Soul Trinity

 S oul  T  rinity  http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v467/earthsprite/SoulTrinity.gif

Naiama squeezed berry juice into her mouth from the waterskin. Kethinal easily fluttered beside her, always silent, always her companion. The red and golden landscape looked like eternal autumn, a land lost in its peak. It contrasted so sharply with the neighboring Ashenvale forest that the elf recognized the red conifers as more related to those in Hillsbrad than Darkshore and Ashenvale. She had spent many days tracking and watching the furbolgs in the area. At all times she felt for their presences, reaching out with her mind. Already confident in the bow and more than sufficient with both dual wield of swords and the larger broadswords, tracking in this manner was her own practice for hunting. Yet she trained much longer than she had ever previously. It wasn't that she didn't want to return to Stormwind. After...several incidents, she had simply decided the time was now or never. Achieve greatness in practice and maneuver or fail in her duties. The elf wiped her face with the back of her hand. She debated in her mind whether she could take on the small camp of furbolgs. This particular race was not the 'worst', but Azshara was too precious to give to corrupt bearmen. Especially to her and her purpose. It would be best to take this small tribe out. Balance, she reminded herself. The land must be cleansed if there is no cure.

She stood up from behind the log she was hiding behind. One ursine man raised his hunched head from the campfire. Without hesitation she knocked an arrow and aimed it toward the furbolg. Just as she was about to release it, a tension beyond predator and prey filled the air. Naiama whipped her head over her shoulder as she felt the sickening presence of demon. It smelled wretched, different than rotting flesh but a hundred times as potent, thick as molasses. The furbolgs roared at her but backed away. She too backed away, under the cover of the golden brush. Like any other Kaldorei, she made sure to meld into the shadows, pressing herself as flat as possible against a tree trunk. Kethinal slithered near her, belly on the ground and his yellow wings folded. Now she could hear the approaching steps. Hooves upon the grass. The furbolgs were long gone. Long, brown horns came into sight, followed by the most hideous mockery of a Kaldorei face known to the world. A satyr with violet hair all over his body-- mostly on his legs-- goat eyes and monstrous hands with elongated claws. He turned his head from side to side and sniffed the air. A grin cracked upon his face, revealing yellow fangs. "I smell elf," he said in a scratchy voice. One akin to nails screeching on a sheet of metal. Naiama held her breath and raised her bow, an arrow still ready. The satyr turned his unnatural eyes right to the tree trunk. He couldn't have seen her. She was in shadow. Clenching her jaw, she straightened and quickly fired an arrow straight toward the demon's chest. Her aim was true and hit into his right breast with a thunk. He snarled and drew back, but only for a moment. The satyr leapt over to her faster than she expected, but it was enough time to fire off a second arrow. Unfortunately it was not a fatal shot, and it buried itself into his arm. Kethinal sprung up and flew into his face and sunk his teeth into the thing's nose as Naiama pulled her sword from her back and stepped forward. It shimmered impressively, but before she knew it the satyr had smacked her serpent companion away and wrenched the sword free from her hands, throwing it aside. She ducked as his huge hand swiped for her, but the second time she was not so lucky. She screamed in surprise as his clawed hand shoved her into the tree, knocking the wind from her inside her mail armor. Kethinal made another attempt at an attack, his long fangs ripping at the satyr's ear. Howling still, he swooped down and grabbed Naiama's leg to lift her up. Her snake fluttered by and tore viciously at the satyr, looking more like a deranged earring as he became permanently attached.

"Foolish elf shall pay!" the demon shouted and instead of fighting like she expected, he bounded away with her ankle securely held by his oversized hand. Naiama shouted incoherently as she struggled to free her leg from his grasp while being jostled from his running leaps. The saytr tried smacking Kethinal away with his other hand as he ran, but it was useless. Below her was the rolling golden-red grass. Above her was her own body and the massive claws that held her. "Let me go!" she screamed in her native tongue. It wasn't very much later when the saytr threw her against a hard surface. It was marble. She landed harshly on her shoulder with a sharp pain. More satyr crowded around her as she tried to stand up like a wounded deer. The mail shoulder she landed on was completely bent out of shape. The violet one who had held her snarled and snapped the end off the arrow from his own chest with a howl. "Don't kill her!" he shouted to the approaching others and held up a hand. They were in a marble hall, or a ruined one. The Haldarr saytr, she acknowledged wearily. One of them tore Kethinal from his ear and threw him down next to Naiama. He hissed and recoiled, fluttering over her breast protectively.

"...Yet." The violet, wounded one stepped forward as the others formed a tight circle around her. All grinning, evil faces. Many violet, green, blue...  "Think you can come into our lands?" he snarled and swiftly kicked Naiama in the ribs with a furry hoof, which made a dull clinking noise along with thunks against her body. She yelled and hissed in pain. "Think you can dare -" he delivered another kick, "match-" and another, "our-" and another, "power?!" and a final one. She screamed in pain. Scale mail was not made to protect against kicks from solid hooves. The windserpent Kethinal sprung up. Blue lightning gathered around his wings and shot toward the satyr, who howled for the last time and fell over, sizzling. The others cursed loudly. A blue satyr immediately reached out and snatched Kethinal from midair. "No!"

Naiama cradled herself and looked around the ruined marble hall. "Think you can come into our lands?" the violet satyr snarled in her face. He kicked her and she yelled out in pain. They hadn't taken anything from her, not yet...she reached her hands into a pouch tied at her belt, screaming with another kick. Her hand touched her runestone, the small green crystal. Her other hand touched her hearthstone. Was she a coward or was she protecting her duties? There was no way to survive this. Another kick, and another, and another. She squeezed the runestone to help her concentrate even while yelling. Naiama swore she heard a crack from her sides. "Sirithil...love you...I've failed you...again," it was a weak attempt, but she had thought it. Willed it through the stone. It had to go through...then she looked up. Kethinal was defending her. Brave beast; her very heart. In anguish she watched as a blue satyr took Kethinal from midair. "No!" she rasped. The demon mercilessly snapped the serpent's spine. Agony immediately shot through Naiama, tears brimming in her eyes. Kethinal was still alive. She vaguely felt the serpent fall heavily upon her, flapping his wings in a lopsided manner to move closer; everything below the mangled point couldn't move. When he reached her face he shook his feathered head arduously and touched her forehead with his nose. A soul. A wisp. A being in the twilight of reality, forever wandering the ancient forests and that peculiar shoreline. She was. She wasn't. Sometimes she felt a previous life. Sometimes she remembered her battles and her family. Her love. She was and she wasn't. It was now that her thoughts wandered to a certain memory, with no apparent instigation. In and out of the memory she drifted, like an observer of the past.

A silver haired Kaldorei, clad in a simple robe, stood in a wide, open hall. She listened intently to the man who sat before her, her long eyebrows lowering deeper and deeper into a scowl as he continued. His hair was the color of sapphire gems, long and free over his back. A short beard framed his face and his golden eyes shone. He waved his gloved hands in gestures as he spoke excitedly. "Have you gone insane?" she responded when he had finished. "No..." "You have no idea what this creature is, and you want to follow it across the ends of the earth...for what?" "Arianis, I want to see what's out there! There could be more than - than Kalimdor!" He pointed west, toward the sea.

"It could be some sort of troll - or demon!" "I assure you, he is neither. Maybe a subspecies of earthen, or ah..." "You would leave us for this?" Her jaw tightened. The Kaldorei man turned his golden eyes on the female. "I am not leaving you or Naiama, but sometimes one must make risks. Risks to discover the unknown." Arianis spoke quietly. "How many risks did our people have to take to 'discover the unknown'?" This silenced him, and they sat for a moment, watching each other.

"If I were in my better judgement I would report this...invasion into our land. It is protected by the mists for a reason." "No! No, you will not tell anyone of this! I have trusted you before." "You do not realize the threat this could pose to all of Kalimdor. This alien, traveling to our lands." "I promise you, I will not let our land come to harm because of this." The elf grasped his mate's slender hand and kissed it....    It faded. It seemed she drifted away, toward the shore. At times she would stare with nonexistent eyes out to the horizon, always wondering what was beyond it; what was on the other side? Now the spirit looked out again, floating above the lapping water. It all appeared to her as a neverending dream. Quiet, melancholy, peaceful, tranquil. Other wisps would pass her by on occasion, and there would be a feeling of recognition, but nothing more. She might have assumed the spirits communed...somewhere. But she was always alone. Elune would be where they were. But she was always alone.

"Arianis, I want to see what's out there! There could be..." She would have sighed if she could. The realm around her glowed in somber monotone. The horizon sparkled. And then....    Light erupted from everywhere. The surrounding creatures snarled, spat, cursed, and shrunk back shielding their eyes. A sensation she had never felt before struck her body. Immediately she felt distant, but she assumed she was convulsing. There was no control. No lifting her hand, no opening her mouth to shout in terror. It felt as if her spine was being ripped from her, but then again, where was that? What was that like? The pain of her broken ribs was so distant. She felt herself floating upwards. She could see her own body, sprawled like a ragdoll across the ancient, broken marble. A red ribbon, broken at one end, was zigzagged across her mail armor, making a beautiful and macabre decoration. Red ribbon.

Spinning toward her, forever and ever. Red, the lifeblood. Red, red was the color of the circle of life that surrounded her in the blackness. In the nothing. Spinning away, torn away....     Suddenly she couldn't see so clearly. Her focus was drawn into the horizon. Light grew in that one point, but the rest was turning black. She was in a tunnel, being pulled into the light, spinning toward it. Enveloped in light. She blinked and frowned from the brightness. Above her was a marble ceiling. She slowly turned her head to the left. A ruined marble hall. Red and gold trees all around. In the distance, a gushing waterfall cascaded down from a snowy mountain. She blinked again and felt her chest moving up and down, but realized it was extraordinarily painful; she couldn't move from a weight upon her. Looking to her right, she saw demons watching her. Satyr, in fact, with horrible yellow goat eyes and long horns. "Look, her hair's turned white!" A blue one pointed and spoke over nasty teeth.

"It's a trick," another said. "It's some elf trick. We all saw the light! Puny follower of Elune!" "Don't stand there, you idiots - crush her! She killed our brother!" The elf breathed raggedly and rubbed what she held in her palm with her fingers, trying to figure out what it was. She would have reached for her glaive. Yes, a glaive. She used to have one of those. But this was small and smooth, like a polished stone. Green energy formed around her hands as the satyr shouted inaudible things and ran to her. One nearly reached her throat as she disappeared. An instant later, Arianis Greytree Tahlas, former Sentinel of Auberdine and Darnassus, collapsed onto the green grass. Incredibly sore ribs stung as she tried to breathe. The elf lifted a shaking hand to her face and inspected it. She moved every finger and then brought it to her face. Her face? She looked up at the canopy of giant purple trees. Darnassus.