DWC February 2026 - Day 3 - Blur/Pompous - Jaskian
She sat at her jeweler’s station and curled the filigree with an attempt at a meditative air. Everything was sharp in her vision. Lines of gold had hard edges. Light cut through facets on gems scattered on the tabletop. Jaskian had focused hard enough that she felt a headache coming on. Still, she wasn’t entirely sure if it was Lumi’s frustration or her own that beetled her brows low.
Those pompous, short-sighted fools in Silvermoon irritated them both.
Though Jaskian was not being directly observed, and no one had interfered with her own work or research. No one set spellbreakers to check in on her workshop and artifacts. No one gave her ley-line calculations more than a first-pass. One of the Magistry that had come through had asked her about her notes, all in the shorthand she’d developed herself, but took her words at face value, flipping through to the ley-line mapping she’d done years prior. He’d looked like a toddler at a picturebook, and seemed to have the attention span to match.
When she thought about it and let herself unfocus, she was uncomfortably aware that she was a tiny bit jealous of her husband--for his ambitious reaches, for the attentions--both admirable and accusatory--from the Magistry, and for his own audacity. She loved it about him, but no one had ever called her audacious.
Taking off her loupe she set down her gemwork and focused. Luminash was in the garden again; even without their bond, she could orient to him in a mundane guess and know she’d be right. Her heart tightened and she rubbed a hand over it without thinking.
He was so certain they would find him in the right. Recuse themselves from the case he built around Renilash. Transmutations of magic accomplished in a formative and fundamentally new way than the generally accepted means. Luminash meant to shake the foundations of the universe and drop out its secrets like apples off a tree.
Jaskian blinked into the sunlight and stepped into the yard. She watched her husband with a soft, besotted look as he even weeded with magic. It was all so natural to him.
She wasn’t audacious and she wasn’t as ambitious as Luminash. But she knew what she knew, and she was subtle in ways Lumi could appreciate. And in ways other magisters, so focused on fear and failing, could not.
mentions: @luminashdawnwing
The spellbreaker slumped to his knees, his body shaking with exertion. His breath came quickly, and beads of sweat trickled from his brow as the Void strained against the magister’s wards. Luminash had borne such pride at his craft, the result of hours of persistent spellweaving, an arcane barrier that even Silvermoon’s spellbreakers could not dispel; surely the artifacts held within, even suffused with the Void, would pose no threat.
As the spellbreaker forced himself to his feet again, one hand outstretched, palm shining so brightly with the arcane that it left a black afterimage in Luminash’s vision when he looked away, the magister realized his errors too late: first, the madness of seeking to contain that which, by its very nature, defied containment, and second, the very act that had saved the rest of the tower.
* * * * *
He and Jaskian had been in the garden, guiding new vines over trellises with the gentle coaxing of magic, when a wave of dread passed over them, followed quickly after by a sound somewhere between the distant roar of thunder and fabric tearing coming from somewhere in the north. The pair’s eyes were drawn in unison towards the sky, the threads of magic they held in delicate fingertips sputtering out as they witnessed the birth of the Voidstorm, a swirling, inky blackness spreading across the heavens over Silvermoon, over Quel’Danas, over the Sunwell itself.
Everything next happened so rapidly that Luminash would not be able to adequately describe it in the days to come: first came panicked shouts from the tower across the grounds as spellbreakers scrambled to contain a surge of wild magic. Already, brilliant flashes of purple and white burst from the tower’s front door, the pale wood broken from its hinges by an armored guard sent hurtling through it by the eruption of a mana conduit.
Luminash knelt at the man’s side while Jaskian went on ahead in silent understanding. Stabilize the leyline conduit or all will be lost. His eyes rolled back in his head as Luminash drew him to lean against the cool stone of the tower; he yet breathed, but consciousness had fled. The magister pressed his palms to the guard’s temples, and his hands flashed with a bronze light. He focused on undoing the damage done in a desperate attempt to suppress his rising panic, itself fed by the knot of gnawing anxiety that was Jaskian huddled in the back of his mind.
With a raspy gasp, the guard’s eyes shot open once more, and he doubled over, shuddering as if suppressing the urge to vomit, “Magister, it… The leyline, it…” He struggled to speak as he slumped to the ground, clutching his head.
“We know. Take a moment to recover, then rejoin the others,” Luminash cut in, placing a hand on the guard’s shoulder, “The confusion will pass. The mind can scarcely reconcile the event with the non-event; this is common with chronomancy,” he continued as he stood and slipped through the shattered door, “There’s no doubt much work to be done!”
Elven shadows danced along the walls and spiral path climbing the tower, lit by the overwhelming brilliance of overloading mana conduits. Those that had not already shattered, spilling forth tendrils of the world’s arcane lifeblood, strained under pressure, the sound of groaning metal and cracking glass echoing from stone walls. The indoor gardens that surrounded the primary leyline conduit and masked the most unsightly of the channels seemed to have grown rapidly, responding to the influx of raw energy, much as the vines he and Jaskian had so gently been tending, but on a far larger scale. Worse, a low rumbling came from below; the very leyline itself seemed to be shrieking in terror at what had torn open the sky.
Luminash found Jaskian at the base of the well in the tower’s center; he could sense the threads of the arcane tangled in her fingers, delicate movements guiding them, weaving them into a throttle for the uncontrollable flood rising from the earth. It seemed as futile as holding back Elrendar Falls with a spiderweb, and yet, Luminash felt the flow begin—even if only slightly—to weaken.
“Making progress?” Luminash asked, although he could already feel the answer. Jaskian only offered a curt nod, her face a mask of complete concentration.
Standing beside her, the magister began to pour his own power into her spell, drawing magic into him with a breath—and how easy it was here, so surrounded by the raw mana streaming from the shattering channels!—a conduit for his wife’s spellcraft.
He was dimly aware of the spellbreakers Rommath had so thoughtfully stationed here leveraging their own skills to stanch the arcane bleeding on the broken conduits, and found himself bitterly thankful for their presence. Jaskian did manage to quirk a slight smile at the pang she felt through their bond, and Luminash knew it would be a point of pleasant mockery later, a light in the oncoming night.
The magister did not know how long throttling the leyline took, but it felt as if it had been hours of constant spellwork, so drained was he by the time it was over. What came next, however, overshadowed the rest.
“It is…” Jaskian began, letting out a deep breath, an exhalation that seemed to draw much of her spirit out with it as she settled herself on the ledge of the well, “Done.”
Luminash, too, felt hollowed out. He had seen a string of goblin lights, once, flash brilliantly just before they sputtered out; the feeling he had was much the same. The spellbreakers, too, both on the ground floor and up the ramp towards the laboratory proper, settled themselves against walls, or on the floor, their breathing labored and limbs shaking.
So exhausted were all the elves present that they had only the haziest awareness of a growing darkness above.
“Magister, with me! At once!”
Luminash was snapped from his torpor by the shout. It had been the guard he had healed, now joining the others within. Unnoticed in the heat of the moment before, the crest on his helmet indicated that he was the captain of this squad—Bel’anas, first name unnecessary, if Luminash recalled correctly.
“Can you not feel it? The laboratory, now!” Captain Bel’anas repeated, breaking into a run up the ramp and past his exhausted subordinates.
Jaskian looked up at her husband, the glow of her eyes dim, and nodded. She reached up, and with a brush of her fingertips against his, said simply, “Go.”
* * * * *
And so, Luminash lent his power to the wards, joining Captain Bel’anas. It was still not enough, though, just as drawing water from a dry well cannot slake one’s thirst: the Void leaking from the artifacts—from simple pieces of tainted elementium to a fragment of an obelisk made from some indescribable material, its surface marred by a single staring eye—threatened to overwhelm what few of Luminash’s vaunted wards remained, weakened as they were by the throttling of the leyline and the destruction of the conduits that powered them.
The artifacts, in fact, were scarcely visible behind the black cloud that had formed, specks of light flickering within that seemed to watch the pair of elves. There was an interest there, a hunger, as from the cloud reached what seemed a hand, scrabbling at the ward from the inside, like an animal caged, searching for any hope of escape.
Bel’anas faltered at that, once more falling to his knees, this time clutching his head. Lost in the sound of his armor clanking around him as he dropped was a low groan. Touching his face, his metal-cased fingers came away bloodied as a presence forced itself upon his mind. Luminash felt it too, though he was not yet its focus.
He reached out to Jaskian’s presence in his mind, her usual brightness faded with utter exhaustion. There were no words, merely the impression of an embrace; he hoped his fear was not too blatant, but he could not abandon Bel’anas, could not abandon his work here, could not allow this thing to break free in Eversong. Once more, there were no words, but the impression of flight, of safety, of escape.
Luminash’s eyes flickered around the laboratory, searching for anything that could be of use as the ward began to crack, and the seething, roiling Void mass within began to seep out through the opening, creeping towards Bel’anas. The other wards, he noticed, were weakened, but not lost; fel and necromanctic relics sat, inert as ever.
With a grunt of exertion, Luminash seized the threads that bound those wards, one bundle, as it were, in each hand, and pulled, forgoing any delicacy—no gossamer webs, no gentle coaxing this time—and redirecting the power towards the failing Void ward. The cracks began to seal, leaving wisps of black Void smoke beyond, dissipating with a hiss as the beast within howled, its myriad flashing eyes glaring towards the magister as its mass—for was mass, it seemed heavy, even as it appeared only to be fog—was hurled against the barrier in a thrashing, hungry rage.
“Bel’anas?” Luminash asked, his voice raspy and forced, his throat dry and lungs weak. He repeated, “Bel’anas?” The captain did not answer, but did nod, even as droplets of blood flowing from his nose marred the white marble of the floors. He was, at least, alive.
The magister’s body burned from the stress placed upon it, the power flowing through it; his hands cramped from grasping the arcane so violently, as its wild flow sought to escape his grip. Jaskian’s presence drew nearer, not escaping, but embracing him in turn. It was enough—it would have to be enough—to keep him standing for a bit longer.
There is another disturbance in the leyline, Lumi. Jaskian’s words flowed through him, and left in their wake a renewed dread. And yet, she did not seem afraid. There was, instead, a tentative sort of hope.
Then, a rumble from within the earth below, just as they had felt during the first surge, and the room erupted with the Light. The trickle in the conduits, even damaged as they were, became a shining torrent of molten gold. As it flowed into the wards, they shone with renewed vigor, the pale violet of the arcane giving way to a light like the sun itself, the threads of magic tangled in Luminash’s hands searing, snapping, and slipping away entirely.
Stunned and reeling as the power abruptly left him, the only support left to hold up his depleted frame, the magister fell, the cold stone of the floor beneath him the last sensation before his vision faded and his mind was seized by blessed sleep.
The magical practice ranges were always a loud, but controlled, chaos. Sometimes literally with chaos magics, if enough Illidari were in session. She had heard that the more mechanically oriented firing range was said to be just as loud, but likely less colorful. She wondered which might be more mathematical though.
Jaskian shook out her ponytail and tugged off her gloves with efficiency. Perspiration beaded along her hairline and a trickle snaked down her spine. Not just from exertion, the literal heat in the area was rising--several flame oriented casters were having at it and giving each other pointers. The shaman was very animated and the magister was rapt, and another kind of caster--warlock, she thought likely, careful to keep any curl off her lips--listened to both with the intense eyes of someone who loved fire. Jaskian smiled to herself, already making up a small story about the trio in her head. She loved making stories about strangers. Her notebook was nowhere to hand at the moment, so this one likely wouldn’t last, but it was fun to imagine.
The frost on her gloves cracked as she snapped them into her palm and stepped back from her lane, giving it up for the next in line. Her mind quickly sorted and catalogued what she had seen and how her own performance had stacked up. She had done her fair share of supporting the Kingdom lately, even when her husband had been unfairly scrutinized and reprimanded, and it had felt good to get back in fighting form.
She had practiced several different schools today, but she always gravitated back to casting her precision frost spells. Sometimes Frostfire. Perhaps she was so drawn to them from her history in Dragonblight.
A few arcane spells were thrown, of course, and she recognized her husband’s influence in them with a warmth she sent toward him through their magical bond. She’d enjoyed the Ordered feel of them and the crisp, clean lines of runes and pure mana.
A few hefty fire spells, though she always felt she lacked the raw power fire seemed to prefer.
She had seen someone using fel fire, but that certainly was not for her.
There had been some holy Light, a young priest it seemed; he had brought his coach.
A lone Kaldorei Illidari was practicing new abilities with Void magics, and had gleefully cackled when it seemed she had mastered whatever she was working on. … Everyone else active at that time had paused. No heads had turned toward the demon hunter, but all eyes shifted to her.
No one, Jaskian was thankful, was experimenting with Anguish today. She had heard the rumors, and even read two treatises on the matter. She had no wish to draw close to Astalor Bloodsworn and his trials. Hopefully it was one magic she would never have to touch. Magister Bloodsworn was one voice she hoped did not gain strength, though she feared the frightened ears had turned toward his honeyed voice.
Concerns for long-term mana and the direction of the Kingdom would have to wait. There were immediate problems to solve, first. Tomorrow, she would take her place helping to empower the runestones again.
@daily-writing-challenge
soft mention: @luminashdawnwing
DWC November 2025 - Day 2 - Lucky / Heartache - Jaskian
Jaskian felt lucky. She was reclining lazily on her veranda in the sun. Flowers bloomed around her, and a glass of wine held down the cover of her current book. Though early yet, it had been a good week so far. The Gala on Saturday had been a very pleasant diversion from the works the Dawnwings had kept themselves busy with this past year. She’d worn a bespoke gown she’d helped design, feeling like royalty on her husband’s arm. They had drawn every eye, she was sure. Truly though, for Jaskian, that they were spending so much time together was its own sort of luxury for the two magisters-in-demand.
Sunshine warmed her skin and the sky over Suramar was clear. The warmth of spirit she felt sent a soft ping along her soulbind to Luminash, her lazy smile contented. The nightborne city below was quiet, truly coming to life at night, and Jaskian felt a bit like it was hers alone to enjoy. To cherish.
But still… Scars still lanced through Suramar City--reminding her Silvermoon, though demon wrought destruction was the cause here, not the Scourge. Construction continued to this day, softening the reminders, yet Jaskian’s eyes caught on the broken bridge, once a celebrated causeway to the heart of the Temple of Elune.
Much like the rebuilt bridge that facilitated the pilgrimage to the Sunwell from Silvermoon.
Jaskian had not quite been able to shake the subtle heartache the gala had grown in her. The Siege of Silvermoon had scarred every one of Quel’thalas’ children. Though she was, again, one of the lucky ones who had not lost her closest family, no one was left untouched by tragedy in those dark days. The breeze off the sea here was so much like the one at home. Perhaps she was more homesick than she had realized, and her gaze turned north toward Quel’thalas.
DWC November 2025 - Day 4 - Ribbon - Renrael/Tinnaire/Jaskian/Khaeris
There was a bright red velvet ribbon tied around the red rose bouquet Ren left in the kitchen for Trisandrah. It was early, for both of them, and he’d already gone and come back. He had an early shift at the delivery company, but he’d gone out for fancy coffees and pastries, and saw the flower shop opening. Sometimes, he couldn’t help getting her just one more thing to make her smile. He grinned, feeling a little foolish in his joggers, waiting for her to come out for their run, next to the luxurious flowers and perfect pastry.
mentions: @trisandrah
~
Tinnaire tied up her golden hair, the black satin ribbon bow plucked to perfect poofs. She turned her head in the mirror, admiring the way it fell to frame her thick blonde hair. Tinn smiled at the ponytail, it looked rather elegant for a simple day in her workshop, surrounded by bones and leather and, truth be told, dust. But sometimes, you just had to look pretty for yourself!
~
Jaskian laced a ribbon of arcane magic around the small gift box, tying the magic to stasis. It was a bit formal, along with the thank you note inside, but her gratitude toward Magistrix Zerine was honest and precious. Best to show the appreciation artfully, after the gala, Jaskian thought. Luminash seemed to be returning to himself after the bittersweet emotions of hearing his mother’s work had colored the last few days. So much loss, but such a joy to feel close to those gone before them, too. Magistrix Zerine certainly needed little, but the brooch inside the box was Jaskian’s own work and depicted Meadowrun Conservatory’s silhouette in cameo.
mentions: @keranna-zerine @luminashdawnwing
~
Khaeris had tied a ribbon around her wrists, tails left to flutter as she moved. That was nice. The charms she’d threaded over the ribbon lifted her spirits everytime she looked at them. She was far from home (perhaps ‘far’ might not be the best descriptor of her Timerunning adventures) so she had wanted her little reminders. Dangling from the unorthodox charm bracelet were a pea pod (Pollux and Pyraelia), her little sunfur panda charm (Sunny), a ballet slipper (Dancing), an alchemy flask (Work), a tiny surfboard (Ahuatli), a stylized firework bloom that twinkled with magic, a firefly enchanted to light up when she willed it, and so on. Things she loved, things that brought her joy even when she could not be near them. It might seem a bizarre collection to anyone else, but that was a good conversation starter, if nothing else.
mentions: @polluxhale @pyraelia @darkspear-dancers
@daily-writing-challenge
DWC May 2025 - Day 4 - Dangerous/Tremendous - Jaskian
Jaskian felt the loss like a weight inside her heart. Dalaran had been gone for many months now, but even still, that was her first instinct when she drew up her hands to conjure a portal. When she thought of shopping. When she wanted a library. When she wanted to surround herself with magic and learning. She had lived and studied there for her formative years. The Kirin Tor more than the Magistry had shaped her. She had done her thesis based out of Dalaran when it had been over Northrend, and she had taken to visiting often when it was elsewhere.
She knew the alleys and the arenas. She had been one of many students who had frequented the Legerdemain Lounge for coffee and late night cram sessions. She and Luminash had walked its streets together hundreds of times, enjoying the parks and theater. It still felt like a little piece of her lived there. Had crashed with it. Shattered into fragments scattered over a beach far from familiar shores.
Hunks of marble that used to be plazas and towers dotted the land like the tears of a Titan. The loss of this beloved city and so many of her people still took her breath away, and Jaskian felt her hand rise to her chest. The loss was tremendous and no one who had loved her was unaffected by Dalaran’s loss.
She had always been the more nostalgic of the two. Luminash was working in the future, ever forward, and Jaskian was still spending her days helping the Kirin Tor remnants rebuild their society, if not their city. She reached out to her soulbound husband and let the dangerous melancholy she’d built up fade in the face of his current excitement. He was good for getting her mind off the things she let trouble her.
@daily-writing-challenge
mentions:
@luminashdawnwing
(( I don't know @guardevoir but the art is so well done, I love it! Go give them a follow! They have a really lovely, painterly style!))
Jaskian looked up at the giant hourglass. It was beautiful, if a bit ‘on the nose’, and you certainly couldn’t ignore it. Soridormi was efficiently moving the next troupe through the time-portal and into the battles ahead. Jaskian pulled her hair up into a more practical plait down her back.
Chronomancy settled into glittering sands of magic around her as she stepped through for the next bit of her research. She was here to help the Bronzes, but also Luminash. Lumi’s misadventure with the timeways had naturally caused a sudden and intense pivot of research from ley-lines to time magic. He was working through things himself, but she would never make her husband tease out the time-tangles by himself.
Once more into the breach! … Or maybe twice.
They would fix this, or at least get it to a point where Luminash felt more empowered than haunted.
~~~
They were back in Silvermoon for now and it was nice to see Farthing and Threadneedle. Kharris held her teacup in both hands, eyes closed and enjoying the warmth. Her ears flickered, listening for the sounds of tiny feet running through the house, and for a moment worry started to rear up instinctively--where was the baby? The thought wasn’t even completely articulated before it resolved itself again.
Asarel’s softest touch against her shoulder, then the press of his lips just behind her ear relaxed her again.
The Dragon Isles were a bit too dangerous for the tiny family right now, and the rest was welcome. Babysitters and playdates were welcome respite, giving the lovers their time to reconnect alone.
Who knew a house could be so quiet? … Well. For a moment. They were probably about to change that.
Her dimples appeared slowly as she smiled and turned toward him. It was good at be home.
~~
Braedyn threaded her fingers through Fortune’s hair rhythmically. He was reading the newspaper, splayed across their bed. She had a novel held up in one hand and was busy with less factual print. Evios was lounging by the door, the big black lion was rumbling something with a notably possessive lilt to it.
Ah, Zeik was in the hall, looking in, as he slinked down the hall. He was not stopping there. No doubt the lynx was heading to the girls’ bedrooms--they spoiled him as much as their father did. The motion of his tail flicking drew her eyes again, but she was back to turn the page then next moment.
The story was nearing its conclusion and only one last mystery remained to be elucidated. Braedyn was so invested that her delicate touches paused, distracted. That was a mistake.
“Ouch!” Instinct slapped the paperback down toward her assailant. He had bitten her!
“Ooph.” Fortune grunted, but then laughed. “I think you hurt me more than I hurt you.”
“You are a damn cat.” She looked cooly down at him, though her cheeks were flushed with mild embarrassment at being caught so off guard. She couldn’t stop his laughter from curling the corners of her lips though.
Fortune laughed again and shoved his newspaper loudly out of the way, then took her book and placed it (though he took care not to lose her place) on the nightstand. He reached over her to turn off the lamp with a very feline grin.
“…Fortune. You haven’t trained the cats to close the door.”
The moment of silence stretched.
Finally, the man slid off the bed to do what his giant cats would not.
~~
Khaeris was at the worried part of the cycle. Resentment had melted away sometime in the night. She was getting stories of brutal Primalist assaults all through the Dragon Isles. Worry would give away to relief, then to moping, then back to resentment.
She flicked through pictures on her comm, trying to ignore that there weren’t any pending messages to check. He’d message when he could. It had been over a week now. Maybe two? … Surely not? Days dripped by like the rain off the orchids here in Zandalar. It was always at night when the household was asleep that Khaeris got caught back up in missing Pollux.
They’d have told her if something had happened right? … Aerden would let her know, right? She sighed and closed the device and started into her ritualistic morning stretches with a heavy heart.
DWC November 2022 - Day 6 - Home/Unnatural - Jaskian
The whirling arcane coalesced as smoothly in front of Jaskian. Transmutation of space into portals came almost as easily as frost came to her. She stepped out of Dalaran and into Silvermoon without a shiver, not looking back as she felt the snappy aperture close behind her. Her stride didn’t even hitch.
Her parents welcomed her with cheek kisses and warm tea.
Another portal a few hours later took her to Dazar’alor. The jewelers here were the best goldsmiths in all her study and she treasured the opportunity to learn there.
The air in Suramar City hits her in the heart. Jaskian smiled as she felt her heart skip, like it always did. The rooftop garden smelled of night blooming flowers. There was the curl of pipe smoke and the perfume of arcwine heavy in the air. The glow of the sconces in the stairwell welcomed her home.
“Lumi? I’m home. I brought honey cakes from Mother AND kungaloosh from Zuldazar.” Her foot steps gathered enthusiasm. Luminash looked up from his latest manuscript, the long blonde hair pulled away from his face and his thoughts only now settling back to this mundane plane.
All magic eventually led back to home. She never got tired of it.
