#lalore

The sky flashed green as thunder began to ring about Azeroth. Periodically, the ground shook from large impacts and candles flickered dangerously. The time had come. There was no hope now besides that maybe some champions out there could save them– could save their whole world.

Parents sobbed and children hid; men and woman who were of age were drafted into armies left and right, despite never seeing a day of battle in their life. It was a horrendous time. It was a time of great fear and depression. Their world was about to come to an end.

Alísse clutched the windowsill tightly, her delicate fingers turning white. She could see the green meteors crashing into the city around her– she could see the city’s defenders protecting what they love; she could see them giving their lives for her.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. No. She’s not going to just sit idly by and watch this happen! She’s a Mage and clearly of age! Just because she still in training, that doesn’t mean she needs to sit by and have people fighting her battle for her. Alísse is very much capable of doing that for herself, thank you.

Alísse set down the long-forgotten book she had opened to read. It wasn’t doing anything but absorbing the sweat from her hands. She hopped down from the window seat and grabbed her spell book which would strap into a belt that hung onto her hips. Generally, magi wear robes. This is a time for quick-paced battle, however, not a time for organized war.

She hooked her staff onto her back and pulled as much as her long hair back into a ponytail as she could. The world was going to see who Alísse was tonight. They’re going to see a young woman who would rather die for her world than sit idly by as it burned.

“Where in the Light’s name do you think you’re going?” A voice scolds her from behind. Alísse whips around, anger set on her delicate features.

“To save Dalaran.” She growled, throwing open the door. The fel stench hit her hard, mixing with the smell of burning wood. To her left, a stand had been burnt to the ground, the remains still alit.

“You are to do no such thing!” Alísse’s mother yelled, charging after her and grabbing her wrist before she could get very far out of the door.

“Watch me!”

Alísse hardly ever raised her voice. She was always the open-minded, innocent sweetheart. She has always cared too much about other people instead of herself.

Alísse yanked her wrist free from her mother’s grasp and raced towards the burning stand. She would save them. She would save Dalaran and whoever else needed her help.

—

His eyes were glued to the sky. It had been months since he had seen war. At this point, he was hoping that he would be free of it– that he would be able to live with his wife in a secluded area and be free. They could do whatever they wanted.

The ground rumbled dangerously and Raedrian felt tears sting the corners of his eyes. Memories of years before when he was young and chasing after a distant relative while trying to escape his father came flooding back at once. It overpowered him quickly and he was forced to lean against the side of his small cottage to keep up right.

This isn’t what he wanted. Rae is going to have to pick up that damn sword again, isn’t he?

He bites his lip as he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Rae,” Ylaina whispers softly. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to say anything for Ylaina to know. Instead, he looks at her at lets the tears roll freely down his cheeks. She sets her jaw and pulls him into a gentle hug, one he is immensely grateful of.

Ylaina may not like physical contact so much but it means the world to Rae that she would push this discomfort back to comfort.

He doesn’t want to go back into war.

Light, please save him from this.

–

Her ear flicked nervously. It flicked again, hardly a second later. She was tapping soundlessly on an arrow that was laying across her bow.

The sound of war wasn’t unfamiliar to her, but it pained her that the world had to go through this again. Regardless, she is a hero now, not some wanna-be huntress with a lack of self awareness. She knows who she is. She’s stronger than any enemy if she puts her mind to it.

“Lalore,” Yezi’s reading voice comes from behind her. The tree they are perched in rustles lightly as Nkanyezi changes branches to sit next to her.

“You’re doing that thing again.” She whispers.

Lalore looks down. Her hand are clutching her bow deadly tight, the wood even creaking slightly when she releases her death grip on it. Yezi’s laughter fills her ears and Lalore ducks her chin slightly out of embarrassment.

“You need to relax, Lora!”

“I will relax when our world is not in immediate threat.” Lalore replies coldly, her eyes snapping back to the world in front of her. Hillsbrad is quite an interesting place; she wishes she could have explored it more before the Legion invaded.

Yezi sighs and rests on her bottom, nudging Lalore with her shoulder. “The world is always in danger. That’s what makes it Azeroth.”

Lalore glances at Yezi. Elune, she doesn’t want to admit that Nkanyezi is right but she absolutely is. That’s one of the many things she loves about Yezi.

Lora sighs and rests her bow on a branch overhanging them. She rolls her shoulders and sits properly instead of crouching, her legs swinging freely beneath her. Lalore is only one elf– she can only do so much. She needs to work on remembering that.

The cloak she wears gets tossed over both of them as Lalore leans her head against Yezi’s shoulder.

“We’ll make it out of this one too, just you see.” Yezi murmurs with an audible grin.

Lora nods. They’ll make it. Azeroth will live through this.

–

She screams as loudly as she could, bringing her fist down and straight through her desk. It cracks and leaves a giant hole in the center of it, sending various papers scattering across the cabin.

Everyone is dead. Everyone is dead and it’s all her fault! She’s a piss-poor pirate and the world’s most idiotic priest. She can’t do anything to help anyone, let alone herself!

Her heart hammered loudly in her chest, reminding her of the vast quantities of alcohol coursing through her veins. That gives her another reason to hate herself! She can’t do anything right!

There’s a low chuckle in the back of her mind and a several murmurs of agreement. Belysa clutches it and shakes her head wildly, as if that’ll send the voices away. The laughter only grows wilder.

‘Next time, let the demon kill you so you don’t have to go through the messy work of doing it yourself,’ one hisses.

‘Have you noticed no one has come around? That’s because none of them care about you,’ another answers.

'You would be better off with us, Belysa. Think about the unimaginable amount of power you could have! Think about the way people would whisper your name and cower in fear,“ the third one giggled, obviously insane.

“Shut up!” Belysa screeched, dropping to her knees. There was a knock at her door. She recognized the soft sound as one from Oliver.

She shook her head. She couldn’t deal with any of it now. The Legion rained down around them and she was sitting in her room, screaming about how useless she is. It’s true, though.

The wound on her right thigh ached unpleasantly. It hadn’t opened back up, thankfully. Now, it only served as a reminder of who she couldn’t save. All of those lives lost in Dun Morogh, all of those people she had failed to save because she abandoned the light…

Orland…

Belysa curled into a ball against the footboard of her bed and let herself break. The world was dying. Why couldn’t she do anything about it?

Why couldn’t she be useful for once in her miserable life?

–

There was a long, low whistle ending in a high note that made Min'da snap one of her heads in the direction that it came from. The other continued to survey the beasts, many of which who were also looking towards the sound.

Errias was back.

Three short whistles and Min'da responded in a loud growl. Everyone is to be herded back to their dens. The ground under them is shaking and the sky rains green. This is not a time for pups to play.

Errias joined her as she followed the stragglers to the wide systems of caves. It had been serving as their home for quite sometime. Since their family was so large, it was perfect for them.

However, the scent Errias wore today told her trouble had come. He has been uneasy as of late and has been in more battles around civilizations than she knows is normal. He doesn’t appear to want to stay here long.

“Good girl,” Errias murmurs and rests his forehead against one of Min'da’s. She nudges him back, keeping her worried eyes on him. “I’m afraid the Legion had decided that today shall harbor Azeroth’s fate.”

Min'da nudged him again, not understanding his words but recognizing the sorrow in his body. She curled around him, wings ruffling and holding him protectively as he laid against her. He sighed.

“We’ll give them hell when the time comes, won’t we, Mother?” He murmurs, giving Min'da a shy smile. Min'da does her best to replicate the action, snorting derisively when he breaks out into laughter.

She watches him fondly after that, wondering if he’ll notice the small fire beginning on the top of his head.

He doesn’t until the next morning.

–

The flowers drifted gently into the ocean, illuminated by the soft green thunder that rolled overhead. Tonight was a special night. Tonight is the night she has to work for Sylvanas.

Theramore, the ruins that surround her, are ghostly quiet. It pains her to think of what she had done to this place, how many lives were lost and the great sorrow she brought upon Jaina. Az visibly flinched every time Theramore or Jaina was mentioned.

She could never make up what she had done here.

5,621 flowers. She had stopped created giant flower crowns in the first place due to the absurd amount she would need. 5,621 people she has ever killed for any reason at all.

Azsh doesn’t cry now. There is no use for her to cry, especially when it only makes her feel worse. Azeroth needs her in just a few hours. She cannot be weak, then. The fate of the world is depending on her shoulders. She could make one wrong move and everything would come crumbling down.

Belysa… Belysa needs her to do this, that is why she agreed in the first place. She needs to make it up for Belysa and Moral. Theramore… Theramore can never be truly repaid, but she can damn sure try her hardest to show the world how much it destroys her.

Azsh picks up another flower and weaves it into the last place of the crown. In bobs gently in the water as it drifts off with the others.

All she gets in response is a wink of green on the inky surface. Her heart breaks a bit more.

Not all of these characters are mine!! Ylaina and Nkanyezi are @kitkatkimble ’s. Moral is @rhadgar-khadgar ’s.

Orland belongs to @orlan