Thursday, September 5, 2013

Sub-Tags: [Drama][Death][Maris][Valora][Erythis][Katsin][Melathara]

The early light of dawn cascaded upon the hills of Felo'Danil like a shimmering blanket of silk, causing the red and gold leaves to sparkle like gemstones. The Flame Peaks, a name coined from the region's numerous  amounts of fiery-colored trees, was home to one of the largest manors in Southern Quel'Thalas, belonging to the reigning duchess and proud magistrix, Valora Firestorm. Though despite the serene beauty of a gentle morning, the mood inside the halls and spires of the grand manor was far less comforting. A rush of busy feet could be heard from every corner, along with the piercing cries of an infant. There were murmurs, and whispers, and every face held an unsettled visage. In front of a pair of ornate double-doors, guards were standing at attention, shielding the room's contents from the outside. The crying continued, seeming to radiate from that central location.
     "Mother, I can't make her stop." Inside, a young girl held to the infant, rocking it back and forth with a series of soft hushings. There was an older woman laying upon a large bed, at the side of another young girl who looked akin to the one holding the wailing babe. As the woman upon the bed spoke, her voice came hoarse, and weary. 
     "Give her to Erythis, Melathara." The girl shook her head in protest. 
     "No, I can do it, I just-..." The infant started to squirm in the youth's hold.
     "Do as I say." With a grimace, the girl handed off the babe to the other youth, who took the child gingerly. The child named Erythis smiled down at the bundle, the baby starting to calm, and silence its sobs. 
     "I don't understand. How is it that she can make her stop crying, just like that?" Melathara looked perplexed, and even a bit frustrated. 
     "Go and have a bath, dear. I need to speak with her alone." With a subtle eye-roll, the young girl made her way to the other side of the room, drawing a bright blue curtain around her so she might indulge in the wash basin. Though she had an ear perked, attempting to listen in on the conversation between her mother and her sibling. "You've been taking to my lessons quite well, my dear child."
     "A proper lady should be able to soothe any troubled soul." The redheaded child brought the infant over to a small crib, placing the babe within. 
     "I am..., so very proud of you, Erythis. You are the best heir I could have possibly hoped for, and you will do well in watching over your siblings." 
     "I don't need to watch over brother; he's usually watching over us." 
     "And watch over you he shall. That is his purpose; to watch over you while you ready yourself for greatness." For a moment, the young girl beamed. 
     "I get to use strong magic like you and father, right?" As the woman on the bed parted her lips to speak, she grimaced and clawed at the sheets below her, trashing back and forth for a moment as if wracked with pain. "Mother, when are you going to stop being sick?" The woman was trembling, gasping for air for a brief moment as a single tear glistened down the pale of her face. She calmed a few moments later and brought forth a response. 
     "Don't worry, sweet child. I'm going to have plenty of rest, soon."
     "Good! You have to teach me how to make runes, like you did on the big rocks! Promise me?"
     "You will learn, child. Do not fret." From beyond the curtain at the other end of the room, Melathara emerged, wrapped in a towel and attempting to dry her long, fiery-red hair with another. Though just seconds later, those wide doors swung open and two men entered: one armored and the other in crimson robes. The robed man spoke, his voice serious in tone. 
     "Children, head down the hall and let the handmaidens escort you to your corridors. I need to speak with your mother." The two girls did as they were told with little question, giving a glance back as they walked out from the doors. Once the children had left the room, the robed man sat at the side of the bed, holding to the hand of the weary woman. "Do not despair, my love. We are working night and day to find a cure." 
     "There is no cure, Maris. Don't you think that if there was, I would have discovered it on my own?" As if feeling a sharp pang of agony, the woman groaned,whimpered, and clenched the hand of her husband. "I don't..., have much time left. I can feel the magic eating me from the inside." It was the armored man who spoke then, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of a gauntlet.
     "I just don't understand it. Nothing like this has ever occurred before. We need her alive, Maris. She's one of the original architects; her research is invaluable. Without her and her peers, Quel'Thalas would not be as it is today. The heir to the crown is going to require her council."
     "Do you have no compassion? Surely, House Bloodfury has its own talent. That's my wife you're talking about, not just some tool." Valora writhed, clenching her husband's hand harder. She bit down into one of the cushions she was laying upon, trying to muffle her sobs. "Please, Lora-....hang in there for me. For the children." The knight looked upon them with pity, giving a heavy sigh.
     "We're going to need the girl, you know. She needs to be placed in proper training right away."
     "I am fully aware that my daughter possesses the same raw talent that Lora does, but she is too young. I can handle the estate if-..." He looked to his wife. "If I must. Erythis can go and receive her magisterial training when she's a little older."
     "Time is of the essence, Maris. You know they're coming for you. House Bloodfury has done its best to protect your family's secrets, but if they find out what you've been hiding-..., about you and Lora's research; they will kill you."
     "You were the ones who sent us on this crazy road to begin with!"
     "Don't think we have forgotten!" As their voices grew louder, once again did the sound of crying fill the hall. Valora, who looked to have calmed down, released Maris' hand and reached towards the crib.
     "Give her to me, Maris..., please..." Her pleading voice trailed weakly, raised arm shaking like a frail leaf. Hesitantly, the sorcerer obliged and procured the bundle for his beloved. She took the child in her arms, sitting up as best she could to cradle the baby. It's crying ceased after just a few moments. "There, there. We hear you. We're sorry that we're so upset, my Lilliana. But we're so very glad that you're here. We didn't think we'd be able to have you, little one. The eternal sun smiles upon us." As if feeling an immense pang of emotional torment, Maris turned his back on his wife and child, wearing a distraught look upon his face. The knight of Bloodfury set a gauntlet-clad hand upon his shoulder, speaking in hushed tones.
     "It's the Sin'Serrar, Maris. They've been sniffing around." The sorcerer balled his hands up into fists and clenched them in frustration, his palms sweating.
     "They will not find our work, I assure you. But if they suspect anything, anything at all...then my family is in danger."
     "Have you considered sending them South, to Dalaran?"
     "It will look too suspicious."
     "You could send young Erythis. That would not look so strange." Their conversation was interrupted with a scream, followed by a shriek from the infant babe. Valora was writhing again, barely able to hold onto the child.
     "Lora-...!" Maris took the child from her, setting it back inside her crib despite those panicked cries.
     "Kill me, Maris! I can't-..., I can no longer bear it! Please!" He stared at her, at a loss for words. "I'm begging you! I want to die!" He took her hand, clutching it tightly and bringing it to the side of his face. He started to sob quietly, tears spilling down onto the bedsheets.
     "Do not ask me this, my phoenix. Please..." Despite her misery, the woman smiled.
     "If I am..., truly, a phoenix, I will be reborn." Maris looked into his wife's brilliant, sapphire blue eyes and trembled. "You will see me. In her." She choked back a sob of her own, her eyes dimming, and growing lackluster. He watched them closely as his heart filled with despair. "Please..." She touched the side of his face. "I don't care if it hurts. My body, it can't..." He released her hand, and Valora's arm fell limply at her side. Her weakened state had practically left her immobile.
     "I love you, Lora." He slid from her, turning her back and trying to hold back his tears.
     "Maris..." He gave the Bloodfury knight a look that would speak for itself, and he seemed to get the message. With the clatter of shifting plate-metal, he approached the fallen sorceress, unsheathed his sword and, in one swift moment, impaled her. There wasn't a single sound, after the noise of steel meeting flesh. There was only silence. A minute passed, and then another. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a sharp inhale could be heard. A fiery haired knight had entered the room, his face now pale and stricken with grief.
     "F-Father-..."
     "Katsin. Escort your sisters to Dalaran."
     "What-...why?" He was in shock; he looked as if he might become ill at any moment.
     "Everything will be explained later. You must go, my son. Trust in me." He turned, regarding the younger knight with a stern expression. The bewildered young man scooped up the bundle in the crib and exited the room seconds later.
     "Maris, I-"
     "Silence." The sorcerer held his trembling hands up to his face, turning as to avoid the sight of the lifeless body of his wife.
     "Silence, indeed." Another voice was heard, then. Appearing from a corner of the room as if from out of nowhere, was a man clad in fitted, black leather. "Maris Firestorm, it appears you have slain your wife."
     "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
     "Anar'alah thori Sin'Serrar." As the man spoke, the air in the room seemed to be sucked right out. Everything grew tense, and frigid.
     "What business do you have here? My wife was sick. We had to end her suffering." The man in black walked over to the blood-soaked duchess, touching her face. Maris didn't need to look to see that he was touching her, and it repulsed him.
     "Her grace is as beautiful as they say. It's such a shame that you stole Lord Bloodfury's sword and decided to kill her."
     "Are you deaf? That's not what happened." The knight scoffed and shook his head, looking insulted.
     "I saw what I saw. And what I see, is what everyone else will see. We cannot allow you to continue your research. This shall be a means to that end." Maris confronted the man and turned towards him, enraged.
     "How dare you! Do not come into my home and make such threats to me!"
     "Do not misunderstand. We think that your research is..., important. But you have been unsupervised for far too long." He looked to the knight, then. "Knight of Bloodfury, this man has stolen your sword in order to slay his wife. Her useless state..., angered him, and he decided to lash out at her. You will retrieve your sword and use it to exact vengeance upon the murderer." The knight roared, outraged.
     "What are you saying?"
     "Kill him, and there will be no shame brought upon either of your houses. As far as anyone will know, the duchess was consumed by her illness, and her beloved, in his grief, decided to end his life. You were just an innocent bystander."
     "Never! I will not slay my friend!"
     "Reconsider. Do you want your children to be brought up in houses that areshamed?" A look of panic swept over the sorcerer's face. For a moment, the two friends stared at each other in silence, until the knight pulled the sword from Valora's fallen body.
     "You can't be serious!"
     "He's right, Maris. We have to do this, for the children."
     "Kill him! Kill that-....scoundrel!" He pointed at the man in black. "Kill him!"
     "You know there will be more of them. There is no other way."
     "I have to protect my children!"
     "That's exactly what I'm doing." He lunged at the sorcerer as he retreated against the back wall, seemingly powerless before the knight. He was too overwhelmed to think, or act. Before he could utter a spell, or find a route of escape, he felt cold steel invade his insides and the coppery taste of blood fill his mouth. As Maris' vision blurred, he finally looked to his wife, laying there, blood-soaked on the bed that they had once made beautiful children in. He could say nothing, and everything started to fade. His final thoughts were only of her: her smell, her touch, her beautiful, fiery hair. Memories of her filled his mind, and then they were gone: a candle blown out. 

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