Empty Spirit and Vengeful Heart

The crisp cold dry air of the barrens blew upon the ebony cloak surrounding the figure solo in the darkness. Rock outcroppings gave environment to the night as the shadows formed from the nearby camp fire forming a story of the past as the figure watched.

"Yield." Said a youthful elven maiden with short black hair, covered by the dirty and muddy clay surrounding them.

A young man stubbornly stood up, bloodied from a beating; his hair caked in his own blood. "Again." He spoke.

"Yield Boyo, don't give Mira the satisfaction.. she enjoys this." A tanned half-elven girl said, her eyes flicking with enjoyment.

The youthful maiden smirked to the side and then swiftly parted as fast as the wind to land an elbow jab to the man's jaw.

The flames flicked to another scene, further into the future. The youthful maiden, half-elven and blonde elven man joined others - an undead, a troll and several orcs. A battle among the barren plains of Kalimdor as Alliance steel clashed with their horde counterparts. Battle banners flying the Kor'Kron legion's colors gave wind to a smaller unit - black in color with the Orcish symbol for Wraiths flying proudly in black and orange.

Another flash of the same carnage, the wraiths clashing steel among the high sea's. Others had joined them now, new faces to the old group - a cocky former farstrider with his companion etching his arrows down the enemy lines, a wizened orc with a massive battle axe and his companion, literally the counter of him being a lithe elven priestess of the light. Their force, though small tore through alliance lines quicker then any kor'kron battle formation. For there was nothing uniform about the group - their differences made them stronger, united them to a deadly chaotic fighting unit that could not be countered. Raiev - The Rage, Mirava - The Spirit, Eevet - The Worg, Radok - The tutor, Orolian - The Lone Wolf, Naroak - The Honor, Lea - The everlasting calm and Tilarius - The vengeful light. They were the Wraiths - they were unbeatable in their day but all things come to an end.

She stared at three headstones, barely marked boulders in the middle of the plains - a skull marking Radok's, a worg showing Eevet and finally a fire showing Raiev's - her husband. She remembered all of their death's but most memorably she remembered Raiev and Eevet's.

"Where are the other wraiths!?" The watcher known as Mirava barked.

"We don't know, we got separated after the Cathedral District." Naroak spoke quietly, an utter calm to Mirava's fury as they ran across the rooftops of Stormwind.

"Damnit, Raiev... Eevet. I'm going back." Mirava spoke as she turned, her footsteps heading back towards what they were running from. Yells and orders were heard on the streets of the Stormwind Guard and regiments called to action at their presence.

Naroak cursed under his breath and followed her, muttering about elves as he tried desperately to catch up with the woman's fast feet.

She stopped at the edge of the rooftop of the orphanage looking down as the scene. The wraiths were surrounded but still fighting, Raiev, Eevet and three of their newest recruits, dancing among the blades.

"On my mark, we join the fray and help them cut a path out--" Mirava began before she was interrupted.

"No, I think you'll stay up here. But lets quarry the thought of you going down." Said a man's voice with a deep baritone, despite his human accent - the man spoke perfect orcish.

She looked over her shoulder just as a man's knee came to her face, rolling down the tiled roof she nearly lost her hold and fell down to the street below before Naroak caught her and tossed her back up the to the roof of the Orphanage it was there she saw her attacker - Mathias Shaw, the Leader of SI:7.

"Your wraiths have been a pain for too long Watcher." He said as he unsheathed two daggers from hidden compartments in his bracers. In a poised stance with his palms outwards with his blades outstretched to either side, he moved quickly to slash at Mirava.

The blows were quick, his reaction time nearly unmatched by Mirava. She struggled to parry the blows away with her own short blades, her footing backtracking from the relentless assaults of the Spy Master.

As Naroak joined the fray with his massive battleaxe, attempting the slice the man in half the man simply pivoted to his side as a flash of steel was seen slipping into the man's thigh with a spray of crimson.

Mirava took the distraction as a chance to push her own offensive, her two twin blades locking steel with the spy master in a flurry of assaults, for a moment pushing the spymaster back as Mirava pushed the assault. With a kick to his torso she sent him hurtling down the tiles, his grip barely stopping his fall. But she had a next step. Her one shot pistol drawn she aimed and fired the led ball, letting it hit its mark on the man's shoulder.

But then, her sight betrayed her - behind her enemy she saw her worst nightmare, Raiev's throat being cut by an alliance sword. A crimson waterfall fell to the ground as his life drained before her eyes in the middle of the cathedral district. A blade also penetrated Eevet's torso, shooting out the otherside. Eevet still fought as her life drained from her as well, taking her killer down with her. Her wraiths were cut down, in a matter of seconds.

And only seconds is what was required to distract Mirava enough for Mathias to move in. With a quick swipe Mirava couldn't parry quick enough, the bounce of the blade coming back to her, slicing the left side of her face and eye open. She saw only crimson but felt like she was being pulled. She looked up to see a black zeppelin in the night sky and Naroak holding her as they transcended upwards. That is when she blacked out.

She remembered the weeks following, the questions from the Shattered Hand - even standing before the Warchief himself as he berated her with her failures. Banished from the Orgrimmar's foreign legion, sent back to her home - in shame.

So as she stood the woman formally known as spirit - she remembered the pride of her adopted family and wept. She mourned the loss of her husband, her best friend and mentor but also wept for the girl that she used to know in the mirror, the girl long since gone.

But with a stiffened lip she held her head high as a burning passion still enveloped her. Empty as her spirit maybe, her heart was still fueled by one unsatisfying urge. Vengeance.