#warofthorns

Darnassus was burning.

Kynnaria squinted her eyes against the smoke. She attempted to sit up, but found she couldn’t feel her left side. She coughed and felt something spatter her hand. She couldn’t see what it was through the smoke, though she felt she wouldn’t want to anyways.

The thick smog made her head light and her body heavy. Kynnaria tried to raise her voice to call out for help. She could see movement through the smoke. People were just out of reach, but she couldn’t find her voice. They couldn’t see her through the smoke. She felt her eyes lulling shut, her breath becoming more and more strained. The smoke seemed to spin into a kaleidoscope of colors until there was nothing but black.

The last thing she saw was the hulking form of a Saber ambling towards her.

Im using Morbid Sims Ultimate Legacy as a guide for my story. It is currently early 1300s. So, children do die during this time period. In this chapter we go have this happen.

The heavy oak door closed with a finality that echoed through the room, sealing Drakaida within its confines. She paced the length of her room, footsteps muffled by the thick rug beneath her feet. She tried to push aside the fear and doubt that threatened to consume her, 'what would her father's punishment be.'

The daylight passed slowly outside her window, but still, Drakaida remained trapped within her prison, her mind a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs. Had she made the right choice in letting the soldier go free? Or had she doomed herself to a fate worse than death?

As the hours stretched on, she emerged herself in her studies. She knew that he wouldn't leave her locked away forever, knew that she would have to face her father's judgment eventually.

Kaida sat by the flickering hearth, her eyes filled with worry and concern. The news of her daughter's actions and punishment had reached her ears like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile peace of their home.

Beside her, her husband, Drakaida's father, paced the length of the room, his brow furrowed with anger and frustration.

"I can't believe she would do something so reckless," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "She knows the consequences of her actions; knows the danger she's put us all in."

"She did what she thought was right," Kaida said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"This isn't about her feelings," he said, his voice hardening with resolve. "This is about loyalty, about duty to our people."

"You can not be serious" she angrily jumps to her feet, "What about my people! That soldier is one of my people, he comes from my Fathers lands" her voice rises as she approaches him. "I turned my back on those people for you."

Her husband regarded her for a long moment, "The elves stopped being your people when your father started this war."

"What about Drakaida; she is our daughter, our flesh and blood." Kaida tried a different approach. "The soldier is gone, he has not come to attack us, let it go"

"Our children don't know their heritage, Drakaida is the heir to the throne and does not even know it" she implored, her eyes searching her husbands for understanding. "They don't understand the sacrifices that were made, the blood that was spilled just for us to be together. All they see is the war, the hatred, the endless cycle of violence."

Her husband listened in silence; his expression unreadable as he considered her words. The weight of their family's legacy pressed heavily upon him.

As the seasons turned and the world outside began to awaken from its winter slumber, a sense of renewal filled the air. In the garden, Kaida and Siora, Drakaida's younger sister, spent their days tending to the earth, their laughter a melody that echoed through the trees.

From her window, Drakaida watched them with a mixture of longing and regret. The news of her mother's pregnancy had brought a spark of joy to their home.

As she watched Siora put her hand in Kaida's belly feeling the new baby kick. With a sigh, she tore her gaze away from the window and turned back to the solitude of her room. She closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer for her family, for her unborn sibling.

Sarya is upset that with Drakaida locked away in her room, her duties as caretaker of the Dragons and Hawks fell to her.

With a deep breath, she pushed open the doors to the mews. The Dragons and Hawks greeted her with curious chirps and rumbles, their eyes gleaming with intelligence.

As the days stretched into weeks and Kaida's confinement drew near, Drakaida remained locked away in her room. Drakaida's father, burdened by the weight of his daughter's isolation and the impending arrival of his new child, relented to the pleas of his wife and allowed Drakaida to emerge from her room under the watchful eye of a guard.

With a mixture of relief and trepidation, Drakaida stepped out into the world once more, her heart pounding in her chest as she breathed in the fresh air of freedom. Beside her, the guard kept a vigilant watch, making sure she did not try to leave the grounds.

As the days passed and Kaida's pregnancy progressed, a shadow of concern fell over the Castle. Kaida had been getting sick more and more frequently and losing weight she should be gaining.

"Are you okay?" Drakon asked gently as he approached her in their chambers.

Kaida forced a weak smile, "I'm fine," she reassured him, though her words lacked conviction.

But her husband saw through the facade, his eyes filled with worry as he reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

"You don't seem fine," he said softly, his voice tinged with concern. "You've been getting sick most days. I'm worried about you, Kaida. We should have a healer look at you."

Kaida shook her head, her stomach churning with nausea as she struggled to find the words to reassure him. "It's just… it's just morning sickness, I am a healer I know what I am talking about" she insisted, though even to her own ears, the lie sounded hollow.

But her husband wasn't convinced, his brow furrowed with worry as he knelt beside her, his hand resting gently on her stomach.

"I don't think it's just morning sickness," he said quietly, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and determination. "I think there's something more going on. We need to find out what's wrong."

As concern for Kaida's health and the health of the baby spread through the castle, Drakon, found himself faced with a dilemma. His wife's sickness weighed heavily on his heart, but he knew that he needed to be strong for their children, to reassure them and offer them comfort in their time of worry.

One evening, as the twins laid in bed the questioned him with furrowed brows and worried expressions, "Is Mama going to be okay?" they asked in unison, their voices filled with fear and uncertainty. "Is the baby okay?"

Drakon sat down on the bed beside them, his heart breaking at the sight of their concern. "we're going to do everything we can to help her get better."

The twins exchanged worried glances, their young faces creased with worry. "But what if she doesn't get better?" they asked, their voices trembling with fear.

Drakon took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "We don't know what the future holds," he said gently, his voice steady despite the turmoil that churned within him. "But we can't lose hope. Your mother is strong, and she's surrounded by people who love her. We'll get through this together, no matter what."

As the long-awaited day arrived, the air was thick with anticipation and nervous energy. Kaida, weakened by sickness lay in bed as pain consumed her body.

But as the hours passed and the moment of birth drew near, a shadow of fear fell over the household. The midwife's brow furrowed with concern as she worked tirelessly to bring the baby into the world, her hands moving with practiced skill and precision.

But as Kaida gave one final push the baby arrived. "Oh my" the midwife exclaimed as she pulled the newborn close, a fragile bundle that offered such promise lay still and silent, her tiny chest unmoving, their joy turned to fear.

Panic surged through the room as Drakon grabbed the baby from the midwife. He did not know what to do but decided to push air into the babies small lips. Due to his efforts, the baby finally drew a small breath.

He handed the small baby to Kaida and she gladly accepted her into her arms. "Alara, we will call her Alara for my mother" she whispers kissing her small forehead.

In the weeks that followed Alara's birth, a fragile sense of hope had bloomed. Despite the initial scare, Alara had appeared to thrive, her tiny form growing stronger with each passing day, bringing a glimmer of joy to her family's hearts.

But then, as suddenly as she had seemed to recover, Alara's health took a turn for the worse. Kaida watched helplessly as her newborn daughter began to vomit up every drop of milk she consumed, her tiny body wasting away before her eyes.

Desperation clawed at Kaida's heart as she sought answers, "Drakon, we must try something. Bring me goat milk and a spoon" she told her husband as she fetched her medicine chest. For a few days Alara seemed to tolerate the goat milk with a tincture Kaida added but it seemed to offer temporary relief before Alara's symptoms returned with renewed force.

As the days turned into weeks and Alara's condition continued to deteriorate, a sense of helplessness overcame the family. Kaida watched in anguish as her daughter grew weaker and thinner, her cries of pain echoing through the halls of their home.

Kaida finally realized that Alara was suffering from a rare and deadly illness, one that had plagued infants in their region for generations. All they could do was pray and hope for the best.

The solemn toll of the funeral bells echoed through the village the family gathered to bid farewell to their beloved Alara. The air was heavy with grief as Kaida and Drakon stood side by side, their hearts shattered by the loss of their precious daughter.

It's centered around 4 families that are intertwined with many secrets. I'm turning aging off and will age then as I see fit. Every week I will do a chapter for a different family or family member.

Our first family

House of Wynledge Drakon & Kaida

Drakon: Laird of Wynledge and tamer of dragons. Long black hair with red highlights, deep orange eyes, tan skin, muscular. Traits. Brave, adventurous, TBD

Kaida: Drakons lady; an elven princess from thw elven land of Melnore she is a healer for her people. Curly white blonde hair with a silver hint to it. Ice blue eyes pale skin. Her marriage created a rift between the elves of Melnore and the Humans of --------. This is the first part of the war.

Traits: green thumb and anything to help alchemy. TBD

Drakaida: mix of her two parents. Does not know she is part elf

She is brave, green thumb, loves the outfoors and is adventurous. She dislikes lady like pursuits. She prefers not wearing gowns

Sarya and Siora: twins. Both fair with their mothers white blonde hair. One has her fathers eyes and one their mothers eyes. Complete opposite of their sister. Both ladylike. Both have witch/elf powers. One with dark eyes will use for bad light eyes for good.

Drannor: first born son and heir. Same traits as dad. He is ruthless

Thud. A groan. An arm covering eyes that are already screwed shut. Thud. A sharp exhale. Another arm throwing a blanket to the side. THUD. A gasp. Two arms supporting a Kaldorei as she pushes up from her pillow. THUD. THUD. Panting. Narrowed eyes. THUD. THUD. THUD. Wide eyes. Scrambling across the floorboards.

Syncerity trips her way to the window, peering out into the darkness of Darnassus. Her heart beats in her throat as she looks for the source of the noise, the constant thudding becoming louder, closer. She shoves the window open, leaning her hands upon the sill to find a better view. Immediately, she is overwhelmed with the creeping scent of smoke. Not campfire smoke, no. This is the smoke of iron and coal. This is the smoke of war. She stumbles away from the window, falling to her bed and rummaging quickly, messily, through the table beside her.

In only moments, she is dressed. The last thing that she finds in the drawer is a small, crescent-moon pendant that she hurriedly shoves into a boot as she takes off for the door. She throws the door open, stepping out of the comfort of home. Everywhere, she sees civilians staring terrified at a wall of blazing fire as it crawls up the bark of Teldrassil and over the walls of Darnassus. Archers flee their positions. Some sentinels are marching for the gates. Others are rounding up citizens. Syncerity can only stand in place, frozen in fear.

She has seen her home lost before. She knows that she is about to witness that once more. Tears already prickle in her eyes, but she wipes them away with determined fingers before she takes in a deep breath. She runs for the Temple of Elune, overtaking the crowds of Kaldorei swarming toward the temple. She is breathless as she arrives, the clouds of smoke hanging above Darnassus like a heavy, woolen throw, weighing down the citizens.

Just inside the temple, Syncerity can hear the tell-tale signs of the Magi – they are opening portals to Stormwind. The Horde must be attacking from Lor’danel. How quickly had it fallen? A snarl rips through her as she imagines the fallen Kaldorei, once again slaughtered on the beaches of Darkshore. She looks back toward the housing district, her eyes tracing the jumbled mass of heads making their way toward the temple, tripping over one another, some falling to the smoke inhalation, Elders slowing the pack. A pained look crosses her face.

She runs back toward the housing district, ignoring the pleas of the Sentinels for her to get through the portal. The closer she gets to it, the louder the screams become. There are Kaldorei trapped. There are Kaldorei suffering, burning. The tears fall from her eyes, and this time, she makes no attempt to stop them. She is already mourning. She falls back to the end of the crowd, following those still standing. She encourages those faltering, offering her arm, her shoulder, her anything that she -can-.

When she reaches the temple once more, she does not flee for the portals. She stands at the entrance, and she looks back at her home. She looks toward the bank, the very center of Darnassus, now in flames, engulfed in the raging fire. She cries for the tellers that were caught behind the falling branches. She looks toward the terrace, obscured by heavy, black smoke. She cries for the Kaldorei that no longer breathe, their lungs filled with ash. She looks to either of her sides. Lines of Sentinels stand beside her, their heads turned toward the sky, the tears trailing down their blade tattoos. This is it. This is the funeral of Teldrassil, isn’t it?

a lil commission I worked VERY HARD on!! maybe the biggest piece I’ve ever made~