Dedicated to EA Carter, whose eloquence and kind words have been such inspiration

Morning and Tiene woke to find the guild grounds unnaturally quiet. She dragged herself out of bed and went through to her wash closet to freshen up then dressed in simple travelling attire and packed a bag with her armour and some extra blades. She was leaving, going home.

The journey to Quel'thalas would be an arduous one - she would need to acquire transportation for most of the way, as the guild's mages were otherwise engaged. Perhaps she would enjoy a gryphon ride again - it had been a while since she'd soared through the skies. Firstly, however, she decided to have breakfast.

As she stepped outside her room, she looked across the hall to Sauren's door. She still felt an inexplicable loss from his death, but she also knew she had gained freedom - although it would take some considerable time for her to see it that way. With a heavy heart nonetheless, she turned and descended the stairs.

One thing she was glad about - there were no more horrible sounds of the dead and dying from the city. All seemed quiet, almost peaceful. The only sounds now belonged to trundling carts pulled by horses, and the solemn voices of those who had come to help clear the mess from the massacre. Black smoke billowed and roiled along the skyline from pyres further into the city - the cremating of corpses, which no doubt would last for days.

Brett had confirmed late last night that the scourge appeared to have moved on; north, no doubt. This supposition worried Tiene, but he had assured her a number of the Crimson Blades, along with other guilds and soldiers from far and wide had moved out to help fight the army of undead. Numbers of mentors and active agents within the complex, therefore, could be limited for a while. The recruits' training would also need rescheduling.

The dining hall doors were closed - that was odd for this time of day. But after what had happened, Tiene guessed nothing would be normal for a long time to come. With a grunt, she pushed open the door.

She staggered back as an amplitude of applause greeted her. Stunned by the number of people inside, Tiene seemed lost as to what she should do. Various guilds and their representatives stood in the hall, cheering and clapping. She felt confused. Nothing she had done accredited such a response. Brett came forward and guided her to the top table.

Everyone gradually quietened and settled into their seats at the other tables. Tiene noticed the abundance of food - the cooks had been busy.

Brett remained standing beside Tiene. He cleared his throat, and all eyes rested upon him.

"I am not good at speeches, so you will all be relieved to hear I do not plan on being up here for long."

A ripple of laughter reverberated around the hall. Brett took another deep breath. "Today we wake to find Capital City in ruins. The loss of innocent life has been truly traumatic and fills us all with deep and profound sorrow. It is a time for grieving and a time for healing."

The old rogue paused and glanced at Tiene before continuing. "Some of the unfortunate souls who have been - transformed, shall we say, are still good people, they have not followed the scourge, nor possess an evil bone in their bodies, and I for one will be aiding those individuals." He smiled knowingly at Tiene. He had promised to ensure her three friends would be safe. It was a huge relief. She would eventually seek them out, but for now, she needed to go home to her family.

The crowd listened as Brett went on. "Prince Arthas and his scourge have moved towards the north. They are multiplying by the hour with their necromancers raising new armies for the mad prince.

"Not only do our people meet with this foe, but other soldiers have been rallying to our call; paladins, warriors, hunters as well an impressive army of spell-weavers such as mages and warlocks. We are fortunate that also aiding in the fight are priests and shamans. Not only will they heal the injured, but they will also provide words of comfort and support to the brave men and women who fight. Together, we will expel this plague, this - abomination - from our homes and lands."

Approval and encouragement passed through the room, with quiet applause and many nodding heads. Brett took a drink of water before continuing.

"Sauren Nightflame is no more. He betrayed us all and that of his kin, elf and human alike." A silence descended.

Tiene's breath hitched. With a trembling hand, she reached for a glass of water, silently wishing she had just skipped breakfast and started on the journey home. The death of Sauren was still very raw for her, even though she had contrived the whole thing from the day after the Gathering when he'd first claimed her.

Brett's voice jolted her from her reverie. " A brave and very talented young woman was the one solely responsible for unseating this treacherous, brutal, unrelenting and, arrogant leader. In doing so, she has cleansed The Crimson Blades. It is again honourable and promises to be a guild which, with the right leadership, will be truly great once more."

Tiene stared at the plate in front of her as another burst of applause echoed around the hall. It was unbearable; she so wanted to vanish.

"I, therefore, propose that the new leader of the Crimson Blades be none other than Tiene Firefury."

Tiene's head snapped up as disbelief crossed her delicate features.

The whole room was on its feet, glasses in hand, "Aye-ing", cheering, clapping and looking at her, expectantly, as she sat, sheepishly next to where Brett stood.

She looked up at the old rogue, unsure how to feel.

Everyone was chanting for her to stand and make a speech. Tiene never gave speeches, and right now, she felt even less like giving one than ever she had.

Brett held her elbow and assisted her to her feet. Numbly, she stood, still aided by his support.

The room began to quieten. Tiene looked coyly out over the sea of faces -some she recognised. One, which, for some pointless reason, she hoped to see, of course, was not there.

Thil'las and Emmek were to her left though, and they were giving her encouraging nods and applause.

She took another drink of water, then stared out over the people once more. "I -I don't know what to say, really," she stammered.

Everyone remained silent, but she noted a few nods of compassion and understanding. Tiene shifted on her feet, feeling exposed, and vulnerable for the first time in many years. Somehow she found her voice. "Thank you, Brett, and...indeed all of you, for being so - generous, but- quite frankly - it is unwarranted adulation."

A few surprised looks settled on her audience.

Tiene wasted no more time. "I graciously decline the mantle of leadership, however. I am simply, unworthy."

Shouts of protest filled the hall. Brett stared at her, astounded she would turn down such an honour.

She smiled, tentatively, and took another drink. Her voice rose above the crowd. "This guild was founded by a great man, Sa'themar Nightflame. A man I knew not, but whose skills, beliefs, honour and integrity inspired many a rogue under his wing and unique guidance. My parents, as many of you know, were but two of those renowned assassins."

The applause was afforded at her sentiment, the crowd's mood calmed slightly. "Therefore, it should be one who also has shown such dedication, honour, decency and deep respect for his fellow rogues with the enviable ability to keep us together when it would be so easy to fall apart. I propose, therefore, - No! I insist - that the new leader is Brett Hornsby."

The applause built to a deafening crescendo, everyone upstanding and shouting Brett's name, readily supporting Tiene's proposal.

Out of the blue, a searing pain coursed through Tiene's body and she collapsed over the table.

Everyone gasped and moved forward, some looking around the hall suspecting a renegade elite had thrown a dagger, but nothing and no-one untoward was present.

A cry from the centre of the room erupted, and three more people collapsed, holding their bellies and heads as if something was attacking them.

More, just outside the dining hall also fell. Brett looked at Belaen, who had pushed his way through to the main table. The elven leader looked slightly pasty himself.

"What is going on, Brett?" he boomed over the panicked shouts and roars.

"I –I don't know! There are no marks on her, no blades, darts or anything to indicate..."

A loud pop at the far side of the dining hall made heads turn. Then another sounded, and another. Mages appeared out of portals from behind the rogue assembly.

One of the magi was none other than Alaen, an employee of the Crimson Blades and the reliable messenger for the rogue network. He was also elven, and currently looking quite unhealthy.

"It is destroyed!" he gasped, his eyes bearing horrors which others could not see.

"What? What are you talking about?" Belaen paled, he looked ready to collapse also.

The mage looked around and saw the people who had dropped to the floor. "Elves! High elves. We can feel it!"

"What? Tell us, man! What are you on about!" Belaen growled, concerned.

The mage turned to the guild leader and explained what had happened. "The Sunwell," he said. "The Magister Dar'khan...something went wrong when he tried to absorb its power. It exploded!"

Tiene's heart clenched. Her family, she needed to be with her loved ones. She looked up; she was reviving a little and reached toward Alaen. "I have to get home," she said. "Please, take me home." He took her hand, helping her to stand.

Another elven mage then approached, he looked drawn, tired, listless. He stared at the rogues. "Dar'Khan has betrayed us, and all High elves, everywhere, will sense the loss. Quel'thalas has fallen."

It was early afternoon, and the land of Quel'thalas was strangely serene for all the destruction visited upon it.

While Sauren Nightflame had led the attack on Capital City, the assault on Quel'thalas had already been underway. Every hamlet and town including Silvermoon City itself, decimated by the scourge and its leader, Prince Arthas Menethil.

And Dar'Khan's betrayal of his people resulted in the Sunwell's catastrophic blast which had all but near wiped the region off the face of the map.

Everywhere, rubble and dust covered bodies of countless victims. Innocent people, all who had loved life, and thrived in this once beautiful city. Rich in its vibrant reds, golds and blues, Silvermoon was now ashen and grey. The High Elf sanctuary, created around the magical font, the Sunwell, had been razed by the one who helped to build it. Dar'Khan Drathir.

As Tiene picked her way through the city that was once her home, she bore witness to the destruction. Wounded survivors called out for their loved ones amid the rubble. Children, clinging to their favourite toys were stumbling, wailing for their mothers and fathers.

People searched desperately amid the ruins which were once their homes in search of family and friends, trying to console each other as panic rose when their search seemed in vain. The blessed ones who found each other, shed tears of joy when reunited.

Others offered comfort to those who found only bloodied remains of their loved ones. Some had lost hope, wandering, as if in a trance. They were like ghosts drifting in the Twisting Nether; all life erased from their eyes.

Those who were able provided aid to the less fortunate, but their efforts often arrived too late, and they had to accept yet another life lost.

Pets, beasts of burden, and mounts lay strewn amidst the destruction. Wagons with trader's wares were upturned or lying splintered and crushed, their goods beyond being salvaged.

The realisation that the dead were the fortunate ones in this catastrophe hit Tiene hard. And that same thought frightened her more than anything ever had in her entire life.

Her breathing became ragged, and her pace started to quicken as she passed through the gate into The Royal Exchange.

The destruction levels did not lessen the deeper she moved into the city. It was as if a giant foot had descended from on high, and razed the entire metropolis.

The fact it had been the Sunwell which had contributed to the carnage was disturbing in itself. As the pinnacle of High elf civilisation, it was their sustenance, their life-blood yet now, it had almost erased the population albeit through the traitorous meddling of a power-hungry Magister.

The font, borne of a stolen vial from the Well of Eternity during the War of The Ancients, now lay crippled, its energy depleted. Left in ruins, the Sunwell's power would wane by the day as corruption ate it from within. The glorious elven nation of Quel'thalas, as it had once been, was now lost, gone - history.

Tiene's heart was hammering in her ears, tears threatening to spill as the fear of what she would find was becoming too much of a heinous probability.

She stumbled as she fought her way over the broken stone effigy of Prince Kael'thas through the last gate, and on to the final stretch before she reached home.

"Tiene!" A familiar voice called to her.

She turned, wiping threatening tears from her eyes with the palm of her hand.

Lor'themar stood a few feet from her. His armour was heavily damaged, and his face bloodied down one side; his left eye scarred, blinded. He looked exhausted as he approached her. 

They hugged, tightly, thankful to have found each other. Tiene's eyes scanned behind him as other Rangers looked through the rubble for survivors. She could not see Duthan.

Music: Even In Death composed by Adrian von Ziegler

https://youtu.be/PVAWqGj33T8

She pulled back from Lor'themar, the question written on her face.

He struggled to speak, the pain of loss etched upon his scarred cheeks. Slowly, he shook his head.

Tiene's knees folded and she landed with a thud on the crumbled walkway. Kneeling in front of her, Lor'themar combed her hair from her face. "I'm so sorry, Tiene," he said, choking back a sob. "Duthan was brave to the end. And, I guess - fortunate."

She stared in disbelief at her adopted brother. "What does that even mean?" she stammered, tears cascading down her cheeks.

Lor'themar looked away, trying to stem his grief. Once composed, he looked back at her. "Duthan enabled Sylvanas to get away, but he was slain for his efforts by a Death Knight. This fiend had a sword, a cursed blade which absorbed the souls of his victims..."

"Arthas!" Tiene whimpered. "The Prince of Lordaeron."

Lor'themar nodded, then continued. "He uses necromancers to re-animate some of the corpses. Arthas pursued the Ranger General; otherwise, Duthan would now be one of the undead, the scourge."

Tiene felt as if she was atop a burning pyre, consumed by flames, such was the agony. She knew only too well about the necromancers; she had witnessed it first- hand.

The loss of her eldest brother was excruciating enough, but the thought that he could have so easily been cursed to exist as a servant of Arthas twisted her insides.

Her slender form crumpled, and she rocked back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably.

Lor'themar put his arm around her, sharing her grief. "I managed to remove his body from where he fell. He is in the Spire if you wish to see him."

She nodded, and after a few moments, she turned her head toward her home. "I must find Inaris and my father first."

"Tiene. No." Lor'themar kissed her brow. "Don't," he whispered.

She stared, his tone already telling her he knew their fate. Pain flared, unbearable. She pushed herself up and started to stumble toward her home.

"Tiene! Please. Don't!" Lor'themar's voice called after her.

It merely propelled her forward, and she ran, fell, picked herself up again and ran more until she arrived at the path which led to her home.

The building was almost halved, one side in utter ruins the other precariously holding together. Tiene's feet felt like they were weighted down, but she pressed on, eyes scanning the rubble, praying, hoping that Lor'themar was mistaken.

Grunting, she shifted vast slabs of stone, the likes of which she usually would have struggled to budge at all. She flung pieces of broken furniture out the way, creating a path through the ruined house. Starting softly she called their names, her voice rising as her search continued, desperate, all-consuming.

Lor'themar had reached the doorway. "Tiene, you must stop," he said, moving toward her. She flailed her arms, trying to push him away, refusing to listen.

"Father! Inaris!" she cried out.

Then she saw them. They looked like they were merely sleeping.

Raising her face to the sun, she screamed, long and loud, her voice finally dwindling, spiralling into heart-wrenching sobs.

She dropped to her knees. Her father's serene face indicated he had not suffered at least and Inaris, handsome as ever, looked equally at peace; a small mercy, the only thing she could be grateful for.

Her pain imploded, turning to numbness. She had no doubt her emotions would go through the tumult of an endless whirlwind for days, weeks, months to come. And it would all be edged by a rage she had never known existed, until now.

Lor'themar rose as a small band of Rangers arrived. He addressed them, asking for a few moments, then turned back to Tiene.

Kneeling down, he hugged her, as if trying to absorb her pain. She wrapped her arms around him. She knew this loss was as significant for him as it was for her. For all he was not blood kin, Lor'themar was part of her family too. He felt the pain as fiercely as she did.

"We will take them to the Spire," he said, quietly, planting a brotherly kiss on Tiene's forehead.

"Why would he do this? Why would Dar'Khan betray our people? Our family?" Tiene asked him.

The Ranger took a deep breath. "I suspect it was his ever-increasing need for power, Tiene. The possibility of which he must have found through serving Arthas. He could not appreciate the important things, as we do."

He loosened his hold on her.

Tiene turned to the bodies of her father and brother. Taking one of her daggers, she cut a lock of hair from them and stored both carefully in her pouch. Then she leaned back down and kissed both men softly, on their cheeks. "I will avenge you," she whimpered. She lightly brushed away the powdered rubble from her father's hair. "You were right father, Dar'Khan was not to be trusted. But, I swear, I will have his head for this."

She rose slowly and turned to see Lor'themar staring at her. "You do realise that Dar'Khan also perished in the blast?" he asked.

Tiene looked at him, her eyes already starting to lose the azure lustre of the High elves. From deep within, a determination rose which would remain unwavering until vengeance could be satisfied. "Do you honestly believe that?" she asked Lor'themar.

His brow furrowed. "He could not have survived in such proximity. Look around you Tiene. You can see what it did to Silvermoon, and we are on the opposite Isle from the Sunwell."

Tiene shook her head. "Do not underestimate him, Lor'themar. He created this place, and now he has destroyed it and with the backing of Arthas. Both are willing puppets of the Burning Legion! I doubt very much he is lying out there all crisp and ashen. He will have survived in some form or another. And I will find him."

The Ranger Captain gave a curt nod. "Tiene, the Ranger General did not survive either. She has also become one of Arthas' servants."

"Sylvanas? No! She would fight to the death for Quel'thalas."

"And she did. Arthas has captured her soul but re-animated her as a banshee. Now she does his bidding."

Tiene was perplexed by this news. Lor'themar had not finished. "Arthas had also made use of the Sunwell to resurrect the fallen mage Kel'Thuzad. You suspected a connection, but we had heard Arthas had killed the mage."

She nodded. "Yes, he did."

"Then why has he resurrected him and as a Lich?"

"I'm not sure, but it reeks of the Burning Legion." She grew quiet, reflective. Once, there was four; and there would have been only two surviving had Kel'thuzad stayed dead. But now there was three. She stepped closer to Lor'themar, her voice shuddering. "I killed Sauren." It was almost like a holy confession.

Lor'themar, along with Inaris and Duthan had been aware that she and Sauren were lovers. She had confessed all in a letter to Inaris which had arrived but two days before this tragedy. Inaris told them, unable to keep the secret she had asked him. Her father, however, had been spared that piece of news.

She had written everything down from the night of the first Gathering and her plot for revenge to discovering the connections with Dar'Khan, Kel'thuzad and Arthas.

It had been a hurried letter, not in her best handwriting but one she wanted them to have, so that should she fail in her attempt to assassinate the guild leader, they would know what had happened.

Lor'themar put his arms around her again.

Tiene looked down at her father and brother. "Lor'themar, can your Rangers take my -" She turned back to face him. " - our family, to the Spire, so we can arrange their burials, please? I do not want necromancers anywhere near them."

The Ranger Captain smiled, soft, and signalled to his Rangers. Tiene gently stroked his face. "And get that eye seen to ... brother," she said. The sentiment made his one good eye water.

The Rangers carefully lifted the bodies of her father and brother, placing them on stretchers they had acquired from the infirmary and made their solemn journey to the Spire.

Their way was littered with more rubble, dust clouds and fires. The broken statue in its centre now sullied the once beautiful fountain at the foot of Sunfury Spire.

Nearing the steps to the building, a movement to her right made Tiene pull back a little from the group of Rangers.

From the smoke and dust swirling at the edge of the courtyard, a lone figure materialised. The person, surrounded by a billowing cloak started to move forward with a long, steady stride. A glint of steel flashed from beneath the fabric as they walked.

Tiene drew to a halt. It was the ghost from her past, haunting her still. She smiled wistfully. Today, of all days?

The pain of her past mistakes crashed over her, suddenly. She had been naive and foolish - oh, so foolish - driven by blind revenge. Camnath's pained expression that fateful night of the Gathering had profoundly haunted her for years. Her heart left with him that night - and she'd never had the opportunity to let him know. Correction, she had never been brave enough to tell him. Somehow, thoughts of Camnath Sunspear had kept her focused, fighting, dreaming - hoping.

Sauren, as it turned out, ended up being kind to her, but she'd never loved him. She had succumbed to his insatiable appetite; in turn, he had become an addiction. Her Guild Master had joined with dark forces though, and for committing an unforgivable sin, he was now dead.

Still, she knew Camnath would remain just a beautiful, distant memory. The boy who stole a kiss in stealth.

Music: Prince of Persia   composed by Harry Gregson-Williams 

https://youtu.be/0n960d-JeC8

Too much time had passed them by. He must have moved beyond his hurt, or perhaps never even thought of her at all. She would never know. With a sigh, she turned and continued toward the Spire.

"Tiene," Lor'themar said, gentle, coaxing.

She looked at him. He nodded to the edge of the courtyard.

"Look," he said, a smile playing on his lips. Tiene turned, looking back to where he indicated.

The cloaked figure had kept moving towards her. The sudden swish of an ebony ponytail in the breeze made her heart skip a beat, and the long lost fluttering of tiny wings stirred in her belly. She clasped her hand to her mouth, her breath catching in her throat. Could it possibly be?

The distance between them had now narrowed, the man's features becoming more apparent with each step.

Camnath, in his burnished leather armour, moved confidently, powerfully. He was older, yes, but oh, still so handsome and sporting a shadow of stubble. An array of blades sat strapped to his back, the hilts of which she could see over his shoulder.

She glanced back at Lor'themar, whose smile said it all. He nodded and rejoined the procession to the Spire.

Her head snapped back to approaching figure; she was still reluctant to believe it was really Camnath. The man smiled at her. Anar'alah belore!* She was suddenly struggling to breathe, chest heaving, almost too painful to bear.

Camnath Sunspear drew to a halt in front of her. He was taller than she remembered, or perhaps it was just that she felt so small and helpless right now.

"Hello Tiene," he said. His voice sincere, warm and respectful.

"Camnath," she replied, her bottom lip quivering. "You are ... looking well. Considering -" she gestured their surroundings, her eyes never leaving his.

"Thank you."

It was challenging to think of simple conservation amid the heartache that was once their home. No easier when the one standing before you was the only one you had ever truly loved, yet they had slipped from your life through stupidity and a misguided need to prove yourself. "And ... your family?" Her voice hitched.

"They, too, are well. Thank you, Tiene."

She nodded, pleased to hear his father, mother and sister were alive. Like a candle in a breeze, the smile on her lips flickered. Breathing was now painful.

"I saw your house. I didn't enter, but I feared the worst," he said sympathetically. "I've been looking for you..."

She lowered her head, fighting back the tears. Her body started to tremble uncontrollably. She did not know where to look or what to do, afraid she made a fool of herself.

"Oh Tiene," he said, pulling her into his arms. She lost all control, the outpouring of sorrow consuming her. Clinging to him, she felt her legs give way. He helped her to the bottom step of the Spire, and sat beside her, holding her gently, stroking her hair.

"I'm lost," she whimpered. "I have nothing left, Camnath. My family, my home - all are gone..."

"You have Lor'themar," he said, soft, reassuring. "You have your guild." He lifted her chin. "And you have me."

She faltered. Camnath was still so lovely to her. "I do not deserve such kindness."

She stood up, wiping the tears from her eyes, sniffing loudly and looked at the handsome elf. How could he feel this way? After all this time? After what she had done? "Camnath. I – I hurt you and I am so, so very sorry. I did not mean to, I -"

He smiled and stood up beside her. "You never hurt me, Tiene. We were young, innocent, naïve even, and - hard-headed." Cupping her face, he wiped the tears away with his thumbs. "We have both made mistakes, wrong choices and have regrets. That is our past. Now we must look forward." He stroked her cheek. "But, I was always there, Tiene. In the shadows. Watching you, for many years."

The eyes she had felt, and ghosts she had seen - never had she dared believe it was really him; she'd thought it was mere flights of fancy, wishful thinking. Her mouth tried to form words, but they refused to come.

He somehow knew what she was trying to ask and replied to her unspoken question. "Work always seemed to keep us apart. Each time I plucked up the courage to come to you and discuss things, you would be on a mission, or I had to leave for one. And then, there was - well - him."

She bowed her head, still sniffing and wiping tears away. He opened the pouch strapped to his belt and produced a handkerchief. She accepted it gratefully. Her voice was a mere whisper. "I thought you had forgotten me or moved on."

He made a soft 'hmph' sound. "Forgotten you?" He lifted her chin again. "Tiene, all I have ever done - is love you. I can't help myself. It was always you."

He had just confessed the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.

He cupped her face. "We will talk later. For now, just let me be here for you. Please."

She nodded. Together, they climbed the stairs to Sunfury Spire.

Inside, the Rangers had placed Tiene's family together. They really did look like they were sleeping, and that is how she preferred to think of them. The crippling pain of loss washed over her again, tears flowed.

She crossed over to Duthan. Kneeling beside his cold body, she stroked his cheek, then repeated the ritual she had performed with Inaris and her father. With his lock of hair safely secured beside the others in her pouch, she stood.

Such handsome men, she thought. No doubt there would be other hearts broken by their loss if indeed those said hearts had survived the chaos.

Lor'themar knelt beside her. "What are your wishes for them?"

She took a deep breath. "The ancient rites, Lor'themar. Our people came to this land by way of the sea. And that is how they will leave. Will your Rangers help?"

"Of course."

"One boat for them all. I want our family together, waiting for me when my time comes."

"As you wish. I saw a boat at the coast on my way here; it will serve well. Now go, Tiene, get some rest and something to eat. There are provisions in the Lodge. I will join you soon."

Standing, she clasped his hand. "I'm sorry to put this on you, Lor'themar. I know you also have to see to Prince Kael'thas' return following the death of his father too."

The Ranger Captain shook his head. "Do not be sorry. You all accepted me as part of your family, and that has meant so much to me. I love you - little sister." He smiled affectionately. "It is the least I can do, Tiene. Now go. Rest."

Camnath came forward as the two of them turned. Lor'themar nodded to the young elf. "Make sure she eats and rests," he said.

"I will look after her, don't worry," Camnath replied, placing a comforting arm around Tiene.

Lor'themar waited until the two of them left the Spire before he instructed three of his Rangers to prepare the boat while he and another two companions dressed the bodies ready for their voyage.

Music: Goodbye Brother composed by Ramin Djawadi from Game of Thrones

https://youtu.be/rYIQDpwEt-k

It was now early evening, and Tiene was gently shaken awake, a voice calling her up from her slumber.

Her eyes struggled to open, the residue of tears having adhered her lids. Wiping her eyes, she finally focused on Lor'themar. He had taken her advice about getting his eye tended to. His face cleaned, he now wore an eye-patch, and his hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. He looked older somehow. Then again, they probably all did after this tragedy.

"It's time," he said.

Tiene nodded and pushed herself up. She swung her legs off the makeshift cot with Camnath beside her to offer support. She stood, ready to make the journey to the beach.

The city's boundary wall had been breached enabling the funeral group quicker access to the beach than would have usually been available.

They walked in silence along the edge of the hills which led them west of Silvermoon and south of Sunstrider Isle. Tiene eyed the landmass warily. It was also known as the Isle of Quel'Danas, home of the now corrupted Sunwell and the Sunstrider dynasty.

On the beach, Lor'themar's Rangers had prepared the boat and a large bonfire, lit and ready. The Rangers halted at the edge of the sea, allowing Tiene to pay her last respects.

The bodies of her family, wrapped in plain white linen cloth, lay side by side in the boat with banners bearing the phoenix emblem of Silvermoon, draped over them.

She touched each of their heads and whispered, "Safe journey, dear father, and beloved brothers, Duthan and Inaris. Belore will shine brighter with your spirits at her side. Until we meet again - Elor Bindel felallan morin'aminor*."

The Rangers pushed the boat gently out to sea.

It sailed towards the horizon, and once it was clear of the reef, the Rangers lit their arrows. They all stood in line, arrows nocked, waiting for Lor'themar to give the signal. He shouted the order and the arrows whistled through the air, landing on the deck of the boat. Within minutes, it was aflame.

Tiene stood, eyes on the flaming vessel, holding hands with Lor'themar and Camnath. They watched silently as the boat continued towards the horizon, then slipped quietly into the sea's watery depths.

Moments later, the sun succumbed to the cool shadows of the moon's domain. The glow from the bonfire flickered and rippled in the night's embrace, aiding the spirits on their journey.

At that moment, Tiene Firefury knew who she was.

She had been reborn amid the rubble of her one-time home, Silvermoon City and on that beach, overlooking The Great Sea.

Inwardly, Tiene said goodbye to the girl she had once been, to the home she had grown up in, to the family she had loved and adored and who had loved her equally in return, and to the heady days of innocent wonder watching the lynx as they prowled and hunted in the woods.

Now she was grown; transformed.

The only thing to keep her anchored was the knowledge Camnath, as well as Lor'themar, would be there for her.

Driven by vengeance, fuelled by hatred and scarred by painful, personal loss, she now knew, she was destined to be one of the deadliest assassins to have ever been part of the Crimson Blades.

* Elor bindel felallan morin'aminor – Sleep forever in quiet serenity

* Belore – The Sun

*Anar'alah belore! – By the light of the sun.

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A/N: This chapter took its toll on me and I'm still recovering.

Thank you for reading!!!

All comments, advice and suggestions are most welcome. Should you like this chapter, please be kind enough to vote, it would be most appreciated.