Playing with Fire - Of loss and grief

Chapter One: Denial

The Sunwell enlightened our lives and shed its glory upon us, back in the years. It is hard for an outsider to understand its importance for us. It was as essential as the air we breathed, as intoxicating and soothing as Golden Sansam's smoke. For us, drinking on its magic was like drinking water for survival; we downed it as a man in the desert downed water, welcoming an oasis as his last salvation. Every time we would step away from our lands and the Sunwell, darkness would consume our hearts; at least until we returned and paid a visit to the blessed Light, even before we found ourselves a place to rest after a month's long journey. If we stood too much time away, it felt as if we were slowly drowning - and returning to it felt the same a drowning man feels taking the first gulps of fresh air after escaping Death's grip. We worshipped the sacred Sunwell; we were more eager to pay tribute to it than to our beloved dead. The Sunwell was central and vital to our existence - our kingdom was built under its Light, our people raised with its glory. We loved it, with every fiber of our being. We protected it with our lives.

It was in this glorious past, by the Light of the Sunwell, that I met my fiancé. He chose a darker path, filled with demons and curses, but he fed on the Light and loved it almost as much as I did. He was charming and alluring, well versed in coaxing sighs of delight from my lips, and for a moment in my life, I felt I was whole. I thrived in the arcane arts and found a new passion in pyromancy along with my grim Master, my beloved proposed to me and my poor father couldn't even start to guess the mistakes I was hiding from him. The kingdom of Quel'thalas was blooming, and so was I.

And then our world was shattered. The undead tore through our land, raided us, broke us. They left scars on the land, but the most painful of all were the scars they left in our hearts. The destruction of the Sunwell left a hole in my heart, and I almost died because of it. I should have learned, back then, that such dependence on something that could be taken from us could only bring us suffering. Some of us were so addicted to the Light of the Sunwell that they fell with it, and like them, I almost did as well.

I almost lost my fiancé on the siege laid to our capital, but for quite a while I thought my dear father was gone, and so my mourning was deeper. That, on the other hand, is another story.

Luckily, my dearest love was alive - heartbroken and weak, but alive. Our love was strong, and it helped us survive when our souls were weak and withdrawal consumed our minds. I guess I would have gone mad if it wasn't for him. We supported each other, but it wasn't enough for long. We turned to our Prince, seeking help and hope. And curious enough, in the oddest of places, he promised us there was hope - that there was a way back to restoring our glorious kingdom to what it was. And so we were summoned - and joined him to Outlands.

That also proved to be a mistake, but it took a while for me to realize. I had everything I needed at the moment. Fel magic was sweet and numbing, and I was intoxicated. My studies were encouraged, and I had a bunch of brilliant minds by my side - it was stimulating. I had a focus, I was part of something big and important, and we were given a purpose, a horizon. We would save our people. Aside from that... Even my most dark and secret urges were encouraged and fed.

"I'm sure you and your fiancé had a lot of fun," the man interrupted her narrative. "But I guess you're not referring to that, right?"

He showed her that smile again, almost as malicious as his eyes.