Upon entering the Vindicaar, there was an uncanny silence. Even the constant humming of the engine that powered the ship seemed strangely muted. There was a pair of Lightforged guards waiting for her. “Come, we have been waiting for you,” one simply said to Elli and gestured for her to step between them.The Lightforged standing guard in the hallways bowed their heads in respect to Etsiyona as she was escorted to the bridge. Descending from the balcony, they passed a trio of lightforged priests with their hands outstretched to the ceiling with their lips moving in an unspoken prayer. Filaments of Light streamed from their fingertips connecting to a small spark of golden light in the center of the group.
Ascending the steps to the main console, the Lightforged stopped. Gently rapping their polearms on the floor, one spoke softly, as if not to disturb the silence that seemed to suffocate the room. “Captain Fareeya, Etsiyona Bearwalker has arrived to speak with you.” Fareeya turned to face Elli, lines in her face showing the stress of recent events. She nodded at the guards, who turned as one and marched away. Standing, Fareeya laid a hand on Elli’s shoulder gently, looking at her directly.
Captain Fareeya spoke softly. “I am sorry, Etsiyona. The stress from the trial and the final infusion of Light was too much for his body to handle. His ashes are there for you to collect if you so wish.” She gestured to a container much like an urn engraved with draenic symbols all over the surface. “For what it is worth, he did pass the trial.”
Elli nods silently, her worgen form shifting to elven. Slowly she moved to the table with the urn. Laying her hands on it gently, she whispers something almost inaudible in Darnassian. Picking it up and cradling it in her arm like a newborn babe, she looked around one final time. All the Lightforged guards lining the room turned their heads to her and as one saluted her as she strode off the bridge.
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The sun shines down on the grass, it shines faintly with the dew of the morning. Moving shadows cross over it, revealing an oversized owl flapping it’s wings. It dives down close to the ground and a mist engulfs it, to reveal a night elf clad in the trappings of a druid. Standing fully, she gazes around and spots an elven ruin nearby. Striding purposefully, the soft tread of her feet on stone the only sound, she reaches an open area in the ruins. Picking a stone from the ground nearby, she examines it briefly. Setting it back down, her arms reach out wide. Streams of green energy move around her hands as she concentrates. Vines move slowly from the ground, wrapping the stone in a tightening embrace. A sharp crack breaks the stillness as the stone is shattered into pieces. Her hands move closer together, as if crafting something in the air. The vines obey her command, and assemble the broken stone into a container and embed themselves in the cracks to seal it. The energy from her hands fade, and she walks forward to pick the container up. Her hand grows with black fur and a set of claws emerges. She looks at it for a moment flexing the fingers. With a sharpened claw, she etches words first in common, then in Darnassian across the surface. Her eyes fill with tears as she writes. Setting the container down in the cradle formed by the vines, she opens the urn she carried so carefully from the Vindicaar. Pouring some of the ashes within into the container, she seals it shut. Gesturing to the partially filled container, the vines move quickly over to seal it tightly. Standing there silently for a moment, she regards the container. Wiping her face with her hands, she turns and leaves. The faint flapping of an owl’s wings can be heard as the wind blows through the trees nearby, rustling them.
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