Seven Years Ago...

((Original thread is located here.))

"Shindu fallah na! Shindu fallah na!" The magically-amplified words reverberated through the walls of Silvermoon. They are breaking through... Words that would haunt an entire race for years to come. But for now, they heralded the immediacy of action. Esslar kept tucking more and more scrolls in his arms. There was no telling what the invaders, whoever they were, were going to do to the Library but he wasn't about to leave them behind. The curator burst through the door and in shock the High Elf dropped his armload. "Light! Lunari, move it!  The invaders have passed the gate and they'll be entering the city soon.  Get out of here!" "But the scrolls? All our..." A pale hand gestured at the rows of racks full of scrolls and tomes and volumes galore. It had been said that Silvermoon's library was second only to Dalaran.

The curator looked at the scholar, glinting green eyes looking into pale silver. "We have to leave. I'm sure the troops will win the city yet.  Ranger-General Sylvanas has never lost yet!  Leave them.  We'll come back for them." They stood there a few moments in silence and then the building suddenly shook, as if the very foundations were under assault. "MOVE BOY!" The older scholar grabbed Esslar's arm and shoved him out the door. Ignoring propriety for once, something rather rare among High Elves, they both picked up their robes and ran down the halls. The curator only went as far as the next door before continuing to check for remnants but Esslar kept running.

He reached the entry and found himself looking over a street full of panicking High Elves. They were all being driven to the north, away from the invaders. Looking to the south he caught a glimpse of what they were running from. Coming up the main street, devouring everything in its path, was a dark... words left him as gargoyles swooped down picking up fleeing refugees and toss them screaming from the sky. He was no slower descending the steps and falling into the stampede. He recalled that there was some hope, if the mages guarding the Sunwell were opening ports to facilitate an evacuation. If not, then they would be pushed into the sea at this rate.

Soldiers rushed by in the crowd, futilely attempting to maintain some sense of order. A few moments after they passed he heard their gruesome death cries.

"OVER HERE!" The shout echoed with magic as it bounded within the walls. Someone was standing on a crate waving his arms. Esslar didn't know him, but he looked young and he was wearing the robes of a Dalaran student; the scholar turned towards his direction immediately. His hands were a frenzy of motion and, his invitation given, his lips were even faster. A moment later a hole appeared in the air next to him. It wavered and shook and nothing could be seen on the other side but an ever shifting swirl of colors. It didn't matter however, refugees dove through accepting an uncertain fate for the certain doom that followed them.

And Esslar Lunari, last of the Lunari line and scholar of the Royal Library, followed them as quickly as he could, terrified of the death that followed. He leapt as best he was able in his robes through the portal and in that instant he knew pain. The unstable portal felt like it was pulling his essence to pieces, and some rational part of his mind realized that that was very likely exactly what it was doing.

And then he was falling. He didn't fall long before his back collided with something solid. Ground. Stone. A mountain. His thoughts were slow and lethargic. Was he safe? The mountains were deep and a small valley stretched before him and beyond that what appeared to be the ocean. An unstable portal could have sent him anywhere however. He could read the stars when night came but until then he was lost on the mountainside.

He ran his hands over his body, exposing silver stars that glittered in the sun on the backs of his hands as he did so, checking for injuries. Several bruises and some cuts, nothing broken, his heart wouldn't stop pounding though. It felt as though it was climbing his throat to leap from his ears.

Time passed and his heart settled and he sat down on a boulder to collect his thoughts and decide how to act. Perhaps he could contact some... something happened that sent his heart to his toes. It was gone. He didn't know what it was, but it wasn't there any longer. Ripped and torn away. Profaned, but he had needed it. He convulsed uncontrollably, slipping to the ground, and tried to scream but all that came out was short shouts. The same thought kept repeating in his mind. "It's gone." He didn't even notice the short figures in black and white fur gathering around him.