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| - The young teenaged girl lay silent in her bed, a sweat glistening on her brow. The fever had lasted for well over a week, and still no end was apparent. Blonde hair dampened with sweat lay across her pale brow. Eyes blue as the winter sky were rimmed with red. Her frail frame shuddered in a fit of coughing and she attempted to sit up. Dizzy and disoriented, she arose from her bed and shuffled towards the door of her room. “Mother?” her voice was hoarse, even to her own ears. She strained to be louder, “Mother?” Her mother rushed up the stairs to her aid. “Isa!” she admonished, “You need to be in bed. You will never get better if you do not rest.” Aideen d’Sylvere was a stunning woman, with hair the color of sunset and eyes the color of smoke. She brushed the damp hair off of her teenaged daughter’s forehead and felt for a fever with one hand. She winced but said firmly, “Bed, my darling daughter.” Isa weakly nodded, allowing herself to be led back to bed. Aideen sat on the bed beside her. Quickly and efficiently, Aideen left the room and returned with a cup of fresh, cool water. “Drink,” she said gently. Slender fingers slipped around the offered cup, and her hands shook lightly to bear the weight. She sipped from the cup gratefully and sighed slightly, looking to her mother with wide eyes. “I’m going to be okay, right?” she asked fearfully. Aideen kissed her forehead softly. “Of course you will. Now rest,” she said as she made her way quietly out of the room. Isa saw the doubt in her mother’s eyes. She had heard her parents talking of a plague sweeping through the countryside. The people in towns had been dying of strange and inexplicable causes. She didn’t know any details, only what she could hear through the cracks in the floors, but Isa was scared. Her fever had started suddenly, and for days she could barely eat a thing. Finishing her water, she looked out her window, leaning her weary head against her arms. The sun dipped down to the horizon, light fading from the countryside of Lordaeron. Shadows seemed to gain power and move stealthily from their hiding places. Streaks of the softest pink gave way to purple as day fought to succumb to the night. As the first stars became visible, Isa lay down to sleep; scared of what may come. She was awoken in the middle of night by a fierce shaking. “Issy!” a voice hissed, “You have to wake up. You have to come with me.” She opened her eyes to see the figure of her brother, his silver armor stained with blood. Light brown hair fell into his eyes and his helmet and mace were haphazardly tossed to the floor. “Kaveric? What’s…?” “There’s no time!” he insisted. “Get up; we have to go, NOW!” She stood wearily, attempting to shake off the vertigo that struck her. His terror was evident in his green eyes. As she dressed, Kaveric watched out the window vigilantly. It was only at that time that Isa heard the noises from outside. Screams of terror, moans of agony were coming from the streets. Terror gripped her and turned her blood to ice. “What’s happening?” she asked fearfully. “ISA, FASTER!” he hissed, replacing his helm and picking up his mace. She quickly put on the first robe she could find and donned a pair of shoes. She followed her brother, a young recruit to the Silver Hand, down the stairs. The sight at her kitchen table stole her confusion and immediately replaced it with terror. Her parents sat at the table, silent. Their soulless eyes looked vacantly across the room at nothing. Slowly, Isa approached them. She touched her mother’s hair questioningly. “Mother?” she whispered. The woman said nothing. Their faces had an eerie greenish pallor. Kaveric pulled her hand away and dragged her towards the door. “You can’t help them, Isa. It was in the grain. The damned plague was in the grain.” He dragged her up to face him; “The only reason you have been spared by this is because you’ve been so sick. Had you eaten, you would be infected.” She stared at him in shocked disbelief. “So mother… father…. They’re?” Her voice trailed off. “Yes,” he said. “Far better you see them like this than what happens when… never mind what happens. We need to find a place for you to hide.” “From WHAT?” she protested as he pulled her out the back door and into a back alley. Kaveric looked at her in disbelief and pointed to the streets. “Look around, sister. Death has come to Stratholme in the guise of mercy. Arthas has gone mad. He thinks genocide is the answer. No attempts to dissuade him have worked. He and his men are progressing through the city, destroying everything that lives.” Isa shook her head in abject horror as he continued. “But that’s the easy death,” Kaveric said bitterly. “On the other side of town is something that I can only describe as a demon. He, too, with an army of creatures from hell is slaughtering the city claiming the souls of all he destroys. Death by his hand means service in his nightmarish army. For eternity.” Isa began to cry, her knees weakening and she fell to the ground. Her brother hoisted her up to her feet and held her gently. “There’s no time for fear. Fear will only lead do death. You have to go. Stay out of the streets; try to make it to the eastern gates of the city. Be strong.” She held fast to his armor, sobbing. “What about you? Where will you go?” He gently smoothed her hair, but looked around warily. “I have to fight these monsters. I have to try. I’ll meet back up with Uther and his forces. The Alliance will persevere. I just… don’t know how.” With a light kiss to her forehead, he hefted his mace. “Now go. Live. I love you,” he whispered. Isa turned from him and fled. With tears streaming down her face, she ran through the back alleys of Stratholme. Screams echoed off the buildings and seemed to come from every direction. She leaned into a doorway, coughing as she attempted to catch her breath. Suddenly, she heard noises from ahead of her. A group of strange creatures were huddled together just down the way. Whitish grey, with oozing wrinkled skin, they were digging and pawing at something in the road. With a gag of revulsion, she realized it was a human body. They were eating the flesh from a human body. The sounds of the gruesome feast seemed to echo in her ears and she tasted bile in the back of her throat. With an inquisitive growling noise, one of the four creatures lifted his head, blood smeared across his bony face. He seemed to sniff the air. Isa forced herself back into the shadow of the doorway. The creatures appeared to have mouths as wide as their own faces. Large, sharp teeth gaped from their bloody maws. Their muscled arms ended in large hands with claws. Never in her darkest nightmares could Isa have imagined such an evil. The inquisitive one continued to look around. Sniffing like a dog, he came closer to her hiding spot. She held her breath, praying to the light that he would not see her. She reached her hands behind her body and quietly tried to open the door. Her prayers were answered with an unlocked door. Opening it, she backed out of the alley and into the home. At an agonizingly slow speed, she closed the door. She latched and barred it quickly and ducked down below the windows to avoid being seen. The creatures finished their meal and continued down the alley past her hiding spot. With a sigh of relief, Isa turned to check the house. Immediately behind her, a man stood. Her heart pounded as she backed away from him quickly. Her movement went unnoticed. He stood in the middle of the room, unseeing, with the same vacant stare of her parents. Cautiously, Isa moved around him to check the front door. She locked it and sat down against it. Her head was pounding, her lungs were burning. She coughed violently. The fever that saved her life now threatened her safety. Slumped against the door, she watched the man cautiously. He seemed to pay her no mind, simply standing there; staring into nothing. Dawn was breaking, creating strange shadows on the floor. Grey light drifted through windows, offering no solace. Suddenly, the man made a noise. Isa’s eyes stayed focused on him, ready to take flight. A long low groan escaped from lightly parted lips. His breathing became heavy and rapid. His vacant eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the floor as if he had no control of his muscles. Isa’s heart leapt into her throat as a cold wave of panic washed over her. Her brother’s words echoed in her mind. “Far better you see them like this than what happens when… never mind what happens.” Isa knew if she did not flee, she would see exactly what her brother omitted. The body on the floor twitched and convulsed. Muscle and bone seemed to twist and strain as a deafening howl came from the man. His hands tightened into claws, nails exposed and elongated. His jaw seemed to separate as new teeth appeared from nothing. And his face, oh his face… Isa couldn’t bear to watch and yet could not look away. All humanity drained from his eyes and a sickly yellow glow emanated from them. He was turning into one of the creatures from the alley! She had no weapons, and her mage training was in the earliest of stages. There was only one spell she knew, only one spell she had been taught: fireball. She pulled herself to her feet and focused her energy as the arch mages had taught. She pulled on the light inside of her and the light around her and thought of fire. Fire: burning, destroying, cleansing, primal fire. She brought her hands together, focusing her energy on that desire, on that need. The air between her hands shimmered and grew hot as the air combusted. She pushed with her mind, with her soul to create the fireball. It roared to life between her hands as she focused, standing still, unmoving for the specific time to get the incantation right. The fire burned her fingers and hands as she let it fly towards the targeted beast. The fireball roared across the room and slammed into the creature in a fury of sparks. He immediately ignited. An inhuman shriek of pain bounced off the walls as he thrashed about, burning. Isa attempted to refocus her energy to release another volley. The man-creature ran about the room, howling in pain and anger. The fire blazed off of the last of his clothing. It was at that moment of bitter victory that the curtains caught fire. The flames licked up the walls as if it had a life of its own. The fire was hungry and so it consumed everything it could reach. Flames from the ignited curtains spread up the wall and licked across the ceiling. Isa ignored this as the flaming creature realized she was the cause of his pain and charged her. She stopped casting and dove behind the table. Frantically she grabbed a chair to fend off the creature. The flimsy wood shattered in her hands, catching fire as well. The creature came for her, snarling, blistering, barring its teeth all the while the flames devoured the house around her. In terror, Isa began casting. Her focus was better, her time reduced. Another fireball flew across the room and landed on the creature as it reached her. The explosion of fire was astounding. The creature fell to the ground, blazing. Isa backed away quickly and immediately saw the damage her untrained powers had caused. The fire was everywhere, blazing around the room. It was quickly becoming an inferno, and both exits were barred. “Great,” she muttered to herself in utter despair. The ceiling creaked ominously and she looked up to see the wrath of flames above her. She ran for the door, the flames hungrily licking at her robes. She stamped at them and tried to open the door. Her hand was burned by the searing heat of the door knob and she pulled back in pain. The creaking above her worsened and she ran to the window. Without even bothering to look outside, she smashed the glass out into the alley. The arm of her robe caught fire, but she ignored it. Brushing the glass out of the way, Isa climbed through. Her arm seared and blistered horribly as she hung from the window before dropping to the ground lightly. She found a nearby barrel of holy water and doused her burning arm. A cloud of steam floated upward as the flames were extinguished and Isa let out a scream of pain. A scream of loss. A scream of terror. The tears welled up as she examined the burned skin, forever a testament to this night. Tearing a strip from her dress (which proved to be difficult with one hand out of commission) she haphazardly wrapped the burn. Once her arm was secure, she ran down the alley. Tears left streaks on her ash-covered cheeks as she ran down the alley. Breaking free of the alley, she emerged on the main street of Stratholme. Buildings were burning, and bodies littered the streets. She ran. Her lungs burned and her muscles ached, but still she ran for the gates. Past the horrors of her homeland, through the once great city, the bastion of the Alliance; she ran. Not as if her life depended on it, she ran because her life did, in fact, depend on it. Isa reached the Eastern gate and slipped through the opening. She made it just off the road before she collapsed. She awoke to a cold cloth on her face. A woman in white robes hovered over Isa’s prone body. “Did I live?” she managed to whisper. “Yes, dear,” the woman replied. “You’re safe.” Isa closed her eyes and cradled her ruined arm. “No.” “We will never be safe again.”
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