It was voices that stirred the young elf awake, hushed as they came from the room next door. A buzz, an annoyance. Even her ever inquisitive nature was not enough to spring a desire to hold onto them. Warm blankets embraced her on top of soft sheets bearing a sweet fragrance of lavender which covered the distant stench she would not presently be aware of. Celysiel shoved her face into the pillow, arms stretching to embrace it so she could fall back asleep past the mumbling.
"... no time to take anything. Wayward forces report that they advance at a rapid pace."
Yet in spite of her desires, it was impossible not to perk an ear as the voice of Master Duskward was heard. What time was it? He could not be there at night. Had she slept all through the morning? Her eyelids trembled, but they felt to heavy to be lifted.
"The walls of the city will not fall." the voice of Miss Everbrook, her caretaker, echoed soon after. She was not meant to be there either; nights were spent at her house since she lived next door. Yet her visits were scarce when Celysiel's parents were in the city, for she was not needed then.
"I was at the walls." Master Duskward spoke again. "The smell of decay stretches as far as there. Villages are evacuated, people are trying to escape in the city. We must be ready just in case."
"And go where?" Dyandria's voice followed, a sweet melody even if it was painted by worry. "If what you say is true-"
"We will unite with the guards. If needed I can protect us. But we must go, right now."
"We cannot move Celysiel." her mother protested for once more. A hollow sound was heard from beyond the wall; someone had struck the table. "She has been ill for days, her health-"
"Dyandria." Riordan's voice, in contrast to that of his wife, was calm. "Prepare something for the girl. I will take her."
Hearing her name almost awakened the once sleeping elf fully. With yet another tremble, her eyes finally opened. Amidst the haze, the ache of her head and risen temperature were nothing but additional torment, one that she had been used to all her life thus far. Years ago, the conversation with her father on their way to the Windrunner Village had not proven to be in her favour - childhood had been set behind, yet disease remained. As her sight adjusted slowly, it was not the blinding sunlight which greeted her through the window, but the soft rays of the moon bathing figures wandering outside of her window in disarray. The city of Silvermoon was awake late at night. But why?
"You cannot, that will endanger you both. She is no longer a child, she is shaping to become a woman." Dyandria protested.
"I can have her levitate by us." Master Duskward offered, but another slam followed against the table, this one louder than before. Perhaps performed by a stronger hand.
"That is my daughter!" Riordan's growl stunned Celysiel under the sheets. She pulled them over her head, not daring to move. Never before had she heard her father yell. "I will not let her float around like she is some kind of belonging for those beasts to jump at her. I will take her and will accept nothing less. Do you understand?"
For a moment there was silence, which only broke by Master Duskward's voice, ever stern and ever low. "As you wish. Give her this. She need not see what is coming."
"What of the dosage?"
"All of it." the arcanist replied. "Two days. If needed, we will administer another. You understand, correct, Ashfury?" the man asked. "If we are to fall, this will at least be mercy for the girl."
Dyandria barely held back a cry. Miss Everbrook was heard sobbing. But Riordan's voice echoed clear, hard as steel. "I understand."
"Prepare then." Duskward spoke. "Time is not on our side."
Sets of footsteps were heard at the other room, approaching; it was not long until the clicking of the girl's bedroom was heard. Celysiel lowered the sheets, finding no one but her parents at the threshold. Behind them, Master Duskward and Miss Everbook were whispering to each other, the latter rather shaken. Dyandria granted her daughter a small smile, before making her way to the chest where clothes and blankets were kept. Riordan however approached the bed. A vial of moderate size was held in his hand, the azure liquid within sparkling under the moonlight.
"Did we wake you up, sparrow?" he asked, trying to wear his usual smile. He could not; Celysiel could see the wrinkles of a hidden frown over his nose, the fear in blue his eyes. "Mum and I are sorry about that."
She kept looking at him, ears wilted. Never before had she seen her father like that. "Dad, what is happening? Why is everyone here? Why are people on the streets?"
He looked at his wife first, then the window. "This? It is nothing to worry about, I promise." He raised the vial, carefully removing the cork. Unlike Dyandria's hands as she was removing a thick blanket from the chest, his hands were not trembling. They were all too stiff, though moving with precision. "Master Duskward brought a new medicine for you. It will help you sleep and when you are awake, you will be well again. I promise."
For two days.
A glance of disbelief was cast at the vial. Her fingers remained away from it as Riordan extended it. Suspicion was a rare sentiment for the girl, fear even more so. Now it squeezed her chest as much as her disease did, making it hard to breathe.
"Dad..."
Riordan shook his head. He looked around for a moment, before stretching to the nearby table, recovering a heavy object. The silver shone beneath the moon's radiance as the hairbrush, gifted at the girl only months ago, exchanged hands. She held it close, for no other of her belongings was as dear. "Do you trust me, Celysiel?"
She nodded softly out of instinct; it was simple. Riordan caressed her cheek, then held out the vial.
"Drink. All of it. Dad will be with you until you awaken. I will never leave you."
And so she did. The vial was recovered by trembling hands, brought on discoloured lips. Swallowing proved to be difficult, but the girl drank without stopping to a single breath. With every sip, she could feel her body heavier. A sweet numbness was enveloping mind and body alike. Once the vial was lowered, it slipped from her hands. She fell forward, caught by her father's arms. His warmth, his heartbeat, both could be felt as he embraced her tightly.
"Mum and dad will always love you, little sparrow." he whispered. Someone screamed something in the background, but the girl could no longer hear. Her last waking memory was of her father's voice promising. "Mum and dad will always be by your side."
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