[IC] Let me let go.
He almost hadn't made it. He almost turned around, ran away again. It would have been easy. They knew he was gone. They didn't know where he was or when he'd return. He could have run far, far away.
No... Correction: Lark knew. That wasn't what steeled his will.
You are more than your fear. Be more than your fear, for us.
The rogue trembled as he guided his hippogryph onward. Over the Twisting Nether. Into a land he hadn't set foot in to linger for a very long time. Netherstorm was as he remembered it. Nothing had changed.
But everything had, hadn't it?
First thing's first. Do some simple tasks to overcome the need to flee. Occupy his mind to keep himself from dwelling on the feel of raw mana all around him. It wasn't concentrated. Relax. It's not going to explode. Relax.
Odd jobs from ghosts should be fine, right? Deal with manafiends, put to rest the restless dead, the usual--
Kill the Sunfury archers.
Of all requests that could have been given him. It would be given someone else in his place, though, wouldn't it. It was the least he could do. They didn't deserve a messy, lingering death at the hand of some novice adventurer, after all. He knew where to strike. He knew how to make it painless. They were doomed to die either way.
One by one, his brothers and sisters in arms fell. Dead before they even struck the ground. A small mercy. A small comfort. Traitor.
He couldn't even finish his task. He was shaking by the time he fled toward Tempest Keep. If he could get inside, he could get away from this. He could sit in the quiet. He could think.
It took him several minutes to calm himself enough to even stealth, as he knew he would not be welcome. Not as an outsider, not with the blood of his brothers and sisters clinging to him like a traitor's brand. Calm. Calm, don't think, just move. Step between, around, follow familiar paths until...
The wide open room awash in a haze of red and flame was almost too warm for his leathers, Northrend-designed as they were. It wasn't difficult to sidestep the phoenix-hawks and find an unoccupied ledge to just sit and exist.
It felt like days before he broke his own silence. "This is nothing but a glorified cage for you now, isn't it?"
Emerald eyes flick open and the rogue watches Al'ar circle quietly for a long time before he drops his gaze to the hatchlings and their flame-wreathed caretakers below.
"He's really gone, isn't he. Kael'thas is dead, but through his efforts the Sunwell was restored." When he finally begins to speak, it's almost impossible to still his tongue. Mourning for the loss of their prince. Pride in all he was able to accomplish. Relief that it was over. And finally, a weary acceptance.
"He did keep his promise to us. He did find a way to save his people, even though he lost his mind and his life to do it." Pausing, he looks back up to the circling phoenix, a small, sad smile flickering across his expression. "Is there really anything left here to fight for? We don't need the manaforges. We don't need the fel energy. We don't need the Legion..."
There was nothing left here for him. Nothing but old pain and old fears. Ashes of a long-dead phoenix.
"I'm sorry I can't take you with me, Al'ar." With those words, the rogue pushed himself to his feet to stand tall and salute. A gesture of respect to the creature of flames above him, to his brothers, to his fallen prince. "Al diel shala. Burn bright for us."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
In the World's End Tavern, a lone redhead sits quietly at one of the assortment of tables, nursing a glass of wine in his left hand, while the right busies itself with penning words to parchment. Words that, were it not for the calming effects of the alcohol, would likely never see the light of day through his tenancies to work himself into a panic lately.
My name is Al'arien Dawnstrike. Youngest of the Dawnstrike household of Goldenmist Village. Ranger of Quel'thalas. Bowman of the Sunfury.
My loyalties have always been to Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider. Though he was an imperfect leader, pushed into a position he was barely trained for well before his time, I believe he had the best at heart for our people. Though madness took him, though he did turn to the Legion for his own sake, the prince we all knew was long dead. I will never accuse him of betraying his people. I will never speak ill of his efforts. In the end, it was through our Prince's sacrifice that the Sunwell was restored to us.
To this end, my time in service to the Sunfury is over. I fled some years ago after the setback at Ultris and had not set foot in Netherstorm since. I have been living my life in Silvermoon, using my training as a ranger to make my life as a rogue known as Kael'ash Amberwind. My efforts to run from my past were foolish and ultimately harmful to myself and those around me. I will do so no longer.
I have betrayed my brothers and sisters twice over. I have nothing to give. No penance to offer. I merely beg mercy.
Let judgement be swift. I am more than my fear.
The parchment is then folded quietly, neatly, with military precision and sealed with wax bearing the crest of a phoenix. The chair scrapes quietly in the relatively empty tavern as Al'arien rises. From his pocket, he withdraws his Sunfury signet and slips it on his finger. He takes up his bow, where it had been propped up beside the table, and turns to leave.
Outside, a dark-colored Warp Stalker lifts its head and sniffs in the redhead's direction, shuffling to its feet and scuttling along in his wake. Together, the pair make their way up to the Terrace of Light and toward the lift that lead to the Scryer's Tier.
His hands shook. His face was pale. His mind screamed to run. But he would not.
I will run no longer.