It was not truly silent in the woods surrounding the village of Fairbreeze, even if many claimed this to be the case. Peace had nothing to do with silence. The untrained ear could perhaps dismiss the subtle sounds of the forest as nothingness. The gentle breeze shaking the leaves, the bugs and their wonderful melody. Silver moonlight reaches towards the buildings made of marble, so soft and clear that they nearly felt tangible. Few would care to notice, of course. Even fewer would remember that moment as something significant.
Rielena's promise to her mother had been broken twice that night; she had first claimed that she would not leave her bed, nor open the heavy window, but the mischievous child had done both. How could she hope to resist the beauty of the night? What the ears of an adult could not hear, the imagination of a young soul could find. Lillipute creatures living into fresh blooms, dressing themselves with rosy petals and building their kindgoms in lilies. They tasted the morning dew by capturing it in fragile spheres that they suck from their grasp. Though they looked like Blood Elves, their eyes were golden like that priest that Rielena had seen, the one blessed by the Sunwell.
From time to time, the little child imagined that these beings would grow at the size of elves and join their communities. They would run into the forest at night, calling out the denizens of the Kingdom in order to join them. As it was clear, it did not take long for someone so young and naive to believe her own fairytale. It was among her hopes every night that she would climb on the window to hear the calling of these creatures. Little did she know that a voice she would indeed hear the first morning hours.
It was a miracle that she had managed to stay awake in order to hear it. Loud though it was, Rielena could tell it was coming from far away. Just a couple of hours away from dawn, the remnants of moonlight now danced through the canopies to reveal for the young elf a distant figure dressed in white, with alabaster locks dancing behind her as she ran between the trees.
Such was the little elf's surprise, that she did not immediately notice that the woman under the twilight was calling out something. A single word. It did not sound a lot like Rielena's name, but who else could it be? She left the window happily, her little ears flailing as she ran towards her parents' room.
"Mum! Mum!" she called out upon entering to hop on the bed. It seemed larger without her father in it, but he had recently been called away to fight and, as his daughter knew, do all the other things that heroes do. Her mother quite often fell asleep with his pillow in her embrace. Tonight was no different. Tired eyes opened at the sound of Rielena's voice.
"What is-... Is your father-..."
But the girl simply shook her head and to the window she headed, opening it. "One of the ladies living in the flowers! She came for me, she did! They are real, look, look!" she exclaimed, pointing outside of the window.
Her mother sleepily rose, reaching for the window. But there was nowhere to be seen below, no voice calling to her daughter or anywhere else. She shook her head in her attempt to shut the trasparent drapes. "You had promised me something." she reminds her daughter. "Go back to your room and no more staying awake by the window."
"But... But mum... She... She was there..." the little one cried. However there was nothing to be seen outside. Only the trees laughing at her own folly. As she returned to her room, Rielena could not help but go back to the memory of the flower lady's voice, wondering if she was right in thinking that something had made the wanderer of the night so sad.
***
Anythas Silverleaf had never in his life met little Rielena, nor did he possess an imagination as rich as the little girl's that lived away from Silvermoon. In the city he lived, managing a small shop that had passed to him by his father, who had long now fallen to the Scourge. If his unfound body had now become one with the earth, or if it was wandering among the mindless living dead of the Scar, Anythas chose not to think. He preferred to remember his beloved father like he knew him and keep him alive through the shop that had once been all his dreams and hopes. It had already been destroyed once, but in the new Silvermoon, the city built atop the ruins of the old, he had named the new shop 'Tirelas' Books' and always kept the shelves full with treasures of knowledge.
This morning had initially promised to be like every other one. Just an hour after dawn and unlike several elves who preferred later hours for their awakening, Anythas was already opening his shop. The customers that had visited were not interested in books however, which was acceptable. Most were looking for more paper, or new ink. Even if those strangers potentially did not know each other, they shared the same purpose. They wished to write to a loved one at war, as they all confessed to the smiling shopkeeper, who was always eager to assist them.
The sunlight had nearly reached its zenith when the bell of the door was heard. Noon it may have been, but Anythas was not really expecting several customers until the evening. Those who had business to tend to came early in the morning. Those who desired to lose themselves into a good story escaped their chores just a few hours before he was ready to close. Nor would he ever expect that such an individual would step into his shop. The woman did not seem well, neither in health nor sanity. She was still in her sleeping clothes that were dirty and just a little torn, as if she had been running into bushes and among trees for hours.
Anythas was not certain whether it would be proper to send her away and inform the guards, or assist her. For reasons beyond him, the choice was made to do the latter. Remaining calm and composed, he held onto the counter and focused on the woman. She was young and seemed confused even by her surroundings. A part of him however told him that he knew her. Yes. Was she not the one usually dressed in black, interested in history and mysteries? It had been a while since he last saw her and would never expect to see her under such circumstances. He tilted his head to the side, but was robbed by the chance to speak as she did so first.
"I need a map."
What there was to note about her voice is that it sounded weak and strangled, that of one screaming, or weeping for hours. Anythas decided that it was not his business. He gestured towards the white-haired woman and nodded. "We have a wide range of maps of Azeroth." he replied, wishing he could have of worlds beyond it. "Would you be interested in a specific area?"
Wrapping her arms around her frail form, her customer nodded. "I need a map of Azsuna." she managed to utter. If any attempts were made from her to contain her trembling, they had failed.
Anythas felt the wilt of his ears upon realising that such was a request he could not grant. Several had been interested in the Broken Isles, but there were not many to have charted the area, mostly soldiers and Magisters. As the designs of areas such as Azsuna, Suramar, Stormheim were spreadng across the shops of the Royal Exchange, were the goods were finer, shopkeepers like Anythas found the chance to receive such goods rare. He presently had no map of Azsuna. He would not any time soon. "I am afraid I cannot offer you such a map in less than three weeks." he responded to her request. "Perhaps I could recomment some other shops, but I am not certain if their prices are affordable."
The woman shook her head, as if she knew that she could not find enough money to make the purchase from where nobles bought their goods. That would of course be the least of her problems. Looking as if she had been rolling into dirt, Anythas doubted that they would even let her in their buildings. "Three weeks will be too late." she lamented. "Far too late."
Perhaps he took pity in her, in the way that she lowered her head and seemed as if she was about to cry. "One week." he added quickly, so not to taste her tears. "I will do my best to see to it reaching you in one week give or take... Maybe a day or two more, but sooner than three weeks."
It did not seem to please her either. "It will be too late." she repeated and drew the sleeve of her sleeping gown to her face, only smudging it further with dirt. "Yet one week it shall be... Thank you."
He had the chance to add nothing else. Just as abruptly as she had enterred, the pale woman turned around and opened the door to depart, leaving him with an extended hand and words meant to stop her that were never uttered. Anythas was left hollow and torn looking at her, only now, as she was moving away, noticing that she was heavily limping.
***
It had been since early in the morning that Solera had been sitting in front of the open door of the Ashfury family, wondering what had happened to the residents of the house. She had woken up to buy some milk for her son, when she saw that the door of her neighbours' house was wide open, as was young Celysiel's window. After having called the name of the girl however and then stepping inside, Solera found neither Rilothan's daughter, nor the young man that had been living with her the last few months. What was more, it was disturbing to find the door of one of the bedrooms shut, with a door placed under the knob, so to prevent whoever was inside from escaping. When the chair was removed though and the door opened, no one was inside. Just satchels and an unused bed on which her neighbour slept a long time ago, a covered mirror and the open window.
Solera had sent her husband to see to the household chores, so she could stay and guard the Ashfury home. She did not even dare to close the door, or touch anything further than the chair she had removed and the door she had opened. What she was waiting for was not known to her. Perhaps a sign that not a greater tragedy had hit the unfortunate girl who had only months ago lost her parents. That she had not now, over the fit of a burglar, lost her life as well.
It was late in the morning that a young man came, asking for Miss Ashfury, but Miss Ashfury was still nowhere to be found. He claimed to have a package for her. It would be kind of Solera, he claimed, if she could sign to take the package from his hands. And sign she did, daring not open it. If anything, it had reminded the woman that the present day was the one that her neighbour should have been celebrating rather than being a mystery, for she was becoming one year older.
Hour later and into the afternoon, Solera had still not given up her post, though was meant to soon be rewarded. The limping figure of a frail elf was seen approaching in the distance; that alone was enough to tell the woman that something was amiss. No proper lady would wander in her sleeping dress, nor would have it torn and smudged in brown dirt. Instantly did she stand to approach the apprentice.
Upon doing so, what was there for her to realise was that Celysiel's eyes were blank, but the skin around them red. She had wept, what for was unknown. More were Solera's questions, but the only one asked was a gentle "Miss Ashfury?"
Celysiel barely turned to her direction. Solera was certain that the girl would fall. "All is well, Mrs Sunblossom. All is well." she mumbled.
"Are you certain? If I can-"
"All is well." she repeated wearily, heading towards the door. "All is well."
She only stopped by the door to look at the package that Solera had set by it, the one she had not opened. The expression of her neighbour was hidden as locks as pale as snow draped her features, but for some reason the woman could sense the pain the package had caused.
"It came for you." Solera explained, before adding. "Happy... Happy birthday, Miss Ashfury."
These words seemed bring a shiver to the young elf's form. Without uttering a word, Celysiel picked up the package and entered her house, never lookinmg behind her.
She did not even thank Solera for all she had done, but the woman's own care was that someone was mourning and that pain she could not ease.
***
The door closed behind the apprentice. Behind was left the Rielena with the great imagination, Anythas with his desire to preserve his father's dreams and the helpful Solera that only wished to aid others. They were but ghosts, meaningless individuals on a greater stage, the main character of which had long departed, leaving but sorrow at his wake.
Finally alone and without the eyes of meaningless passer-bys, Celysiel was free to succumb to her weakness and collapse against the door. Just for a while and then she would make her way to the Sanctum, where those trusted needed to be notified. But first something else demanded her attention.
It felt like a parody to be presented by the package Thaelen had promised would arrive the day of her birthday, the day they were meant to celebrate together and set all sorrows behind rather than taste them. Back in the Sanctum, she was begging him to let her know what it contained, toying with the idea of him sending her amphibians and arachnids, though never truly believing he would. There it was now, right before her. If curiosity had two days ago made her look forward to receiving it, she did not desire to have it now, not without the one behind it. It was however the only link still remaining with the man she so loved. That she could not ignore.
Slender digits lifted the lid of the package. A sweet, floral scent greeted the grieving elf, though the sight could not be more painful. Flowers were the first gift she had ever received by Thaelen, now flowers he gave her as he was imprisoned by a number and the Inquisitor's slave and whether she would see the man she loved and not the weapon within was unknown. The colours of their petals could not be rivaled, their beauty unmatched. And a card was sitting on the long, green stems, with only two words written: Your Sun.
Tears unbidden welled up in Celysiel's eyes as she lowered herself to the cold floor, taking the package in her embrace. She wished to mourn for the love that she had lost and the birthday that she had dared dream of, but most of all for every single one of these six dreams that had broken her, even if not more than the man who had left their residence to embrace a fate worse than death the moment dreams faded into reality.
Comments