#petrelia

The green landscape seemed to glow. Every small groove only allowed for a ride around to show its ugly face. No peace was to be found here. This bright green cover was a reminder to Lyrelark of the threat they faced. It covered his forearm and hand permanently and at times kept him awake at night.

Few times in his life had he ever been presented with real evil. With most, there was often reasoning to be found- whether it was just was another story. But here in the bunker, hiding from the outside world, it was clear that this evil was not one to take lightly.

Hymn Choralis was Lyrelark’s cousin on his mother’s side, and she had previously sought over he course of several years to end his life. Before he even knew it he was lined up to take over as the leader of their family on the distant Isle Orchinet- but Hymn wanted that role for her own.

She planted a wound on Lyrelark that was unhealable, untouchable; made of shadow tendrils that were tainted with her own deep rooted insanity. The only way to remove this wound was to burn it away with fel fire enough times to send the ranger past the pain point of death four times over.

It was done by their ally, warlock Samni, and her recent attempt to kill him was thwarted by the aid of his now wife and some allies- but Hymn did manage to escape. She was killed later on by Samni and had her soul destroyed and sent to the Twisting Nether.

… Well, part of that turned out to be accurate. Her soul was partially destroyed but still held part of itself intact. In unfortunate circumstance it escaped and was captured by a troll woman attempting to imbue the corpse of an ancient devilsaur with an evil soul. This rooted the beginning of Hymn’s new wave of corruption. With her soul freed, and fractured, she empowered a series of creations by a cult known as the Olive Flame throughout Azeroth. These demons, monsters, and surgically corrupted people now held power they could not control coming from the insanity of a broken soul.

It only got worse. Hymn began recruiting warlocks to attempt and repair her soul, with the promise of destruction and great power. She learned of the experiments she empowered and began using them with the purpose of destroying all that she can.

She was once evil and insane; now, she is only evil.

Still, in his bed, he squirmed. This woman caused a lot of pain in Lyrelark’s life. But he knew she hurt far more than that. He looked over at his wife beside him and frowned. Varia had to watch him struggle to sleep after her first defeat. She had to heal those wounds, and watch her lover be sent past death before her own eyes at the hands of her friend.

Hymn had to be stopped. Whether this ragtag team could accomplish it or not… He wasn’t sure.

“Your disappearance frightened the others.” With blue skin and hair as white as she was tall, a Night Elf woman sat beside him. “You need to be careful.”

“I know, I know...” The green-eyed man let another dirt clod roll down. “Sorry. I’ll head back soon.”

“N- no, don’t apologize.” She seemed surprised by his answer. With eyes shifting from the forest below back to his hands, she rolled down a dirt clod too. Not quite sure why; just hoping for some sort of common ground.

Lyrelark watched hers roll, but it never broke before leaving his sight. “Petrelia...” He looked up, then over at her. “Did it... did it hurt you when the Blood Elves joined the Horde?”

Her silver eyes revealed that she was caught off guard by the question. “I mean... Yes. It did. It gave me a sort of closure I didn’t want. Knowing I could never find him again was one of the most painful things I have ever felt.”

“Did you ever search for him yourself?” He tilted his head to her. 

“I did.” It seemed hard to say for her. Petrelia choked putting those words out there. “I searched for years... But there’s only so much searching you can do while supporting yourself still.”

“Yeah...” He was a bit familiar. Coming home from Pandaria and losing his family hit him hard. “What did you think of this war?”

“It’s frivolous, really.” Petrelia chuckled, and looked back to him again. “But I suppose when you live as short as the Humans and Orcs do, you have to get all that racist anger out on the table, do you not?”

That produced the first smile Lyrelark had given her, then the first laugh subsequently after. “I’m glad we see that the same.” He leaned a bit closer, and sighed. “We aren’t that different then, are we?”

“Is that what you’ve been worried about?” The night elf woman cocked an eyebrow. “Varia told me this... stoic nature, this quiet tone wasn’t like you. Are you worried because of what we are, or because of this war?”

“It’s the war.” His smile had now faded. “I don’t... I don’t want to get close to you, then find out one of my friends, or old comrades, killed you in an attack. I would hate that.”

It was a quick and gentle gesture. Lyrelark didn’t feel Petrelia’s arm slip around him, and didn’t realize contact was made until her head rested on his shoulder. She let out a deep sigh, and then a light melodic laugh. “I am not worried about any of that. This war won’t last forever, you know- we will long outlive all those who have kept it going. All I know is that I am glad your-” She stopped herself. “Our father is back in my life again. He and I would like to reconnect, and get to know each other again as we are able... And I would like to be able to know you as my brother.” Her silver eyes looked up, and met the green glow of his own. “If... you want that.”