Violet clouds of arcane residue danced on the sky above the unsuspecting citizens of the land of eternal summer who were right to dismiss the sight as nothing more than the effect of their homeland's magic, a beautiful sight which painted the sky, the very canvas of a large, full moon. Under those very clouds archivist Alendis walked with a soft smile on his kind features and two books against his armpit. With the fading twilight, a pleasant day was slowly coming to an end.
Kelieren felt the caress of the gentle breeze during his stroll as the noisy city of Silvermoon was left behind for the favour of Eversong. There was no need to fasten his pace, even if his newly purchased small home, gift of an annonymous benefactor, lay not far from the village of Fairbreeze. It was a beautiful evening, thus deserved to be savoured.
He took the path journey many a time in order to reach his destination, rather than select an alternative route through the woods. It would perhaps not be safe to cross the Dead Scar away from the wandering guards' gaze even after all these years, nor would there be a point for a detour, since the river would force him to seek the bridge regardless. Thus the patrol was eventually met and a gentle bow of the head offered, though never returned. The archivist was not bothered. He was in good spirits.
The remnants of sunlight took their time in waning, lighting the Sin'dorei's way for a while longer. Soft, amber rays may have been absent, but their general illumination was present in the atmosphere. Shadows of objects became blurry; a creative mind could think that they were stretching outwards to cover the land in an infinite shroud of night-time. And since Kelieren's mind was such, his smile grew wider as he was entertained by the thought. Something foul shined in his eyes with evil intent, but it was nothing more than just a false visual impression.
At his passing, the bushes framing the road shivered gently, but having no trace of paranoia within him, archivist Alendis did not mind. Critters often enough strayed close to the road - would a rabbit leap out of the overgrowth to hastily cross to the other side, or would it be afraid to perform such a daring act close to a sentient being? Kelieren at least had no fear. Not of what lingered in the dark.
When the bridge was eventually reached, the golden colours of dusk had long given their place to a bleakness of magenta. Yet here they were, the first glistening dots one could spot through the canopies if they looked long enough, stars heralding the coming of yet another night, playing their part in the endless cycle of never-ending time. Under their glare the man stepped on the wooden construction, stealing a glimpse of the crystal waters below to find leaves and petals floating on the surface, converging near the shore.
Once he stepped off the bridge, the time for a detour was finally upon him. There was no reason for him to waltz into Fairbreeze after all, even if he had promised himself some seasoned lynx meat to go with the delicious wine waiting for him at home. Alas, the beverage he so loved would have to be savoured without appetizers. His hand reached into a pocket in search for his large key as his residence's dark silhouette made its appearance on the horizon.
It was a small house set just below a small hill, overlooking the river rather poorly due to being surrounded by several trees. The building was rather new, put together in the short notice of very few months. The public may have been unaware of the commissioner's identity, but as long as Kelieren vouched for his nameless benefactor, there was no need for suspicion. The Sin'dorei had become quite dear after all, his touching story of being the sole survivor from the destruction of the Ravenfall estate. He was kind and efficient, helpful and had never given any ground for doubt.
He was out of breath when he finally reached the front door, but his smile remained as he bid the outdoors goodnight. The door opened with a gentle click of his key and the man soon slid inside the main chamber of the house, closing the door behind him. There was no reason to lock. Kelieren had no fear. Not of what lingered in the dark.
For that reason, just a small candle was lit, lingering to a shelf close to the door. He also deposited the key there and moved deeper in the house with a sigh. The dining and resting area had been one, for that had been the interior designer's will in order to make the best use of the little space offered. He rested his books on the table and reached for a glass from one of the shelves, before popping open a bottle of red wine. His lord's favourite. Gracefully, with the patience such wonderful alcohol drink deserved, the man filled the glass, but did not put the bottle away. Perhaps he could allow himself the small gift of intoxication for once. He surely deserved as much after all.
Kelieren felt the fruity sweetness at the first sip and closed his eyes. The beverage had been made at a good year and was lucky enough to have survived the Fall. At that moment of celebration, the archivist reached for his pouch, his free hand sinking within as he stood over the table. A single item resided there. He pulled out his heavy trophy to look at it with a wry smirk curling on his lips. The heavy brush of silver had once belonged to Celysiel Ashfury, whose initialls were inscribed on the back. Alas, the foolish girl would have use of it no more. Once his lord was done with her, no memory of the apprentice would remain in Quel'thalas. And once the master was done with all, no memory would remain in this crumbling world at all.
A sigh escaped his lips, before he decided to commemorate the moment of triumph with yet another sip. As the crimson liquid caressed his lips, a rustling sound was heard from behind his back. But he did not turn. After all, Kelieren had no fear. Not of ewhat lingered in the dark.
How wrong he was.
When he came to, the first thing to alarm his senses was a sharp pain at the back of his head. Tears were activated fast enough due to the stimulus, blurring his vision before anything could be made out. Kelieren tried to move his arms and legs, only to realise that he was seated, but not bound. Little good did that do. Before he could put them to use, something collided against his stomach harshy. Something blunt.
Grunting, the archivist fell forward, but a hand grabbed his golden mane hashly to pull him backwards. It was not long after that the hit was repeated, this time finding his jaw. He felt his teeth crush against his tongue, the bitter taste of blood flooding his mouth and lips.
"Don't you even think of pulling any tricks on me." a woman's voice spoke from the blur. "We are having a nice chat here."
And with these words, she hit him again, giving no rest. Kelieren coughed.
"Era... Ni..."
Eranice Starveil cut him off with another strike on his face. He felt something cold, metallic, collide with his cheek.
"I am doing the talking here." she growled, pulling his head further back as she leaned over him. "Where is the orb?"
This time, she did not hit him, perhaps wise enough to understand that he could provide no answers by receiving constant blows. The pain refused to abandon him, but as the tears washed away, his vision was restored. He was face to face with the brunette, the most typical and unremarkable woman he had ever known when it came to appearance, though her skill in battle and cunning mind could be matched by few. Behind her, two masked individuals stood. It mattered not that they were all Sin'dorei. Every single elf in this room was loyal to the same Ren'dorei.
"What is this?" he asked, his speech slightly slurred. "I delivered it. To Emberdale, I delivered-..."
The woman pulled his head back a little further, sending waves of pain at his skull. Beneath her bent form, his fingers were tempted into a fist... Alas, he knew better than to act. She did not seem to notice.
"You better be a fool, rather than a traitor." she hissed into his face. "Where is Emberdale?"
His eyes suddenly widened. "What-"
Giving him no time, Erance sent her fist against his stomach again. The archivist wheezed and coughed some of the blood welling up in his mouth.
"Where is Emberdale?" the woman asked again sternly.
"I don't know!" he exclaimed. "She had the lord's gem! I gave her the orb, I know nothing else!" His breath was heightened. "Did she steal it?"
Her expression told him everything that he needed to know. A twist of shame fueling rage. He was punched again, but surprisingly took pleasure in it, as long as it confirmed Twinveil's anguish. He was not the only traitor after all. "She betrayed Lord Ravenfall's trust." Eranice growled. "That wretched-"
But in the moment of her outburst, Kelieren seized the chance. Almost liquid in appearance, a tendril of shadow was born from his clenched fingers, wrapped around the woman's wrist. She tried to break away, but that only tightened the grasp. Behind her, the two elves unsheathed their blades. Kelieren did not react to them.
"So you dare" he spat out, sending drops of blood on her face. "blame me for Magister Ravenfall's mistake?" She tried to raise her hand again, covered by a thin layer of metal, but his other hand rose to block her. "You dare question my loyalty?" There was nothing left from his once pleasant self. Something sinister grew on his face. "For as I seem to remember, I killed that hag, Ravenfall's sister." he seethed. "I was the one to capture and bring him the girl."
Eranice struggled, evidently in pain. As the two men behind her seemed to make a move, Kelieren pushed her back, always keeping her bound by the shadow tendril, to rise on his feet, a little unstable. "It seems I should be the one asking, you filthy wretch."
A torrent of shadow caused a blast which sent all three individuals at the other side of the room, colliding against the wall. The tendril faded, the dark energy returning to the hand of the one bloodied man who had not been affected by the wave. Trembling, he stepped closer to the three grunting and sitting at broken glass. With the corner of his eye, he caught his favourite trophy, the hairbrush stained by the lovely wine he had not properly enjoyed. For some reason, the sight infuriated him.
Another blast shook the house as the rush of dark energies sought the fallen three, who had no chance to protect themselves, or cover from the archivist's wrath. Foolish henchmen, all of them. He had to take matters to his own hands before all his struggles fell to ruin.
"Now then." Kelieren uttered with clarity as he looked above the elves, bloodied, unkempt and dreadful. A swirl of amethyst essence manifested above the figits of his right hand, which were caging the power, feeding it with the rage that he felt. A fading whisper echoed in the atmosphere, far from one's impression. "Let me be the one to ask."
His voice was sweet just before he unleashed the bolt against Eranice, who reached for her sword in vain, grunting. He stepped on her hand and calmly, pleasantly even, asked a simple question.
"Where is Ethalis Emberdale?"
Comments