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Originally written June 25, 2013.

Ashenvale. Arialynn could readily count the number of times she set foot in the elven forest. Every visit was fresh and new. It was truly a sight: blue mist filled the crevices between hills, flowers grew thick as blankets, and trees dwarfed the stone pillars that raised Stormwind City to the heavens. The lady knight could not gauge the height of the leaf canopy over her head, she only knew that it was further than her eyes could see in twilight.


She did not linger outside for long. As her gryphon sought the treetops for rest, she went inside, passing by the banners of the Silverwing. There she waited patiently, her eyes drawn to the closed-door meeting where her contact was likely caught within. Voices inside raised and quieted with sudden stops and starts, hinting of an argument eager to boil. Arialynn had a moment to think of the many such debates she had in recent days, and how so many other differences between soldiers had widened from cracks to chasms.


It was not a pleasant thought, and it chipped at her as she contemplated her next move. The Sentinel captain, likely already fueled by whatever fire was catching behind the door, would not enjoy the news the paladin would bring.


A guttural cry and the splintered shatter of wood was the only warning. Assailants burst into the room, Horde in race and nature, the battle was rushed and brutal. Light flowed from her swiftly, searing like lightning from the edge of her blade. Metal crossed and armor clashed, but fate drew a cruel hand of cards. As the runeblade hit her sternum, she recognized the spell its wielder cast and completed, and she crumpled to the floor.

Author Ari
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