Chapter 2: Everything Burns
WARNING: 18+, angst, death, gore
Pairing: Kira(OFC)/Illidan Stormrage (It’s coming in later chapters)
The morning sun crept through the window, casting long, golden stripes across Kira’s bedroom wall. She blinked at the light, groaned softly, and rolled onto her side, hoping for just a few more minutes of rest. Her limbs felt heavy, her thoughts slower than usual, like she was moving through thick fog. It wasn’t exhaustion. It was the day.
Temple day. It was strange to think a place meant to bring peace and warmth, gave Kira chills and a sense of loneliness. It had ever since she was a kid, ever since she had nightmares. Although the hauntings at night were less frequent, dread still lingered over her whenever they went to the Temple.
The scent of fresh bread wasn’t there, no breakfast today. That was tradition. The Light first, then the meal. Kira hadn’t quite understood why they weren’t allowed to eat before the sermon, especially when she could hear the rumble of tummies all around the temple, but she imagined it had something to do with knowing how it felt to starve.
Her mother, Avira, stood near the door, already wrapped in her pale blue robes, Yril resting on her hip.. Her father, Tharnak, waited outside, arms crossed, staring calmly toward the temple down the path. Kira dressed quickly in her ceremonial robes and joined them by the door.
They walked in silence through the village. The path to the temple was lined with morning dew and soft flowers in bloom. Others from the village walked the same way, nodding quietly to one another. Everyone wore their best, the long, flowing garments of white and purple threads glittering faintly in the morning light.
Kira felt equally awkward every time, but she would never voice her wish to not join in the sermon. She knew how much it meant not only to her family, but the whole village. She rememberd back when she was younger, a villager hadn’t shown up for any sermon in several weeks. When Elder Melaan asked why, the simple answer was; “I don’t want to.”
“Blasphemy!” Melaan had yelled out, bringing the attention from nearby villagers onto them. It didn’t take a week before the villager was driven out of the village. Kira suppose he lived outside in the forest, or perhaps moved to another village, but they never saw him again.
The temple stood in the village center, carved from pale crystal and stone, its roof shaped like the wings of a naaru, reaching skyward. A gentle hum pulsed from within its walls, a sound you could feel more than hear.
Aric stood at the entrance, his light hair catching the sun as he greeted every family with a smile and a respectful bow. “Welcome,” he said softly to Kira’s family as they approached. His eyes met hers, just briefly. Kira gave him a quick nod before stepping inside.
Aric was… Aric was Aric. He was an orphan, found in the forest by Elder Melaan. He lived in the temple, keeping it clean and tidy, helping out on every ceremony. Although he was one of the stronger druids in the village (probably from all the lifting in the temple), he was a shy kid at the same age as Kira. They considered each other friends, Aric more than Kira, but he brought her some sense of peace whenever they hung out.
Their favourite hangout place was the pond right outside of the village. Barely anyone was there, hidden behind some fruitful bushes and the pond itself had the biggest and juiciest fish around. Kira suspected Aric was feeding them to make them big, just to reap the rewards later.
They found their usual seats near the front, left side. Kira sat between her father and mother, the familiar carved bench cool beneath her. She had to admit, the temple was beautiful, the carvings and paintings of the Naaru was heavily detailed, meant to inspire belief and kindness.
Elder Melaan appeared at the front, standing tall in white and gold robes that shimmered faintly with Light. He held the Book of Dawn in one hand, the other raised in quiet greeting.
“Brothers and sisters,” he began, his voice calm and strong, “we gather to remember the Light that binds us. The Light that saves.”
Aric sat beside the great harp and began to play a soft, slow tune. Strings hummed beneath his fingers, delicate and full of peace.
Kira listened, but her thoughts drifted.
As Elder Melaan spoke of hope, his voice steady and deep, she began to feel… something. A strange warmth wrapped around her, like invisible arms curling slowly across her back and shoulders. It wasn’t the Light. She’d known the Light all her life. This was something else, unseen, soft, but somehow wrong.
She blinked, shifting in her seat. The air grew thick. Dread creeped up on her, she had felt it before, but somehow, it felt different.
So faint, she wasn’t sure it was real. But then another came, clearer, brushing her ear like breath:
She looked around quickly. No one else reacted. Her mother listened with eyes closed. Aric continued to play, Elder Melaan’s sermon flowing on.
Another whisper. Then another.
The warmth tightened, not comforting now, but smothering. Her pulse quickened as her throat felt suddenly dry. Dread crawled up her spine like cold fingers. The back of her neck prickled. The whispering grew louder, now overlapping, words she couldn’t understand, all spoken in that same distant tone, like voices from behind a veil.
It was the same sensation she had felt when she was a child. The same fear that gripped her back then. Like something was watching her from the edge of the world. Like death itself had drawn close.
She clutched the edge of the bench, her knuckles turning white.
Then, her father’s hand placed over hers. The hold around her disappeared and as she released the bench, her father wrapped his fingers around her hand.
His grip was warm and steady. She looked up and he smiled at her, soft and calm, like he knew. Like he remembered. The whispers faded instantly, as if chased off by the very warmth of his touch.
Kira let out a quiet breath and nodded in thanks. He didn’t let go, knowing it could come back.
Elder Melaan’s words returned to her ears. He stood with his arms outstretched, speaking of the power of hope and how the Light would always guide them, even in darkness.
“We give thanks for the dawn, even when the night lingers long,” he said. “For the Light does not abandon. It merely waits for us to reach for it.”
The villagers bowed their heads in reverence.
Kira’s mind still buzzed, but she stayed silent. Her father held her hand through the rest of the sermon. The whispers did not return, his presence like a light in the dark, keeping the shadows at bay.
When the ceremony ended, Aric played a final chord as Elder Melaan stepped forward to bless the congregation. Families rose, one by one, filing toward the exit where both priest and son stood.
“Be well, child,” Elder Melaan said, touching Kira’s forehead gently as she passed. A shiver ran down her spine.
Aric gave her a small smile. “Hey. Want to go fishing later?” he asked, keeping his voice low, as if it was a curse to even ask.
Kira blinked, surprised, but nodded. Her father smiled too.
“I’ll take care of the crops,” Tharnak said. “Go enjoy the day.”
They agreed to meet by the pond. As her family walked back home, Kira couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder once at the temple.
It looked as it always did, peaceful and holy.
But the warmth that had wrapped around her still lingered, just faintly, like something waiting just out of sight.
The path to the pond wound through the village outskirts, past patches of tall grass swaying in the breeze. The air was warm, the sun hanging high now, filtered gently through the branches of old trees. Birds chirped lazily in the canopy and dragonflies skimmed the surface of small puddles left by last night’s rain.
Kira stepped lightly over a fallen branch and smiled when she spotted the pond up ahead. Its waters shimmered in the sun, clear and glassy, disturbed only by the occasional ripple where a fish stirred below. A familiar figure stood near the edge, Aric, sleeves rolled up, fishing pole in hand.
He looked over his shoulder and grinned. “You’re late.” He always seemed to be more confident whenever it was only the two of them.
Kira smirked. “You’re always early.” Kira noted the muscles twitching on his forearms as he readied the fishing pole.
She walked to a large flat rock near the edge and sat down, letting her hooves rest in the grass. The stone was warm under her legs. Aric cast his line again, the soft plunk of the hook dropping into the water the only sound for a moment.
“They’re biting today,” he said, watching the surface with an attentive eye. “Clearing the reeds last week really opened things up. Fish seem happier for it.”
Kira glanced at the ripples, then up at the trees swaying in the wind. She didn’t answer.
“Thought the sermon was good today,” Aric added, glancing her way. “Elder Melaan really knows how to speak from the heart. I helped him write some of it, actually.” He grinned sheepishly. “Just a few lines."
Kira gave a small nod, her gaze far off. “It was fine.”
Aric squinted at her, brows pulling together. “You sure?”
She shifted slightly on the rock. “I don’t really like going,” she said after a pause. Her voice was quieter now, like the words had taken effort. “The temple makes me feel… wrong. Like I can’t breathe.”
Aric lowered the fishing rod slightly, his focus now fully on her. “You’ve said that before. Is it the same feeling?”
Kira nodded, arms wrapped loosely around her knees. “It’s worse now. Today, during the sermon, I heard… something.”
Aric frowned. “Something?”
“A voice,” she said, glancing at the water. “It whispered my name. I couldn’t see where it came from. It felt… warm, at first. But not in a good way. Like it wanted something from me.”
Silence stretched between them. Aric reeled in his line, slowly and carefully.
“You don’t think it’s like a nightmare?” he asked, voice softer now. “Like the ones you had when we were little?”
“I don’t know,” Kira murmured. “They’ve been getting worse again. Every few nights now. I wake up sweating, heart racing. Can’t remember half of it, just shadows. I figure it’s just stress.”
Aric hesitated, his line forgotten in his hands. “Kira… this isn’t normal.”
“I know,” she said. “But it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just me.”
The two of them sat in silence. Wind rustled the tall grass. A fish leapt from the pond with a soft splash, but neither of them looked.
Kira stared down at the water, watching her reflection waver. “The Light used to comfort me,” she said. “But lately… it feels like it’s watching. Judging. Or maybe just… absent.”
Aric didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. And that silence, somehow, said enough.
Kira felt bad for ruining the mood, Aric had seemed so proud and happy and she had just fully turned this moment upside down.
Kira glanced at Aric, his brow still furrowed, the fishing line dangling slack in his hands.
She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”
“You didn’t,” he replied gently.
But she still felt the weight of her words, heavy in the air between them. The pond, once peaceful, felt too still. Too quiet.
Kira stood up and dusted off her trousers. “Alright,” she said with a faint grin, “since we’re here… show me how to actually fish like you mean it.”
Aric blinked, then smiled, a little relieved. “Finally ready to learn from the master?”
“Oh, Light, don’t push it,” she said, laughing.
He handed her the fishing pole and stepped beside her, their shoulders almost brushing.
“Alright,” he said, adjusting her hands gently on the rod, “grip it like this. You don’t want to hold it too tight or you’ll jerk the line. Keep your wrist loose.”
Kira focused on his instructions, nodding as he guided her.
“Now, to get distance, you want a smooth motion,” Aric continued. He demonstrated the cast with his arm, exaggerating the motion a bit. “Flick it back, pause, then swing forward – like this.”
She followed along, a bit clumsy at first. Her first cast plopped barely a few feet into the pond. Aric chuckled. “Well, we won’t be feeding the village anytime soon, but it’s a start.”
She rolled her eyes, resetting her grip. “Next one will reach halfway to the Exodar.”
He showed her again, and this time she threw the line farther. The hook splashed down neatly.
“Better,” he said, nodding with approval. “Now comes the waiting part. You want to give little nudges sometimes, just tiny tugs, like the worm’s having a dance party.”
Kira snorted. “You talk to the fish often?”
“Only the ones I want to catch,” he said with a grin.
They stood quietly for a while, eyes on the water.
Then, without turning her head, Kira said, “You were right, though. About the sermon. The last part, when Elder Melaan talked about the light never abandoning us, it waits for us to reach for it.”
Aric glanced at her. “That was one of my lines.”
Kira smiled faintly. “Of course it was.”
He shrugged, his voice humble. “Just tried to put something real in there. Something that might actually help someone. I know a lot of villagers are worried these days, with the dark portal and all that.”
Kira nodded, her expression soft. “Do you like working with him? Elder Melaan I mean.”
Aric hesitated. “Yeah, I do. It’s not just chores and scripture. He… listens. Teaches.”
“But he’s your father,” she said, turning toward him slightly. “Well, sort of. You never call him dad.”
Aric’s jaw tightened. “He’s my adoptive father,” he said. “Took me in when I was very young. But he prefers ‘Elder Melaan.’ Says it keeps things… proper.”
“He thinks closeness can cloud judgment. Says the Light needs distance to shine its brightest.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That sounds lonely.”
Aric didn’t answer right away. He just watched the ripples in the water.
“I guess it can be,” he said quietly. “But I owe him everything.”
Kira studied his face, earnest and calm, but something unreadable behind his eyes.
She wanted to ask more, but the pole twitched suddenly in her hands.
“Fish!” Aric called, snapping out of his thoughts. “Quick, pull, but not too hard!”
She gasped, nearly dropping the rod. “What do I do?!”
He reached over, helping her steady it. Together, they reeled in the line. A flash of silver broke the water’s surface, thrashing and glittering in the sun.
Kira laughed, triumphant. “I did it!”
“You did it,” Aric said, eyes bright. “Told you you’d be a natural.”
She beamed, the earlier weight on her chest forgotten for just a moment. The fish wriggled on the line and Aric carefully removed it before tossing it back into the pond.
Kira watched it vanish beneath the surface. “Why’d you let it go?”
“It needs to grow bigger,” he said with a smile.
The fish was gone and quiet returned to the pond, except for the hum of insects and the whisper of the wind through the trees.
Kira threw out the line again, this time even further out. Aric seemed poroud of how quickly the learned.
Kira let the rod rest on her knees and glanced at Aric again. “Do you… remember anything about your real parents?”
He hesitated, eyes still on the water. “Bits. Flashes. Sometimes I see their faces when I sleep. But when I wake up, it’s like… like sand slipping through my fingers. I try to hold on, but it’s gone.”
His voice had softened, a thin thread of frustration beneath the calm. “I think I miss them,” he added. “Even though I don’t really remember them.”
Kira’s expression dimmed with sympathy. “That must be hard.”
He gave a small shrug, but it didn’t hide the weight in his eyes.
“After we’re done here,” she said gently, “you usually go visit them, right? Their graves?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Every time.”
“Would you… want me to come with you today?”
Aric looked at her, surprised, but only for a second. Then his shoulders relaxed and something in his gaze warmed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that. A lot.”
Before either of them could say more, the fishing pole jolted in Kira’s hands.
She yelped in surprise, nearly dropping it. “By the Light, what was that?!”
Aric moved fast. “Hold on!”
He stepped behind her, his arms wrapping around hers as his hands covered hers on the pole. The line tugged hard, the rod bending like it might snap.
“Big one,” Aric muttered, his voice close to her ear.
Their bodies pressed together, locked in a shared struggle as the fish yanked the line violently. Kira dug her hooves into the grass, gritting her teeth. Aric’s steady grip guided hers, his strength bracing hers.
“Steady,” he said. “Let it pull, then reel when it eases. Don’t fight it too hard or it’ll snap.”
Kira nodded, heart pounding, not just from the excitement, but from how close they were, how the moment swelled with more than just a fish on a line.
The water splashed as the creature broke the surface, silver and strong. It dove again, pulling hard and the line screeched.
“Now!” Aric shouted and together they pulled.
Kira let out a breathless laugh, adrenaline surging. “This thing’s stronger than my dad!”
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Aric said through a grin.
Finally, with a last heave, the fish came flying from the water, landing in a spray of pond water and tangled grass.
They both stumbled back, landing hard in the grass, breathing heavily.
The fish flopped once, then stilled.
Kira looked at Aric, wide-eyed. “We did it.”
He laughed. “We make a pretty good team.”
She smiled, still catching her breath. “Yeah… we do.”
Aric reached reached for the fish with swift, practiced hands and pulled the fish free from the hook. It flopped once, then twice, before settling in his grasp, shimmering silver and gold under the midday sun.
“Not bad for your first catch,” he said, grinning as he carefully placed the fish into a small netted bag. “You’ve got a talent for it.”
Kira chuckled. “Maybe you’re just a good teacher.”
Aric gave her a playful nudge with his shoulder. “Or maybe the fish just like you.”
They gathered their things and without needing to say it aloud, their steps naturally turned toward the far edge of the village graveyard. It was quiet there, always had been. Past the crooked fence and worn stone markers, they followed the familiar path winding toward the back where the land gently rose into a low hill crowned with a massive oaktree. Its roots twisted deep into the earth, anchoring it like an ancient sentinel watching over the dead. The sun a burning background, saying its final goodbyes until it would peek up tomorrow morning.
Beneath the wide branches, two simple gravestones stood side by side, smooth and unblemished. The shade filtered the sunlight into soft golds and greens, casting the stones in a quiet, dappled light. Kira slowed her pace as they neared, something about the place pressing a calm stillness over her like a blanket.
Silence fell between them. Not the awkward kind, but something heavier. Reverent.
She glanced at the gravestones and noticed how clean they were. Not a single speck of dust or fallen leaf dared linger. The grass was trimmed. The moss was scraped back from the stone edges. It struck her then, he must scrub them nearly every day.
Aric stood there, his expression different now. Softer. The usual spark of playfulness dulled, replaced by something quieter. Peace, maybe, or longing.
Kira folded her arms loosely and let her gaze rest on the names etched into the stone, though she didn’t read them. It didn’t feel right to intrude.
She waited, giving him the space she sensed he needed.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “They always loved the oaktree. Melaan said they used to sit here every evening… before the sickness.”
Kira didn’t respond right away. She just stepped closer, standing beside him so their shoulders brushed. The breeze stirred gently through the tree’s branches and somewhere beyond, a bird chirped once and fell silent.
The graves didn’t need flowers. The whole spot already felt… cared for. Loved.
“I’m glad you brought me here,” she said quietly.
Aric nodded, his eyes still on the stones. “Me too.”
The moment held a kind of peace, fragile but real. Until laughter shattered it.
A sharp bark of amusement echoed through the trees, followed by low snickers and heavy footfalls. Kira didn’t have to look to know who it was.
“Look who we found, boys,” Olrem’s smug voice rang out. “Playing house with the dead again.”
Kira and Aric turned slowly. Olrem led the way up the path, flanked as always by Bramis and Ganat, both smirking like hyenas. Olrem’s arms were crossed, shoulders pulled back in that same arrogant way he always carried himself, his ornate tunic catching the sunlight like it wanted to be seen.
Aric stood, brushing his hands off and keeping his gaze level.
Olrem sneered. “Honestly, Aric, how do you not get tired of this little sob story? You come up here every week, like that’s gonna bring them back.”
He took a few steps closer, eyeing the gravestones with mock reverence. “Oh, dearest mother, dearest father,” he said in a falsetto. “Your pathetic son is still a burden on the village. But good news! He learned how to fish!"
Bramis and Ganat howled with laughter.
Kira stepped forward, fists clenched at her sides. “Leave him alone and go back to whatever rock you crawled out from.”
Olrem turned to her slowly, smiling without warmth. “Ah, the Light’s little shadow. Should’e known you’d be here, clinging to the stray like a good little saviour.”
“You’re not funny,” Kira growled. “You’re just cruel.”
Olrem tilted his head mockingly. “Cruel? You know what’s cruel? Leading someone on when you clearly feel sorry for them. Or maybe…” He glanced at Aric and smirked. “You do like him. All that brooding and humility, it’s so tragic, isn’t it?”
Kira felt her pulse in her ears. “Shut up, Olrem.”
But he wasn’t done. “Or maybe you just like things beneath you. Makes you feel big. Like being around him,” he jabbed a finger at Aric, “makes you look like some righteous Light-blessed saint. Because let’s be honest, no one in this village actually sees you as anything but a weirdo with your nightmares.”
“How did you…?” She was confused, how did he know Kira had nightmares? It wasn’t like it was a well known thing.
He smirked and leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper. “Just a broken girl from a broken family, pretending she’s something special.”
Something in Kira snapped. She didn’t think. She didn’t hesitate.
Her fist connected with Olrem’s face with a satisfying crack. His head jerked back and he stumbled, falling hard into the dirt.
Bramis and Ganat froze, mouths half-open. Even Aric looked stunned.
Olrem groaned, one hand clutching his nose. Blood poured down his lips and into the rich embroidery of his tunic.
“You little bitch,” he snarled, pushing himself up. “You’ll pay for that, you Light-cursed mutt!”
He raised his hand to strike her, his face twisted with rage.
But then the ground rumbled.
A low, guttural tremor, like thunder rolling just beneath the surface. The gravestones rattled. Dust fell from the branches overhead. Everyone swayed on their hooves.
“What the…?” Bramis muttered, backing away.
Another rumble followed, louder this time, longer. The oak’s great limbs groaned overhead and Kira lost her footing, caught by Aric before the fell over.
The sudden stillness that followed was unnatural. The wind stopped. The birds silenced. Even the insects seemed to vanish.
Kira stood her ground, breath held, heart pounding. Whatever that was… it wasn’t normal.
Olrem looked around, wide-eyed, his bleeding forgotten for a moment. “What the fel was that?”
Aric’s eyes scanned the horizon, his voice hushed and steady. “Light save us all.”
Kira turned and her breath caught in her throat.
Just beyond the cemetery, past the old stone wall and through the trees, space itself had split. A jagged tear hovered in the air like a wound in the world, its edges flickering with sickly green flame. Through it came the pounding of hooves, claws, and armoured feet, dozens, maybe hundreds, rushing forward in a chaotic flood. Felguards, imps, twisted hounds and flying, screeching creatures with leathery wings burst from the rift like a swarm of nightmares unleashed.
A towering infernal landed near the edge of the woods, slamming into the earth with a roar that shook the very ground. Trees split like twigs. Flame licked across the grass, blackening it in seconds.
Kira’s blood turned to ice. “RUN!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Run!”
She didn’t wait to see if the others listened. She grabbed Aric by the wrist and sprinted, her hooves thundering across the soft cemetery ground. They tore past Olrem, Bramis, and Ganat, still frozen in disbelief. Kira didn’t look back. If they didn’t follow, they’d be dead.
The village was in that direction. So was her family.
“I have to find them!” she shouted, her breath ragged. “My parents, Yril, they’re still at home!”
Aric’s grip tightened around hers for a heartbeat before he let go. “There’s a portal. One of the emergency ones, on the far side of the village. Elder Melaan will activate it. I’ll find him.”
Kira’s eyes met his for a brief moment. Fear. Desperation. But also understanding. “I’ll meet you there,” she said, her voice steady despite the terror rising in her chest.
Aric gave her a sharp nod and turned, racing toward the temple.
Kira didn’t stop to watch him go. She tore through the graveyard, ducking under a fallen branch and leaping a toppled headstone. Smoke already curled in the distance and the sky darkened, not with clouds, but with shadowy winged forms blotting out the light.
Kira sprinted through the village, hooves pounding against the scorched cobblestone paths. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid stench of burning wood and fel corruption. Screams pierced the air, high, panicked and gut-wrenching. Fires roared all around her, devouring homes she’d known since childhood. Shadows twisted overhead as winged demons swooped down, snatching the fleeing or striking them down where they stood.
A house collapsed to her left in a shower of sparks and smoke. A felguard roared from the rubble, swinging a massive axe through a fleeing villager. Kira didn’t look away, she couldn’t afford to. Her stomach churned. Her legs burned.
She rounded the corner of a smoldering bakery just as a shadow moved in the street ahead. A towering wrathguard loomed, snarling as it raised its massive blade above a familiar figure locked in combat; her father.
He turned at the sound of her voice, his face streaked with ash and sweat, his hammer buried in the demon’s thigh. “Kira!” he shouted, eyes wide with relief. “Find your mother! Yril! Go – NOW!”
Before she could protest, he turned back to the demon, slamming his shield into its chest with a furious roar. She wanted to help. Every instinct screamed for her to stay and fight.
Gritting her teeth, Kira turned and sprinted down the narrow alley behind the blacksmith’s shop, ducking under a low beam and weaving past the burning remains of a market stall. A pair of imps leapt at her from the shadows, chittering gleefully. She jumped over a broken cart, grabbing a stray broom from the ground and swung hard, batting the nearest imp mid-air and sending it tumbling into a wall with a sickening crunch. The second darted away with a hiss.
The farm was just ahead now, charred fencing, patches of fire in the crops. The front door of their home hung crooked on its hinges.
And then she saw them. Avira stood in the doorway, her robes torn and singed. In her arms, little Yril whimpered, wrapped in a blanket, her face red and wet from crying. Tears streamed down Avira’s soot-streaked cheeks as her eyes met Kira’s.
“Kira!” her mother cried, voice breaking.
“Mama!” Kira sprinted the last stretch and they collided in a desperate embrace. Avira clutched her with one arm, the other holding Yril tightly between them. Kira wrapped her arms around them both, sobbing and shaking. Yril let out a soft wail and buried her face against Kira’s chest.
“You’re safe,” Kira whispered, her voice cracking. “You’re safe, I’ve got you.”
Avira pulled back just enough to look into her daughter’s eyes. “Tharnak…?”
“He’s fighting,” Kira choked. “He told me to find you. Aric’s going to meet us by the portal. We have to move.”
Avira nodded, her face tight with worry, but she didn’t hesitate. Clutching Yril close, she followed Kira down the burning path that used to be their home.
“Stay close to me!” Kira shouted as they ran. Her heart was racing as they navigated the burning village. Everywhere she looked, she saw friends and neighbours fighting for their lives or lying lifeless on the ground. The once charming village was now a scene from a nightmare.
A massive demon, wielding a fiery sword, emerged from the smoke, blocking their path. Avira pushed Kira behind her, handing over Yril. “Run, Kira! Take Yril and run!” Avira picked up a sword from a fallen draenei, her eyes fierce with determination. “I will hold it off.”
Kira hesitated, tears streaming down her face. “Mama, no!”
“Go! Now!” Avira shouted, charging at the demon with a battle cry. Kira turned and ran, Yril clutched tightly in her arms, the sound of her mother’s scream behind her. She didn’t dare look, confirming her fears.
The portal was just outside the village, shimmering with a faint blue light. It was their only hope. Kira could see it in the distance, her heart beating with hope. The weight of Yril in her arms was both a comfort and a burden. She stumbled over debris and bodies, the world around her a blur of fire and blood.
Before she could register it, she was knocked to the ground by a huge figure. Yril was thrown from her arms, landing a few feet away. Her cries rang out, drowning the screams of the villagers behind her.
Kira scrambled to her hooves, her eyes wide with horror as she saw a red-skinned doomguard, bigger than all the rest, pick up Yril. The doomguard’s jaws opened wide, and Kira’s world shattered. “No. No!” She screamed, but it was too late. The demon bit down, and Yril’s screams were cut short, as it ripped her head off.
With a cry of pure rage and despair, Kira fell to her knees in pain, tears streaming down her face. She screamed out in pure agony, her heart shattering. The world around her drowned into darkness as she felt lost.
Kira didn’t know how long she remained on her knees. The heat of the burning village, the distant screams, the copper tang of blood, it all blurred together in a haze of heartbreak and fury. She couldn’t move. She didn’t want to.
But something pulled her forward. Aric.
She forced herself to rise on shaking legs, her hands trembling, her breath ragged and uneven. Her steps were unsteady as she stumbled past burning homes and the bodies of people she once knew. Friends. Neighbours.
Her heart felt like it had been ripped out of her chest. The only thing keeping her going now was the faint hope that someone – anyone – had made it.
She reached the western edge of the village, where the trees grew thicker and flowers didn’t bloom. It was the meeting place Aric had spoken of, the location where Elder Melaan was meant to open the evacuation portal.
But it was already too late.
Only bodies greeted her. Draenei warriors and villagers lay sprawled across the grass, lifeless. Fel scorch marks littered the stone. The portal stone - ancient and glowing faintly - sat cold and dormant.
And in the centre of it all stood Aric, his mace gripped in one hand, his robes torn and singed, his expression twisted in frustration and grief.
He turned when he heard her. “Kira!” His voice cracked as he rushed to meet her. “Blessed light, you’re alive.”
But the relief in his eyes faded the moment he saw her face. Her tear-streaked cheeks. The blood on her hands. The tremble in her lower lip.
He didn’t need her to say it.
Kira tried to say something, but only a broken sob escaped her throat. She shook her head weakly and the moment his arms wrapped around her, she collapsed into him. He held her tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head as she cried into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice raw. “I’m so, so sorry.”
They stood like that for a time, surrounded by death, smoke and ash. Just two survivors clinging to one another beneath a ruined sky.
Eventually, Aric pulled away, his hands still on her shoulders. “I couldn’t find Melaan. He… he never showed. Without him, I couldn’t activate the portal stone the right way. The ritual was too complex to perform alone. We… we were doomed from the start.”
Kira blinked, trying to make sense of his words through the fog in her head. “So that’s it?” she whispered. “It’s over?”
“No.” Aric’s jaw tightened. “I can still open a portal. Not through the stone, but through a personal spell. It won’t last long, but it’ll be enough to get you out of here.”
She stared at him, startled. “What about you?”
“I’m staying,” he said firmly. “There may still be people hiding. Injured. I can help them.”
“No!” Kira stepped forward, gripping his wrist. “You can’t fight them alone. You’ll die.”
“I made a promise to Melaan. And to the Light.” He touched her hand gently. “And now I make one to you. I will find you again. One way or another. I swear it.”
“Don’t do this,” she said, her voice cracking. “Don’t leave me. Not you too.”
But the wind shifted. A low, guttural growl echoed from the woods nearby – then another. The sound of claws scraping stone. The scent of brimstone on the wind.
Demons. They were coming.
Aric turned, chanting quickly under his breath. His eyes glowed faintly as purple light swirled around his hand, then burst open into a shimmering oval of swirling arcane magic. The portal hummed in the air, opening a glimpse to another place, forests, safer lands, far from this slaughter.
“Kira – go!” Aric shouted.
But she stood frozen. Her legs wouldn’t move. “You come too!”
“There’s no time!” He turned toward the approaching howls. “Go, Kira. Please.”
Still, she didn’t budge. Her fingers reached for him again.
Aric met her eyes – soft, full of everything unsaid – and said, “I promise I’ll find you.” And then, with a sudden push, he shoved her backward into the portal.
“Aric!” she screamed, reaching for him, just as the portal sealed shut behind her with a thunderous snap.
