#embertree

There was a beautiful laugh that echoed along the table, and abruptly, attention was demanded with the honey voice of the head of the family.

“Now, this is the moment to speak of it in truth! Please!” Vesthiriel’s gaze drifted to Taliorinth and the man beside her, glowing with pride, “It is official then, and that is why I asked you all here. My dear, darling young sister Taliorinth Rosespear, has officially accepted the proposal of Nesrin Thori’thal, and we are having the ceremony in a matter of weeks!”

She clapped, her delighted features guileless. “Normally we would wait, but seeing as the groom waited so long, and the bride herself was without… haste we thought was the kinder gesture.”

Nesrin smiled at that, rubbing his hand along Taliorinth’s shoulder slowly. “Truly, there is nothing we look forward to more.”

The small woman herself kept a neutral expression, holding back something in favor of a look to the man who smiled to her. Automatically, she lifted her lips and offered a reflection of that smile.

The man with the bushy beard, Taeral Everdawn, lifted his glass in kind. “Ah, such wonderful news. My congratulations to the soon to be happy couple.” A polite smile offered to both.

Gabriel’s expression twitched at the mention of the wedding, his grey gaze drifting over to Taliorinth, watching her reaction. A twitch of a frown on the edge of his lips, no words said at all from his side.

Laenetta took the moment to lean forward slowly, looking like a panther ready to pounce. “No congratulations for the happy couple?”

In a moment, the man shook his head, snapping out of thoughts unheard and focusing his gaze instead on Laenetta, “Forgive me, I was merely… overcome with joy for words.” He tried to smile again, but it was clearly forced.

“Well, here’s your chance. Say it.” Lanetta smiled viciously.

Silence fell over the table, drawing on an almost awkward length, yet it was cut through quickly by that sweet voice of Vesthiriel once more.

“Then a toast! To the happy couple.” She swept back behind Taliorinth, placing a hand on her shoulder, raising her glass with the other, “To Taliorinth Thori’thal, future Lady of Hymethalas, and her adoring and patient husband-to-be.” Her eyes were cast along the table, “Please, all of you, raise your glasses! To the Bride!”

One by one, the others at the table rose their glasses, Laenetta quick to offer out, “Cheers! Gabriel should give a toast too!”

There was clear hesitancy, Gabriel not wanting to say something, but eventually he said, “To your continued happiness and everything you deserve.” Yet his eyes did not fall on anyone but Taliorinth.

The small bride-to-be met his gaze, her smile faltering a bit with that look, one that spoke volumes of it’s own paired with the words he said.

Vesthiriel quickly added, “And to the groom!” Which was echoed along the table from the others. As it fell to silence again, she went on easily, looking to each gathered, “We will be celebrating and enjoying the union for those coming days, and you are all invited to join us in our hospitality. We plan on remaining together for this time-- it would be a shame to part the pair after so long, so many years without each other.”

Gabriel took this moment to speak up, “While you have my congratulations, there are many I am sure would delight in this news of her coming… union. Perhaps she could spare some time to share this news with certain others who have been missing her terribly these past few weeks.”

Laenetta rose her brow, “And we have been missing her terribly these past -years-. They can wait.”

Vesthiriel spoke up then, “Ah, but they are welcome here, Lord Shadowdrake! And in our home they are most, most welcome. After all, we are nothing--” A sharp look was given to Laenetta, causing the other woman to wilt, “if not hospitable.”

Her words spent, she leaned in to whisper to Taliorinth, “My peach, you must smile more and speak more kindly of Nesrin. Your silence is unbecoming this time; I know you so love to chatter, why do you not tell us how much you are excited for this chance to make everyone so very happy?”

Taliorinth blinked at her sister’s words right next to her ear, lifting her gaze and looking about at the table. Just as commanded, she put on a bright smile, truly looking happy as she said, "I am really happy here- being able to spend so much time with everyone. I'd hate to waste the opportunity, especially after so long."

She looked to her sisters... especially Vesthiriel, looking for that approval before she went on, "And especially with all the delicious food and places we've gotten to go experience. It feels nice..." She did slowly look to Nesrin, somehow wanting approval from that man as well.

Nesrin’s fingers still gently caressed Taliorinth’s arm, he nodded at her look, “And there’s still much to see. We’ll, of course, take some time in my own lands… but afterwards we’ll be coming back here to host the ceremony proper, is that not correct?”

“Perhaps,” Gabriel spoke up again, “I can make the arrangements then if that is what you wish. I am sure they would all love to hear you say such. One in particular comes to mind. They don’t like to get out much, as you remember, but they have told me before I came here of how much they have missed you. Quite. Even so, I am sure they would be delighted to have you tell them in person.”

Taliorinth’s attention focused on Gabriel again, the words garnering something in her. She knew he was talking of Quineven, and immediately there was a pang in her heart. Her eyes spoke of her want to see him. Her want was enough that she dared to open her mouth and say, “Maybe… maybe just for a day I could go visit them?” Like a child asking permission, she looked to her eldest sister.

Vesthiriel looked at her sisters, and the woman clucked maternally. "Oh darling, you would ask that after your escapade at the beach?" Her voice had a shadow of hurt to it. "I thought you were being wiser, like we know you can be, my dear."

Taliorinth’s ears pinned down, the hurt felt like a stab through her heart, silencing away any desire to do what she should have know was forbidden at this time.

Gabriel, however, would not stay silent, quickly saying, “I hardly think a mere day would hurt anything, with all due respect, Lady Rosespear.”

Vesthiriel merely let her face show a moment of emotion, her words dripping with the wound the simple request had caused, “You promised, Taliorinth…”

Laenetta had cast a sharp look to Gabriel, putting a comforting hand on the eldest sisters arm before slowly looking away from Gabriel to Taliorinth instead, “We… only want to spend these times with you. Your promises mean a lot to us, Taliorinth. We love you.”

Before a response could be given, Vesth just shook her head, “It is not to be considered, my dear. You must remain here. It’s only the wise decision.” She reached forward, placing her soft hand against Tali’s cheek, “It is what father would have wanted for you, you know how he loved us to be happy together.”

Taliorinth’s eyes widened a bit, looking worried… and then hurt at her own words. She swallowed down, leaning against the hand slightly before she said, “Ah…” hesitant, yet quick to put on a smile, “I won’t go anywhere… I did promise. I’m sorry I asked. I didn’t mean to offend.”

An approving glance was given to Vesthiriel over Taliorinth’s head, Nesrin’s intense gaze settling instead on Gabriel then, “You’ll have to tell these… friends… that she simply cannot do such. If they miss her so, then surely they can come to her. If not, then perhaps they are not as true to their friendships and commitments to her happiness as they make themselves seem.”

Silence was cast over the table, the moment giving Gabriel the chance to speak, “Very well. If even one day is asking far too much in order to see the other people in her life that love her, a question would have to be raised as to when she might be able to leave to go see them.”

Lanetta scoffed, “We said that they could come here. She can see them just fine that way.”

“After the wedding, of course.” Vesthiriel smiled, as though it was the clearest thing in the world.

Taliorinth’s brows twitched together, “The wedding isn’t… too far off. It’s not too much longer, so…”

Nesrin shifted, “Of course… Such a shame it could not be sooner, hrm?” He brushed his hand through some of Taliorinth’s hair, offer out the idea to the table.

Taeral cleared his throat then, rather loudly so as to drew attention to himself. "I can see this family is nothing if not close and loving. A refreshing thing to witness, in these trying times. If only more families were such." A subtle glance was spared Gabriel, before turning that polite smile to the hostess and her family. "If you might permit me, however, I would like to walk off a bit of this wine and observe your lovely gardens in the process." He set his now empty wineglass upon the table and shifted to stand. "Perhaps this other guest of yours might occupy me? I would very much enjoy the company." He turned then, setting his gaze upon Gabriel with a sharpness.

Gabriel opened his mouth to object to Taliorinth's acceptance of this matter, but his words were silenced once the other man spoke. He looked to Tali pleadingly before swallowing and drawing his attention to the man that now hovered over him. "I am not familiar with these grounds, I am afraid. Perhaps one of the ladies here would be better company to you?"

Vesthiriel just smiled, motioning them on, “Please, Taeral, Gabriel. We’ll join you in the gardens momentarily, but the new family needs a moment together.”

Nesrin’s eyes lidded a bit, watching the two with a secret pleasure. “I would agree. Do not be so very rude to our good friend here, Gabriel.”

Taliorinth could only watch as they all pushed Gabriel away. She wanted to apologize, but no words would rise from her throat… not now.

Taeral Everdawn narrowed his eyes and placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, holding the man in place for the time. “I’m afraid I must insist, Gabriel,” A certain sharpness to his tone, before tightening his grip on the man’s shoulder. “There is a question on my mind, if you would allow us some time, Lady Rosespear. With all due respect.”

Vesthiriel merely smiled indulgently, “Please, go on.”

Gabriel’s brows furrowed, and he looked back to Taliorinth… only to lower his eyes in defeat soon after, “Very well, Lord Everdawn… if that is what you wish. I will comply.”

She stared out of the window still, her eyes glazed over in thought as she pieced together her memory of things again. It was like an itch that she was finally getting to scratch, yet the more she went at it, the more she felt pangs of pain.

Like something was wrong.

Gabriel being there.

Everyone leaving.

Her being here.

Something had happened, and as she remembered more and more of it, Taliorinth was realizing just how much was truly wrong. Just how much trouble she’d be in.

It scared her, a bit, making her wring her hands in the loose gentle skirts of her dress.

What was she going to do?

They were alone.

Gabriel. Taeral. Her sisters.

All left her with her husband-to-be.

Taliorinth wanted to get up, and truth be told, there'd be a little shift in her position to try and do so.... ahhhh but that would not happen. Not with Nesrin there, holding her shoulders close. When Vesthiriel and Laenetta wandered off, she felt that dread well up inside of her again, knowing that left her to whatever Nesrin wished.... but was it really all that bad? She had to stop thinking the worst of it. Having Gabe here.... reminding her of all those things... it just made it all the worst.

She had those doubts swirling about her mind again that troubled her so, torn between wanting to comply to her sister’s wishes, to Nesrin’s wishes... to be offered everything, or to go with Gabe... to argue against what the sisters offered and go back to the ship, the grungy life that she'd grown to love and care for and all the people that came with it.... People like Quineven, that Gabriel so wished her to remember in times such as this. Truthfully, she felt immense guilt for such, but what could she honestly do? What could anyone do in this position?

Nesrin, to his credit, was well and patient as the pairs all too their turns wandering off. Slowly, he glanced about to the empty chairs, his fingers teasing through the curls of the blonde that he still had a possessive hold over. Eventually, without turning his gaze to her, he stated, "So this is the man that you were so adamant about abandoning us for."

Taliorinth blinked, looking to Nesrin, and then to the side with a guilty look. She didn't know what to say to that…

"I can honestly say i'm disappointed in it. The way he speaks of us, he is clearly a bad influence in your life, Taliorinth... Much like that man that stole you away from us all those years ago. I had thought you to be smarter than to fall for such lies from the man? Do you honestly think he cares about you? Do you not realize how valuable you are?" Nesrin stated in a calm and even tone.

Taliorinth's ears wilted further at the words, feeling the stinging of each syllable. Swallowing down, she muttered, "He is just worried, Nesrin."

He snorted, showing a break of that neutral expression, "Worried? Do you really believe that? Honestly, Taliorinth, listen to us.... listen to those that you've known all your life to be true, to be wise. He is not good for you. He is merely using you for something more..."

Nesrin frowned, looking down to her and shifting his hand, moving to grab hold of her face 'gently' and force her to look up at him, "I care about you, Taliorinth.... and I will not allow you to be lost to some man that thinks himself smart enough to pull the wool over all our eyes. He is bad for you, do you understand?"

Taliorinth didn't resist the hand that pulled up her chin, looking to Nesrin right in that intense gaze of his, frowning as she did so. His words made sense... too much sense. She cursed herself, curled her hands into fists... She was so conflicted, but she knew.... she knew she couldn't trust herself with it. "Nesrin..." She started, failing to finish.

Nesrin's fingers twitched, tightening ever so slightly on her, "Taliorinth. Trust me. You know I would not do anything to hurt you, yes? I have taken care of you all this time... just let me take care of you again." There was a genuine tone there in his voice, watching her closely.

Taliorinth wanted to pull her gaze away, yet she couldn't as was so often the case. She just watched into those sharp eyes of his, seeing that honesty, that commitment. She reminded herself that he was a good man. That he did mean well, and that her discomfort was perhaps just was an overreaction. Slowly, her hands uncurled from the fists and she nodded her head, "I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I know you care. I do trust you, Nesrin."

Nesrin Thori'thal stayed silent for a few moments, letting the words she spoke hang in the air for a few long moments.

"Tell me you understand, Taliorinth." He'd finally say, commanding her such.

Taliorinth took in a slow breath, and without hesitation she said, "I understand, Nesrin."

Nesrin waited a few moments after as well, once again letting the weight of her words settle. Eventually, his grip on her chin would loosen, his knuckles brushing along her cheek, "That's my good girl. That's all you have to do, yes?"

She nodded her head, still feeling uneasy. Yet soon after, he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, heavy and wanting. Trapping her there for an endless time against him in some form of romance and affection.

Suddenly there was a voice, “Sorry to interrupt…”

The voice pulled her from her thoughts, pulled her from the memory of the chilling touches she felt like she could never escape, leaving her only with the sight of what was in front of her. What was outside of the window she still sat in front of.

Taliorinth glanced over her shoulder, turning her gaze back to the doorway that had recently opened and allowed in a visitor she’d not heard from in so long. A tall man, clothes hanging off of his frame in a lazy fashion that made him always look more a traveler than anything. One stark blue eye contrasting against his tanned skin and his blonde locks.

She knew him like she knew no other, and to see him there, she felt some wash of emotions run over her. Like so many times, she tried to hide it away for a time. To hold back just how much just seeing him affected her… so much within her that she could say, yet her tongue failed to allow escape, her lips shut defiant against her mind.

“Quineven…” she finally uttered, turning herself about to fully face him.

Taeral had come back, his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and an apologetic smile on his face. “We did not mean to intrude on your moment.”

Taliorinth immediately felt shame for having been caught, her cheeks turning red and her eyes dropping down.

Nesrin had pulled back from Taliorinth as soon as the others returned. Straightening up, he adjusted in his seat and looked forward to Taeral and Gabriel. "It is fine. Absolutely fine." He waved his hand. "There are more moments to be had. Many more, in fact, in the future."

Taeral looked between the pair, but still carried that smile. "As I am sure, considering your fast approaching engagement."

He looked around a moment, seemingly looking for the pair of women that were absent. "I had wished to show my appreciation for the fine dinner this evening before departing." His eyes gave a side glance to the man he held onto. "It appears there are dire matters that require my immediate attention, if you would forgive me."

Gabriel’s voice rose up with a bitter tone, “It would appear… I cannot stay long as well.”

Immediately, Taliorinth found her voice to weakly say, “No.” at the mention of him leaving. She didn’t want him gone… she didn’t want to be alone again. Not yet.

Nesrin nodded his head to Taeral, "Ah of course... of course." He hesitated at the sound of her Taliorinth, frowning, "There is no reason for you to stay any longer. I'll be sure to pass on the appreciation to the Rosespears myself."

Taeral blinked a moment, but without missing a beat, he nodded. "My thanks, Lord Thon'dil, and soon to be Lady." He bowed his head before turning to the man at his side. "Come along then. It is a long journey." That grip never faltering.

Gabriel perked his ears as Tali spoke up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He spoke up quickly, "If I may request you show us out, Tali?" He watched her hopefully. "I am not certain when next I may return, as it may not be before the wedding." His eyes only drifted momentarily to the man whom gripped Tali, before fixating on the woman herself again with that plead. "I would like... one last moment, if I may?"

"I'm afraid that won't be an option," Nesrin shot back without a moment’s hesitation.

Taeral made a low sound of disappointment. Even still. "Unfortunate, but I am sure you both would like to continue your privacy. I can respect that."

"We would, yes," the man said, his arm still around Taliorinth as he watched the pair.

The air was tense, and it seemed as if it would pass with the departure that would surely follow… but instead, Gabriel’s expression changed. He narrowed his eyes, and in a gruff tone he said, “I won’t.”

Within a heartbeat, he darted forward as Taeral released him from the grip. The man vaulted the table, pushing aside finery and foods all across them, his hand slipping into a hidden pocket and pulling out a small stone.

“NO!” Taliorinth tried to stop him; tried desperately to avoid this collision that was going to happen… to stop before something was truly ruined in this delicate balance.

There was a buzz of magic rose up, both from Nesrin himself and the stone that was held between Gabriel’s fingers. It was a quick moment that felt like an eternity, watching in a slowed manner as the spell activated against the stone and collided directly with the man’s skull. A shock of arcane went through the body, leaving him to slump back uselessly against the chair.

There was a miscast of a half-baked spell to the side, loudly tossing dishes along the floor and chairs, breaking them and leaving a scorch mark across the table’s surface. Deadly and meant for the man that was now standing to Taliorinth’s side.

Taliorinth had moved quickly, trying to check to make sure that Nesrin had not been killed by whatever magic was let loose. She couldn’t tell, pressing her fingers rapidly to his neck to find the pulse or sense he was still breathing.

Yet, true to his name, the shadow was standing there with her, and the last words she heard were from his gruff, familiar voice. One that so often warned her of the dangers of this situation or filled her thoughts with arguments against what she so desperately wanted…

“I’m sorry about this Tali…”

And the world darkened.

That was what was missing, she realized. That was what truly had happened.

That was why she was here…

That’s why Quineven stood before her now.

In a moment, she realized the weight of the actions that had transpired. The amount of troubles had been caused because of her and her decisions.

She had ran away again… just as she promised not to.

Already she felt the disappointment from her sisters.

Her sisters…

Her family…

All that she could do now was look to the man who surely gave that stone to Gabriel. Who surely knew this would all happen. Who surely requested her to be brought back here.

All she could do was ask that simple question that rang through her thoughts.

“What have you done?”

Tide of Fate Story Index Here

Esme turned to wander down the grand staircase and felt the kiss of the cold wind. No longer was there a large glass wall with double doors to go through and enter the aviary. There was nothing. It was shattered as was the dome of the aviary itself. Some of the foliage inside - large, weeping willows, tall and far-reaching oaks, fluffy bushes, lush grass - had been saved, but much of it had been eaten away as though by acid. Not even branches were left among the black, crisped ground. The pond in the middle had been drained of all its water and the forge in the center that used to be home to the phoenixes, Little Prince and Sprout, was crushed under the large gold statue of what the birds were in life. 

Eventually, the aviary would be rebuilt, but the rest of Embertree was more important and needed to come first. It was a decision that Faervell did not disagree with. It was a decision that Captain of the Guard Baclen Highstar would have been proud of. 

If he were still alive. 

Esme crossed the marbled threshold of the grand entryway, careful of the chips and gouges, and made her way down the west wing to the kitchens knowing full well that Teresa would not be there.

Teresa was still alive, but had been assisting with the towns, ensuring that the few workers they still had were well-fed. In order to do so, she was out of the estate even before Esme woke up. She was best suited to the house and complained about not being in Embertree Court, but Esme never asked her to go to the towns. Teresa did that of her own accord. She complained, but she found it important and Faervell had floated the idea to Esme that Teresa did it as a way to honor Baclen. Faervell whispered that he thought Teresa might have been a little bit in love with the Captain of the Guard. 

As suspected, Teresa was not in the kitchens, but there was still a cup of coffee that had been enchanted to remain warm. It was sitting beside a small cup of fruit and a plate with broiled fish with lemon curry butter and a slice of toast meant to soak up the butter. Another place setting sat across the butcher block island, and it was clearly meant for Faervell: biscuits smothered in gravy and chopped up thick slices of bacon, fatty sausages, and two large eggs sprinkled with chives and garlic. Next to the plate were two glasses that held water in one and milk in another. 

Esme shook her head, still incapable of understanding how Faervell could eat so much, but she filled herself up on her fish, ate the toast, saved the fruit for last, and drained the cup of coffee. By the time she finished and left, dawn had come and the sky began to tinge a beautiful purple and orange. 

Standing outside of Embertree Court, she cast a glance back towards the tower in the distance, the Hunting Lodge. It was normal. The building itself took minimal damage from the Black Bloods, but of course, it was enchanted to be a strong hold. No longer did it serve the purpose of housing hunting parties of drunken men that celebrated their managing to take down not one, not two, but three stags. The building’s purpose was no longer to have animals butchered in its lower levels and hung as decorations in its upper levels. It had a darker purpose. 

Esme had gifted it to Faervell as a place to practice his magic. Whether it was practice with fel fire or summoning demons - something she especially hated - it was built to last and contain whatever was within. In doing so, the wards on the building were strong. They had strained against the Black Bloods, but had held all the same. Faervell was always good with curses and wards, and the building standing was a testament to that. 

But Esme was not interested in how the building still stood. Her thoughts trailed off to what lie within. On the bottom floor, tucked under what looked like glass, was a drop of sludge. It looked like the remnants of the Black Bloods - black and purple in color with a consistency of congealed blood. But it was not wholly of the Black Bloods. It could not be. The rest of whatever was left from those creatures had gone away. They had all but evaporated when the Sunguard had defeated them. All of the lands that had held any trace of such things were clean. Wounded, injured, yes, but clean. 

How had this bit, enough to hold in one’s hand if one were stupid enough, remained? Faervell had claimed he felt something more than just old gods. Shadow and void both, he had said. He knew best, of course. Magic was his field. But Esme could not help but feel as though there was more to it. She could not help but feel that while Faervell was right, neither was he completely right. 

With a deep breath, Esme turned away from the Lodge. It was something they were working on together. Something that Faervell would no doubt begin to look into as soon as he woke up. It was not something she needed to think on for now, even if the worry still crept in the back recesses of her mind that whatever the thing was, it was dangerous and oh so very close to the place she now called home. 

She shook her head and lifted her fingers to her mouth. A sharp whistle followed, carrying over the meadows and echoing through the expanse of the surrounding field. She only needed to wait for a few moments before she saw something shift in the tall grass. A flash of orange darted between purple and blue flowers. The tall wheat-like grass parted and bounding towards her was Amon, his fur the color of her hair, the color of sunset. His large bushy fox’s tail wagged and he excitedly rounded her a few times before nudging his nose against her hip so that he could slip his head beneath her arm. 

He was much larger than any fox. It was no doubt a side effect of the curse that had lay over Embertree before, as were his blue eyes that appeared to hold a glow not unlike her own. But he did not have any of the animosity that the controlled animals had before. He was free, and he had been domesticated before his long stint of being in the wild and being changed by magic. His saddle was still in place, soft and made specifically for him. And as soon as Esme reached for it, he obediently crouched down so that she could slip onto his back with ease. 

He enjoyed being ridden, and though Esme would not admit it aloud, she enjoyed riding him. Holding on to the thick fur of Amon’s neck, she said in Thalassian, “Go.”

The two went east. He was as swift and slippery as a fox ought to be, weaving through grass and over hills with ease. He did not have to stick to riding paths like many horse’s favored. It made the journey to the border easy. It made the ride shorter, easier, and quieter. The two went into greater Quel’thalas and kept going into the mountains, slowing only whenever a party of travelers might stop by. 

Most of the time, such travelers were not looking for conversation much less trouble. Every so often, one would recognize Esme and call her Fleet Commander or Pathfinder of the Sunguard. Sometimes she corrected them, sometimes that took much effort. She had found a way to tell if they were being polite or if they were scared. If she saw relief in their faces when they referred to her as Spectre or Sunward, she allowed them to do so. She had not the heart to tell them that her oath was gone, that the Sunguard was disbanded. Let them think she is still there as a soldier to protect. They would not be wholly wrong. 

“Almost there,” she said to Amon, offering the fox a pat to his neck. He was panting, but happily so. He had been running for hours, which was no doubt a treat after her had been stuck in Embertree for the last few weeks. He sniffed almost everything they passed and seemed so excited by it all that Esme allowed him to wander off course more than once before easing him back. 

As they continued to ride, she saw their goal over the rise. What used to be large gates of what might have been gold were crumbled and leaning against the mountains around them, tired and destroyed and burned. Whatever ‘acid’ the Black Bloods had, it had tarnished what used to shine. Miraculously, the doors still stood and they also remained closed. Likewise, guards dutifully flanked either side of the gate with spears in hand, and they immediately turned their eyes onto Esme as she approached. 

Esme knew suspicion and could sense it in the air. It was a familiar emotion to her and she did not blame either of the guards for feeling it. She did not look like a normal visitor. She had no party with her, nor did she bear any seal. Had it been a month or so before, it would have been easier. They would have seen the crimson and gold tabard and let her in without a second thought. Of course, they would have been crawling with Black Bloods as well. 

She took a breath to shout a greeting, but a whistle rang through the air, getting louder as it got closer. Thankfully, Amon moved of his own accord and jerked to the side - just as an arrow sunk into the soil left behind. Two more whistles and Esme gripped onto the fox, entrusting him to dodge the arrows. 

Ah, so that was how it would be. Fantastic. Never were things easy.

“STAY YOUR BOWS!” Esme shouted as Amon whipped to one side and bared his teeth at the guards, even though they had not lifted a single hand between them. Archers must be hidden in the mountains. 

“Stay your bows!” she shouted. “I am--”

Another two arrows whistled through the air and landed. One was only a few inches from Amon’s back paw and Esme felt a small spike of anxiety and a flash of anger. 

“STAY YOUR BOWS!” she yelled louder. “MY NAME IS KNIGHT-CAPTAIN ESME SUNSHARD OF EMBERTREE! OF SHALLOWBROOK!”

As Amon readied a dart to the other side, the guards conversed and one - a woman with a deep pitch - called out, “Hold!” but too late. Another arrow swept through the sky, arching, and landing in front of Esme and Amon.

The same guard lifted her chin. “Zalin Shadowsunder wrote ahead of your visitation.”

“And you still shot at me?” Esme shouted back, exasperated. 

Neither guard looked bothered by the question, nor what spurred it. The other guard, a man, said simply, “We did not know that you were she. Now we know. You are expected. The Lady Voidsunder will see you.”

Esme’s brows twitched. She was annoyed at the reception she had been given, but her curiosity at the title eased it somewhat. She imagined Seileran. She had met the woman a few times while they were in The Sunguard together. She did not recall her using that title, however. Something must have changed in order to have her take on such a moniker. 

“Go through the gates and follow the path,” the woman guard said. “Do not stray from the path.”

Esme could not help but huff out a breath. The guard did sound much different from Esme when the Embertree lands were laden with curses and crawling with monsters. She did not argue, though she could tell the woman was bracing herself for such. 

“Aye,” Esme answered. “Do not stray from the path. Are you sure the Lady Voidsunder is expecting me? Or should I expect to be shot at even after the gate?”

The guards exchanged glances. Beneath the helmet, the man’s smirk was visible. The doors opened.

At the lack of an answer, Esme huffed again. She glanced down at the arrows that surrounded her and Amon sniffed at one of them before offered the guards his own little huff. She counted eight in all before she patted Amon’s neck. “Come on. Let us go. The Lady Voidsunder is waiting for us and we have work to do.”

Behind her, the doors shut and the sound of the metal lock sliding into place echoed behind her.

---

Before long, the meadows Captain Highstar rode through became a line of people. Civilians had their belongings in bags – some had managed carts – and they were being filtered down the road as fast as they could go. They were being ushered to newly liberated Shallowbrook. What a joke. These people were so tired. They had been occupied by the Kingdom of Quel’Thalas Reborn and as soon as it looked as though they might have their homes back to normal, these creatures – the Black Bloods – manifested like a plague.

Baclen found himself grateful that a good portion of the people had fled to Silvermoon City before, when the self-proclaimed High King had showed up on their doorsteps. Baclen himself had been busy doing what he had to in order to save lives, but at night, whenever he could manage, he had tried his best to smuggle people out of the land. He could only pray to the Light that bandits had not gotten them once they had left Embertree’s borders.

“Captain!” one of his men shouted in greeting.

Baclen yanked on the reins of his horse, halting the steed but hardly calming it. It was restless and paced back and forth, eager to continue.

“We need to move this faster,” Highstar warned. “They’re surging through.”

The few soldiers looked to one another, concern etched on their war-weary faces. “How long?” they dared.

“There is a line of soldiers at the bridge before the Court. Everything east of that has already been overrun.”

One of the soldiers choked back a sound and swiftly cleared his throat. His green eyes were glossed. No doubt he had family in the west. Perhaps Tottenham. Perhaps Magemire. Did it matter? No. Baclen felt a pang of guilt, but there was no time for personal grief. His own family’s home had been in Newstorm and that was likely being crawled over by the corrupted monstrosities presently. It was not a time for grief, it was a time for retreat and survival. That is what Knight-Captain Sunshard would say, and that is what he would agree with.

“Get these people out faster,” Highstar ordered.

“We’re going as fast as—“

“—Yessir!”

“Double time! Come on! Move, move, move!”

The soldiers hurried to do as ordered and Baclen tried to turn his horse back to the west. It whinnied and stomped at the ground in protest, shaking its head and bucking, but eventually his voice soothed it. It took more coaxing but he was able to urge the horse to a trot and then a gallop back along the lines. He needed to check on the last line of defense. He needed to do a full sweep of some of the shops and houses, but there was no time for that. He needed to make sure Vanessa had gotten—

People screamed. Baclen yanked on the reins again to halt his horse. He looked to Embertree Court and his expression slackened with horror. From behind the large estate, purple, pustulous creatures swarmed the white and gold building. They oozed over the pathways leading around the front and back. One of the beasts with large, tattered wings landed on the glistening glass dome of the aviary, raised its tentacle fist, and slammed it down.

They were close. They were too close. And people could see that. What had been a relatively calm line of retreat broke into panic. Baclen tried to shout for calm, but his horse finally betrayed him. The animal bucked, threw the Captain of the Guard off of its back, and dashed towards the west.

As soon as Baclen hit the ground, he felt a sharp pain run down his spine from his head. He had hit something. A rock, perhaps. It hurt and caused a painful sting through his limbs, but he could move and that is all that mattered. He struggled to his feet and drew his sword, shouting to the panicking Embertree citizens even if it was futile.

“GO!! GO TO THE BORDER!! –Where are my men?!” With his sword in hand and his question on the air, he readied himself to move forward and then stopped. Within the ranks of these beasts – these ‘Black Bloods’ – he saw bits of armor. He saw swords on the ground. It was as though his men, the line had disappeared. He heard his men call and shout and scream, but he could not see them.

But it did not matter.

He should have been afraid. He was afraid. He should have ran with the civilians, but that was not his way. He had sworn to Knight-Captain Sunshard to protect Embertree, just as his father before him had done. And his father before him. And his father before him. He was a Highstar, and this was Embertree. This was his home. These were his people.

This was his fight, as hopeless as it looked.

With his sword raised, Baclen stood his ground. He took in a deep breath and let out a war cry. Where the people ran to the west, he ran to the east. He ran towards the Black Bloods. If the last line of defense had been broken through, then he would take its place, solitary or no.

He swung his sword and instantly felt it connect with one of the beasts. It was an odd sensation. He had fought animals, people, and undead. There was less resistance in this corrupted flesh. His word glided through and severed one tentacle. Another swing and it glided through again, severing a limb he could not even fathom what to call. Their name was apt, for their blood was black and it sprayed across his face, causing a burn. He cried out in shock, but there was a fight still to be had.

One after another, Baclen cut down the beasts, and one after another, he dodged the swipes and claws and beats of wings. It was enough to almost give him hope. Foolishly, he felt heroic. There was a euphoric warmth in his heart amidst the burning of his flesh.

But then there was only pain. His body lunged forward and when he looked down, he saw a claw protruding from his armor, through his chest. Black blood, almost like ink deluded in water, spread through the claw and then through his flesh. It was an insurmountable amount of pain. It felt like fire. He felt it crawl through his veins, up his neck, down his limbs. He tightened himself and threw his head back to yell, but no sound came. Instead, there was a gurgle. A roar. A shriek.

Light, he sounded like one of them.

…He sounded like one of them.

The claw was torn from his body and he fell on the grass, facing the west. His vision was blurred, the edges hazy with black and then red. But he could still see the people running. No, they were no longer running. They were not being cut down. They were being absorbed. They were being changed.

He looked to the ground. The grass was so green. It had been such a pleasant day. But he was sure if he looked to the sky, it would not look blue any longer. Not to him.

He had fought to protect the land. Just like his father--…. Just like who? Who had protected the land? What was the land? Who was he? He had been angry and scared. Had he? Hadn’t he? What was he now? Who were these people running? Why was his blood black? Was it always that way? The haze in his vision clouded further. He tasted something rotten in his mouth. He felt his body slithering from within. He felt himself warp.

And then he felt nothing.

Captain of the Guard, Baclen Highstar, is no longer.