*** Optional Foreword/Intro/Author's Notes/thing ***

Don't really know how to classify what I've written ... it's not so much a backstory or history as it is "this is why Ton is how he is" ... the most important events contributing to his char development (imo). As I began to write this, realized there was a lot I wanted to say. Ton's kind of an interesting character, i've come to believe. I think I've written a fair amount here, but it's not everything i had in my head, and it's definitely not finished. I decided to post it now because this stuff is what's most important as far as Ton growing up, but i'm still planning to include another large section or two explaining how he met/joined AT.

Anyway, about the story here ... i'm sorry that a lot of it is very vague, lacking detail, but like i said ... lot to say, didnt want to take forever. I tried not to ramble and digress from important parts. The few places where i went into a fair amount of detail, there was always a reason and i followed up on it later in story or i'm going to in the last sections i'll add later (i already know what i'm trying to write).

So's, I hope story is enjoyable or at least not boring. If there's an inconsistency or an error or something, send me a PM so i can fix/edit/improve the story. I'm planning to keep this as my backstory thing for as long as i have Ton with AT in WoW.

almost forgot ... the little profile with name, physical characteristics, and all that stuff will be added later too.

-----Now, about this new thread .... i wanna keep this for myself, to add little Ton sections as i write them. so i'm gonna keep it locked. questions/comments/whatever, feel free to PM me, i'll answer whatever or clear something up.

"Tonatiuh!"

Velin roared with laughter, running out of the little cottage into the blazing midday sun of Eversong Woods. The woods fell silent; the sudden outburst had startled the nearby woodland creatures. Slowly, the forest returned to life. The birds resumed their carefree games, chasing each other through the canopy, and the wild dragonhawk calls filled the air again, but no song was as strong as the one in Velin's heart. It was the most beautiful day he could have imagined, but he had eyes only for the bundle in his arms. The tenderness with which he ran his thumb along the baby's brow belied the strength in his broad shoulders. His long silver hair hung over the baby's face, keeping the bright sun out of its unexpectedly alert golden eyes, so like its mother’s. "Sun child," he said, and bursting into laughter again he raised the fussing baby above his head into the warming light of the sun for the entire world to see.

"If you're going to be so rough with him, you should at least remove your armor." Elissarra stood smiling in the doorway of the house, arms crossed and leaning against the frame. Three months alone with the baby should have taken their toll, but she looked as radiant as ever in her rose-colored silk tunic. Her alabaster skin seemed to glow in the sunlight and her immaculate raven hair fell in loose ringlets almost to her waist, bound only by a simple golden diadem that perfectly matched the color of her eyes.

Velin looked up at his wife as if seeing her for the first time in years. "So beautiful," he said softly. "I should never have left you, Elissarra. I expected to return home much sooner, but those damned forest trolls put up a hell of a fight. Their kind is dying out, but it doesn’t seem they wish to fade away." Velin shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Beasts they may be, but I can't help admire their spirit."

"How long can you stay?"

"I know not," Velin sighed. "A week, a month perhaps. I'm at the beck and call of the Convocation. When they have new orders, their couriers will find me." He closed his eyes, for a moment looking exhausted. "Only five years ... five years and I'm free of my obligation."

"Will the Convocation allow you to just ... retire? Letting go of a veteran soldier with almost two centuries of experience does not sound like something the Silver Circle would do."

"There is nothing they can do. My term of compulsory service ended decades ago, and I have no wish to extend it again." Velin walked over to his wife and kissed her on her forehead. "I have you to spend the rest of my life with. And now I have a son!"

Lightning flashed in the distance, striking the tree line far in the southwest. Tonatiuh looked over calmly as he walked past the gates into Silvermoon City. The dark clouds hung heavily over the areas he knew were troll territory. Perhaps the storm might make its way west past Fairbreeze Village, but that was no longer any concern of his. He had the herbs his mother had sent him there for, and had run back home as fast as he could after the first thunderclap. Now that he was inside the city limits, it did not matter. The lords of the city never let storm clouds blemish the sky. The Silver Circle kept everyone safe.

"Mother, I'm back!" Tonatiuh called out as he let himself into the house. He and his parents had only recently moved into the city. The cozy little house was located near the inn at Falconwing Square. It had been a gift given to his family by the Silver Circle in exchange for his father's extended service, and Tonatiuh much preferred this house to the cottage in the West Sanctum. He had friends to play with now, and they all had the most marvelous toys. Daydreaming of the games he'd play when his chore was done, Tonatiuh almost tripped over the rug at the base of the main stairwell. He caught himself at the last moment, chortling at his good luck. He ran up the stairs, arms tight around the package he clutched. Reaching the top of the stairs, he bent over panting. After a moment, he caught his breath and burst into his mother's study.

Elissarra sat at a large ornately-carved oak desk, facing the open window. The desk top was bare except for a single scroll she was poring over. She did not notice Tonatiuh's sudden intrusion until she felt him tugging at her sleeve. She started in surprise, but quickly recovered and pushed back her chair. In one fluid motion she stood and moved to the door of the study. She stuck her head out for a moment and seemed to look for something or someone. She then closed the door softly, and moved back to her chair. She sat down hastily, no sign now of the grace she usually displayed. Hands clasped tightly in her lap, eyes bright with fervor, she demanded
eagerly, "Do you have them?"

"The plants? Yes, mother. Lady Landra gave them to me herself. They sure smell though." Tonatiuh wrinkled his nose in distaste, and flinched as the bundle was nearly torn from him by his mother. She took it and placed it in the middle of the desk, next to the scroll she had been reading. Tonatiuh, eager to see what so excited his mother, grasped at the edge of the desk and struggled to pull his head above the desk top but he quickly gave that up. Frustrated, he looked around for a box or a stool he could use.

Unwrapping the package with trembling hands and giggling nervously, Elissarra gasped as she gazed at the contents, a look of pure joy on her face. She reached down and plucked out a single flower. The stem was a dark brown thing, smooth and completely unremarkable with a dark green teardrop-shaped head. She held the stem delicately between two fingers and turned to Tonatiuh. "Do you know what this is?" she asked, bringing it down so Tonatiuh could observe it closely. "This is one of the rarest, most beautiful flowers in the world. It is only found in the Alterac Mountains, far to the south."

"But it's so ugly!" Tonatiuh exclaimed.

Elissarra drew the flower back to herself, looking a little offended. "Well, it only blooms for a couple of days every year." She suddenly remembered why she had asked for the flowers in the first place and her eyes brightened as she smiled again, saying to Tonatiuh, "Watch this!" She turned back to the scroll she was reading earlier and furrowed her brow as she read and reread a single passage. Then turning back to face her son, she threw a glance at him and smiled nervously. She clasped the stem of the flower in one hand, cupping the other hand to hide the flower's head from his view. Murmuring inaudibly, she stared at the flower head and blew lightly upon it before drawing back her hand.

Tonatiuh watched the flower open, the petals curling outward slowly. The thick, full petals were dazzlingly white, streaked with perfect icy blue lines from the edges of each petal to the center of the flower. Framed by the petals was a perfect orb, an almost transparent crystalline structure. Innumerable strands intertwined to form a sphere so delicate, so fragile, that Tonatiuh was afraid to breathe lest it disintegrate.

"So lovely," Elissarra said softly.

"Lovely," echoed Tonatiuh, enraptured. He did not notice. He did not see his mother was gazing not at the flower, but at the scroll.

The clash of steel rang out again. Tonatiuh raised his head to stare longingly at a group of children his age sparring with their wooden practice swords at a nearby pavilion. The children were only fifteen years old, but they were not new to their game. For years the local children had gathered every day to hone their swordsmanship, their form and technique. After all, only the best would be taken on as recruits-in-training for the Silvermoon City Guard, one of the most honored and respected positions available to elves of the lower caste. The current pair crossing swords were two of the most skilled in the group. They rushed each other, ducking and weaving to dodge the heavy blows they rained at each other's heads. For several minutes the pair held the pavilion, neither of them backing down nor able to overpower their opponent, until one boy finally overextended himself with a lunge. His opponent immediately took advantage of the opening, and spinning behind the outstretched arm, brought her sword down in a vicious arc connecting with her unfortunate target's unprotected back. The victor was one of the few girls in the group, tall and lithe with her long golden hair in a ponytail. She raised her arms in victory, beaming as her friends erupted in cheers. Her bright green eyes and even smile were the most beautiful Tonatiuh had ever seen. He could have stood there, watching her forever.

Ringing steel shattered his reverie.

"Mind your step, boy!" snarled Velin.

Startled, Tonatiuh turned to face his father still standing at the forge. His foot caught on a large rock, and he fell on his face at his father's feet, spilling the water in the buckets he was carrying.

"You feel better now?" Velin growled at his son, not even deigning to look up at him. He stood at his largest anvil, holding a white-hot piece of iron with a pair of tongs, still hammering away. "Get up, you lazy oaf. Go and fetch me more water before you ruin the day's work." Grimacing in the sweltering heat of the open forge, Velin quickly shook his head to keep his eyes clear of the sweat running down the grooves of his deeply lined face.

Red-faced and near tears, Tonatiuh raised himself to his knees and slammed a clenched fist into the muddy ground, trembling with fury. "No!" he shouted, staring intently at the spilled water. "I shouldn't be doing this, father. This is slave's work and a waste of time. I need to start training soon or I'll never be good enough for the City Guard!"

Velin threw the hammer and tongs violently into the forge and tore off his thick leather gloves and apron. Storming out of the forge, he grabbed Tonatiuh by the shoulders and lifted him into the air effortlessly, bringing him to eye level. "LOOK AT ME," he said forcefully.

Tonatiuh reluctantly raised his head and struggled to hold back his furious tears as he stared his father in the face.

"You don't know what you're asking for," said Velin in a low, calm voice.

"Yes, I do!" Tonatiuh shot back. "I don’t want to be your apprentice and I don’t want to waste my life away making shoddy armor like you. I want to be one of the Guard like you used to be."

Completely impassive, Velin searched his son's face and nodded slowly. "Very well. Come with me." He set Tonatiuh down on his feet and locked a massive hand around Tonatiuh's upper arm, marching out to the pavilion where the dueling group was still sparring.

The second Tonatiuh got past his initial surprise and saw where he was being taken, he dug in his heels and tried to free his arm from his father's grasp. An expression of terror replaced the fury and the blood drained from his face as he realized that nothing he was doing slowed his father's relentless steps. He thrashed wildly, unable to speak as he was dragged straight into the middle of the pavilion.

The pair of children that had been dueling separated and looked curiously at Tonatiuh and Velin. They looked a trifle upset to be interrupted, but they knew better than to complain. Everyone knew who Velin was, and they would never dare speak rudely to him. Even their parents were cautious and not a little afraid when they spoke to him. Dark rumors circled the reclusive blacksmith ever since his resignation as Captain of the Silvermoon City Guard. One thing the inhabitants of the West Sanctum agreed on, no one in their right mind would voluntarily surrender such a prestigious position. Even at his age, Velin still had a good half century in him. It was a foolish thing he had done. It was no wonder his wife had abandoned him on that same day.

The children backed away as Velin took position across from his son. They were being uncharacteristically quiet, hoping the ex-Captain was not as insane as they had come to believe. If they were fortunate, perhaps he would show them something that could help them with their training. Eyes locked on Tonatiuh, Velin stretched out his hands expectantly and two practice swords were immediately placed in his open palms. He handed one to Tonatiuh and said, “Here is your lesson. Are you ready?”

Tonatiuh had been frozen in place, his heart in his throat and his eyes locked onto the same spot on the floor of the pavilion since his father had released his arm. Now he forced his head up and looked at his father. Tonatiuh understood what his father was doing and decided not to give him the satisfaction. Velin clearly wanted Tonatiuh to feel embarrassed, run away, and give up on his wish to join the ranks of the Silvermoon Guard. He didn’t dare look into the faces of their audience, fearing the scorn and disdain he might find in their eyes and lose his nerve. He summoned up his courage, looked Velin in the eye and in his bravest voice said, “Yes, father. I am ready.”

“No. You’re not,” Velin said softly. “Today you learn something I had hoped you would pick up on your own long ago. Humility.” Raising his voice, he spoke to the gathered children. “Line up behind me. Each of you is going to spar with my son. You will begin and end at my command only. You will show me your best skills and techniques or you will endure mine.” Turning behind him, he handed his sword to the first child in line: a tall, pretty girl with a long ponytail. Velin turned his back to Tonatiuh and the line of children. He walked to the railing of the pavilion, hands clasped behind his back, expressionless as he stared into the distance.

“Begin.”

Later that night at home, Velin tended to Tonatiuh’s injuries as best he could, cleaning the various cuts to prevent infection and setting two broken fingers on the left hand. While stitching up a nasty gash on Tonatiuh’s forehead, he asked, “Did you think they were your friends? That they would stand up to me and defend you?”

Velin stood and left the house without a word, returning moments later with a long package in his arms. It was a shapeless bundle wrapped in a dark violet cloth unlike anything Tonatiuh had ever seen. The bright red runes adoring the thick, rich, almost black cloth seemed to dance in the bloody light of the cottage’s fireplace. Velin pulled up a chair next to his son and sat with the package across his lap.

“Do you know why those children did not hesitate to hit you?”

“You told them to,” muttered Tonatiuh.

“They fear me. As you do. Fear will drive a man to do things he never would have thought himself capable of.” Velin paused, seeming lost in thought. “If you become a servant of the city you will be at the whim of the royal family and the Silver Circle. You will follow your orders without question and without hesitation, no matter how appalling they may be. You’ve lived your whole life in the shadow of the city, but I doubt you’ve so much as laid eyes on one of the lords. What do you know about them?”

“They’re the most powerful of the High Elves!” Tonatiuh exclaimed with sudden animation. “They protect Silvermoon and the Sanctums from being overrun by the forest trolls in the east. They’re the reason we are the most powerful nation in the world!”

“They are a cancer on our society,” Velin spat, voice dripping with hate. “You know nothing about them but the bedtime stories your mother filled your head with.”

Tonatiuh’s eyes widened in surprise, shocked into silence. He couldn’t remember ever seeing his father express such emotion about anything or even mentioning his mother in almost a decade.

Velin sighed, regaining his composure. “It doesn’t matter. This is not the time.”

“Father?”

Velin blinked, trying to recover his train of thought. “Fear… yes. That is how the Silver Circle keeps the Guard in line. They twist your mind with their false prophecies of doom.” Velin shook his head slowly. “Listen carefully. The King is a good man and from what I’ve seen, his son will one day be the same. You have no idea what strength they possess, but I believe their hearts are pure. They live only to protect the people. The nobles are also powerful, yes … but they are nothing like the King and young Prince. They are pretenders, snakes moving in the shadows, spreading venomous lies. They will sidle up to you and smile while they slip a dagger between your ribs. They build up their power and influence with each passing day, most likely scheming to one day surpass the King and take control of our people. I have lived long enough to learn these things, but not enough to understand their cause. Seeing into hearts so black is not an easy task.”

Tonatiuh tried to swallow but found his mouth and throat too dry. There was too much to take in and everything in his mind and heart protested against his father’s words. But Velin had never lied to him before. The glorious vision of Silvermoon he held in his heart was darkening with each word his father spoke.

“Our people don’t need more Guards. They need protectors. A Guard’s purpose is to follow orders. Nothing more. They are driven by a sense of obedience; pathetic hounds hoping to please their masters and be rewarded. They are guided only by their duty to the city; a responsibility to secure the capitol and abandon the helpless if doing otherwise would risk the nobles’ safety. A protector is driven by faith. We stand fearless in the face of danger because we know that with every second we stand strong we defend our people and inspire the strong to protect the weak. Faith will give you the strength to fight on when you find yourself ready to give in. A protector is guided by honor and loyalty. We uphold the values of our ancestors because they are what has led us through adversity. We would not have survived the Troll Wars without humbling ourselves and asking for the humans’ help, entrusting our fate to them. That is our ancestors’ legacy, and it will live on through us. Honor will give you the conviction necessary to resist temptations by the wicked, and loyalty will be your light in the darkness. When you are lost and confused, you will have to trust in your judgment and have faith that those you have placed your loyalties with have the best interests of our people in mind. That is the purpose of a protector. We are the shield that stands between the helpless and their doom, no matter the cost.”

Velin nodded to himself and continued, “You will train with the City Guard, and then you will have a choice. You can pledge yourself to the Silver Circle and the King for a century at the very least, and become just another dog begging for a pat on the head or you can take the hard road and walk the path of pain and loss. Make no mistake, the path you have set yourself on will bring you misery. Your choices now are to join the Guard and give your life to the city or become a protector and give your life to the people. Will you let fear control your fate or do you have the strength to resist?”

He looked down at the package in his lap. He had almost forgotten it was there. Unfolding the cloth, he revealed the two-handed sword within. From the point of the blade to the end of the pommel, the sword was almost as long as Tonatiuh was tall. The double-edged blade flared sharply twice: once just below the tip and a wider flare just above the hilt with an open fuller. The same cloth was used, tightly woven, to cover the grip. The blade itself was ornately decorated with the same runes on the cloth and depictions of ravens in flight along the edge. Both blade and pommel were made of a metal Tonatiuh had never seen before. The color was a black so deep it seemed to swallow up the light.

“Al’Shar it is called,” Velin said. “And true to its name, it brings nothing but despair. It was given to me by my father, and he inherited it from his. I know not who forged it or where. The blade never dulls and the grip never wears down. What I know is this: Al’Shar is older than the foundations of Silvermoon City itself. I used to fear the Silver Circle and their tremendous power and I followed every order without protest, without hesitation. For a century I was a slave to their whims. It was then that my father, on his deathbed, called me to his side and passed on Al’Shar to me. I had never seen it before and truly, I had no idea it existed. My father was as loath to touch it as I am today. I reveal it to you know only because I do not wish to see you pledge your life to wicked men and become their puppet as I did. I expect Al’Shar to do for you what it did for me. This sword has outlived empires and dynasties. For all their power, the Convocation of Silvermoon will be nothing more than an unpleasant blemish on the pages of history to Al’Shar. That is why I do not fear them. The Silver Circle are not everlasting and their very existence will be forgotten when they pass. Al’Shar will kill your fears and open your mind to the truth of things. You will see the horrors of the world for what they are and be stronger for it. I fear nothing in this world anymore except Al’Shar. I have come to believe that this blade is alive, and that it feeds on the essence of every living thing it comes into contact with. The day you can control your heart and mind, you will receive your inheritance. I give you only this warning, if you cannot control yourself, the blade will control you. Do you understand?”

Tonatiuh’s head was reeling, but he managed to answer. “Yes, father.”

Velin smiled sadly, saying softly, “No. You don’t.”

Tonatiuh reached out to Al’Shar with a single finger and touched the blade. Immediately he yelped and drew back his hand as if burned. For a second his mind had been filled with a terrible presence and he had heard a chillingly familiar voice. He had made contact with the blade long enough to hear it speak only one word: his name.

“Are you ready?”

Tonatiuh froze, turning warily to face Velin. These conversations never ended well, but he answered as he always did, “Yes, father.”

Velin sighed. “No. You’re not.”

Father and son sat on a bench side by side at the foot of a large fountain in the middle of Silvermoon’s Bazaar. It was the early summer solstice, the time of the Midsummer Fire Festival, and the bright sun had been beating down on the already unbearably humid day since dawn. Tonatiuh had come in the early morning at his father’s request and had been sitting patiently for several hours before Velin joined him.

“Have you done what I asked, boy?”

“Yes, father.”

“Tell me.”

Tonatiuh looked down at his hands clasped in his lap, wincing as the movement cracked the sunburnt skin of his neck. He was nervous about how to answer his father. Velin never asked him pointless questions, and every last one of them had always turned out to be a test of some kind. Tonatiuh took a long time trying to guess at what it was his father wanted to hear. Unable to do so, Tonatiuh decided to just tell him everything.

“The merchants arrived before sunrise to begin setting up the shops and booths. The changing of the Guard took place shortly after and they began their patrols. The Festival fires were re-lit and the tents raised. The auction house opened at daybreak, as it always does, and the traders emerged from their houses soon after. The children began to swarm when the jesters and jugglers began their routines.”

Tonatiuh paused and raised his eyes to the frenzied activity taking place in the Bazaar now. The city had been busy in the early morning but now he thought it seemed almost dead in comparison and he told his father so.

“And why is that?” Velin asked.

“The noble families. They came about two hours ago on their floating palanquins with their attendants in their wake. The minstrels and traders began to circle them almost immediately.” Tonatiuh shook his head, chuckling. “A while ago there was a trapper parading a veritable zoo for the nobles’ children. He had more than twenty specimens and no one to help him with them. The man was either new to his trade or very desperate.” Tonatiuh laughed, remembering. “He had tamed lynxes, mana wyrms, and dragonhawk hatchlings in his cages and in his hurry to display them all before the nobles passed him by he raised them all in the air with magic. He ran alongside the nobles, cages revolving around him at such a speed that the animals in his cages began to screech and throw themselves against their bars. In the end, the trapper sold none and succeeded in nothing more than frightening the ladies and bringing the children to tears.”

“I remember,” Velin said, smiling.

“You -”

“Yes, I was here. I have been here as long as you have, and I have been watching too.”

Tonatiuh’s eyes widened in dread, feeling sick as his stomach churned with fear.

“And now,” said Velin, “I will tell you what I saw.” Velin pointed at one of the shops. “The fishmonger there has a very impressive selection today. The problem is, I saw him arrive here directly from his own house. Unless the man has a river running under the city, those are the same fish he had yesterday and perhaps longer.” Velin turned now to the city walls and pointed up at the crimson-armored guards. “Can you see them? They are in the middle of their shift and they look like they haven’t slept in days. They lean on their double-bladed swords like crippled men on staves and I can hear their shields scraping the ground. Look at their faces. Their eyes are dull and their mouths half open. Do you know what would happen if the trolls – by some insane miracle – gathered the last surviving tribes and hit Silvermoon in a coordinated attack today? The city would be razed to the ground and these honorable guardians would only be the first and quickest to die. If the fates are kind, their worthless corpses would fall in the enemy’s path, choking the streets and slowing their advance. They would be good for little else. These are the people you have committed yourself to protect and one day you will have to ask yourself this question: What am I willing to sacrifice for them?"

Tonatiuh carefully watched his father out of the corner of his eye. This lecture was not going at all in the direction he expected. Perhaps Velin had been too distracted by his dislike of the sentries to keep an eye on his son. Tonatiuh sighed inwardly, daring to hope. He did not know what his father would do if he ha-

“… to you,” Velin said. He had not stopped talking, but Tonatiuh had not been paying attention.

“Excuse me?” asked Tonatiuh. His stomach had stopped churning. He couldn’t feel it at all in the bottomless void that replaced it.

“It was I that sent that girl over to you,” Velin repeated. “I was expecting you to show off for her. You are nothing if not predictable. I led her to believe you were the eldest son of one of the lords. You certainly have the look, and you have the blood if not the title, and it is obvious now that you have their aptitude for magic.”

“But you – ”

“Not me. Your mother. It doesn’t matter now. You were disowned by her family soon after I resigned from the Guard.”

For a long moment there was complete silence while Tonatiuh tried to wrap his mind around the situation. His father’s opinion of the Quel’dorei nobility and magic in general had never been a secret.

“Did you think you could keep it hidden from me?” Velin asked quietly. “You have no sublety, boy. There is a difference between those who practice with magic and those who don’t, though you may not be aware of it. You can see it in their eyes. The greed, the hunger. You don’t know where this road will take you.” Velin paused and cast his eyes around the Bazaar, setting them on one of the last palanquins around. “See there, look at that litter. Tell me what metal that frame is made from. You apprenticed to me long enough to make the distinctions.”

“It looks to be gold, father.”

“Correct. That litter is large enough to hold two adults comfortably, and though it is covered in that crimson silk, I can see that the entire frame is solid gold. Even through magic, lifting that continuously would put a heavy strain on anyone. The passengers, more like than not, are the strongest sorcerers in the entire group but it is their entourage that struggles to bear their weight.” Velin rubbed at his temples before continuing. “Eight years you’ve been training with me. Have you learned nothing?”

“Yes, now that we come to it, I have learned something.” Tonatiuh turned to his father angrily. “It’s true, father, I’ve been lying to you for years and you’ve been lying to me. I’ve been practicing magic almost as long as armed combat. I had to learn everything from my friends because you banned me from it. And for what? I caught up to the best of them in half a year. At least now I know how I was able to do that. Everything you told me about magic was a lie! I grow stronger every day now and it is not because of your training. I see the truth now; you’ve been keeping me from magic because you’re afraid of it. This has to be why my mother left y- ”

Tonatiuh was cut short by a sudden burst of blinding pain in his head. He was mildly surprised to find himself prone on the ground. He slowly stood up and shook his head, trying to get rid of the ringing in his right ear.

Velin still sat on the bench, watching the clouds in the sky as if nothing remarkable had happened. “This is your final lesson. Listen carefully – I will not repeat myself. I have left Al’Shar locked inside a chest under the stairs of the house in Falconwing Square. The deed to the house is in the same chest along with a substantial amount of gold. That house is your home now. You no longer have a place with me.”

“You say those old friends of yours taught you magic?” Velin asked. “What did they tell you about the addiction? Oh, you’re confused … surely your friends didn’t fail you so badly as to expose you to such power without informing you of the price,” Velin mocked. “Magic is a disease and we Quel’dorei are more susceptible to it than any other race. Once you start, you will never stop. You will have to learn to discipline yourself to control the urges and moderate the hunger. Giving in to it is NOT an option,” he snarled violently. “You will be tempted to, believe me. It is inevitable. Too many Quel’dorei have surrendered to the addiction, but the problem is that most never even realized it. Too many take their steadily increasing need as a sign that their strength and powers grow …”

Tonatiuh silently watched his father, noting the way Velin’s eyes became unfocused, seemingly lost in memory.

“… shut themselves in their studies, poring over ancient tomes and scrolls. They try to unlock the secrets of the world and increase their power. Most will waste away, failing time after time to discover the spells that will grant them untold riches and glory. These … are the fortunate ones,” Velin said bitterly. “A rare few have the will and proficiency to forge the mental connections needed to push past the surface and reach the magic in its rawest form. Almost all who enter into that endless well of energy are unable to detach themselves with their sanity intact. I see the doubt in your face and I understand your confusion. You’ve never seen anyone like that, have you? You don’t see them wandering the streets at night, screaming in terror at the shadows cast by the moon, ranting of phantoms in the flames and the coming doom of the world. No, you wouldn’t know of those poor wretches. They never last long. That is a less publicized function of the City Guard. We can’t have anything disturb the peace,” Velin finished grimly.

Tonatiuh stammered for a few moments before managing to say, “That will never happen to me. I am not that weak-willed.”

Velin turned to face his son, but didn’t seem to have heard what he said. His expression still vacant, he seemed to be staring right through Tonatiuh. “Do you know why I retired from the Guard? I got tired of being the Convocation’s executioner. I have killed countless trolls in my lifetime, all in defense of the city. It was also my duty as Captain, however, to put to an end the misery of those Quel’dorei driven mad by their misuse of magic. Every one of them was a danger to themselves and to others and though I wish the responsibility had never been mine, their madness was incurable so I did my job without hesitation and without regret. Except for one. Except for the last. She was the strongest one they had ever brought before me. She was the most dangerous. And she was the only one I would have gladly traded places with. She was the only one I loved…”

Tonatiuh sensed his mind trying to shut down, but it wasn’t happening nearly as fast as he wished. He could feel the tingling in his extremities as they slowly went numb but he did not feel the impact on his legs as he fell to his knees. He clenched his fists and covered his ears to shut out the sound of Velin’s voice while repeating, “No, no, no, no …” as he faded into unconsciousness. Somehow, Velin’s voice cut through and Tonatiuh was able to clearly hear the last words his father ever spoke to him:

“She really had the most beautiful golden eyes …”

Tonatiuh opened his eyes on a cloudy, late afternoon sky. He was lying, stretched out in the shade of a tall oak tree, watching the golden leaves stirring in the light autumn breeze. He sat up and looked about him. The birds and squirrels had left the trees and were splashing in the shallow river just yards away from him. The warm air caressed his face, soft as a lover’s tender touch. A perfect day … this should have been a perfect day, he thought.

Tonatiuh saw the world as if in a dream; all was unfocused, sounds muffled as if he was underwater. Fairbreeze Village to his back, he had a clear view of Silvermoon City to the north, glowing in the light of the sun setting in the west – jewel of the northern lands. Tonatiuh sat a little longer, hidden by the raised roots of the tree and thick bushes growing close by, gazing somberly at the city. A perfect day … this should have been a perfect day.

The sun disappeared below the horizon and the woods began to darken. Slowly Tonatiuh stood and the veil lifted. The dream melted away as he returned to reality, to the living nightmare. Despite the absent sun the city still glowed, no longer illuminated from the west but from below. Silvermoon was burning. Unable to keep looking at the city, Tonatiuh turned to the river now black in the twilight. Crows and dragonhawks stood at the riverbank, all but invisible in the growing darkness, staring intently into the river, watching squirrels swim against the current and try to reach the relative safety of the riverside. The dragonhawks burst into flight suddenly, hovering above the river and darting their heads into the water, trying to get at their prey. Talons raked the surface, fishing out squirrels and tossing them into the air to be snapped up a second later.

Tonatiuh frowned, watching the scene. Something was wrong. He struggled to concentrate and think clearly but the growing ache in his head distracted him. He clenched his eyes and began to rub at his temples when a bolt of pain shot through him and brought him to his knees. When he was finally able to open his eyes, he looked at his hand and almost swallowed his tongue in shock. The pale skin of his forearm stood out clearly in the darkness, but his hand was gone. Tonatiuh was worried that he felt no pain beside the searing knives in his head until he moved his hand and saw a tiny ember of light where his hand used to be. It was a reflection of burning Silvermoon.

“Oh. Well … that’s not good.” Tonatiuh sighed, unsure whether or not to feel relieved. His hand wasn’t gone, it was covered in the blood flowing from an open wound on his head. At least that explains the haze. Tonatiuh turned to look at the tree he had been laying by. Yes, there was a dark streak halfway up the trunk. Tonatiuh walked down into the river a safe distance downstream from the dragonhawks and crows and plunged his head into the water, attempting to wash the wound clean. The icy water sent shivers up his spine, but he felt refreshed and clear-headed. His vision started to clear and his hearing was improving. His ears must have been clogged with dried blood, but the river was dissolving it.

The wound on his head stung painfully, but Tonatiuh kept on. Better to endure the pain now than suffer an infection later. He needed to find out the extent of his injury and there was not enough light to help him see a reflection of himself in the water, so Tonatiuh had to rely on his spotty memories of his last moments before unconsciousness. He remembered the hopeless battle and he remembered flying through the air when –

“eeeEEEEEeeeeeee!”

Tonatiuh snapped his head in the direction of the blood-chilling metallic squeal that filled the air. The activity upriver was a lot noisier than he remembered. The dragonhawks were still fishing but the crows had gotten jealous and impatient. The crows were vague blurs in the dark, darting everywhere, harassing the dragonhawks and trying to steal away a morsel. The moon emerged from behind the clouds and light fell on the river, now in frenzy; the terrified squirrels were thrashing wildly and squealing, all too visible. It wasn’t long before the dragonhawks tired and drifted off, leaving the crows to gorge at the riverside. The crows weren’t able to scavenge the river. They couldn’t handle the current, and they’d be swept away if they tried. The animal remains they couldn’t reach drifted past them and floated down to where Tonatiuh stood waist-deep. Bloody animal carcasses swirled around him and the silver moonlight showed him his mistake. Not squirrels.

Moments later, Tonatiuh emerged from nearby bushes wiping his mouth, face noticeably greener. The dead and dying plague rats floating in the river he’d been cleaning himself in was a bit more than his stomach could handle at the moment. Rats were almost never seen in the Eversong Woods, and he had not been expecting them. This new plague had come with the invading army like flies swarming a rotting corpse. The rats must not have been able to cross the river when the host they trailed did.

Looking to the east, Tonatiuh could see the path the enemy had taken on their march to Silvermoon. Everywhere the army had set foot, the land was dead. Their path was marked by an unholy blight two hundred yards wide and extending beyond sight to the north and south. Tonatiuh didn’t know where the army came from but judging by the path of destruction left in their wake, they might have come from the human city of Stratholme if not someplace further south. The only reason he had to doubt the army’s origins was that none of the invaders were human – anymore.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Tonatiuh turned south. Silvermoon was taken and beyond saving. Moving back to the tree he had struck, he combed the area until he found what he was looking for. Twenty yards from where he had woken up, Al’Shar was impaled in the thick trunk of a tree almost to the grip. It took about a half hour of strain for Tonatiuh to wrench the sword free, falling flat on his back at the last yank and striking the back of his head on hard dirt.

As his vision faded and he slipped back into unconsciousness, Tonatiuh cursed himself silently. Faintly, he could hear screams carried on the wind. He had been unable to stand against the invaders, and innocents were being slaughtered while he blacked out. For almost a century he had been patrolling the Sanctums, protecting the defenseless, fighting back the trolls and wilderness … now he failed in his duty when most he was needed. Quel’thalas was in ruins and the High Elves were being slaughtered by monsters. “I’m sorry, father,” he slurred. “I failed you.” He had no family to look after. Now he had no people to protect. Only one thing remained in this world for him: Acalyn.

Al’Shar lay out of Tonatiuh’s sight, forgotten as his mind faded. Above the grip, at the center of its eye a spark appeared; a violet star gleaming in the dark, framed by the non-reflective blade. The spark grew and engulfed the blade in a low violet glow. Al’Shar was waking.

Tonatiuh was lying in the grass, arms outstretched, eyes locked on the bright full moon and the violet stars. So pretty, he thought. High up in the boughs of the trees around Tonatiuh, the crows peered at him through the leaves. Dozens of them perched on the branches encircling him, silent unblinking sentries. Their eyes glowed the same violet light of Al’Shar’s blade.

The blood pooling around Tonatiuh’s head reflected the moonlight like a brilliant halo. His legs and arms grew cold but he did not shiver. His breath slowed and his eyes slipped shut, thinking of Acalyn’s lovely face and her sweet embrace. They would have been married today. His last thoughts as his mind slipped away were of Acalyn and their perfect day. This should have been a perfect day.