One hour before death..
Twilight, the violet hour, had begun and the Argent Guards just changed their fireduty. A heavy breeze pushed dark clouds across the sky as windows of the full moon offered pockets of radiance off the white brick used to build Hearthglen. Out of the night sky on the back of a golden drake, Vyktur Dawnstar landed on the road that circled through the Crusader grounds. Collecting his satchel, Dawnstar threw himself off the back of the dragon and landed on the grass. Resting his hand on the thigh of the great dragon, he patted her as she nodded and took flight to the near by mountain ledges that surrounded the Argent settlement. She would not return until he summoned her.
Thunder boomed as lightning lit up the sky. The wind picked up and a few drops of rain shower began to blanket the training grounds. Vyktur approached the door of the Sundance house pulling his cloak over his shoulder and knocking on the door three times. Waiting he glanced around the town center before he glared up at Tirion Fordring's large statue.
The door opened slowly.
"My Lord Vyktur, come inside."
Withdrawing from the street, Lord Dawnstar stepped inside the ambiance of Nephilium's home.
Taking a quick survey of the space, Vyktur's hand began to finger the buckles of his cloak. Pulliting it over his head, he tossed it over a chair near the entrance to the dwelling. "What do I owe -this- pleasure," Nephilium mumbled as he returned to the table he had been sitting and lifted his glass of wine. The fire across from the table was the only light in the room, casting heavy shadows that moved and shifted as the wood burned. Ambassador Sundance seemed to have been sitting alone.
"Is this a bad time?"
"No, Lord Dawnstar.." Nephilium sat down, "..I am always available to offer my audience. Do you expect anything less?"
Vyktur looked at Nephilium, his eyes watching his form, "You know I never.."
"Stop!"
"What?"
"Just stop."
Nephilium lifted his glass to his lips and swallowed the wine that remained inside, "I know why you're here, " Neph blurted aloud.
"You do?"
"Yes...I do."
"I see."
Vyktur approached the table and pulled out a chair, sitting down.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
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20 years ago..
A small candle offered little light in the small chambers that contained no window. The stone walls were only broken by a heavy wooden door with no handle. In the corner there was a mat with a few old blankets that were tattered and torn. Next to the bed lay a single piece of parchment and a small wooden pencil beside a shallow leather sack. Damp and dark, the very air left to breathe felt suffocating. Alone, Dawnstar sat cross legged in the center of the cell he called his room.
The Quel'dorei's eyes remained closed as he hummed a song that no one would know, a song that remained his inspiration. Filthy and wearing only a wrap made from dirty linen, the burns and cuts that scarred his flesh continued to bring him such anguish. This night, the Sages of Solfire had not been kind. Fear of the trolls advancement in the southern lands of greater Quel'thalas forced the elders into dark, primitive and sadistic rituals of sacrifice to old powers that created their virgin world. A superstitious custom of their people.
The flame of the candle flickered a few times before it extinguished; there would be no more light. Continuing to hum, the melody grew weaker and Dawnstar began to weep. "I.." he uttered but caught in his own lament he grew silent. He moaned as he moved crawling towards his bed. Falling onto the mat, with one arm pulled the rags for covers over his bloody body. There he laid and cried.
Soon there after, Elixander calmed and somewhere between being awake and asleep he found peace in his heart. This night's slumber lured him into consciousnesses as he clutched the vial of poison in one hand and the piece of parchment in the other.
