Meanwhile, it was the nineteenth night that began in the Evermoon district. Actually, an absurd name for a place that had received neither light from the sun nor from one of the two moons for over 10,000 years.
Suramar had long been shielded from the rest of the world by a dome of arcane magic. Only a few weeks ago, the barrier had been dissolved and the Shal’dorei began reclaiming the surrounding land. Since then, light also began to touch the city – real light. Not the kind produced by a magical torch or a fire. Real light from the sun and moon.
Tel’rius Molderan enjoyed it. He had just put on his cloth armor and looked out from the hallway of his house through the window to the sky. While the sight of the sun and moon had caused unease in the first few days, the rising and setting of the orbs quickly became a highlight of his day. As a member of the watch, the last few days had been turbulent, although it was peaceful and safe within the city.
“Aaaarkanspel!” thundered the far too bright voice through the room. Tel’rius had to grin. Soon his daughter would learn that it took more to cast a spell than just saying its name. In most cases, that would lead to no success at all. But what kind of father would he be if he spoiled this game for Melissa?
As if the pathetic attempt at a spell had truly unleashed its devastating effect, Tel’rius pressed himself against the wall, dramatically groaning as he sank to the floor. For a few moments, he remained still until he heard the soft footsteps of his daughter tiptoeing down the hallway.
In his deepest storytelling voice, Tel’rius then began to speak: “And so, the High Arcanist Melissa Molderan defeated the great enemy and would no longer have to face the discussions about when a great woman like her should go to bed.”
The worried face quickly transformed into a grin. “And how much arc wine she can drink, no one decides that anymore!”
Telrius had to chuckle as he pushed himself off the floor with his left hand to stand up and stroked Melissa’s short, snow-white hair with his right. “Of course, there’s just one obstacle left to clear. Your mother will probably not be convinced by any magic in the world.”
Melissa pouted. She had his eyes, but otherwise resembled her mother much more. Blue hair, a cute button nose, and a smile that would soon ensure that the budding elf men would compete for her friendship.
With a nod, Tel’rius indicated to his daughter toward the stairs. “Now back to bed with you. I have to go to work, and we don’t want your mother to be awake wi-”
“She’s been awake for a long time,” came the third voice in the household, causing both Melissa and Tel’rius to jump. A brief exchange of glances between father and daughter made it clear that they were both in trouble.
Louanne was a goddess. At least in his eyes. He had never believed in silly things like love at first sight. But nobody believes that until it hits them. The long, smooth hair, the light blue skin, the delicate features, and the smile that the two ladies in the house shared. And of course, the curved, perfect eyebrows, whose movements already betrayed what Louanne was thinking just a moment before. But he surely wouldn’t tell her that.
To the relief of the two, Louanne did not begin a long speech about how one should be quiet at this hour because more civilized elves were still sleeping. In her nightgown, such a speech would hardly have been convincing. She took some swift steps across the room, placed her right index finger on her husband’s forehead, and then snapped down from his nose bridge. As always, she reprimanded him without it being entirely serious.
“It’s the last shift, my light.” He gave her a brief kiss on the mouth. They only had to look at each other to know that they both wanted more. But with the already wide-awake Melissa and the pressing work, that would have to wait… for now.
“Tomorrow we’ll be in the menagerie showing our little arcanist…” Tel’rius paused for a moment and nodded toward Melissa. “…the monohorns.”
With a deep sigh, as only elves could do when weighing between “Should I make him feel guilty” or “Should I let him go without problems,” Louanne finally nodded. “Just be careful.”
With an encouraging nod, he detached himself from her and winked at Melissa, who returned it – after all, they both had escaped a hefty amount of trouble.
In the next moment, Tel’rius was already on the street.
Suramar had changed. Not only did the city look different in the glow of the sun and moons than he had known for millennia, but the new guests were unfamiliar too. The grotesque beings of the Burning Legion moved through the streets as if it were their city, as if they had every right to be here. What fools. They only had the wise decision of the Grand Magistrix to thank for being allowed to stay here. If they had wanted, Elisande could have maintained the barrier for another 10,000 years.
But it was not for him to question that.
Tel’rius’ goal was the Terrace of Order. He had been lucky to have to take only one watch shift on the last day before his vacation. At the terrace, all those in arcane prisons who had broken the law were displayed. Especially the smuggling of arc wine had increased, particularly among the poorer population. Here, in the different cells, every citizen of the city could look at the guilty and convince themselves of what they were going through. For minor offenses, one was only imprisoned for a few days. But that was often enough to demonstrate what an arc wine shortage could cause.
It happened so fast. Those who were healthy and lively in the morning looked decrepit and weak by evening. More than three days turned a prisoner into a withered one – then there was no return. Within the watch, these prisoners were often referred to as “Threes.” That was good. It was better to speak of a “Three” that one killed than of the friendly flower seller Colette, with whom one had been friends for centuries. Tel’rius hoped that he wouldn’t have a “Three” today that he needed to relieve of his suffering.
Upon arriving at the terrace, he observed the prisoners. It was good that they could not be heard through the arcane barriers. He took up his position with a stiff expression, right next to the three prisoners whose sign proclaimed: “Guilty of collaboration with insurgents.”
The hours dragged slowly, as they always do when one looks forward to something. Numerous Shal’dorei came to view the prisoners, insult them, and look down on them. Some, Tel’rius knew, also came to see if their loved one was still alive, even if they could not show it outwardly. After all, no one had sympathy for lawbreakers.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up. A strange flicker hung in the air. Tel’rius knew this feeling; it always came over him when a spell was being woven nearby. But where? Who was casting spells in the middle of the city? Who was foolish enough to speak an unauthorized spell near the Sanctum of Order?
Then it was already too late. The arcane strike tore his clothing. A protective armor, albeit only made of cloth, yet reinforced with magical runes to withstand such attacks. The ley blue shimmer covered his vision as he frantically searched the surroundings for the enemy he could not see.
Who was that woman at the corner? Wasn’t that… Anarys? The child of Lady Lunastre? No, it couldn’t be. He must be imagining it; the Lunastres would never…
The second arcane strike not only tore his clothing. His lung was crushed as his chest broke in multiple places while his abdomen was ripped open, spilling more than just blood onto the tiles of the street.
Tel’rius dropped to his knees and sought the strength to call for help. Where had everyone gone? What had happened? Hadn’t he just –
The third arcane strike sent him crashing to the ground.
As life began to seep from him, he noticed that the attacker was rummaging through his pockets and taking the control sphere that could unlock the arcane cages of the prisoners.
And then he had a thought that felt so unreal, so clear and tangible, as he had not experienced in ten millennia. A thought of his wife Louanne, of his daughter Melissa, of his yet unborn son, a thought of the vacation that would begin this evening, of his daughter’s friend who would ask for her hand in years to come, of the sun and the moons that he would see rise so often. A thought of the city, of his people, of the Nightwell, of the arc wine, of the demons, of Elisande and Azshara, of Colette and all the other Threes.
With this wonderful, clear, and complete thought, Tel’rius’ last shift ended.
