History Repeats Itself

It was a time of peace since the defeat of the Legion. Horde and Alliance forces set aside their personal hatreds to work together and vanquish the larger evil presence, and prevailed. For the first time since Taiream was revived, she had never seen such teamwork. Songs would be sang of this time, and stories would become legends. For the first time in years, peace fell upon Azeroth.

"Miss Sandoval, a message from the Banshee Queen herself, if I may." A tall guard tapped against the open door of Taiream's work quarters, holding a small letter in his hand. Taiream looked up from her work, pushing her goggles up to the top of her head. She gestured for the guard to continue.

"You are invited to attend a planned visit to Arathi Highlands where King Anduin Wrynn and Lady Sylvanas Windrunner have agreed for a small reunion between human and forsaken, to talk to family otherwise left behind or killed. We leave in two days, where we will travel through Silverpine and Hillsbrad to Arathi Highlands." The forsaken looked up from the paper for a brief moment. "There will be no weapons, no magic, and no hostility. We leave the same day by dusk. Will you join?

Taiream stood from her desk, her back bones cracking as she rose. "Mm, no thank you." Picking up the blueprints she was recently working on, she walked to the leftmost wall and pinned it. Realising the guard remained, she turned to him, "Anything else?"



"N-no, Miss..." He stood upright, averting his gaze by looking down at the paper. "Do you not wish to see any of your family? This might be the only chance of a peaceful visit, you should at least consider it."

"My family have made it very clear to me that they no longer wish to see me. Going will only be a waste of my time." Taiream rummaged through one of the drawers searchingly. "If that's everything, you may leave."

"Miss Sandoval..." The guard croaked. He ducked under the doorway and into her quarters, reaching into his pocket where he took out a small sheet of paper curled into a scroll and wrapped in blue silk.

Before Taiream could speak, he thrust the scroll into Taiream's hands and clasped her fingers around it. "Consider it." And he exited the room without another word.

The paper felt heavy in her hands. She closed the door and set herself back down at her desk, placing the scroll down in front of her. "Consider it... Pah. As if they would." Bitterly she unwrapped the letter, discarding the ribbon as she unravelled the note.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, then raised in surprise. Her metal jaw clicked as her eyes narrowed and she scrunched up the letter and chucked it on the floor before putting her goggles back into place. "As if they fucking would."

-

The peace was short lived where Sylvanas was concerned. News travelled home fast that what was supposed to be a happy reunion for families that are separated by allegiance became a bloodbath. Rumours spread; the humans planned an attack; the forsaken drew first. But when Sylvanas and the remaining forsaken returned, no one dared to utter a single word.

Taiream never asked. Deep down, she only wondered if her remaining family did go, expecting to see her there. Whether she would see her mother and father, whether they would ever look at her the same again. Would they have been happy to see her? Did her husband ever-

“Miss Sandoval.”

“You’re back.” Taiream said, as though she weren’t just reminiscing about her past. She wasn’t wearing her goggles – instead a pair of rounded glasses sat atop her nose. She pushed them up.

The guard – she never asked for his name – like before, stood at her door. He didn’t have a note this time, but she could tell he wasn’t here for a conversation. He wouldn’t look at Taiream, instead choosing to stare at the wall covered in designs and blueprints. “All able bodied must follow our Warchief into battle at Ashenvale. Effective immediately.”

“Since when were we at war?”

“Since the Banshee Queen wishes to stop a war before it begins.”

“Stop a war by starting a war...” Taiream chuckled.

“Are you questioning our Banshee Queen?”

She shook her head, taking her glasses off and replacing them with her blue tinted goggles. “Never.” As the guard started to leave, Taiream reached out for him, just barely grazing his arm. “Uh, what’s your name?”

The guard slowly turned, his bones creaking. “Case.”

“Not that I care, but... Did you see-“

“There were a lot of people there, Miss Sandoval. I’ll take my leave.” Case shut the door without another word.

Taiream sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. She let lingering thoughts of her past fall to the back of mind and proceeded to equip her armour ready for the fight ahead.

-

Out of all of the attacks Sylvanas has instigated, this was one that Taiream truly could not agree with. She arrived at Darkshore from the south western point of Zoram’gar Outpost, amongst the other soldiers. It was crowded and busy; the armoursmiths were busier than ever keeping up with the Warchief’s demands, and the innkeeper was struggling to find room for all of the soldiers to have some short-lived downtime before the upcoming battle.

Taiream heard what happened in Astranaar earlier, before she’d arrived. Senseless murder. The entire city was upturned without a single warning, giving no time for the elves to even try to protect themselves. She overheard a pair of Blood Elves whispering about the wisps, how they rushed away from the town towards Teldrassil. Taiream was no fool. This wasn’t a war, it was a massacre and they were far from finished.

Still, Taiream followed her Warchief into battle – as if she ever had the choice. Looking around at the soldiers, it was clear there were a small few others who felt the same, with wide eyes full of fear, full of remorse. It wasn’t that she wanted to fight, but as they travelled closer and closer to the front lines, to the hundreds of elven warriors ready to defend their land, Taiream readied herself – the tips of her fingers glowing a fiery red. Hearing the war cry, she charged in, fire erupting from within her and setting the elves ablaze.

It wasn’t right, but Taiream knew first-hand what would happen if she defied her Warchief’s orders.

“All of this – for what, exactly?” It was an unfamiliar voice – belonging to a Blood Elf if the dialect was anything to go by. She had just lodged her sword in the back of a Night Elf, stepping on her back to pull it back out.

Taiream raised a brow and turned towards the voice. “What do you mean by that?”

The elf – fully armoured in thick, black plate – turned in Taiream’s direction. “I’ve seen my own home destroyed. Friends, family-” she held her sword up to deflect an incoming flurry of arrows. Taiream hid behind her for protection, peeking from behind in order to set off a counter attack of flames. “-senselessly murdered. For what?!”

“We’re--” the sentence was interrupted by screams of terror; much worse than she’d heard so far. Her eyes widened as she saw flames erupt far north, across the sea. It was so fast, unlike any fire she’d seen before. Teldrassil caught alight faster than anyone could notice to do anything about it. “No... This wasn’t...!” Sylvanas had done questionable things in the past, that much was true. To burn down a world tree? Was this really her plan all along?

The Blood Elf stood up straight quickly, sheathing her sword on her back. “Are you going to move or just stand there to die?!” She yelled, reaching a hand out towards Taiream, who grabbed it without a second thought. The elf ran them towards the ocean, following along the shore south, as far away from the burning tree as possible. Getting a grip of herself, Taiream let go of the other’s hand and kept up a steady pace, jumping over and swerving the countless corpses – Horde and Alliance alike – that littered the beach.

Zoram’gar Outpost was just within their sights, the orange hue of the burning tree illuminating the waters to their side and reflecting on their faces. When they returned to the small settlement, the losses began to really sink in. Where soldiers were abundant and struggling to move around, the space that replaced them was... It was haunting.

“I hope this was worth it.” The elf said to Taiream, sat together under a tent with a small fire warming them up. The air was smoky and dusty, even from this distance away from the world tree.

Taiream picked at some dirt under her nails. “Our Warchief knows what she’s doing.” She sighed, and it made the elf’s ears perk up.

“You sound convinced.”

“I only wonder what she plans next. Darnassus is gone, but what does that do to us? What makes her think the Alliance won’t fight back ten times as hard? I-” she quietened her voice to a whisper, leaning in close to the elf (who pulled back a little and wrinkled her nose), “I don’t mean to question Lady Sylvanas, but this can only mean the worst for us.”

The elf leaned back and used her hands to keep her steady. “It’s an act of cowardice. To kill so many innocents... What was she thinking?”

Taiream shook her head. “She wasn’t.”

The makeshift beds were uncomfortable, but it was better than sleeping on the floor. Even though many, many soldiers never returned, there still wasn’t enough beds for everyone who managed to return. Taiream and the elf were lucky to even get one each. By the sounds of it, the elf was already fast asleep, her armour discarded underneath her temporary bed. Around the room, people groaned in pain, and mourned for the fallen – hardly an environment to easily sleep in. Taiream stared at the ceiling, a hand on her stomach as she focused on the slow rise and fall of her chest.

She closed her eyes, and could see her old home, bright and beautiful and bustling with citizens. She could see her parents; her mother, a proud lady, and her father in the courtyard before the cathedral. Her husband was there too, smiling softly. They were peaceful, undisturbed. Taiream could feel her feet move towards them without her even thinking, before green smoke enveloped them like a swooping gust of wind, the rest of the city of Gilneas crumbling around her. She closed in on herself, dropping to her knees and clutching her chest as though in pain – but she felt nothing. She felt nothing as the green smoke filled her lungs and as she reached out for something – anything – all she could see was the silhouette of the Banshee Queen, a hundred forsaken behind her and closing in, fast.

The scene blurred. What was once the broken land of Gilneas became pink and green and purple – no, it was red, it was orange, the city was on fire it was burning and the elven bodies dropped like flies and melted into the ground, unrecognisable. The smoke filled the open air and suffocated the trees, wrapping around the necks of mothers and children as they clutched onto their last moments of life before the smoke finally relieved them of the pain. Taiream stood in the middle of Darnassus, seemingly unharmed by the flames that snaked their way amongst the trees and the houses. Beside her the tall figure of Sylvanas stood proudly, her crimson eyes dripping with anticipation. Standing next to Sylvanas, Taiream felt small, inconvenient. In this moment, she really was; with no way to fight the flames, Taiream was helpless, left to watch as the remnants of Sylvanas’ honourless attack left innocents homeless, children orphaned.

Taiream twisted and turned in her bed, the cries of her fellow soldiers the only thing to listen to as she tried achingly to get some rest tonight.