"The seed's rebirth, and the flare's destruction."
(( This story is by no means cannon, nor IC. It is not taking place any time soon, or if at all. It is mostly a story I wished to write for the sake of writing it since I had the idea running around in my head. Hope you enjoy it! It hypothetically takes place roughly 1.5 – 2 years after Alerion's death.))
It had been a long time since anyone had visited the Farstrider's grave. The unmarked grave would be easily passed over by the normal traveler, causing it to be one of the least visited graves in Quel'thalas. Not many knew of its location, which is exactly how the Flamearrow family had wanted it. The least amount of individuals who knew of where it was, the less of a chance a potential curious mind could find it. However, that wasn't the case anymore.
The ragged Elf's footsteps were slow, every step seemed to cause his bones to pop with each muscle movement. He was old, very old, and very frail. He wore a long black robe, which was accompanied by a hood to hide his features. With a completely hidden face, this Elf would be unrecognizable to the normal citizen, but should he be spotted – the way he walked, and spoke, would be enough to remind people he exists. He was not a healthy individual by any means, and his Elfish skin had begun to wrinkle atrociously.
He finally made it to his destination, the uphill climb proving difficult for his frail body. He was very physically weak, but there was something about him that made his physical aspects seem like a minor inconvenience. The way he walked, it was apparent that his body was merely a shell for him to enact his agenda, and he could care less at how frail and weak his physical self was
“Indeed, another one has fallen to the void's grasp.” He mutters, his voice coming out rough and jagged. The Elf would kneel down beside the grave site, running his hands along the soil, as his long fingernails dig into the earth. On his side, he had a bag, and within it, a black tome. The tome was decorated in black and gray designs; the frame of the book elegantly decorated by gray lines that outlined the entire book. “Another of the arcane has fallen and yells for mercy.” He opens the book about halfway, the book opening up almost on its own. He knew exactly where the spell he was searching for was at, and he found it with ease.
“More than two millennium of wait, the seed of the betrayer has finally ended. The last flare will succumb with ease. My task will be done.” The Elf would lift his head up and begin mouthing a spell, as he slowly begins to spread his arms apart. His movements were slow, yet steady. It was as if he was capable of ignoring what little muscle held his body apart at that moment, and chanted the spell with ease. A swirl of black wind would swirl around him, the dark gust of magic pulsing with purple at the edges of the magic. It was a beautiful sight to see to an observer interested in that sort of magic, but to anyone else, it would be rather terrifying. The swirl of black magic would swirl around him, increasing in pace as he continuously chanted the incantation by heart. Bigger and bigger, the gust of energy would increase in size with each excruciating second, drowning the hill in the black magic, just out of sight for any out looker not directly along the coastline.
In the blink of an eye, the magic would secede, and gather at the man's arms, before being launched onto the soil in front of him. Within seconds, the ground would pulse a dark purple hue, causing the soil to tremble as it is forcefully thrown from side-to-side as it is defiled. The magic continued on undergoing its torment to the earth, until finally, the dark purple pulse would die off, and fade. “Another flare for undeath. Another arcane to die. The seed is defiled. My task is finished.”
At a rather surprising pace, the Elf would hunch over, and fall on top of the defiled grass, his body going completely limp at the intensity of the magic. He lays there, as the grass and earth regain their regular composure, almost as if nothing had occurred there. However, after a few moments of silence, the earth would tremble again, and within seconds, would begin to rot and become weak. The soil turning into a black mold-like substance, which was weaker than mud at its wettest point. Upon the soil's desecration, a body would slowly be presented to the sun's wrath, seeing the light after such a long time once again. The body's eyes would open, and instead of those fel-green eyes it once wore before, it would awaken with frosty blue eyes. His skin had gone from peach to pale, the pale skin a testament to his duration underground. The once blonde hair was now completely white, eliminating any sort of color from his form as he had before. The only thing that stayed the same, surprisingly, was his face's structure, which was definitely a mystery within-itself.
The awakened Elf would slowly stand, but was interrupted by the now-dead necromancer. He lay on top of the undead Elf, to which he simply pushed him out of the way, and stood up completely. The feeling was odd – to be standing once more. The balance was off, yet he could keep himself up with minor focus. The feeling of the sun on his skin was oddly comforting, yet it felt like torture. “What... What am I?” The Elf's voice would come out ragged and hallow. He brings his hands up to his sight, the once-peach skin now pale. He turns his head to look at the dead necromancer, but thinks nothing of it, as he turns his head to regard Quel'thalas with curiosity. “Where am I?” He takes a step forward, before turning his head back again, as he slowly watches the Necromancer, before he turns to look at his grave site. The sight of the defiled grave was alarming to him. “Am I... Did I...” The lost reborn Elf looks at the grave site with a tingle of panic creeping up on him. “I am... Undead?” He asks, as he watches the grave silently, his eyes no longer needing to blink, and his breathing was kept at a bare minimum. It was like a cold statue staring at its designated target.
There was nothing in the grave that was terribly interesting for him. So he decides to move on. He makes his way down the hill, and approaches the coastline. He knew exactly what was around him, yet he didn't remember what this place was, nor what he was. He watches his reflexion on the water's surface, his eyes scanning his pale, half-naked body. His skin was still intact, the smooth skin seemed to have made it through undeath. He turns his head to regard the sky again, before he watches the large colorful woods of Quel'thalas. Knowing nothing ahead, he decides to return to the Necromancer, and kneels down to inspect the man. The first thing he found was the spell book that had been left open to a specific page by him, and that is what peeked his curiosity. His eyes gaze over the odd inscribed writing, none of it made any sense to him. He places his fingers on the book, and flips through the pages, yet he still had no luck in finding anything he could understand. He looks back at the dead Necromancer, and begins undressing him, taking his robes and placing them over his body. He puts the hood over his head, and sets the spell book in the bag. With a single hand, he lifts the now-naked Necromancer and throws him into the hole. The mold-like soil was still present, and the Necromancer quickly sunk into the depths of the soil, and was soon out of view.
He watched the Necromancer with an unblinking gaze, his face void of any emotion, and his body as still as a rock. He turns around again to let his eyes scan the Eversong Woods, and begins walking, to no where in particular. He would find out who he was, and if he didn't, then he would wander until he did. He did not need food, nor water. He did not need rest. He would wander forever with no purpose nor goal. Until one day he would find his answer, and perhaps then he could discover what his purpose in life is. He was reborn for a reason, and he would figure it out.
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“Mercy from the void will not come. Your purpose is set. Find the flame, and destroy the seed. Then your purpose will be complete. Then you will see rest. Then you will regain your memories.”
“From the void comes knowledge. From undeath comes resolution. Let your mind wander and adapt to the realities around you. Let your life be run by one purpose. Never forget why you are here. The flame's destruction will be your rejuvenation. The seed's obliteration will be your rest. The cycle will be finished. In undeath, you will learn the truth.”
“Suffer well, flare of the earth, your task will be full of pain, for everyone but you."