by Karnya
(( This is actually a story of Mordria. ))
The sea was a violence of movement in every direction. Huge waves pummeled a little boat as it was drawn inevitably closer to the center of the sea and a hole which reached into the depths of the world. A tiny Quel’Dorei clutched desperately to the side, her white hair plastered to the side of her face. The roaring of the wind drowning out her chants as she hastily threw out warding and protection spells for the small boat. Large white haloes of light surrounded her and the craft but were soon extinguished as wave after wave pounded into them, threatening to drag them down. In the distance the horizon pulsed with an ugly purple light as the maelstrom and its whirling depths loomed ever closer. The elf closed her eyes; she began to mutter a prayer as around her the boards which had suffered so much that day began to break apart.
“Dearest Azshara…I invoke thy name…do not forsake me…your gentle servant…bathe me in your light…Dearest Dath’Remar…I invoke thy name…your gentle servant…bathe me in your light…”
The motion of the craft deceptively began to smooth out as it was drawn into the outermost edges of the vortex. The elf rolled onto her side to look down into the water. She could see a great shape rising from the depths. A great Leviathan, the ruler of these depths, an old god sent to judge those foolish enough to wander here was fast approaching.
Mordria awoke from her nightmare, jolting upright in bed. Her hand came to her breast as she tried to regain control of her breathing. She looked around. This was her room. A tiny space reserved for her on the uppermost floor of the Grim guildhall. But something still wasn’t right, she could feel it. Like a whisper in the back of her mind. She felt cold, so very cold. She reached in the darkness towards the table next to her bed. Fumbling with a tinder box for a few moments, she succeeded in producing a flame. She lit the lamp and turned up the wick. Then froze, something was very wrong. Her hand was gone. In its place was only shadows and darkness. She slowly drew back the covers. Her entire body seemed to be missing; only a purplish haze in the outline of her form remained.
Mordria Morningstar, once a High Cleric of the Sunstrider Army, threw back her head and began to scream.