Home.
It felt good to be back in Silvermoon after enduring the harsh winter of Northrend. She clutched her pack holding Fahr’s battered helm and shards from his polearm closely, savoring the tears welling up in her eyes wrought by bringing her beloved home. His soul would finally rest in peace, now. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, illuminating the city with its bright white alabaster walls, gilded archways, and scarlet crystal towers in all of its vivid, colorful glory. Though most had come to associate the elven kingdom of Quel’thalas with autumn due the resplendent foliage of Eversong Woods at that time of year, springtime brought with it a certain detail of liveliness that was unmatched anywhere on Azeroth. A cool crispness filled the air, carrying on it the scent of burning birch wood in intricate hearths to stave off the lingering chill and of budding floral bloom that celebrated the triumph of life over autumn’s harvest and winter’s desolation. Everywhere, birds chirped in delight at the return of spring, giving voice to Eversong Woods and allowing it to sing with a gleeful choir.
Tanthelara crossed the bridge at Silvermoon City’s central gate, keeping to the right of the snow-dusted blight that still scarred the land all these years after Arthas’ march upon the elven kingdom. Memories of the evacuation and persecution under Garithos threatened her mind, but her heart would not allow them to take root - for spring was here, bringing with it joy on even this somber occasion. She smiled at the welcoming, familiar sight of Kael’thas Sunstrider’s statue which greeted all who came into the city, the emeralds representing his signature verdant spheres shimmering in the bright sunlight.
Her first stop would be to check in with the Order of Blood Knights. Though not a knight herself -and hardly a priest, given the Light’s chilling absence- the remains she carried were officially the property of the Order and the Matriarch’s ire was something she dared not provoke. She quietly hoped and prayed that she would be left with something to remember her beloved by, and as soon as the opportunity presented itself, stole away into a small alcove off the main stretch in the Walk of Elders and withdrew a shard of his broken polearm from the pack. Clutching the piece of gilded steel with embedded red crystal, she stuffed it into her scribe’s satchel and, once it became obvious that no one had seen her, continued her journey into Farstriders Square.
Even the imposing hall of the Blood Knights, with its massive gilded statues and black awnings set against alabaster arches took on a more joyful appearance in the bright spring sun. The meticulously manicured hedges proudly displayed their new growth and rustled softly in the breeze as she walked past. The familiar scent of sandalwood incense and polishing oil met her abruptly as she entered the building where her late fiancee’s remains were to likely be interred. With a deep breath, she pushed deeper into the order hall, her footsteps quietly echoing on the polished stone floor and memories of happier times echoing in her mind.
Save for a few knight-errants registering their deeds with the Order, the hall was completely empty. A lone initiate was left to log activity and met Tanthelara at the entrance of the inner sanctum where the naaru M’uru had once been imprisoned. The exchange was quick and efficient, with a tinge of sadness lingering on the young elf’s voice as he learned of the contents the priestess carried. He offered his condolences for her loss and a hug which she politely declined, thanking him for his offer. Apparently he had lost his parents to the Scourge during Arthas’s march across the city and was taken into orphanage by several of the priests who would later found the Blood Knight order, and could certainly empathize with her sense of loss. She quietly grinned at him, her disbelief at the possibility of Liadrin showing such compassion palpable. With her business with the Blood Knights concluded, she thanked the young man and gave him some quick words of encouragement before setting out towards home, her hand resting on the satchel containing the appropriated shards of Fahr’s weapon.
She arrived home a couple of hours later, as the sun had began to sink beneath the city walls, casting the streets in twilight glow mixed with the arcane light of its citizens. A cold chill embraced the air, turning downright frigid as the wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of rain. She carefully tread through the central area of her home, using her arcane acuity to spark illumination in the sconces lining the walls and bathing the room in a warm light as the faint patter of rain began to fill in from outside.
"Oh, this is perfect." she thought to herself, pulling back the heavy linen curtains and opening the shutters to allow the cool, rain-laden air into her home. Tanthelara then moved to the small, decorative stove serving as the chamber’s focal point and lit a fire to knock the chill out of the air.
“Just one more thing…” she quietly said as she prepared a tea pot and set it on the warming stove before turning towards the large cushioned seat that was now getting wet from rain which now blew inside her home, “well, two more things.”
By the time she found a suitable position for her chair - large enough by human standards to be considered a small bed - that was catching the right mixture of warmth from the stove and coolness from dusk’s cool air, her teapot had begun to whistle. She withdrew some dried leaves from their container on a shelf overlooking the stove and tossed them in a pewter cup along with a drizzle of forest honey and topped it all off with the hot water that had now cooled to a slow boil. With her drink in hand, she snuggled herself deep in the seat’s cushions and let loose a heavy sigh. It felt good to be home, and despite her propensity to seek out lounging spots while traveling abroad, nothing was quite as relaxing as a hot drink in one’s own home on a cool and rainy evening. She sipped her tea, alone in her thoughts, recanting happier times and decompressing from the rough days in the frozen lands to the north. As minutes turned to hours, she refilled her cup several times, recollecting everything and working herself through the times both good and bad. The Void sensed the sorrow in her heart as she began to grow drowsy from the late hour, and tickled her ears from within her mind about how it alone could help her.
Too tired to fight, or even care, she endured the Void’s sweet whispers. She listened as it spoke of power and glory, of vengeance against the Scourge and victory over death it could grant her if she would yet yield herself to it. The more she listened, the more tempting it became, bringing her to the edge of surrender if it truly meant retribution for Fahr’s fate - if not his possible salvation. At the precipice of the Void and the madness it would inevitably bring, another voice spoke to her. This one was different, this one was familiar and spoke with authority, its clarion call drowning out the whispers of the void with a thunderous yet benevolent presence. Could it be…? Outside, the rain storm grew into an intense refrain before fading back into a gentle shower, as if in reaction to what was happening in Tanthelara’s heart and mind.
"The Light never abandons its champions" the voice, now faint, spoke like a peal of thunder in the distance. Though her mind began to fill with questions about the events leading to Fahr’s fall, there was a serenity that swelled within her, bringing with it a reassurance she had not felt since prior to that fateful day. With this newfound knowledge assuaging the sorrow within her heart, the priestess allowed herself to finally succumb to slumber’s velvety embrace. Spring had indeed come, bringing with it the winds of change.
((thanks to all who read these. hope you enjoy!))