The Barrens were shrouded in gloom, barely pierced by the faint light of the crescent moon. Kaelion completed his watch in silence, his steps as light and stealthy as shadows among the cliffs. The wind still carried the bitter scent of gunpowder and upturned earth, whispering like a distant echo of recent battles. When his shift ended, Kaelion climbed to the highest point of the outpost, where the stars wove an endless mantle above the ravaged land. There, with the horizon stretched before him, he allowed his thoughts to flow freely, carried by the tide of the night.
The night elf's silvery hair shimmered under the moon's cold light, falling in soft waves over his shoulders. Kaelion knelt, bowing his head in reverence. He closed his eyes and, with a low but steady voice, raised a prayer to Elune, the Moon Mother:
—Elune, guardian of eternal nights, receive Thalon Dalanar, faithful servant and devotee of your light. Lead his spirit beyond the shadows into your serene embrace. May his sacrifice illuminate the dark paths ahead. Grant strength to those who mourn his departure, and peace to his warrior soul. So be it.
The words faded into the air like a sigh, swallowed by the deep silence of the night. Kaelion kept his eyes closed, feeling the weight of grief lift, if only slightly. Then, a voice emerged from the shadows—unexpected, but calm:
—The stars seem brighter when we gaze at them with guilt in our hearts.
Kaelion's eyes flew open, and he turned his head swiftly. A few meters away, sitting on a rock wrapped in shadow, was Aerion. The blood elf had his gaze fixed on the sky, his eyes glowing like embers beneath the moonlight. There was no hostility in his tone, only a deep weariness.
—The war, the conflict, the occupation... —Aerion continued, his voice low and reflective—. On these endless nights, you can't help but ask yourself: why do we keep walking this bloodstained path?
Kaelion didn't respond immediately. His face remained unreadable, but he stepped forward slowly, each movement measured. Aerion barely turned his head toward him, a bitter smile crossing his lips before he returned his gaze to the horizon.
—This morning they were going to execute my mentor, —Aerion said, his voice quieter—. Yes, an orc. Apparently, the only one who dared to treat me like a brother in this fractured Horde. They accused him of hesitating to kill an enemy... in the middle of battle. I didn't understand that hesitation at the time. But now, after what I've seen... I think I'm beginning to. Compassion isn't the monopoly of one side alone. You showed me that, Kaelion, despite the abyss that separates our loyalties.
Kaelion sat in silence a short distance away, letting the words settle in the air. For a few moments, only the wind rustling the leaves and the distant call of a nocturnal creature could be heard. Finally, with a calm voice, he replied:
—Your orc friend hesitated to kill that night elf. That elf... was Thalon. His mercy didn't last long. Another orc finished what he couldn't.
Aerion lowered his gaze, his fists tightening on his knees. His jaw tensed for a moment, but then his shoulders relaxed and he exhaled slowly.
—I heard the humans, with their arrows, killed the orc who struck down your friend. —His voice grew somber, though tinged with irony—. Maybe it was justice... or maybe just another cruel twist in this wheel of death. Either way, I never liked him much.
Kaelion gave a barely perceptible grimace. He wasn't sure whether to interpret it as a poorly disguised apology or a bitter acceptance of fate. He chose to remain neutral and shifted the conversation toward the matter that truly concerned him.
—And your friend, the orc who hesitated? Is he still alive?
Aerion narrowed his eyes, fixing his gaze on some indistinct point on the horizon.
—As far as I know, yes. Though life in custody at Orgrimmar is merely a shadow of freedom. —He paused, letting the silence carry the weight of his words—. The real question is: how much longer will they allow him to breathe, those who see compassion as treason?
Kaelion didn't respond. He knew no words could cover the bitterness of that reality. Both remained there, seated beneath the stars, two enemies united by uncertainty and grief. And in the sky, the crescent moon watched them in its silent journey, indifferent to the misery of mortals.
The sun filtered through the treetops on a radiant afternoon, gilding the leaves and dyeing the winding paths in amber hues. Kaelion walked with steady yet calm steps, his thoughts still anchored in the shadows of war. To clear his mind, he decided to stop by the village tavern and purchase a couple of bottles of wine—an aged wine fermented with the dark berries of the Astranaar forests, known among night elves for its deep flavor and comforting effect. Something strong was exactly what he needed to deal with the weight of his memories. On the way back, he passed by the same tree where, weeks ago, he had rescued a young elf from a nasty fall. That was when he heard a youthful and enthusiastic voice.
—Mister Kaelion, hello! —greeted the boy, with a wide smile and eyes shining like two tiny stars.
—Hello, little friend —Kaelion replied, returning the smile—. How are you?
—Great! —said the boy, standing up straight with pride—. I don't fall from trees anymore.
—I see you took my advice —Kaelion replied, with a light but sincere smile.
Before the boy could say anything else, a soft but firm voice interrupted them.
—Come on, Theranil, we'll be late for supper.
A night elf woman with long silver hair approached with graceful steps. Her dress, though simple, was dyed in muted tones, like the twilight of a forest at dusk. Theranil frowned with the kind of protest only children could muster.
—But Mom... —the boy whined, dragging out the words.
—Theranil Dalanar, no buts —the elf replied, arching a brow slightly.
The surname echoed in Kaelion's mind like the distant call of a war horn. His fingers tensed slightly on the neck of the bottles, and his expression turned grave, though restrained. The boy, reluctantly, obeyed and walked alongside his mother.
—Sir, I'm so sorry —the elf said, offering a gentle smile—. My son can be quite the handful. I heard you saved him from a fall a few days ago. Truly, I'm deeply grateful.
Kaelion shook his head with a polite gesture.
—No trouble at all, there's no need to thank me, ma'am. But… forgive my question. Are you Mrs. Dalanar? —he asked, his voice careful, like someone unearthing a painful memory with delicate hands.
—Yes, sir —she answered, her gaze darkening slightly—. My husband died in the war several months ago. It hasn't been easy for anyone… I suppose not for me either. Did you know him?
The night elf drew a breath, as though the words were heavy.
—He was my comrade. We served on watch together in the Barrens. You have no idea how sorry I am. Thalon was a brave warrior... and a loyal friend.
The widow nodded with trembling lips, though she kept her composure, like firm branches that hold onto their leaves even in the fiercest winds.
—It's all right —she said with a sad but serene smile—. I'm proud to have been the wife, partner, and beloved of such a brave warrior. I know that, in some way, his spirit remains among us, watching over us, just as he always did.
Kaelion, moved by her words, bowed his head slightly in a sign of respect.
—Whatever you need, ma'am, I'm here. —His eyes settled on young Theranil, who was playing with his mother's sleeves—. You have a wonderful son. I can see Thalon's essence in him.
The widow let out a soft laugh, like the murmur of a gentle brook.
—It's true —she admitted, stroking the boy's silvery hair—. Theranil has his father's indomitable spirit.
Kaelion gave a final nod and continued on his way, the weight in his chest only slightly lightened. As he walked along the path bathed in the golden light of sunset, he knew that tonight he would drink to the memory of Aeris, of Thalon, to the strength of Thalon's widow, and to the hope still shining in young Theranil's eyes. Though Kaelion's initial intent had been to drown his thoughts in a couple of bottles of aged wine, he ended up finding himself slowly wandering the trails of Dolanaar. The silvery light filtering through the leaves of the ancient trees gave the place a deceiving peace, incapable of silencing the storm in his mind. His thoughts returned again and again to the words of Thalon's wife. Despite the solitude and mourning that enveloped her, that night elf stood strong, stoic—for her son.
—Damn it… —Kaelion muttered, clenching his fist. He didn't know whether to envy that woman's strength or pity himself for his own weariness.
His thoughts then drifted to Aeris. He remembered how his old companion used to smile whenever they shared wine during night watch. That's when he had an idea, one that drew a small smile to his lips. Perhaps bringing that drink to Aeris's parents wouldn't be such a bad way to honor his memory. Lost in thought, Kaelion didn't notice the familiar figure approaching until a soft, feminine voice pulled him out of his reverie.
—Kaelion, how strange to see you out of the house. —Lyara's voice was gentle, almost melodic, and her eyes shone with an unusual warmth.
—Hello, Lyara, —he replied, trying to sound casual— I decided to go out and do a bit of shopping.
The night elf's eyes settled on the bottles of wine in Kaelion's arms. She raised an eyebrow, visibly intrigued.
—Are you sure you're alright? —she asked, with that familiar mix of concern and tenderness.
—Yes, yes, —Kaelion quickly tried to dismiss it— These were just... actually, I was planning to visit the parents of my comrade, Aeris, and give them this in his memory. Aeris loved it. I found out this morning he died in battle.
Lyara bowed her head, visibly moved.
—I'm so sorry.
—He was a good warrior, —Kaelion said quietly. Then, after a deep breath, he added— There's something else I need to tell you.
—How about later? —she interrupted gently— What do you say we go out to the fields for a small picnic? You can tell me everything there.
The suggestion took Kaelion by surprise. It wasn't common for Lyara to invite him out like that, especially with such a genuine smile.
—Sure, —he replied, perhaps with more enthusiasm than he intended.
—Then I'll see you there, —she said, walking away with a graceful nod and a serene smile.
Kaelion watched as Lyara disappeared among the trees, and found himself smiling.
—See you there, —he murmured, though the phrase felt strangely familiar.
Those words echoed in his memory like a distant call, dragging him back to the Barrens, along with images of a past stained by betrayal and broken camaraderie. The elf sighed, adjusted the bottles in his arms, and continued on his path; his heart tangled between nostalgia and a curious anticipation of what was to come.
Night had fully descended over the Barrens, and a waxing moon hung in the sky like a silver claw, casting long shadows over the arid terrain. Among the scattered brush and deserted hills, two figures advanced steadily from the highest point, wrapped in the expectant silence of darkness. Kaelion, the night elf, walked in silence, his eyes accustomed to the gloom catching every detail. At his side, Aerion, the blood elf, seemed uncomfortable beneath the night's cloak, though he maintained his proud bearing. The silence grew heavy, broken only by the whisper of the wind and the crunch of boots against the earth. Finally, Aerion spoke, as if slicing through the fabric of an old tabard.
—I didn't expect to share watch with one of your kind —he said in an apparently neutral tone. His green eyes, glowing with the essence of magic, drifted toward Kaelion—. I thought your people preferred shadowy forests and the company of owls.
Kaelion didn't bother to turn his head, but a barely perceptible smile curved his lips.
—And I thought blood elves never left their towers to tread mortal soil —he replied calmly—. But look at you here, dirtying your golden boots.
Aerion let out a short, dry laugh.
—Touché —he admitted—. Though, to be frank, I'd rather be in Silvermoon with a glass of wine than in this hellish wasteland.
—Oh, I can imagine —Kaelion said, raising an eyebrow—. The Barrens must seem dreadful compared to your golden halls and endless feasts.
—Do you have any idea how boring a feast can be with magisters arguing over arcane theory? —Aerion scoffed, rolling his eyes—. I'd rather face a hundred centaurs than hear one more word about mana flows and crystal resonance.
Kaelion let out a low, genuine chuckle.
—Then we have something in common.
—Oh, really? —Aerion replied, folding his arms as they walked—. I didn't know your kind knew how to laugh.
—When the company allows for it —Kaelion said, flashing a sly smile—. But tell me, what are you really doing here? You don't strike me as the type who takes orders quietly.
The blood elf sighed, his green eyes turning serious for a moment.
—You're right. I don't like following orders —he admitted—. But sometimes it's not about what we want. My younger brother... whatever happens in this war, I need to make sure he has something to come back to.
Kaelion remained silent for a few moments, understanding.
—I get it —he said at last—. I've lost people who mattered too.
Aerion's eyes softened briefly, and silence returned between them, though no longer hostile. The wind blew, cold and laden with dust, as the two reached the point where their paths would part. Aerion glanced sideways at him, his expression turning serious.
—See you there —the blood elf said, nodding toward the top of the hill, where they usually met to reflect.
Kaelion blinked, surprised by how natural the phrase sounded. His lips curved into a small, warm, sincere smile.
—See you —he replied, nodding back.
And for a moment, as Aerion walked away with confident steps, Kaelion kept his gaze fixed on the hilltop, feeling a strange but comforting sense that those simple, honest words would stay with him longer than he expected. The wind whispered through the dry grass, but this time, the silence didn't feel so empty.
"At first, their words were cautious, like two sheathed blades testing the edge of their own daring. But soon, distrust gave way to laughter, laughter to wonder, and wonder to desire."
The sun was already setting behind the towering branches of Teldrassil, tinting the sky in shades of orange and violet. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves, and the song of nocturnal creatures began to fill the air. Kaelion and Lyara sat in a small clearing, seated on a blanket with a simple snack before them: fresh fruit, bread with honey, and a bottle of aged wine. Both were laughing, more relaxed than they had felt in a long time, recalling childhood stories from their days in the forest. Kaelion, with a crooked smile, took a sip of wine before speaking.
—Do you remember that time you tried to impress your mother by summoning will-o'-the-wisps and nearly set the whole grove on fire? —he asked with a restrained laugh—. I don't think I've ever run that fast in my life.
Lyara rolled her eyes but couldn't help laughing as well, her eyes shining under the soft light.
—For your information, that was your fault! —she protested, giving him a light shove on the shoulder—. You were the one who said, "Oh, of course, Lyara, you can totally control three at once. It's not that hard."
Kaelion shrugged, feigning innocence.
—And technically, you did... until one flew straight into the dry bushes.
—Because you sneezed and made me lose concentration. —Lyara groaned between laughs—. I'd never seen your mother that angry! I thought she was going to lock us both in the moon refuge until the next festival.
—And the worst part is, after all that, you got off scot-free and I ended up cleaning the scorched leaves. —Kaelion replied, rolling his eyes—. A true injustice, if you ask me.
Lyara let out a laugh and shook her head.
—Oh, please, don't play the martyr. You're the one who threw the flying squirrel at the grove warden because—and I quote—"I wanted to see if it's true that nothing breaks his focus."
Kaelion had to bite his lip to keep from bursting into laughter at the memory of the warden's stone-faced expression when the squirrel landed squarely on his shoulder.
—The worst part is he didn't even blink. —he admitted, shaking his head—. I started thinking they were enchanted statues.
—Right, right. —Lyara rolled her eyes, still laughing—. Just admit it, you just wanted to see how far you could go before we got punished.
—And now I know: exactly up to flying squirrels. —Kaelion grinned, lifting his cup of wine as if making a toast—. A boundary that should never have been crossed.
They both burst into laughter, the clear and unburdened sound echoing among the trees. For a moment, the shadows of war felt distant, and the clearing was filled only with their mirth. Their laughter faded slowly, leaving behind only the soft whisper of leaves and the silver glow of the crescent moon filtering through the branches. Lyara took a sip of wine, still smiling, until something seemed to cross her mind. She tilted her head slightly, looking at him with curiosity.
—By the way... what was it you wanted to tell me this afternoon? —she asked, her amethyst eyes glinting beneath the dim light.
Kaelion's smile slowly faded, and his gaze dropped to the edge of the blanket, his fingers playing with a loose thread. He took a deep breath before speaking.
—Well, I wanted to tell you that... I've been requested to fight again. —he admitted, his voice low but firm—. They need reinforcements in Ashenvale.
The name of the forest seemed to hang in the air, heavy with meaning. Lyara blinked a few times, processing the news. Anyone else might have shown immediate concern, but she smiled—a warm and encouraging expression that made the tightness in Kaelion's chest ease a little.
—Well, then you'd better not forget to come back. —said Lyara in a light tone, as if they were speaking of nothing too serious—. Someone has to keep you out of trouble, and you clearly can't do that on your own.
Kaelion looked at her, surprised.
—Is that all you have to say? —he asked, with a half-incredulous smile.
—Oh no, there's more. —Lyara went on, leaning slightly toward him—. Promise me you won't do anything heroically stupid. Just come back in one piece, alright?
Kaelion let out a low chuckle, though his eyes gleamed with something else.
—I'll do my best. —he promised, trying to sound casual—. But you know how this goes.
Lyara rolled her eyes, giving him a light smack on the shoulder.
—Yeah, yeah, brave Kaelion facing entire hordes. —she teased—. Whatever, just don't end up with arrows in your wing again.
—That was only once. —he defended, raising his hands with a smile.
—Sure, and I'm a guardian of Elune. —she replied, raising a brow—. Seriously, take care of yourself, Kaelion.
For a moment, silence wrapped around them again, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Kaelion allowed himself to close his eyes for a second, letting the fresh breeze and Lyara's comforting presence wash over him.
—See you there. —he murmured suddenly, almost without realizing it, the phrase escaping his lips before he could stop it.
Lyara tilted her head, puzzled.
—Where?
—Ah, no… nothing. —Kaelion smiled, shaking his head—. Just... a memory.
She looked at him with a mix of curiosity and tenderness, but chose not to press. Instead, she offered him a piece of honeyed bread and smiled again, lighting up the dimness of the clearing. The cool wind of Teldrassil caressed the high leaves, and the sky began to deepen into purple as the first stars appeared. Kaelion and Lyara kept talking, laughter bubbling up light and easy between sips of wine. The calm of the glade felt almost sacred—until hurried footsteps over the grass broke the harmony. A young elf with silver hair emerged from the trees, breathing somewhat fast, his armor still dusty from travel. Upon spotting Kaelion, his eyes lit up with clear relief. He quickly stood at attention, raising a closed fist to his chest.
—Sergeant Lir'Thalas! Thank Elune I found you. —the messenger bowed his head, his words cutting through the air, making Lyara and Kaelion turn in surprise—. I came to inform you that reinforcements have arrived in Ashenvale. They managed to push back the orc attack successfully, forcing them to retreat to the Stonetalon Mountains. For now, your presence will not be required. Orders from above.
The young elf extended a letter, the commander's seal still fresh and crisp. Kaelion took the parchment, breaking the wax with slightly trembling fingers. As he read the lines penned in a steady hand, his shoulders noticeably relaxed. Lyara, unable to contain herself, searched his gaze with shining eyes. When Kaelion looked up again, a genuine, relieved smile curved his lips.
—Thank you very much, soldier, for the news. —he said warmly, folding the letter with care—. Please, sit with us. Would you like a sip of wine?
The messenger blushed, waving his hands in visible discomfort.
—Oh no, sergeant, I truly appreciate it, but I don't think I should...
—Please! —Kaelion insisted, almost laughing—. Don't you realize what wonderful news you've just brought us? It deserves to be celebrated with a warm cup of such a precious and delightful drink.
Lyara nodded enthusiastically, already pouring some wine into an extra cup. The young elf hesitated, but in the end, gave in with a shy smile and sat down beside them. The cups clinked gently, and the first stars reflected on the dark surface of the drink. The deep reddish hue of the wine caught the light of the waxing moon, adding a mysterious and elegant touch to the night. For a moment, the relief and warmth of it all made everything else seem distant, like a bad dream fading away. The messenger, less stiff now and with cheeks already flushed from the wine, allowed himself a wide, sincere smile. Lyara, for her part, tilted her head toward Kaelion, her amethyst eyes glowing with a mix of relief and joy. And so, under the starlit sky and with the sweet scent of the drink floating in the air, the three watched the night fall, sharing the fleeting yet precious peace of a moment without war.