pull and found myself no longer near the Undercity, but in our great capital, the city of Silvermoon. The rich gold and crimson halls, the ornate hangings and rich tapestries...- yes, this was home. Beautiful Quel'Thalas, land of the Sin'dorei. Such a contrast; I missed -home-, I thought to myself. But where was home..., exactly? Where did I live? Was my home within the city, or elsewhere? I walked down the long, lush ramp leading into the Court of the Sun, and stared at the magnificent fountain there, ever glistening in eternal sunlight.
Then, as I walked down the city streets, a young girl stopped me in my tracks. 'Auntie,' she called me. A man, was with her, the two of them with long, platinum hair. The man spoke so many words to me, that day. I was his sister, he told me. I had taken a fall after an attack while doing research in Northrend. We were a wealthy family, with a great estate out in the wood. I chose to go with him. I remembered nothing of him and this family, the house of Sunspear. But, I went with him anyways. Why would someone lie to me? There would be no reason for someone to do such a thing. And so, I believed him.
Karina. He told me name was Karina. And that those long, crimson tresses that framed my face were not my natural color. He bleached them swiftly, and had me groomed, and pampered, and fed. It was a nice feeling, admittedly. After long weeks, maybe even a month of harsh travel, this was most refreshing. The servants brought me fresh bread and red wine, and bathed and rubbed my feet. I met neices, and nephews. Young children. He wove a story into my mind: I was the wife of a great paladin, who had died in battle. We had children, who were away focusing on studies. I lived in the manor with my brother. I was a sorceress. There was some truth, to those words. I could feel that magical affinity running through my veins like my blood, and over time, I remembered my magic. I knew there was more I needed to know, more I needed to discover myself. Every time I asked a question, my brother, Fenladril, seemed to have an answer. I remember following him around, shy and afraid, trying to put all of the pieces together. Eventually, I grew comfortable. Maybe even a bit..., spoiled. But what I did feel, was restrained. Brother did not want me to leave the manor alone.
Months had gone by, and I began to question my reality. Whenever I wanted something, it was brought to me. Whenever I wanted to go somewhere, brother would take me..., as long as it was not a crowded place. I yourned for Silvermoon, for the city. But that was a place I would never go. I felt like a caged prized-pet, struggling against the confines of a decadent prison. Fen would bring the guards at my room's door, tell them to keep an eye on me. But what he really meant to say was that he wished them to keep me inside. Was he just being overprotective? I wasn't sure. But this certainly wasn't normal behavior, that I knew. He should have known I would have gotten out, eventually. Magic is a tricky thing to stifle, and he hadn't made an effort to go that far.
I was outside, that evening. I ran through the forest in my lush robes, silvery hair whipping in the wind. I adored Quel'Thalas, everything about it. From the golden-leaved trees to the whisps of arcane dancing in the blue-black sky. After a few hours of running, and walking, I found myself at the city gates. Before I was able to walk in, however, a figure steppped forward and approached me. A man, Sin'dorei, clad in black and crimson armor. Likely, a blood knight.
'M'am, is that you?' He inquired, and stepped closer until he was cupping my face in gauntlet-clad hands. I remember staring at him like a frightened child. He held me in such a way as to examine me, tilting my head back gently to get a better look. 'Lady Firestorm?' There it was. That name, which practically shot through my body and lit my eyes on fire. I remembered nothing, and knew only which was told to me. But that name reverberated through me like a song of angels. And it was in that moment, I knew I had been lied to. And I had no idea why.
'Take me home,' I said to him. But he refused me.
'It's not safe,' he said. He threw me over his shoulder and took me, instead, for a walk. I did little to protest, as the night had grown long and I was already so very tired, and full of questions. There was a translocation orb, hidden high in the hills behind the city. With another pull, we were in a dark, damp basement. I could hear water dripping against a cobblestone floor, and could see the faint light of dimly lit torches at the end of the corridor we walked along.
There was a light, at the end of the tunnel. A brilliant light, drawing me closer, and closer. The knight fell behind as my own pace quickened, for he was encumbered by his armor, and I was wearing naught but a fancy dress. There was something calling to me, like a faint echo, or a distant song. I felt as if I couldn't breathe, and then suddenly- I found air. The corridor opened into a large, brilliant chamber.
And at its center, a mirror.
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