#athaea

Athaea's entire body was aching. The last few months had been hell on Azeroth for her and the rest of the Watchers. They had chased Illidan and his followers from the coast of Azshara, through the Great Sea, into the Broken Isles, and then again into the Eastern Kingdoms. Athaea had never walked upon this continent, so far away from Kalimdor. The destruction she found here was eerily similar to that left behind by the Legion, after their attack on Mt. Hyjal.

She looked to her sides. She knew all of the faces around her, even those obscured by their Warden helmets. Most of her time in the Watchers was spent alone, patrolling the barrow deeps and the vault, or hunting criminals. But this hunt was unlike any other that had come before it. In this hunt, the Watchers worked together as a unit, trailing behind their ultimate target: Illidan Stormrage.

For every face she recognized, however, there was one more missing. Their losses had been severe, not only because of the treacherous naga and the Illidari, but because of the demons and lost souls of the Broken Isles, and the undead scourge that plagued Lordaeron. And despite their sudden alliance with Kael’thas, and the arrival of Malfurion and Tyrande, Athaea couldn’t shake the feeling of loss.

Even so, there was no regret in her mind. Illidan's imprisonment had given birth to the Watchers and the Wardens. Losing him wounded not only their pride, but their very souls as well. For this hunt, no price was too high to pay, and no distance was too far to walk.

Athaea shifted her weight, fighting off exhaustion. Her cloak was torn, her armor bent and scored from many recent battles. She had escaped death several times already, but she knew that their cause was just, and that Elune would see her through it. This was the Watchers' finest hour. Illidan was cornered within the ruins of Dalaran, and there was nowhere for him to escape. He was using his vile demonic magic for some kind of ritual. They had to act now, and stop the Betrayer from tearing Azeroth asunder once more.

“First Lieutenant Lonelight.” Just a few feet from her stood Anyndra, Maiev Shadowsong's lieutenant. Athaea snapped to attention, her back straight, and waited for her to continue.

“You’ll be leading the warden Silynna Lunarblade, and a small group of watchers. Follow the orders you were given earlier. This is your chance to prove yourself. Rise to the challenge, and Illidan will not escape us this day.” As soon as Anyndra had finished, she pointed toward her squad and walked away. This wasn’t a slight. The watchers were short on time and manpower, so every second was precious. Aware of this, Athaea swiftly approached her comrades-in-arms.

“Sister Lunarblade,” she began. “Watchers. Our orders are clear. We will be one of the spearheads piercing the ruins and breaking through the Illidari forces. We are to eliminate any Illidari we find, and forge a path for the rest of the watchers. They will rendezvous with us when the way is clear. If you are prepared, we will move out immediately.” Athaea tried to keep her voice firm and resolute. The entire plan had already crystallized in her mind, and she was eager to follow it.

“Sister Lonelight, if I may?” Lunarblade spoke up, and waited to be acknowledged. Athaea raised her eyebrows behind her helmet, gesturing for her to continue. “Are you sure that we should launch the attack before additional forces arrive with Malfurion and Kael'thas? With their reinforcements, such a mission would be far less risky.”

Athaea met the warden's eyes, remaining stern. “Our orders are clear, sister. Even a moment's hesitation will jeopardize this entire operation, allowing the Betrayer to grow closer to his vile objectives. We cannot rely on the so-called 'Sin'dorei', nor can we wait for Malfurion to swoop in and rescue us. Our mission here is to finally capture the Betrayer, no matter the risk. If we fail, we do not deserve to be called watchers. Understood?” She turned and began to make her way towards the battlefield, giving Lunarblade no time to voice an objection. The watchers in their squad dispersed, each ready to take part in the plan. Athaea held tightly to her umbra crescent, then made herself relax her grip, conscious of her body betraying any signs of weakness. The women under her command would be watching her closely, and she could not falter. This attack was the culmination of months of sleepless nights and dead ends.

Athaea and her squad used the shadows of the trees for cover as they moved into position, as soundlessly as they could. Several naga stood guard around the perimeter of the ruins, ready to defend their despicable master. Athaea counted two naga myrmidons, conspicuous in their armor, two naga sirens, and one snapdragon. She glanced back at her own squad, and saw that Lunarblade was already in position, along with a huntress and two archers. Though the naga matched them in numbers, the watchers had the element of surprise. And with two wardens among them, their opponents stood little chance.

Athaea signaled to her squad, communicating her plan. Each archer would take one myrmidon, luring them into the trees where the more agile elves could easily outmaneuver them. The huntress would rush the snapdragon, using superior mobility to counter the beast's crippling poison, and keep its attention away from the other kaldorei. Herself and the other warden would blink towards the sirens, and kill or disable them as quickly as possible. The casters were frail, but dangerous. It would only take them a few seconds to get a spell off, and that could prove disastrous. It was a simple plan: divide and conquer. It had worked exceptionally in the past.

Athaea gave the signal to hold, waiting for the ideal moment to strike. Their timing had to be perfect in order for the plan for the work. If one of them engaged the enemy too soon, it would give away their position, and the battlefield would dissolve into chaos. The archers notched their arrows, and the huntress eyed her target with a predatory, calculating expression.

Athaea took a deep breath, sparing a quick prayer to Elune, and then gave her signal. The archers drew and silently loosed their arrows, which made satisfying impacts in the torso of each myrmidon. The strikes were not fatal, but they should be sufficient to lure their targets away from their positions and into the trees.

As the lumbering naga started to slither away in pursuit of the archers, everything came together in a matter of seconds. The huntress pounced upon the snap dragon, the creature screeching in pain as her moonglaive tore through its flesh. The wardens seemed to blink out of existence, moving through time and space at incredible speeds, and reappeared a couple of feet away from the sirens. Athaea's umbra crescent dug past the naga's scales and buried into its neck, silencing it forever. Lunarblade pierced the other siren's chest with her glaive, and was rewarded with a gush of blood as her target fell.

It was all going according to plan-- but as Athaea turned back to the rest of her squad, she realized that was not the case at all. One of the myrmidons was ignoring the arrow in his chest and rushing for the huntress instead. Athaea immediately broke into a desperate sprint, attempting to intercept the brute. Just when it seemed that she might make it, the myrmidon took aim with its trident and hurled it at the huntress's nightsaber, pinning it to the ground. It struggled desperately, yowling, unable to move. The huntress was thrown from her mount, and before she could collect herself, the snapdragon was upon her, its poisoned fangs tearing her apart.

“Lunarblade! The snapdragon!” Athaea called desperately as she launched her attack against the myrmidon, drawing him away from the wounded saber. But before Lunarblade could reach the beast, it launched its deadly spit into the face of one of the elven archers, who collapsed, yelling in pain.

The plan was unraveling quickly, and Athaea knew there was little time. She took one of the poisoned daggers from her belt and thrust it directly into the myrmidon's arm. A small distance away, Lunarblade had managed to cleave through the skull of the snapdragon. The remaining archer was not so lucky. Trapped out in the open without her backup, she panicked. The second myrmidon threw a net at her, and she was too sluggish to move out of the way. She was thrown back against a tree, immobilized, her limbs tangled in the net. Before the wardens could react to save her, he crushed the elf's head with his massive trident, and then turned back to assist his fellow myrmidon.

Athaea was sweating, her arms trembling. She couldn’t fail, not here, not now. She drove the poisoned knife deeper into the arm of the naga brute, and her poison began to take effect. As the beast reacted to the burning sensation inside his veins, Athaea delivered the killing blow to its head with her weapon, slicing his jaw off and crushing his skull with her closed metal fist. She glanced at Lunarblade, who had already thrown several daggers at the approaching myrmidon. She took the chance and rushed into combat once again, striking at the beast's tail, just as Lunarblade flanked him, both the wardens delivering devastating blows to the beast, until he could no longer stand.

“The watchers, we need to help them!” Lunarblade proclaimed, moving toward the fallen huntress. Athaea glanced at the three lifeless elves, and then at the body of the nightsaber. She sighed, gritting her teeth. She approached Lunarblade and grabbed her shoulder.

“We don’t have time for this, Lunarblade. They knew the risks, and they died for the hunt. Their sacrifice will only be meaningless if we fail. Nothing else matters!” She rebuked the younger warden, pulling her back forcefully. Lunarblade's only response was an angry glare as she moved away from the body. Just as Athaea was about to take a deep breath, she felt a painful stab in her side. There was a sudden rush of cold around the impact, and she immediately looked in the direction from which the blow had come.

“Land-born ssscum!” A gigantic naga approached from the ruins, even larger than the myrmidon. It was a Royal Guard, entrusted to defend the pathways into the ruins. Athaea realized that she had been hit by a frost bolt, and she knelt in pain, the cold nearly unbearable. While her armor had absorbed most of the impact, she felt her body cooling down, her focus diverted.

“We need to take the royal guard down, now!” Athaea screamed, trying to get her heart pumping to warm up her body once more. She reached to her belt, grabbing and throwing several poisoned daggers at the approaching naga, but he hardly seemed to react, his approach not slowed in the slightest. Lunarblade attempted a direct assault, blinking through the distance between them and trying to intercept the beast, appearing behind him.

“I won’t let you kill any more kaldorei this day, foul beast!” Lunarblade cried, her glaive piercing the naga's tail. Athaea finally managed to recover, and dashed into the fight as quickly as she could. But before she could reach them, the Royal Guard and Lunarblade had already come to blows. The naga was much stronger than the warden, making parrying almost impossible. Instead, she gracefully dodged his every strike, piercing his flesh whenever she had the opportunity.

“Lonelight, stay back! You aren’t in fighting shape!” Lunarblade warned. But Athaea ignored her, swinging her umbra crescent and delivering a slash towards the naga. He still stood tall, barely seeming to be aware of his wounds. He instead delivered a lumbering strike at Athaea, hitting her with the blunt end of his trident and sending her flying back several feet. Her head rang as she landed on the hard ground, and she knew she had to get back to her feet at any cost. Lunarblade sprinted to the fallen warden, helping her get up.

“Lieutenant, you have to retreat! I’ll hold him ba-” Her words came to a sudden halt as the myrmidon's trident burst through her rib cage, through both sides of her armor. Athaea was covered with the warden's blood, only a few inches away as she watched everything unravel. Her first instinct was to vomit at the grotesque sight, but she knew she had to keep fighting. Instead, she pulled the trident to the side and thrust her umbra crescent forward, which crashed directly into the naga's chest between his ribs, forcing him to back away as he gasped for air.

As he let go of his trident, Lunarblade's body slumped slowly to the ground. With a swift movement, Athaea sliced the creature's head in half, finally defeating her foe. Her muscles were in agony, her mind exhausted. The realization that she was the last one alive of her squad slowly dawned upon her. She looked at the body of every kaldorei around her, coughing. She knew that the image would be seared into her memory forever. Her stomach churned as she regarded the state of Silynna Lunarblade's corpse. She felt like throwing up again, her lips trembling. Even if she had killed all the naga, she had lost everyone under her command. She closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts.

As she slowly opened her eyes and looked toward the ruins once more, she saw a sudden blur approaching, almost like a purple wraith. Before she could react, that wraith rushed toward her, slamming into her. As the blur gained a defined shape, Athaea saw a female kaldorei right in front of her, pressing a large blade against her armored chest. Glowing green tattoos, darkened horns on her head... Then it clicked;  a demon hunter had found her. And she was there to finish the warden once and for all. The Illidari's warglaive dug into her armor, splitting it into pieces, and finally connected with her flesh. Those seconds felt like an eternity for Athaea, as she watched the warglaive dig into her flesh and through her rib cage, eventually shattering her sternum. She didn’t feel the pain right away, but instead a sort of numbness, as if she were watching it all happen to someone else.

Athaea was thrown back, collapsing. She desperately gasped for air, struggling to stay alive. A coughing fit set in, and she felt the warm, coppery taste of blood filling her mouth. Her consciousness was fading, and quickly. She looked up at the sky, trying to find guidance from Elune, but her vision soon became too blurry for her to make out the shining stars above.

As she came to grips with her situation, all she could feel was shame. Regret. She had failed her mission, and she had abandoned the watchers in their moment of greatest need. And now her hunt would be forever unfinished.

The warden then felt something grab her feet. She saw the sky moving above her, felt the ground moving beneath her. Someone was dragging her. Soon the sky was obscured by tree cover, and she finally lost consciousness.

Athaea's eyes snapped open, and her chest heaved for air. A lacerating pain spread through her torso like fire, but all she could do was whine in pain. She looked around and saw a kaldorei man just above her, administering his druidic magic to her open wound. The warden tried to form words, but all that came forth were coughs and groans.

“Stay quiet, warden. You have to preserve your strength. You came awfully close to dying. If we hadn’t found you hidden by the trees when we did, you would’ve surely perished like the rest of the watchers with you.” Athaea's head was flooded with thoughts, stabbing like daggers, accompanying the burning pain that had now spread through her entire body.

“You are safe now. We returned you to our main base. The bulk of our forces are assaulting Illidan's stronghold, and he’s fighting a losing battle. He should be defeated at any moment now.” Athaea could feel herself start to panic. She couldn’t afford to lay here, dying, as the rest of the watchers neared the end of their hunt. She reached for the druid with a battered arm, trying to grab him, but her vision grew blurry and she failed, instead snatching at the air next to him.

“You are not leaving my watch,” he said sternly. “Not under any circumstances. We were lucky to have found your body at all. The wardens passed right by you, and then entered the ruins moments before we arrived. They are deep into the battle now.” He paused, then added firmly, “You are in no shape to even stand on your own.” As he spoke, Athaea began to feel light-headed. All the effort she had just put forth had been ultimately fruitless, and in her fragile state, the thought seemed overwhelming. She coughed, trying to think of something to say, to plead with the druid, but her consciousness began fading.

It took several days for Athaea Lonelight to wake up again, and under far different circumstances. Illidan had escaped into Outland, and many of the watchers had chased him into the unknown world. But not Athaea. She was bed-bound, unable to move much more than her eyes and her mouth. Not long after, she returned to Kalimdor with Malfurion and Tyrande's forces. It would be several months before she even stood on her own feet again.

Lying awake in her bed, Athaea could no longer escape her own thoughts. She could not devote her focus to her next target, or distract herself with the need for vengeance, or justify the hate inside of her by focusing it on the hunt. She was forced to face herself and all the choices that led her to this point, silent and alone.

She was not aware at the time of the change that was coming over her, but it happened slowly and surely. After that hunt, Athaea would never be the same again.

Athaea stood on a small balcony, overlooking the barracks grounds. She was wearing her warden armor, her hands on the railing. Below her, dozens, maybe even a couple of hundreds of kaldorei were standing at attention. In a normal day, those might’ve been watchers honing her skills. But it wasn’t a normal day. Today was the first day of bootcamp. It was the day where kaldorei who believed themselves to be warden material gave their shot at it. Athaea knew that most, if not all, of those present would be rejected. Wardens were the elite fighting group of the watchers after all, and they had very high standards. 

She pushed herself off the railing, walking into the door behind her. As she moved through the corridors, a few watchers ran back and forth with supplies. Others were finishing the last minute preparations for the recruitment. Athaea didn’t pay them much attention; she was a warden herself, and the watchers were far below her rank. They had their own job to do, as did she. She moved downstairs, into the entrance and then to the field grounds. She saw Maiev standing tall ahead of the potential recruits, staring them down. 

The scene reminded her of her own recruitment day; it had been almost two thousand years since it took place. Back then she was still a priestess of the moon, handpicked by a recruiter to become a full blown warden. Of course, that didn’t mean her training was any less demanding. If anything, that just meant more eyes were on her than for most wannabe recruits. This was her first year volunteering to take part of the warden boot camp, and she knew how it went.

“Sergeant Winterlance.”

“First Lieutenant Amberblade. I‘m ready for my assignment, ma’am.” Athaea responded after she turned around and saluted her superior. Amberblade looked up and down, inspecting Athaea armor and posture. She gave her a curt nod, giving the cue for the lower ranked officer to relax. 

“Glad to have you helping us with this. Your assistance will be more than welcome. Also, speaking of which, I believe your sister is here. Lyeenya Winterlance, correct?” The lieutenant looked straight into Athaea eyes, 

“My...sister?” A chill ran down the warden spine, her entire body tensing up. Athaea didn’t know her sister wanted to become a warden at all, much less that she would be here tonight. She felt her blood draining from her face as she tried to look away from her superior. Amberblade raised her eyebrow at Athaea, slowly crossing her arms. 

“Well, either way, she’s in the third column, so go and send her your best wishes before she’s officially a recruit. She’s a priestess of the moon, correct? Like you were when you came to us. Well, I’m sure you know the rules and how you are expected to treat her then. Dismissed, Sergeant.”  Amberblade nodded and left her vicinity, leaving her alone. 

Athaea closed her fists, her metal gauntlets screeching as it scraped against itself . She turned her head toward where Lyeenya was. Her face was now growing hot, the paleness replaced by deep shade of purple as the blood rushed back in. She started moving toward the supposed location her sister was at, furious. Her movements were stiff, the warden doing everything she could to not explode. She moved across the field, barely acknowledging anyone around her,

“Sis! I’m here!” The voice rang in Athaea head as she looked to the side. She finally sighted Lyeenya, as she was a few feet away from her, coming in for a hug. But Athaea immediately put her hand forward, grabbing her shoulder and holding her in place. The younger sister looked at the hand holding her in disbelief, and then up to Athaea eyes. “A-Athaea?” Lyeenya yelped out, wide eyed.

“Look, I don’t know why you are here, especially after what I told you already. I don’t want you to come and besmirch my reputation like you did in the sisterhood. I’m not sure if I wasn’t clear enough the last time I talked to you, but I didn’t expect you to be stupid enough to actually do this.” Athaea immediately lashed out, her hand holding Lyeenya shoulder a bit too tight for comfort. Her brows were furrowed, a furious expression covering her entire face, even if she had managed to hide it in her voice.

“I…” It took a few seconds for Lyeenya to process everything she had heard. Her eyebrows trembled as she held back tears. “I’m not here to screw you over! What happened at the Sisterhood happened over a thousand years ago sis, and it was an accident!” She answered in a slight panic, taken by complete surprise by her sister's reaction. “I’m not copying you, I’m not stalking you! I… I just want to serve the Kaldorei as a warden!” Athaea squinted her eyes, giving her sister a light shove, enough to push her back a couple feet.

“If we are really doing this, then I’ll be straightforward. You’ll call me Sergeant, or ma’am. No ‘sister’, or ‘sis’, or ‘Athaea’ or anything else, got it? None of that shit. I’m not your sister here. I’m your sergeant, and you are nothing. Not even a recruit yet. Don’t you dream of receiving any kind of slack for being my sister. Preferably, don’t even look at my direction.” She spat out, pointing her finger toward Lyeenya face. “I’m done here and I’m done with you. Get in line, meat.” The warden turned around and walked away, leaving Lyeenya behind as she called for her.

Athaea muscles were sore due to how tense she was. But she couldn’t shake off what just happened from her mind. She walked to her position, watching over a group of the kaldorei waiting for the boot camp. Athaea barely heard anything of the speech. She only realized it was over when the other wardens broke off to leadthe prospects.

While most of the initiation day went well, Athaea couldn’t take her mind off of Lyeenya. She made sure to avoid her sister as much as possible, but she could still feel her hands trembling every so often. It was hard to contain her anger, especially in front of all other wardens and the recruits.   

As the days went by during training week, it became harder to avoid her sister. Every once in a while, she caught a glimpse of Lyeenya’s training. In one of those times, she saw her sister sparring with a fellow hopeful recruit. It had been several years since she last saw her, but as she moved back and forth in her spar. Her memories rushed back into her mind. Instead of her recruit armor, she saw a younger Lyeenya, in her old priestess robes.   

Athaea body froze for half a second, enough for her sister to land a decisive blow on her training partner. And as Lyeenya reached to help her partner get off the ground, that past image on Athaea head solidified. Her eyes saw the priestess kneeling to help a familiar kaldorei, a smile covering her lower face.   

“I’m sorry, that was my fault.” Athaea could hear, but her sister’s mouth hadn’t moved at all, even as she helped her partner to get back on her feet. The warden shook her head, pulling herself out of this flashback. And as soon as she did so, she walked away from the recruits, not wanting her sister to see her. 

The training was intense, and about half of the recruits that started it had already dropped out. She could hear some of her fellow wardens talking about her and her sister. But the topic was dropped whenever Athaea approached them.

“She left the last trials just a few minutes ago. I’m sure you’ll be able to track her down, Sergeant. Unless you have any questions, consider yourself dismissed.” Amberblade said before turning to a few other scrolls, stamping them with a few wax seals. Athaea finally managed to force her legs to work and leave the room after several seconds still. She pressed herself against the wall just to the right of the door, her hands sweating. Not wanting to make this last any more than it needed to, she rushed into the corridors, searching for her sister.

“Sergeant Winterlance, do you know why I’ve called you?” Warden Amberblade looked into her subordinate eyes, sitting on a wooden chair. Her stare was cold, her expression indecipherable. Athaea had no idea if she was about to get punished or lauded. 

“I’m afraid not, ma’am. Was I supposed to?” She did her best to keep a neutral approach, even if she was somewhat suspicious of what was going on. She stayed on her feet, looking straight into Amberblade eyes, waiting for her to continue. 

“Very well. I called you here to talk about your sister. As I’m sure you are aware, she’s currently undergoing the last part of the training. Staying until the very end of our warden recruitment process is already an achievement in and of itself. But there’s more to talk about, when it comes to Lyeenya and her performance.” Athaea ears perked up, the warden swallowing. She had tried her best to avoid her sister altogether this week, and she definitely didn’t want to deal with that situation now. “While going through the results of all the recruits, I inevitably ended up seeing her results as well.” The lieutenant touched a rolled up scroll laying on the table, just ahead of her. 

“I remember we once had a conversation about your sister. You said you didn’t want her to become a warden. Which, to be completely honest, is understandable. Being a warden is not for most people, and only we can see that as clearly. Being a warden means, oftentimes, a life of solitude and service. I won’t preach to the choir here, Athaea. But I decided that, as a token of gratitude for your service, I should give you the chance to talk to your sister before presenting her the results.” She tapped the scroll with her fingers. The sergeant looked at the scroll for several seconds, silent. She did say those things to Amberblade some time ago, but for different reasons.

“Take the scroll to her, and give her your viewpoint before giving her the results. I think that way she’ll have a more neutral view of your personal opinion if you do it that way. We are not hurt for wardens badly right now, so I will not put any blame on you if she doesn’t end up joining us over it.” Amberblade pushed the scroll across the table, toward Athaea. “Ah, by the way, just to make it clear, she passed. Her scores weren’t as high as yours, but, well, very few are.” The lieutenant said with a playful smile, grabbing the scroll and offering it to Athaea. Her eyes were still locked, staring at the scroll. She slowly reached for it and then pulled it back to her, almost mechanically.

“She left the last trials just a few minutes ago. I’m sure you’ll be able to track her down, Sergeant. Unless you have any questions, consider yourself dismissed.” Amberblade said before turning to a few other scrolls, stamping them with a few wax seals. Athaea finally managed to force her legs to work and leave the room after several seconds still. She pressed herself against the wall just to the right of the door, her hands sweating. Not wanting to make this last any more than it needed to, she rushed into the corridors, searching for her sister.

“Lyeenya.” The warden voice carried across the small field her sister was in, sitting against a tree. Lyeenya looked exhausted, in more ways than one. She took a few deep breaths as her older sister approached her, expecting the worse. Athaea held her sister scroll in her hands, but she had yet to hand it to her. “This here has your results, Lyeenya. And I’m supposed to present them to you.” The warden looked down at Lyeenya, not kneeling or sitting down with her.

“You are not going to become a warden, dear sister. And I’ll make this clear for you. I don’t care what got in your head for you to even try to become a warden. Especially after I left you behind in the Sisterhood. I don’t care if father and mother are telling you to reconnect with me.” The warden raised her finger, pointing it directly toward Lyeenya face. 

“I don’t want to reconnect with you. And especially, I don’t want you following my footsteps, and I don’t want you copying me. I don’t care for the Winterlance name. If it were up to me, I would never see you again. You are an incompetent brat, and there’s nothing connecting us but a thin and meaningless bloodline. I’ll spare you the shame of receiving your results with all the other recruits around you. Instead, I'll let you leave on your own, so maybe they’ll just forget about you, Lyeenya. Just like you should do with me.” Athaea didn’t mince words. She kept the scroll close to herself, holding it against her waist as she lambasted her sisters. 

(Quick little note, I’ve changed the name of Melerin’s race from Dragonborn to Drake-Ul)

Athaea walked into her room, it was exactly like Melerin’s, but with less armor in it. She slapped her cheek lightly, she needed to figure out how she was going to find the necromancer she hunted.

           “You seem troubled, young warlock,” rumbled a dark voice, deeper than the ocean and darker than onyx.

           “It’s been a little while, fall asleep?” Athaea tried to look calm and composed, but she was overjoyed.

           “You missed me?” The voice came from everywhere, but nowhere as well. “I came because it’s rare for you to ask for help, yet you did.”

           “I do ask for help quite often, like when I would ask sis for help with chores.”

           “Athaea, those are trivial matters. Only twice in your life have you asked for real help.” The voice grew soft, “When you came to me, and now you have asked for help from that lizard-man.”

           “I needed his help, Malgaja, just like I needed yours. You’ve been my familiar for almost twenty years now, and I honestly consider you my only friend right now.” Athaea remembered all the times when they would speak to her after many of the elves had shamed her for her human lineage.

           “Sweet, young Athaea, I support you in this endeavor. In all these centuries, only you have ever recognized me as a being and not just a force of nature. Your adventure is in line with my greatest interest, the extinction of necromancy.”

           “I’m only after one necromancer, not all of them. I can’t even figure out how to find that one, so how can I find all of them?”

           “You may not want to kill them all, but your new partner does. I sense a hatred inside him that I believe to be his motivation, and it is a rage that he risks losing himself to.”

           “Mal, I just want to find one, specific necromancer and make him pay,” Athaea could feel herself growing angry at just the thought of that wizard, she was determined to have her revenge.

           “You will, but Athaea, you will encounter many of these disgraced wizards on your journey. I must ask that when you do, you kill them. They go about interfering with both my work and Brila’s work.” Malgaja’s voice began to focus in front of Athaea, and so did all the shadows. The shadows grew and rose into the air, making an ever changing mass of darkness, with eyes as cool and blue as the purest of ice.

           “But what have they done to deserve such a punishment? Not all of them have killed.”

           “They interfere, they kill, cutting Brila’s work short, and then they raise, disrupting my peace. Brila gives life to the creatures so they may experience joy, sorrow, and everything in between. I give the gift of death, a gift not all accept willingly, but it is a gift none the less. For the warrior, it brings honor. For the sick and elderly, it gives peace and rest. For the scared, it relieves. We work so that all my experience our gifts.

           But these wizards, they try to undo our work. They kill, taking the gift and beauty of life. They revive, destroying the gift of rest. They attempt to take the control of the powers of life and death. These powers, which Brila and I deemed even the gods unworthy of.”

           “Then how does my killing them differ from them killing someone else?”

           “Because you are acting by my will, they kill to hurt and destroy. When death is brought on by me or those working in my will, it is for the better of everyone. Necromancers are no better than murderers who kill without my will demanding it.”

           “I think I understand, at least, a little bit more than before. But I’ve never killed anyone before, how can I just take someone’s life?” The shadow reached out and formed a hand and placed it on Athaea’s shoulder, the tenderness in its bright blue eyes was sincere.

           “I know it is a lot, and I know it will be hard for you. But my brilliant Athaea, it is what must be. Use the magic I have taught you, and you will be more than fine.  Ending a life is never easy, even for those with my blessing, but I feel that your companion will make sure that you won’t always be the one who has to kill.”

           “Thank you,” she smiled, “But I still have no idea how to find Cerko.”

           “I will help you find him, but you must head to the temple ruin of Dusmas, to the north. I will speak to you again there.”

           “Thank you again.”

           “Of course, and be safe my friend.” The shadow’s eyes closed as it began to dissipate. The shadows of the furniture returned to their normal places once more.

           Athaea turned towards the bed, it looked far softer than anything she’d slept on while she was still in the woods. She changed out of her cloak and left her staff propped up against the bedframe. As she crawled into the sheets, she could hear the slight hum of the tavern goers singing their drinking songs. It soothed her to hear people so happy and carefree.

The leaves on the lower tree branches rustled as the cloaked figure walked hurriedly to the edge of the woods. Light slowly began to peer through the thicket of branches and leaves above, and voices could be heard nearby. The hooded one walked out from the shadowy woods and stopped. They paused to observe the village they had just walked into. It was a decent sized village, stone buildings rose up directly across from the tree line, shop signs hung above doors, humans and halflings bustled about shopping and working, and dwarves led oxen through muddy streets.

“Can I help you with anything?” The figure looked down to see a midling looking up to them. He came up to about their knees, and was a merchant judging by his apron.

“I’m looking for a tavern and an inn,” They replied.

“Well miss, our tavern and inn are one in the same, it’s called Ghogs Swallow, about two streets over. It’s pretty hard to miss,” he smiled and his cheeks became warm and rosy.

“Thank you,” she replied and handed him a silver coin as she took off down the trodden down streets.

The sun was beginning to set and she knew she’d need to find him before the day ended. As she walked, a sign came into view with a drunken boar hanging above a door to a large stone building. She knew this was it.

The hooded woman stepped inside the tavern and went straight to the bar to sit down. It wasn’t a large tavern and the wooden floor had been smoothed over from countless boots treading on it. The faint sounds of a guitar being strummed could be heard over the soft murmur of workers sitting down for a drink after a long day.

The man tending the bar was a dragonborn, and a large one at that. He was taller than everyone else in the room, and was built as if he could take them all down in a fight as well. His scales were a dark shade of blue, and she immediately became weary of him as he glanced her way.

“Can I get you anything? Food, drinks, a room?” He asked. His voice was deep and harsh, as if his throat was made of sand, but sincere and put her at ease. She pulled her hood off, letting her auburn hair flow over her shoulders and down her back, coming to a rest over the staff she carried on her back. “Are there any rooms I could stay in? And I’m looking for someone who might be able to help me,” she asked. Her voice was smooth like silk, and just as comforting.

“A room will run you about ten gold a night, and as for this ‘someone’, that depends on what you need.” His hands never left the tankard he was cleaning as he spoke.

“I’m looking for Melerin, the paladin, know where I can find him?”

“That depends on who’s asking and on the job their offering.”

“Athaea, and I need help with a slight necromancer problem.”

The bar keep froze, his gaze turned from warm and welcoming to hard and cold. He sat down the cup he had been cleaning and stepped out from behind the bar.

“Arthur, cover the bar for a bit,” he said without taking his gaze from Athaea.

“Aye hoss,” said a portly dwarf as he toddled over to the counter and stepped onto a stool to stand above it.

“Follow me, I’ll take you to Melerin.” He waved his hand for her to follow him, and he opened a door to a wooden hallway. 

They were silent as they walked down the hall, his heavy footsteps were followed lightly by her own and were the only sounds they made.

The hallway came to an end and opened into a large common room with doors on every side. The doors each had small, brass numbers nailed into them, and at the center of the room was a stone fire pit. Five sturdy oak chairs surrounded the fire pit on all sides.

The draconic barkeeper led her to a corner room on the far right. As he pulled out a key from his apron, he turned to her and spoke.

“He’s in there. When we get in, I’ll do the talking. Don’t say anything unless he asks you, just sit and be quiet.” The barkeep stared at her stoically.

Athaea nodded her head nervously. All kinds of thoughts about what kind of a monstrous man could this Melerin be went rushing through her head. Was he huge? Did he kill people just for looking at him wrong? Was he just rude and so the barkeep just wanted to keep her from being offended?

The dragonborn opened the door and walked in, bidding Athaea to follow him. The two horns sticking out of his head barely missed the ceiling as he walked. She looked around to get a better look at the room. It was dark, but in the corner she could see a large set of armor and a shield. But she couldn’t see anyone else inside the room.

The blue barkeep took out a flask and splashed whatever was in it on his face.

“Mel, you got a visitor!” He shouted as he wiped off his face. He turned to Athaea, but there was something different about his face. Two long, linear scars ran down the right side of his face, from his brow all the way to the edge of his jaw. “It certainly seems I do.”

“Wait, you’re Melerin?” Athaea was more confused than shocked or scared now.

“Well, yeah, did you expect something else?” Now the dragonborn was confused, why wasn’t she in awe, shock or anything?

“I just didn’t expect you to be a bartender,” she laughed, “or a dragonborn.”

“I guess that’s fair, and I certainly ain’t no elf.”

“No, you’re not, I’m part elf, I’d know if the person I was looking for was an elf. We’re not exactly huge in number.” Athaea calmed down enough to collect her thoughts, “what was that stuff you used to make your face change?”

“Ah, an elf, I knew I picked up some magic. And it’s just whiskey, I painted over the scars and the alcohol takes it right off.” Melerin chuckled a little bit and held up the flask, “I really just use it as a parlor trick with my patrons. Want a bit?”

“Whiskey?”

“It’s a drink, fairly hard hitting. Almost like fire.” He smiled and placed the flask in her hand.

“Aren’t paladins supposed to be pious warriors of the gods? I’m pretty sure alcohol is against that whole pious thing,” she sniffed the rim of the flask, “and why would you drink something that’s ‘like fire’.”

“My throat can take a lot, and as for the pious thing, that’s not me. You want a paladin who’s sworn their oath to a god, you’ll wanna look somewhere else, maybe a temple would be a better place to look. My oath isn’t to them, and so I can do what I want. Go ahead, try some, you might like it.”

Athaea lifted the flask to her mouth and took a swig from it. She spat it out the instant it hit her throat, it burned and kicked and forced its way out of her mouth. She coughed and spat trying to get the last of it out. Melerin grabbed the flask back from her and took a huge gulp from it.

“That’s not ‘like fire’, that is liquid fire!” Athaea coughed as he laughed at her, “How can you drink something so foul?”

“I guess it’s not for everyone, you just kind of go numb to the feeling after a while. But that’s nothing new to me.” His stare looked a thousand yards away for a moment, but then he smiled and led her over to a table and some chairs, “now, have a seat and we’ll discuss this problem of yours.”

Athaea sat down in the wooden chair as he lit some candles, and she kept trying to get the taste from her mouth. As the light filled the room, she noticed the armor was polished steel with dark blue accents, solid plate metal, and heavy plate at that. The shield followed the same color pattern, except that in the center was a golden symbol of a skull being crushed by a hammer.

Melerin sat down across from her and stared at her a moment.

“Before we talk business, I must ask you a few questions.” His gaze was stone cold.

“Ask away,” she worried it would just be some other way of messing with her.

“You’re a magic user, I can tell by the way you look and the feeling of the air around you. But the nature of your magic is… Odd. It’s not necessarily evil or good. Just… alien to me.”

“That’s not a question.”

“How did you learn your magic?” He threaded his large fingers together and stared right into her soul.

“A familiar taught me,” her blood ran cold and she could feel electricity coursing through the air around her and Melerin.

“So you’re a warlock? But the nature of your familiar is strange. It’s not a spirit or a demon. It is old, powerful, and… for lack of a better word, weird.”

“How’d you figure all this out?” Athaea tensed up as he read her up and down.

“Please, it’s my job to figure all this out just by glancing at someone. A paladin must be able to sense magic, identify its source, its intent, and snuff it out if need be.”

“That must make you pretty good at hunting necromancers.” She was just trying to deflect the question, but she couldn’t help and think that maybe he was just what she needed.

“If I wasn’t good, we wouldn’t be here talking about it.”

Athaea just stared at him, how was she supposed to respond to something like that?

“That was a joke, you can laugh, because I’m funny.”

“How can you joke about something like that? How can you make a joke about your own possible death while talking about a job like this?” She was completely shocked.

“I’ve been hunting necromancers and undead on my own for ten year, death is a common theme. Besides, better I make jokes about my own death than someone else’s.”

“I suppose, and only ten years? That’s it? I expected longer.” Athaea crossed her arms over her chest.

“Fifteen years if you count my years in the army. And ten years is a decent amount of time for us non-elf types. I might be part dragon, but I don’t have the longevity of my flying cousins.” Melerin snapped his fingers, “we’re getting off topic, what’s the job?”

“I’m only part elf, and I’m trying to find a necromancer,” she sat back down.

“Everyone from here to the Calsus Waist is trying to find a necromancer.”

“He hurt me, I want to hurt him.”

“Then you’re looking in the wrong place. I don’t hurt necromancers, so you might want to find someone else to hire if you want to hurt him.” Melerin relaxed his huge shoulders and leaned back in his chair as if to dismiss her.

“You hunt necromancers, don’t you? Why not help me?” She stood up and raised her voice almost to a shout. Melerin leaned forward and rested his head on his fists.

“I don’t hurt necromancers,” he stood up and he seemed almost eight feet tall, “I destroy them. I show them their crimes against nature and make them wish they’d never committed them. I do not show them mercy, they don’t deserve it.” Athaea could feel the bloodlust in his words, and the sincerity with which he said them. It caught her a little off guard. She sat silently as she stared at this blue mountain for a few minutes, and then she spoke.

“Then you’re exactly what I need,” she stared into his eyes and tried to match his intensity.

They glared at each other for what felt like hours, when Melerin let out a thunderous laugh.

“You got it chief, the only good necromancer is a dead one. We’ll leave in the morning, until then, the room next door is vacant, and you can stay there for the night, free of charge.”

“Why can’t we leave now?” The sudden warmth of his reptilian smile shocked her after that intense standoff. His fangs didn’t exactly put her at ease either. “Rule two of hunting necromancers is to never search for them at night. A lot of those corpse-herding freaks draw on the power of the moon god, Bulan. Best we move when we have the sun goddess’s blessing.”

“What’s rule one?”

“Rule one is always burn bodies. No body means no reanimation, don’t even leave a skeleton remaining, every part must turn to ash.”

“Oh,” Athaea hadn’t really thought about that, “I’ll just trust your judgement on that. But will the tavern owner really not mind if I stay without paying?”

“No, hon, I don’t mind,” He smiled as he placed a hand on her head.

“You own this place? Really? How could you afford a place like this?”

“Hunting necromancers is a very lucrative profession right now, and this gives me a place to come home to when I finish a job. It’s nice to sit back and drink while talking with the locals.” He was clearly very proud of the nice little business he ran.

“What about your clan? Couldn’t you go home to them?”

His eyes sank and his warms smile turned sour and hard.

“No, but that’s not something to talk about. Now go on, we’re going to have an early day tomorrow.” He reached into his apron and handed her a brass key, “Room 3, just right next to this one.”