Grim Views

The air was still, lifeless as the teal hue of the landscape both covered in ash grew dark and was only lit by luminescent magical lamps were the only source of light that lit humble homes of Tranquillien. She had been there a while, too long even, Mylnith has spent the afternoon in the setting sun in a tree perched on a branch overlooking the people below. Her dysmorphic form had left the large two boney demonic wings clasped to her back folded up ready to spring at a moments notice. Though it was as if she were in a lul reaching back for fonder memories of this place before it all, and she was younger. All that her mind was fixated was on the thoughts of Dalaran and how it would be her home. To be a mage, a magister and to be held with pride in regards to her family and the long profession ahead of her. Though those thoughts soon filled with the violence that preceded the sundering of her life.

Mylnith's daydream soon faded and with her attention lapsed soon realized whom she was looking at and that she was not the only gazer. Her mother stood on the second floor of the curvey rampway of the second story of the main structure in the village. The woman stared back at and Mylnith onto her. Whatever Mylnith was then, she isn't now and it sickened her. She could feel the bile in her throat building up and her mouth filling with blood as her fangs had punctured her lips digging in. There was no rectifying her crimes, she had left with the prince to outlands and against her wishes only to return as the one thing that her mother had feared. The tired wrinkled old elf looked expectant for a reaction, or perhaps a word? Though she just stood in wait for Mylnith to make the first move.

The thoughts of the Deathknight soon found themselves at the forefront of her mind and his advice, Advice Mylnith herself questioned.

"The greater sacrifice is to let her live. To endure. Killing her just makes your life easier."

She could do it, easily and no one could stop her. The appetite in her stomach for blood became insatiable. Though in the end, Mylnith would rise to her feet and avert her gaze from the woman. Her wingspan grew large and expanded as the boney wing fixture with one strong flap took flight. As Mylnith flew through the sky, her mother had watched until she could no longer be seen only to look down at her toes instead. Mylnith would soon be in Silvermoon pondering her thoughts on her continued sacrifice.

Qabian added yet another page to the pile of correspondence destined for Khorshah.

Re: Mylnith

You gave her this utterly passive Trial. How will you decide if it is completed? Going to talk to the mother yourself?

You decide. If you believe this Illidari's suffering her mother's continued existence is proof enough of her dedication to the Mandate, then is she ready for her tabard now?

Or do you want more from her first? If the latter, you had best let her know sooner than later.

~Q

Khorshah read the letter, grunted, and dropped it back on the pile, then looked at the skeletal scribe. "Take this down."

Qabian,

She has fought with us and suffered for us. While you might take joy in seeing blood shed and flesh seared for the Mandate, I prefer a different brand of Trial. So to speak.

Anyone so eager to throw their sacrifice into our teeth is someone simply looking for an excuse to rid themselves of baggage. Let her instead carry that baggage as long as she is able, and in the course of it hopefully preserve some of what we are supposed to be fighting for.

The initiate is adequate.

Khorshah