Grim Views

Part One - The Scourge

Silvermoon burned.

The most beautiful city in the world was in ruins, its streets controlled by regiments of the reanimated dead. The stench of carrion hung heavy in the air, the screams of the dying drowned out only by the roar of magical explosions. The high elven army was in tatters, the enemy being reinforced by every casualty the defenders suffered. There was hope though, as the stronger battlements surrounding the royal quarter held strong, providing a bastion for the elves to regroup and hold strong. Silvermoon would survive.

That was small comfort to the Quel'dorei trapped on the far side of the Scourge army.

Quindel Blazestone was a magister of the city, heir to a bloodline that claimed some of the most powerful fire mages in elven history. Unlike many of Silvermoon's elite families, the Blazestones had built their estate away from the city's centers of power - the royal palace and arcane academies - opting instead for the quieter outskirts of the city. At this time he cursed his ancestors' lack of foresight, and his own, never imagining that Silvermoon's walls could be breached by an enemy army. Now he and his family were surrounded by Scourge minions, a tiny island of resistance against the sea of evil. His wife Delaria, a powerful mage in her own right, stood by his side to defend their children. Her ice spells froze the undead in their tracks, his fire spells incinerated their walking corpses. It was clear though that their fight was slowly reaching its end; already, a seige engine had demolished the eastern wall of the mansion, and both mages were running out of magical energy.

Malethia Blazestone hid under her parents' bed by her father's order, a dagger clenched tightly in her hand. Her younger brother Melos lay beside her, trembling and wide-eyed with fear. Both siblings stared out the ruins of the demolished wall at their parents fighting desperately to protect them. Suddenly, a hellish scream filled the air, and all the combatants looked up. Malethia's breath caught in her throat as a blazing boulder was launched from a catapult toward the mansion's roof. Malethia stared at her father, her eyes pleading. Quindel turned, his mouth starting to form the components of a spell.

Malethia could only watch in horror as the blade of a sword thrust out from the middle of her father's chest. Then all was chaos as the siege missile hit, sending the roof crashing down in a hail of massive chunks of flaming stone. The last thing she saw was a supernatural blizzard raining down upon the Scourge soldiers, then her world became only fire and darkness...

Malethia came to some time later, barely able to breathe from the weight of the bed atop her. It had protected her from the collapsing roof, but only just. She winced as she realized her right arm was blistered from the magically heated stone that had just missed hitting her. Regaining her senses, she tried to call out to her brother, but the weight on her chest cut off her voice. She reached out to her left, where Melos had been hidden.

Her hand stopped on the smooth surface of her broken roof.

Malethia frantically began feeling around, praying to the Light that her sweet innocent brother had found a hole within the debris much as she had. Her searching stopped when her hand found a puddle of liquid oozing out from where her brother had been. Malethia brought her fingers to her nose and sniffed, begging whatever power could hear her that she was wrong. She wasn't - a sickening smell like copper indicated that the pool of liquid was blood. Her brother's blood. Overwhelmed by despair as crushing as the ruins of her home, Malethia passed out.

As she dreamed, waiting for death to take her, Malethia learned to hate. Most of all she hated the Scourge, but they were not the only culprits in these events. No, the humans were to be blamed as well, for in the high elves' hour of greatest need, the human armies were nowhere to be seen. They had forsaken the ancient alliance, had sacrificed the Quel'dorei to buy themselves more time to defend their own lands. In the darkness of her tomb, Malethia swore terrible oaths of vengeance, rejecting the Light and all it stood for. Her soul would find a way to bring death to the humans, just as they had helped bring death to her people.

Malethia suddenly bolted upright, gasping for air. She was no longer trapped under rubble; someone had brought her to a small white room, dressed her wounds, and had apparently been giving her nourishment as evidenced by the half-empty glass of nectar beside her bed. As she tried to regain her senses, a hurried nurse dashed into the room. "Lady Blazestone! You've awoken, this is joyous news!" The nurse rushed out of the room before Malethia could ask questions of her. A few minutes later she returned, joined by a friend of her father's.

"Malethia, it is good to see you survived the battle. You were barely alive when our trackers sensed your lifeforce under the ruins of your home. At least some joy has emerged from that dark day." Magister Duskwither walked into the room, standing beside Malethia's bed and smiling down on her. Malethia could see the sadness in his eyes though, and knew the implications his words carried. "My family?"

"Your mother and brother are buried in your family's plot on Sunstrider Isle. Your father...was not recovered. His whereabouts and condition are unknown, and our best scrying attempts have failed to find the answer. Malethia...I'm sorry."

Rage burned in the young elf's eyes. "Magister - I want them to pay. The Scourge, the humans, every single being that caused the death of my family, the death of so many of our people. Tell me how, tell me how to become a weapon bringing death and destruction to all our foes. That is all I have left to live for."

The magister nodded grimly. "Then you, as your father before you and his father before him, shall become a master of flame magic. I shall teach you to carry on the Blazestone name, and you will purify this world in the name of Silvermoon. Welcome to the blood elves, Malethia Blazestone."

Part 2 - Failure of Flame

"You must FOCUS, Blazestone! Envision your hate as a flame within your mind. Then, summon it forth into your palm, and strike your foe down with it. Begin!" Magister Duskwither stepped away from the spell-reactive target dummy, giving his student a clear field of fire.

Malethia closed her eyes, taking her thoughts back to the Seige of Silvermoon. Her anger grew as she remembered the Scourge, watching her mother and father fall, her desperate prayer of vengeance. The fire grew in her mind, and thus in her hand. She allowed it to grow, and drew her arm back in preperation of throwing the fireball forward.

Suddenly, a hellish scream filled the air, and all the combatants looked up. Malethia's breath caught in her throat as a blazing boulder was launched from a catapult toward the mansion's roof. Malethia stared at her father, her eyes pleading. Quindel turned, his mouth starting to form the components of a spell...

Malethia flinched mentally as a cry of fear escaped her lips; her control was lost just long enough for the growing fireball to explode in a shower of embers. Duskwither cursed as he patted out several catches in his robes. "Malethia! You lost focus yet again! You cannot hold anything in your mind except the spell you are casting!"

"The child's focus is not the issue, Magister Duskwither. Indeed, she is one of the most gifted apprentices I've ever seen." Malethia hastened to bow with the proper deference as Magister Bloodsworn walked into the room, having entered unseen by either teacher or student.

"Astalor, I was not expecting you." Duskwither looked back at Malethia. "She is talented, this is true. She has already mastered the basic cantrips, but cannot manage a simple fireball spell. I admit that I am still learning how to be a teacher of magics, perhaps you can demonstrate the proper techniques?"

Bloodsworn shook his head, kneeling down to look Malethia in the eyes. "No, Duskwither, you are a more than capable teacher. I'm afraid that young Blazestone here suffered unimaginable trauma during the fall of Silvermoon. No amount of discipline or training can overcome the fear that has been imprinted in her mind." Bloodsworn stood, and sighed heavily. "Malethia, I'm afraid I must expel you from the academy. You will never be able to become a mage."

"NO!" Malethia cried out angrily, then blushed as she composed herself from her outburst. "Magister, I beg you! I must become a mage, and carry on my father's legacy. I must serve Silvermoon, and avenge our people against our enemies!"

"You will be allowed the chance to serve your people, Malethia. A vengeful spirit such as yours could never be wasted in mundane tasks. You will be a soldier for your people, Blazestone, but not as a mage. Come with me, child, I have a new acquisition I wish to show you..."

Part 3 - Taking Back the Light

Magister Bloodsworn strde purposefully through Silvermoon, young Malethia close behind but struggling to keep up with the mage's pace. The city was still mostly in ruins; only a few major streets had been cleared of rubble. The buildings in the Royal Quarter were nearly complete; despite the widespread issue of homelessness, it was widely accepted that rebuilding the grandest structures of the city first was important if only to show the world that the Sin'dorei were bowed but not beaten. Still, it was a slow process - the original city had been built with the aid of the Sunwell's power. Such was not possible now.

Bloodsworn stopped in front of a rare intact building, which remained empty despite it suitability as a shelter. The former Temple of Light had remained standing throughout the Scourging, the holy energy infusing its structure preventing the undead hordes from even approaching it. However, the Sin'dorei had forsaken the Light soon after, as it had forsaken them, and its temple was abandoned shortly thereafter. Malethia looked up in confusion at her escort. "I don't understand, Magister. You want me to join the priesthood? I thought it had been dissolved when their powers were lost."

"No, Malethia...I have much more planned for you than that. Come with me, I have something to show you." The pair walked over to a neighboring building, seemingly condemned, where Bloodsworn made a series of taps upon a boarded up door. Malethia stepped back in surprise when a nearby wall slid open, revealing stairs leading below street level. "Come child, your destiny awaits you in the chamber below." Bloodsworn waved his hand, and a light-shedding cantrip was placed upon his staff.

After descending the winding stairs and making their way through a maze of corridors, the two entered a wide circular chamber. Malethia stopped in her tracks and stared at the incredible sight before her; Bloodsworn grinned at her reaction as if he had expected it. The chamber was lined with balconies from which a virtual army of mages frantically worked and cast spells. All their attention, like Malethia's, was focused upon the creature in the middle of the room - an enormous being of luminesence, seemingly composed of pure light in varying shapes that rotated about its 'body'.

The magister allowed Malethia a few moments to take in the sight, then regained her attention with an annoyed clearing of his throat. "This, young Blazestone, is a manifestation of the very Light we used to follow. It has identified itself as M'uru, of a race called the Naaru. It is a gift from Prince Sunstrider to his people, to be used as a source of power for a very special project I've designed..." Bloodsworn gestured at a woman on the far side of the room, angrily berating a number of men around her. "Lady Liadrin, please join me for a moment!"

As the Lady walked over Malethia could sense the power emenating from her. "Magister...her power? It's the same as the creature's isn't it?" Bloodsworn nodded. "You remember the human paladins who allowed one of their own to fall so far as to become Master of the Scourge, do you not? Well, I have decided that the best way to gain our vengeance on the Alliance is to steal their most powerful weapon for ourselves. Malethia Blazestone, meet Lady Liadrin."

The Lady looked down at Malethia with a critical eye. "This is the child you told me so much about?" Bloodsworn nodded as Liadrin continued to look Malethia over much like a farmer purchasing a horse. "She is useless to me - and now that she has seen our secret, she cannot be allowed to speak of it to outsiders." Liadrin turned to a pair of guards hidden in the shadows of the room. "Guards! See to this child's demise, and dispose of the body so that none may know her fate."

Malethia felt her world crumble. How could she allow her life to end like this? How could she allow the death of her family to go unpunished? As the guards grabbed her by the shoulders and started dragging her away, Malethia cried out. "My Lady, I beg a favor of you!"

Liadrin turned back from the discussion she had already engaged in with the Magister. "You are already dead, child. Why should I do anything you ask of me?"

Malethia fell to her knees, prostrating herself before the woman who held her life in her hands. "I beg of you Lady, for the use of a sword. If I am to die, I ask only that I be allowed to go forth and find my end by slaying as many enemies of Quel'thalas as I can find before they bring me down."

Magister Bloodsworn grinned widely as Liadrin nodded approvingly. "Alastor, the girl is everything you promised and more." She walked forward, kneeling down and raising Malethia's chin so that their eyes met. "Rise and stand tall, Malethia Blazestone. You have passed the test I placed you. You will be granted the powers of the Light. I will train you in the arts of blade and of magic. Through you, Silvermoon shall be reborn into a new age of prosperity. Welcome to the Order of Blood Knights."