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One Day You’ll Get Your Markings [Short Story]

Year -65

“One day you’ll get your markings,” Kalnor whispered into her daughter’s ear as she gently brushed her hair. Tangled from a run in the forest, Mywin enjoyed nothing more than sprinting through the trees and climbing up as high as she could. The energetic youngling would often come home with her hair knotted and ridden with twigs and leaves, then her mother would brush them out soothingly, and tell her stories about their people and her past. “One day, my beloved kal, you will bring us joy, pride and honour. You too will fight for our people.” Mywin couldn’t imagine a more glorious future.

Year -64

Hyjal had never been so quiet as it was in that moment. The crowd assembled around the Sanctuary of Malorne, a wide gap between leading from the forest to the mausoleum like a parting of the sea. Not a word was uttered as a line of kaldorei marched ceremoniously down the clearing, two males for each stretcher that cradled a lifeless body covered in a clean linen sheet. The crypt loomed before them and the peaceful memorial building that usually seemed so tranquil; synonymous with pride and remembrance reeked of a doom-like sorrow.

Mywin clutched harder onto Aceso’s hand. The priestess barely noticed the child’s discomfort as she also looked onward toward the gloomy procession. A normally stern character, Aceso today felt especially solemn. Snowy hair wrapped in tradition braids and white robes flittering in the breeze, she almost appeared statue-like in expression and posture. Eir held her other hand; feeling the tension she instead wrapped an arm around the small night elf’s shoulders, pulled in her and squeezed her tight. As each stretcher reached the entrance, a name and rank was called from the platform beside to announce the deceased.

“Myara Thistleflower, Druid of the Cenarian Circle. Kepana Dustwing, Hyjal Huntress, and her companion Lightfoot. Stevan Moonsaber, Druid of the Cenarian Circle.” The last two bodies were plodded along, except one was different. The second was followed by a statue carried by four night elves take its heavy weight. A marvellous masterpiece carved from marble, it stood seven feet tall and was shaped like a female night elf. Clad in sentinel armour, whomever had worked upon it had done a fine job. The stone piece was chiselled in such a way that the long hair was flowing, as if in the same wind as Mywin herself, stood in a victorious posture with a feathered bow firmly gripped in her left hand. The face was a remarkable feat in itself: eyes nearly glowing and etched with the Mark of the Blade, smile wide.

“Min’da.”

Year -65

“Will I get them this year, min’da?” Kalnor chuckled at her enthusiastic offspring.

“You are but ten years old, sweet babe. Not yet grown, not yet ready.” Tavanar glanced up from his book, nestled by the fire in his usual spot in the large armchair, and also smiled at his young.

“Do not be so fast to mature, Winnifred. Youth is something that must be treasured while you’re young.” Mywin crawled across the floor, clambering upon her father’s lap between him and the book.

“Why don’t you have markings, an’da?” He stroked her now smoothed hair, admiring his daughter’s thirstily curious nature.

“They are for the females, like min’da and one day you. Elune wills it so.” Mywin’s face twisted into a frown.

“But you have done great things too, an’da, why does Elune not will it for you?” He chuckled again.

“Maybe it is just the way of things, little kal. There are many things we do not understand about this world, many things we will never know.” The knowledge-hungry youngling’s expression didn’t change, left unsatisfied by the vague answer, yet she did not pursue. The three remained cosied up by the burning flames of the fire, content in what they did know: the small family was together.

Year -64

The first of the deceased passed Mywin and the voice echoed again.

“Tavanar Owlcaller, Druid of the Cenarian Circle, thero’shan to Malfurion Stormrage.” Her throat became even drier as the body of her beloved father was taken further and further into the depths of the mausoleum. Then her mother’s was walked past. “Kalnor Starblade, Veteran of the War of the Ancients, Sister of Elune, Sentinel of Hyjal.” The crowd stood slightly taller in their regard. This was not an average soldier. Not just any elven woman was accepted into the Sentinel forces: it took great courage, great skill, great sacrifice to be permitted to serve in such an esteemed role. The immortalised stone monument followed suit. Each Sentinel who died in battle were each honoured with this sentiment so that reminders of their heroic deeds would be present for all to see for ages to come. This did not come as a comfort for the newly orphaned Mywin. “These five kaldorei lay down their lives for the protection of our people to ensure a rich future unblemished by the demonic curse we have so dearly suffered from. May we never forget their bravery in the face of such evil. Elune-adore.”

“Elune-adore,” the crowd repeated in unison. A moment or two of silence was held but to Mywin it was as though time itself had stood still. Many sympathetic eyes quickly took a peek at the tiny figure in between the two Sisters of Elune, clinging onto their interlocking hands for dear life. The pity they felt bounced off her for all she could do was stare at the gaping opening of the mausoleum, secretly praying that her an’da and min’da would leisurely walk out arm in arm, alive and well as they had been the evening before. They would not be buried there but within nature near the plain in which she stood but it didn’t make her feel any closer. After the silence, the crowd shifted and solemnly began to return to the village. Aceso gently pulled at the younging’s arm.

“Come. You are a ward of Elune now, a child of the Sisters. We will protect and care for you.” Mywin blinked, confused. Her little heart hadn’t considered what would happen to her now her parents had gone. She didn’t think anything would happen. Her whole world had died with them and continuing to live... it didn’t seem possible. For the first time, tears welled in the child’s eyes, slowly tricking down her face and she quietly wept.

“Is there a place for me without them?” Aceso kneeled before her, cupped her face and brushed them away with a thumb.

“Dear child. One day you’ll get your markings, right where your tears are now. You will get them when you find your place among our people. You shall go on, and they will watch you grow into a capable and strong kaldorei.”

Year -59

Mywin stood before the audience as the music began to play. Wind chimes sounded in the distance, almost in time to the wooden flutes and string lutes orchestrated behind her. She was accompanied by four other females similar in age to her own sixteen years. Each stood proudly beside her, ready to receive their own rites. She anxiously bit at her own lip. Sensing the tension, Aceso was behind, squeezing her shoulder in comfort.

“You have done, well little kal. Do not be nervous.” There was much reason to be nervous. This was one of the rare occasions Malfurion Stormrage himself had been called out of the dream to his students. An unusual occurrence, the great shan’do himself was here to announce the young women as successful in their endeavours.

“We are here today to celebrate the achievements of our strong younglings,” he began, “great trials they have endured and great rewards they have reaped. Today is by far the most significant. Today, they will be granted by the will of Elune our sacred markings of a kaldorei, a most blessed rite. The first, Winnifred of Hyjal, daughter of Kalnor Starblade, Veteran of the War of the Ancients, Sister of Elune, Sentinel of Hyjal, and Tavanar Owlcaller, Druid of the Cenarian Circle, and my own thero’shan.” A pause took place before Mywin mustered the courage to take a step forward. “For your efforts, you are bestowed establishment amongst our people in the highest regard.” The Sisters tent lay off to the side where privately, away from the eyes of the curious crowd, she would be given her markings. Before she left the platform, Malfurion planted a heavy hand on her shoulder and quietly whispered, “Your father would be so proud. Today you will get your markings.”

*Kal: “star”.

*Min’da: “Mother”.

*An’da: “Father”.

*Thero’shan: “Honoured student”, a title.

*Kaldorei: “Children of the Stars”, night elf.

*Elune-adore: “Elune be with you”.

*Shan’do: “Honoured teacher”, a title.

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