It was another morning in Teldrassil. The morning breeze whispered through the leaves of the colossal trees, filtering the first rays of sunlight that danced across the moss-covered ground. Kaelion walked lightly, keeping an eye on the bushes laden with wild berries. If luck was on his side, he might also catch a rabbit. Suddenly, a faint rustle among the branches caught his attention. A reddish squirrel, nimble as a spark, darted across his path and climbed the gnarled trunk of an oak. Kaelion looked up, watching it with curiosity. Its tiny claws clung to the bark as its fluffy tail flicked about. Something in that image sparked a memory in his mind.
The waning moon hung alone in a clear sky over the Barrens, casting long shadows over the arid, dusty land. Kaelion moved silently along the route he had been assigned to patrol. Around him, the dry ground crunched beneath the weight of his light leather armor, and the night wind carried the distant scent of a campfire. A furtive movement caught his eye. Just a few steps away, a small jerboa was grooming itself with care. Its agile front paws cleaned its snout and rubbed its long ears with precision, as if performing a meticulous ritual. Standing on its hind legs, its tiny body vibrated with the energy of a creature used to surviving in the uncertainty of the desert. Kaelion watched it with fascination. He had never seen such a creature before. With a slow motion, he pulled a piece of dry bread from his pouch and carefully extended it. The jerboa tilted its head and stared at him with round, dark eyes. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, after a brief hesitation, the creature hopped twice and took the crumb between its little paws. The speed with which it began to eat made him smile.
—Heh, what a funny little creature —he whispered to himself.
But then, the animal froze. Its long ears turned toward the path, alert to a sound Kaelion hadn't yet perceived. Instantly, he was on guard. He sharpened his hearing and felt a subtle shift in the air. A murmur of footsteps, the brush of fabric against armor. He looked up and moved silently to a better vantage point. There he was. The same blood elf who had caught his attention the other night. He wore crimson armor with golden embellishments, pristine even under the pale moonlight. He walked with a soldier's discipline, every movement measured and precise, but his face didn't show the harshness of war. His eyes scanned the path with calm focus, as if danger was still far from his mind. The jerboa, in an unexpected gesture, jumped right into his path. The elf stopped in his tracks and looked at it with mild curiosity. Then, with a slow motion, he knelt to get a better look. Kaelion held his breath. There was no harshness in the gesture, no contempt. Only a simple, genuine curiosity. From his hiding place, the night elf watched him with new eyes. Maybe, after all, the enemy also knew how to appreciate life. But suddenly, Kaelion noticed something. The nighttime stillness shattered. From the shadows, a pair of fierce eyes gleamed with predatory hunger. The kodo lion, a massive beast with dusty fur and powerful jaws, was lurking in the dark. Every muscle in its body was tense, ready to pounce on its prey. The blood elf, still focused on the jerboa, didn't sense the threat until it was too late. A deafening roar ripped through the air. The creature lunged like lightning, its sharp claws ready to tear through flesh and armor alike. The elf barely had time to spin on his heels; instinct screamed at him to move, to draw his blade—but the attack was imminent. Then, a second roar, this one of agony. The beast crashed heavily to its side, its enormous body kicking up a cloud of dust as it hit the dry earth. Abrupt silence fell over the scene. The blood elf, still coursing with adrenaline, cautiously approached. His bright green eyes scanned the kodo lion's corpse until he found the cause of its death: an arrow lodged straight in the skull. It was no ordinary projectile. The wood was dark, inscribed with runes in an unrecognizable language. The feathers at its end were jet-black, reflecting a faint shimmer under the moonlight. It was a precise, lethal shot… one that belonged to an archer with inhuman skill. The elf frowned and turned his gaze toward the direction the arrow had come from. For an instant, he thought he saw a silhouette in the shadows—a lithe and graceful figure moving like a ghost. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished into the night, as if it had never been there. A chill ran down the elf's spine. Without wasting time, he moved cautiously toward the spot where the figure had been. Every fiber of his being told him someone had been watching, someone who had chosen to save him… or perhaps just eliminate the beast before it ruined their own hunt. But when he arrived, there was nothing. Only the night breeze rustling the dry grass, and the distant echo of a predator that never claimed its prey.
—Be careful with those.
The deep, measured voice snapped him out of his reverie. Kaelion blinked and looked up, finding himself face to face with a familiar silhouette: an elderly druid in worn robes, his gray hair falling in waves over his shoulders. His eyes glowed with the wisdom of ages, and though his posture had weakened with time, he still radiated the presence of a true guardian of nature.
—Elderion! —Kaelion exclaimed, a genuine smile lighting up his face—. It's been so long since I've seen you.
The old druid returned a serene smile, the kind one offers a dear old friend.
—Indeed, my boy, a long time… I've heard of your battles and how you've survived them. I couldn't let something as simple as berries be the end of the great Kaelion.
Kaelion frowned, not understanding.
—What?
Elderion motioned with his staff toward the basket in Kaelion's hand.
—The berries you picked are poisonous.
The night elf looked down and only then noticed the small, bright red fruits mixed in with the rest. His expression darkened as he began picking them out one by one, letting out a dry, ironic laugh.
—Looks like a moment's distraction will kill me before the war does.
—Be more careful next time —the druid replied with a kind tone—. My powers aren't what they used to be… and neither am I, hehe.
Kaelion looked up, sensing the melancholy hidden behind the jest.
—I heard a while back that you were ill… How are you coping?
The old man sighed, resting both hands on his staff.
—It's a magical illness… a curse of withered sap —he said calmly—. Magic flows through us as sap flows through a tree, but when it's corrupted… our strength fades slowly, like leaves in autumn. So far, there's no cure.
—I'm so sorry, Elderion…
—You don't need to be, child —he replied gently, gazing up at the sky through the canopy—. I know my time is near… and I do not fear meeting Elune when that moment comes. But before the wind carries me to her, there is still something I must tell you.
The old druid turned his eyes toward Kaelion, his expression solemn yet full of tenderness.
—You're young, but war has tried to steal that youth from you many times. Don't let it succeed. Live, Kaelion. Don't just survive. Don't cling only to battle, or to the shadow of what might have been. There are forests yet to wander, stars to gaze at, and laughter to share. Don't wait for fate to decide when you can be happy. Seek it yourself.
Kaelion nodded, moved by those words.
—I'll remember that, Elderion…
The old man smiled warmly and, without another word, resumed his path, leaning on his staff with steps slow but steady. Kaelion watched him disappear into the trees until his silhouette faded into the morning mist. He stood in silence for a moment, reflecting. Then his gaze drifted to the horizon, and his mind, carried by the echo of the druid's words, returned to the memories of the Barrens.
Their first encounter was brief, but it left an impression hard to ignore. Beneath the cover of night, Kaelion moved with the lightness of a shadow among the twisted branches of a dead tree. From there, he observed the Horde encampment with feline patience, attentive to every movement of the patrols. Then he saw him. The blood elf was walking his perimeter with measured steps and a gaze as sharp as the edge of his blade. Kaelion studied him carefully, analyzing the cadence of his movements. He waited for the precise moment. Then, without a sound, he leapt down with feline grace. But his arrival did not go unnoticed. As soon as his feet touched the ground, the other turned with the speed of an alerted predator, his sword drawn in a flash of silver. Kaelion reacted just as swiftly, unsheathing his own weapon. In a blink, both stood frozen, the tips of their blades resting against each other's throats. The silence between them was thick—heavy like the low mist curling over the dry ground. The night breeze stirred their cloaks slightly, but neither moved.
—If you came to kill me, you could've done it from the shadows —said the blood elf with a crooked smile.
His voice dripped with confidence, even with the cold touch of steel at his neck. His green eyes, like polished malachite, reflected the pale moonlight with an unfathomable gleam, as though a hidden fire burned behind them—concealed beneath a layer of arrogance and defiance. He looked at Kaelion with a mixture of mockery and provocation.
—If I wanted to kill you, we wouldn't be talking —Kaelion replied, his tone unshaken.
They kept their blades in place a moment longer before, with a synchronization that felt almost rehearsed, they lowered them. It wasn't a gesture of trust, but of mutual caution. The blood elf tilted his head slightly, studying his opponent with interest.
—You... you were the one who killed the beast, weren't you? —he asked, though the answer was obvious.
Kaelion didn't respond right away. He held his gaze with cold intensity, then finally gave a single nod.
—And why? —the other pressed—. You didn't seem to be hunting.
—I had no intention of letting someone else's prey steal mine —Kaelion answered, his calmness contrasting with the irony in his words.
The blood elf raised an eyebrow and let out a brief nasal laugh.
—Well then… such honor —he murmured with sarcasm, sheathing his sword. Then he gave a small nod, never taking his eyes off Kaelion—. I want to thank you.
Kaelion said nothing. He simply observed him with the same impenetrable reserve. A tense pause settled between them, until the blood elf seemed to realize he would get nothing more.
—My name is Aerion —he said at last; his voice tinged with faint arrogance.
Kaelion didn't respond right away. He weighed the moment, then, after a short silence, replied with the same seriousness.
—Kaelion.
There were no further words. Just one last look in the shadows before they each went their separate ways. And yet, both knew this would not be their last encounter.
"One was a child of the night, a spirit carved in shadows and stars, dancing among the fronds of a world that existed long before war. His skin was the softest lavender, almost a reflection of twilight's hush. His hair, a glimmer of pure silver, seemed touched by the night goddess herself. His eyes, lakes of ancient dreams, shimmered with the phosphorescence of druidic magic and the memories of an eternity lived among his kin.
The other was a child of the day, a warrior forged in the splendor of dawn and the fire of dusk. His hair blazed with the brilliance of an undying sun; a cascade of gold and embers inherited from generations who had known both glory and downfall. His eyes, green ignited by the last light of sunset, were mirrors of a lineage doomed to be reborn from its own ashes."
Around midday, Kaelion decided to visit the High Priestess of the Moon, a magnanimous woman who had always shown him kindness. The mansion in which she resided rose with the elegance characteristic of Teldrassil, its stone walls draped in purple vines and accented with violet hues that blended seamlessly with the mystical forest light. Its stylized arches, typical of night elven architecture, soared gracefully, allowing daytime rays to stream through silver-filigreed windows. Kaelion knocked gently, and the door opened after a few moments.
A silver-haired elf greeted him, her demeanor serene and her sky-blue robe contrasting softly against her amethyst-toned skin. Her eyes, a gentle shade of lilac, studied him with quiet curiosity before she asked in a formal tone:
—Yes, sir?
—Hello —Kaelion replied with a faint smile—. You must be new. My name is Kaelion. I've come to see High Priestess Aneliel.
—I understand, sir —the maid replied with a slight nod—, but I'm afraid the High Priestess is currently unavailable.
—May I wait? —he asked naturally, offering a calm smile.
Before she could answer, a clear voice called out from within.
—Calithra, who is it?
The elf looked at Kaelion, who gave her a slight gesture, silently instructing her to announce him by name.
—It's Kaelion, my lady.
The door opened fully, allowing him entry. Inside, the mansion exuded the same majesty as its exterior. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting ancient tales of their people, while carved wooden statues of Elune and druids of old lined the grand hall. The polished stone floor reflected the ethereal light from floating chandeliers above, and the air was infused with a delicate scent of moon incense. Kaelion studied paintings of primeval forests and gleaming moons when the soft sound of footsteps descending the stairs caught his attention. From the upper level appeared the High Priestess. Her presence was flawless, her silhouette draped in a gown of deep violet hues, its light fabrics swaying with her every step. Her long, midnight-blue hair cascaded down her back, and her expression radiated a blend of nobility and warmth. Upon seeing him, her face lit up and she opened her arms with a smile.
—Oh, dear Kaelion!
He approached with the same grace that always defined him and responded with a brief but respectful embrace.
—High Priestess —he said in a cordial tone.
—Please, just call me Aneliel —she gently corrected—. It's such a pleasure to have you here. How are you settling back home?
Kaelion paused for a moment before answering honestly.
—A bit strange, but comforting.
Aneliel nodded in understanding.
—I can imagine. So many years out there must have left you quite disoriented. Come, let's go to my study. Calithra! Prepare some tea and refreshments.
—Yes, my lady —the maid replied with a bow before retreating.
As they walked down the corridor, Aneliel gave him an enigmatic look, adding with a slight smile:
—I have a proposal for you, Kaelion… but it's a surprise.