Featuring: Silandra Silverwood


"Come on!" Silandra called out, pulling on Telris' arm. "We're almost there. I can feel it!"

The High Elf Ranger resisted her tug for a moment, holding back. "Silandra?" He began. "Are you sure about this? Something... something seems wrong here. Something I can't put my finger on. Maybe we shouldn't be just charging into this."

The young mage tuned back to him, a smile on her face. It was a surprise to Telris; in the year that he'd know her, he'd never seen her smile even once. He understood why, however. She, like the rest of their once proud race had suffered horribly when the Scourge had devastated their homeland and all but destroyed their population. Her fate was even worse, however; she, like so many other Elven mages, had lost their ability to wield arcane magic. In a society where the arcane was integral to its existence, it was a cruel blow.

"Come on!" She continued. "There's nothing to worry about, Telris! Look around us, see what's here! We are home, at last!"

He wanted to agree with her, really. All around him was unparalleled natural beauty; brilliant, lush forests that spoke of peace and tranquility. The place was teeming with life, an embodiment of the great civilization that had risen there.

Except that it shouldn't be so. When he had last seen this place, some four years ago, it was burning. The Scourge had come into Quel'thalas, destroying all in their path in a campaign of unparalleled barbarity. This land, and its people, had died under the heel of the undead legion. And the Elven civilization had supposedly died with it.

So why am I so afraid? He asked himself. This place is as I remember it. This land has been restored and thrives. It is like all we had lost has been replaced, regrown. It looks ideal. So why am I afraid.

"Maybe..." He began. "Maybe we should just wait a little, Silandra. Maybe we should see exactly what this new land is like before we blindly rush into it. For now... maybe we should be patient, cautious even."

She glared at him, her cheerful facade suddenly disintegrating into an angry stare. "Come on, Telris." She repeated, a nervous edge to her voice. "We need to go. We need to go now." She was fidgeting, wringing her hands as she looked at him. Swallowing loudly, she repeated her plea. "Please, Telris. Please."

Silandra had come here, given up everything she had to take a wild shot at salvation. She couldn't bear the thought of failing now. She needed this now to the point where her life depended on it; where she believed that she would die unless she finished this journey.

Like so many others, Silandra had suffered during the destruction of the Sunwell. Like so many other Elven mages, she had lost her ability to use arcane magic. It was a blow to her, a devastating one that only compounded the truth of her magical dependence. Not only did she feel the pangs of hunger for the flow of mana through her body, but she also had a feeling of loss, that something vital to her, like a part of her body, had been torn away. She was incomplete, broken. And she would do anything to make herself whole again.

She had met Telris in Theramore in the aftermath of the third war. The pair of them were both refugees, a part of the city’s sizable High Elf community. He'd seemed kind and supportive, and had helped her try to adjust to a life without magic. He’d sacrificed so much for her, but yet, she still hadn't been able to move on, to accept what had happened. To this day, she still preferred her mages robes, even as tattered and worn as they had become. They had become a symbol to her, a way to remind her of what she had once been.

It had been two months ago when they had first heard the stories, strange rumors wafting through the city. There were reports that Quel'thalas had been retaken from the Scourge, or that the land and the Sunwell had been restored. To Silandra, it seemed like a godsend; the idea that her people lived and thrived. Soon she had gotten it into her mind that she had to find out the truth and see it for herself.

She had convinced Telris to travel with her; he had willingly agreed, believing that, at the very least, he could help her through anything they encountered. Selling what few possessions they owned, they had taken passage in a ship back across the ocean to Menethil Harbour. From there, they had 'borrowed' a smaller sailing ship, making a long and perilous journey north, one that was made harder by their lack of skill and her clearly poor physical condition. Stopping along the way to restock supplies, it had been a long journey, but she had seemed driven to see it to its end.

They had grounded on the coast of Quel'thalas a few days ago, and had been traveling inland ever since. Headed in the general direction of Silvermoon, they now were, by his reckoning, only a day at most from the former Elven capitol, which would be the end of their journey. Or so she hoped.

"Come on." She insisted, pulling on his arm with all her strength. "We need to go now. Please, Telris! Please!"

To say that Silandra was desperate was an understatement. She had fully expected that by simply returning to this land, she would be cured of her great weakness. Instead, she could feel it clawing at her, tearing her apart from within. It was stronger now, as if something in the land was magnifying it. If the Sunwell had been reborn, then she couldn't sense it yet.

"Silandra, please." He nodded towards her. "Maybe... maybe we shouldn't just rush in."


"Please." He continued. "We need to explore. We need to discover what's going on with this place, the truth behind its restoration. If we rush in now, we could be destroyed."

"I cannot wait, Telris." She glared. "I need to find out the truth for myself."

He nodded. "I understand but..." He paused. "Let us wait here tonight then. If, tomorrow, you must still go, then do so. I shall wait here for your return if you need me."

She nodded, then swallowed loudly, as if admitting that she had been wrong. "Telris, I..."

"Don't." he replied, holding her close. "Just, be at peace, Silandra."

That night they lay together, the consummation of a long unstated relationship. Whether it was love or desperation, neither could say. They were simply a pair of people who had lost much, trying to find something left to them.

She left early the next morning, dressing then heading out before Telris rose. Trying her best to fight off the pain inside of her, she staggered onwards, heading towards her goal. Her staff, once a symbol of her arcane skill became a crutch that she used to support herself as she continued forwards. The hunger had returned, now more then ever before; she could feel it tearing her apart inside, as if it was consuming her.

I can fight this. She told herself as she staggered on. I can do this. This will not destroy me. I will regain all that was taken from me, and be reborn anew.

It was a mantra that she repeated to herself, over and over again as she kept walking. She ran it through her mind, knowing that if she merely kept repeating it, she would be able to reach her goal, despite the hardship she was enduring.

And then I will be whole.

It was some hours later, at the top of what seemed like the millionth hill she had climbed that day, that she saw it. It was a vision that physically stunned her, sent her reeling back.

Before her was the city of Silvermoon. It stood proud and defiant, a symbol of the High Elf civilization. More to the point, however, it appeared to be ‘’whole’’. When she had last seen the city, it was burning as the Scourge defiled it, tearing it apart band slaughtering its inhabitants. There should have been nothing there but blackened ruins.

The city of Silvermoon has been reborn Silandra observed. It has been redeemed, overcome the destruction of its past. And, as it has, so shall I be reborn anew.

More determined then ever, she strode towards the rebuilt city, determined to find the answer to her weakness within its walls.

Silandra had been inside Silvermoon for a day, yet she was still amazed at what she saw. The Eastern half of the city had indeed been restored, rebuilt in a way that made it seem like nothing had ever happened. It was as if its people had been able to roll back time itself and take the city back to what it was.

No, that was not entirely true. The city had changed, but in quiet, subtle ways. There were now strange green crystals found in various places in and around the city, ones that seemed to radiate some form of unearthly power. And the tone of the city had changed as well; where once its palette was of natural greens and soft blues and gold, the city now was washed in shades of red.

The colour of blood.

She didn’t have time to dwell on this matter, however. Instead, she had been making enquiries about people she had known before the fall of the city, trying to find what had happened to them. Most of them had turned up as dead; an expected but still unpleasant result. One, however, was dwelling within the rebuilt city, one who’s existence could be more important to her then anyone else.


Magister Lothios Sunstorm, mage of Silvermoon, and the man who had schooled her in the arcane arts. Without him, she would have nothing. Now, she hoped, she could have it all again.

To her surprise, he had extended an invitation to her to meet him. She had willingly taken it, hoping that this man may be able to offer a solution to the dangerous weakness that was destroying her from within, and restore to her that which had been lost.

The contrast here could not have been more evident. Compared to the primitive conditions she had been living in, Lothios’ study seemed to be decadent in its opulence. Comfortable and well-furnished, it was packed with arcane tomes and regalia; materials that spoke volumes of Arcane lore. She recalled how, only a night ago, she had been camped out in a primitive tent in the forest, after spending weeks in a crude boat.

Lothios himself seemed to only emphasise the comparison. Graceful and elegant, he spoke of refinement, sophistication, poise and power. He dressed not in the blue robes that were traditional of High Elven mages, but in elaborate blood-red ones, embroidered with silver stitching. By comparison, Silandra knew that she was nothing; pale and weak, clad in the tattered ruins of her own robes, she couldn’t have presented a stronger contrast.

“I must say that I was surprised to hear that you were alive.” He began as he entered the room. Silandra was already sitting, but was far from relaxed. Instead, she leaned forwards in the chair, fidgeting and twitching as she watched him. “And that you would brave the dangers in traveling here is even more remarkable.” He offered a smile. “Tea?”

“I need to know.” She replied. “How… how has this happened? How is it that this land is alive? And… you! You’re not weak like I am, like the others in Theramore are. You have control over your weakness. You… you are as you were before. No, you’re stronger… more powerful.” She clutched her hands, her fingers digging into her own flesh. “Tell me, tell me what it is. Tell me what I must do.”

“Silandra, the truth is not easy to take.”

“I do not care.” She continued. “I must know.”

“Very well then.” He nodded to her. “Know this now. The weakness you speak of, the one that has destroyed so many of our race, is one of addiction. We are addicted to magic, Silandra. We need its energies to function, just as we need food and water or the air that we breathe. The loss of the Sunwell proved this fact – we had lost the source of our arcane power, and felt that loss dearly.”

It was as she had always suspected. She knew that the terrible pain, the hunger within her had begun on the day that the Sunwell had been destroyed. What he said made sense, but there was clearly more to it. “But you have conquered it.” She observed.

“No.” He stated. “However, we have found other sources of power, ones that make us greater then what we were before.”

“Tell me.”

“Silandra, this will not be easy to accept.”

“I must know!” She snapped, standing. “I need this! I need to know what it is that you have done so that I may become whole again!”

“Very well then.” He calmly answered. Standing by his seat, he calmly and simply explained the truth behind what had happened in this land; the rise of the Sin’dorei, the harnessing of demonic energies, and the use of them to restore the land and its people. He explained how they had chosen to take this evil and corrupting force and harness it for their own use, making them stronger then they had been before.

Silandra was staggered by the revelation. She stumbled back, catching herself on the side of the chair and using it top prop herself up. “You…” She began, muttering in disbelief. “What you have done is abhorrent… it is a corruption - a perversion of all that we hold sacred, all that we believe in! It… it…”

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. “I need it.” She stated. “Whatever it is I must do, I will accept this power. “I want this, I want to be whole again, to feel the power of the arcane within me. I will do anything – anything – for that.”

“I understand.” He finished, and then smiled. “Come, Silandra. Let us repair the damage that has been done to you.”

Silandra hadn't known what to expect. She wasn't apprehensive, however; anything but. She was, instead, quite eager to begin the process. To her, every second that she waited was a horrible, agonizing eternity between her current state and that feeling of wholeness that she so desired.

She could feel the change as it occurred. The emptiness was gone, replaced with a new feeling; one of strength and power. She felt it flow through her body, empowering her, enriching her in ways that she had never imagined. She was more then she had been, she could feel it. She was stronger now, more capable and more powerful then ever before. All around her seemed more real, bought into stark relief by the new abilities she had gained. The world was more vivid, sharper then she could have ever imagined, and she felt like the most powerful being in it.

The process over, she opened her eyes to look upon the world anew. They were changed; no longer a clear blue, they were now an eerie, unworldly green that burned with fel power.

Taking a deep breath, Silandra focused on the apple sitting on the end of the table. Mentally running through the motions, she reminded herself again of what she needed to do for this, a simple spell. She focused, then released the energy of the frostbolt towards the target.

Except nothing happened. No bolt of ice, no whimper, no fizzle, nothing at all.

"No!" She shouted, the quickly began running through the motions again. Control. Control and discipline. I can do this. I can use the arcane. I can bend it to my will and make it my servant. I will reclaim all that I have lost! She released the spell, but again there was nothing.

"No! No, no, no, no, no!" She screamed in frustration as she tried again to release the spell, but with no effect. It was like it simply did not want to occur, something that, to her mind, should be impossible. She had accepted the demon energy. She had control of the addiction. She had conquered that weakness within her that threatened to destroy her.

So why does it not work? Why am I not whole again?

She tried to cast again, however there still was no effect. It had been like this for the last month since she had transformer herself to a Sin'dorei. She had resumed her magical studies, in effect relearning all she had lost, as if form the start. But it wasn't working. Her Arcane abilities simply refused to function.

The apple remained there, unharmed, as if defying her. Snarling in range, she swung around at it with her staff, slamming into the offending fruit and sending it flying, smashing into the wall. With a shout of pain and fury, she pun around, blood-red robes billowing out behind her. She screeched as she swept aside the books and manuscripts on the table, sending them crashing to the ground. "No!" She called out. "This cannot be! I must... I can do this! I must do this! I must have it back!"


She spun around, glaring at Lothios as he entered the room. "You." She hissed. "You said that all would be better. You said that I could overcome this, that I could master the arcane again. Why... why can't I? I need to know, Lothios. I..." She choked back a sob. "I need this. I need it so badly..."

He sighed softly as he walked over to his student. "Silandra, I wish it could be that easy." He began, a gentle, condescending tone in his voice. "I wish I could just cast a spell and make all matters right. But the world does not work like that. Instead, we must fight for what we need. And, with every struggle, there are always setbacks."

"But..." She continued. "But you said..."

He nodded. "Silandra, what I told you was the truth. We have regained our arcane abilities through this new source of power. But... it is not always a success. Sometimes, well, sometimes things go wrong. Some of us have not been so lucky to have regained all that they had lost." There was something about his tone, some reservation, as if he was not telling her all that he should be.

"But then... what about me? Will I never regain my spellcasting?" There was a hint of desperation in her voice now. "Is this temporary? Is it permanent? Am I to be forever cut off form that which is our lifeblood? I need to know, Lothios! Tell me, now!"

"I truly cannot say." He admitted.

She slumped, defeated, seemingly physically exhausted. "Then what is left for me?" She asked. "I cannot go on like this. I cannot live without that which I need." That was the truth. She had lost her home, her nation, her family and most of her people. However, to her mind, those were just things. It was this craving for the arcane that struck her the most, what she needed in order to survive. And to have been told that there was a way to get it back, only to loose it... that was more then she could bear.

He nodded, then smiled weakly at her. "Silandra, what you have suffered is a terrible loss. One that I cannot even begin to understand. I was fortunate but..." He shook his head.

"But..." She shook her head. "This cannot be."

"Do not give up hope, yet." He continued, looking her in the eye. "There are... other options, Silandra."

"What?" She snapped. "What do you mean?" Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him, her voice an angry hiss. "You would have me become a Warlock then? A contemptible fool who dabbles with demons?"

"That's not what I mean." He replied, somewhat defensively. "Al I am saying is that there is another way." And then he smiled, a strangely confident smile. "The Light, Silandra."

She was taken aback, then paused, and laughed. "The Light? Now I know that you are not serious." Suddenly changing, she turned back to him, an angry, determined look on her face. "The Light failed us. Why should I turn back to it now?"

"Because, Silandra, we are not like those weak fools in the Alliance." He explained. "We do not follow the light, nor do we serve it. Instead, through the powers that we command - powers that you could have - we make the light serve us."

"You do not make any sense." She countered. "How can the Light serve us?"

"I think, Silandra, that I could not offer any decent explanation." He admitted. "Instead, let me show you."

"This..." Silandra began as she stared upwards. "This is truly amazing... what we have done here..."

"What can be yours, Silandra." Lothios countered. "This power... you could be a part of it."

She nodded vaguely, still fixated on the form that dominated the room, hanging over her. A huge, possibly cross-shaped form, seemingly composed of pure light. It shone with a brilliant energy that was only eclipsed by the bands of red energy that surrounded it, clearly containing it and restraining it in place.

She could not identify what it was; a creature, a source of magical energy or maybe some combination of the two. However, she knew that it radiated power. Just being in its presence gave her a feeling of exuberance as the energy radiating off it was absorbed into her. She could feel the energy flowing through her body, energising her, making her feel stronger, more powerful... more alive.

"I... I want this." She began, her voice strangely indistinct, as if lost in the glory that was before her. "This is beauty. This is power. With this, I can have all that was taken from me... Lothios... you were right to show me this. It must be mine."

Behind her, Lothios nodded, then quietly turned towards a female Sin'dorei, clad in heavy armour. "This is the one I told you of, Lady Liadrin." He began.

She nodded, looking at Silandra. "So I see... young, desperate and driven. She has a lot of potential for the cause."

"I think it would be fair to say that she would do anything for us. Anything."

"And does she realise what she is looking at?"

He smiled. "If she knew the full story, I doubt that she would care"

"It will be an interesting experiment." She offered. "She cannot use the arcane. We know we can use the arcane to plant the divine in others, but to someone in her state..."

"True." he nodded. "So will you do it? Will you make her one of your Blood Knights."

"Yes." She finished.

Nodding, Lothois walked forwards to where Silandra was waiting, staring up in awe at what was before her. Standing behind her, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders. She was so entranced by what was before her, however, that she barely registered his presence. "Beautiful, isn't it?" He began.

"The light..." She replied, distant. "So radiant... so much power. What is it?"

"This is a gift to our people, from our beloved king, Kael'thas Sunstrider." He replied. "He has given this to us so that we will be empowered and join him. It is his golden dream for all our people, those here in Quel'thalas and those in Outland."

"Of course. I should have known."

"This power can be yours, Silandra." He continued. "Will you accept it? Will you take this gift, and use it to fulfill the destiny of our people?"

"I will." She replied. "I must."

The chamber that Silandra had been lead into was like many of the others in the rebuilt Silvermoon. Darkened, it was instead lit by a soft, red magical glow. Gauzy curtains hung from its walls and guarded its doors, the light filtering in from outside only adding to the colour.

One thing made it different, however. A circular gap in the floor radiated a brilliant red energy from below, one comprised of the power channeled from the energy being. This power filled all in the room, seeping into every part of it and the people in it. A group of a half dozen mages stood around the gap, each dressed in the red and gold robes that were the standard in Silvermoon. At its head stood the woman Silandra had met before, clad in heavy armour, adorned with a red and black symbol of a Phoenix.

Before her knelt Silandra, waiting patiently. Gone were her tattered robes, instead replaced with newly forged green and silver mail armour. Her long red hair hung loosely around her head, draping down over her face.

“Magisters of Silvermoon.” The woman began. “In our mastery of the Arcane, we have gathered to empower this woman. In our power, she shall be reborn anew. In our power, she shall destroy those who would stand before us. In our power, she shall lead our people to their destiny.”

“Magisters of Silvermoon, if you deem this woman capable, then invest in her the powers that you command.”

One of the mages gestured, a beam of red energy leaping out from the pit into his hands. After concentrating, he released it towards her, the beam striking Silandra. It washed over hear body, filling it with new powers, ones that she had never felt before. “By the powers that you command, may your people be healed.” The mage intoned.

A second mage gestured, again focusing and releasing a beam of red energy. As it washed over Silandra, she could feel herself becoming stronger, more powerful then before. “By the powers that you command, may your enemies be destroyed.” He chanted.

Silandra remembered the process whereby she had accepted the fel energies and been transformed into a Sin'dorei, the creature that she was today. She had expected what was to come to be similar; a surge of power, and then the satisfaction of her desires.

It was different. The Fel energies that she had consumed had filled that missing part of her whole, but this was more. She could feel the power surging through her body, more power than she had ever felt before. No longer was she merely a whole being, but she was more; stronger and more capable then before. She had been remade anew, cleansed of the weaknesses and failings of her old self and transformed. She was perfect.

Yet, she could vaguely hear a voice, urging her on, telling her of what she had become. It spoke of her newfound strength, and of the abilities that she now possessed. It said how now she would be one of - no, the greatest - warrior that had lived. And it spoke not only of the Golden Dream, but of what she must do to achieve it.

Now there was hunger, but a different one. This was no longer a craving of what she needed survive. This was now a need for more; she had become greater then she had ever been, but there was still so much more. She could become greater still; more powerful, more capable and stronger to the point that none could stand against her.

Another voice spoke out, louder then this one. For the moment, it retreated, slipping away to the dark places of her mind as the outside world filtered in.

Another mage stepped forwards, placing a sword before her. It was finely crafted, speaking of the grace and skill of her people. Until now, she had never considered using a sword, dismissing it as a toy before the might of the arcane. Now, as the new power flowed through her body, she could sense the truth. This weapon, and these powers, bestowed upon her by the might of Sin’dorei sorcery, would make her greater then she had been before.

“Do you, Silandra Silverleaf, vow to support and aid our kingdom, so that we may be reunited with our prince, Kael’thas Sunstrider?” The armoured woman spoke.

“I do.” She stated, earnestly.

“Do you vow to follow his ideals, so that we may be freed from our shackles and embrace his golden dream?”

“I do” She repeated.

“And do you vow to use the powers that we have taken to destroy our enemies, and to crush them without pity or mercy?”

“I do.” She finished.

"Arise, Silandra Silverleaf; Blood Knight of Quel'thalas."

She stood, sword in hand, her armour shining in the reflected light. These were the symbols of her office now, ones that spoke of greater power then any mages robe. It was a power that she controlled, and that she would willingly unleash on those who would oppose her people and their dreams.

On those who would oppose her.


After the transformation had come training; months of drilling not only in her newfound abilities, but in the use of a blade. Relocated to a small outpost on Sunstrider Isle, she had trained daily under the watchful eyes of the more senior Blood Knights present.

Two months after her transformation, she was given her first mission. Those in charge felt that she was ready now to face combat and aid in the reclamation and the rebuilding of their homeland.

"Silandra" One of the Knights began. "A runner reported a small camp, outside the ruined half of Silvermoon. It is not one of ours, which leave us open to the possibility that there may be infiltrators or undesirable elements creeping into our homeland. And while the Scourge may have been turned back, we must remain ever vigilant against intruders."

"I understand." Silandra nodded. "What then is my duty?"

"Investigate the camp, and return with your findings. If you are attacked, then destroy whatever you may find there. If this is the vanguard of a new invasion, or something else, we must know."

"Of course." She finished, and saluted. Turning to leave, she ventured into the lush red woods surrounding the settlement, determined to root out and destroy whatever it was that had appeared in this place.

The last three months had been particularly hard for Telris. When he had found Silandra gone, he had been disappointed but by no means surprised. He had hoped that his friend would be more cautious, willing to wait and discover the truth of what was going on. However, at the same time he knew her weaknesses and her needs, and realised why it was that she had to leave for Silvermoon.

He had instead remained outside the city, cautiously probing its fringes as well as exploring the surrounding countryside. What he had found him had both awed and shocked him; awed because of all that had been done to reclaim the land and transform it back into the verdant forests that it had been before the coming of the Scourge; shocked at the realisation of how it had been done, and the propel who now inhabited it.

This was not the return of the High Elf civilization, resorted to its glory. Instead, they were Blood Elves, and this city was a perverted mockery of all that his people had held dear. It terrified him to think of what they had done, tapping foul demonic energies to empower their people. He knew of Blood Elves, but he had hoped never, ever to see one in person.

And now he saw the truth. If the numbers that he was seeing here were true, then it would mean that there were now far more Blood Elves then there were "true" High Elves. These people he realised, were the future of his race - a future that he could not allow to pass.

Ignoring the growing hunger inside of him, the constant temptation to give in and join them, he had continued to explore the countryside. He hoped, prayed that there was some form of resistance, some Quel'dorei who had chosen to stand against the madness and preserve the honour and dignity of his race. He hoped that they could stay their hands and fight the temptation to give in to their addiction. Instead, he had found nothing. If there were any others like him here, they had long ago surrendered to what increasingly looked like the inevitable.

So instead he waited, patrolling the outskirts of the city. He was looking for two things; the first was any signs of weakness, some way that he could get into the city unnoticed. The second was for any signs of Silandra, regardless of what had happened to her. While he knew that lacked the ability to save his people, he hoped that maybe he could save her. Even if it cost him his own life, he was determined that she should avoid the fate that seemed to have befallen the rest of his people.

He had decided to act, knowing full well that he didn't have much time left. All he had his armour, as decrepit and rusted as it had become, his sword, and a bow and a handful of arrows that he had made in the field. He also knew that he still had his wits; he'd continued to fight the addiction for as long as possible, holding off the terrible cravings that threatened to consume him. He was ready, as much as he could be for such a reckless act.

But one that he felt that he needed to do. If not for him, then for her.

He never got the chance. As he prepared to leave his camp for the last time, he was struck down by a searing blast of light. It staggered him, sending him reeling and crashing backwards. Spots swam before his eyes as he reached for his blade, determined to fight off whatever it was that had attacked him. As his vision cleared, he looked up to see the face of his enemy, and was shocked by what he found.

The Sin'dorei woman before him was clearly a warrior, clad in mail armour and carrying a greatsword. However, what struck him was the face; he immediately recognized it as the face of his friend, the woman who he would have given his life to protect. However, as familar as she was, there were also many obvious differences. In place of the frail, pale woman who he had last seen was someone almost completely changed; fit, healthy, and with a presence that seemed to radiate strength and power.

And with unearthly green eyes.

"Silandra!" he called out.

If she recognised him, she didn't acknowledge it, instead pointing her sword straight at him. "Pathetic." She snarled. "You and your kind... can you not see the truth to your situation?"

"Silandra?" He repeated. "What... what has happened to you? What have they done to you?"

She coked her head to one side, as if listening to some unseen voice. "It is not what they have done." She replied. "It is what I have chosen. I no longer fight my weakness. I have conquered it, and been reborn."

"You..." He shook his head. This was worse then he had expected, worse then he had ever imagined. Even knowing her desperation, he'd never believed that Silandra could go this far. "Hoe could you?"

"Join us." She stated. "Join us, and become a part of the Golden Dream, the future of al our peoples."

"I will not." He angrily countered. "I will not become a monster, like you."

"You contemptible, weak Quel'dorei." She sneered. "You have doomed yourself. You say that you see us as monsters, then what does that make you? A slave to his addiction, one who will eventually be destroyed by it as I nearly was."

"I would sooner die then join your kind."

"So be it." She finished and, with a single motion, drove her sword through his chest, driving it home. Telris made no sound as he died, impaled upon her blade. Then, with no hint of pity or remorse, she withdrew her blade and sheathed it, turning form the camp.

"My mission is complete." She told herself. "One less threat to my people."