“Niyabi, dear, can you help me with these? I doubt that Makrath can handle all of it by himself.”

“Of course, mother.”

My mother, Linessa Sunmourner, is a warlock of great power. At least, she was until her husband and my father along with his group were ambushed in the Plaguelands, never to be seen or heard from again. She forever changed our family name from Sunweaver to Sunmourner after the incident, proving that she never quite recovered from the loss. But now, she is finally leaving her depression behind, and I am very proud of her for it.

She now seems to only use her demonic minions to help around the house, but mostly to wash the dishes and do other chores. I don’t know how she convinced them to do it; it is quite possible that she bribed them with some of her famous Dalaran clam chowder. No one could ever say no to it.

As her voidwalker Makrath floats into the kitchen carrying a stack of dishes to the sink, and the felhunter shuffles by with rags tied to its feet, my mother brings up the question I always try to avoid: my future, and the start of my contributions to our great race and what I shall do to help our people recover what we lost.

“I do realize that it is your decision on how you shall contribute to our society, but I--”

“‘--want to give you a nudge in the right direction.’” I recite. I’ve heard it so many times I would be able to say it in my sleep. “I thank you for the help, mother, but I’m not sure on being a warlock, or a mage, or even a priestess. You have tried to teach me half of those magics, and we both remember what happened.”

We both cringe slightly at the memory of those particular lessons. Makrath was the very unfortunate victim in the last few incidents involving my use of the magics that she tried to teach me. I doubt that he has forgiven me for those.

“Mother, what is your opinion of Blood Knights?”

I know what this question would lead to: my father. He was a Blood Knight since before I was born, and he took great pride in it.

I can see my mother stop in her tracks, but no sad look crosses her face like it used to. She turns to me, and smiles warmly.

“Your father would be proud of you, to follow in his footsteps like this.”

She grabs me into a hug, and I return it.

“Thank you, mother.”

She releases me, gives a proud smile, and begins brushing what little dirt there is off of my clothes.

“Well, go on now. You cannot become a Blood Knight just by hoping for it.”

“Have you any idea who I should speak to?”

“Head over to the Farstrider’s Square, and be sure to ask for Lars Windstriker. He was a good friend of your father’s, and would be able to at least point you in the right direction.”

I kiss my mother on the cheek.

“Thank you again, mother, and I shan’t be long.”

I am so happy that I could skip like a young girl. My mother has overcome her depression, and I finally get to play the part I have always wanted in society. I have been waiting for this day for years. I have known that I wanted to be a Blood Knight since always; it just felt like my calling. And I finally have my chance to act upon it.

I give in to that inner young girl and skip merrily to the Farstrider’s Square of my lovely home city of Silvermoon. After hardly a minute, I start feeling awkward about showing such childish joy in public, and walk stiffly towards place I need to be. Finally reaching it, I ask around for a “Lars Windstriker” like my mother said. When he finally steps forward, he’s only a little of what I imagined him to be: his blue-black hair reaches his mid-back, and the armor he wears carries a tarnished but unyielding look. He approaches me, an eyes narrowing.

“I heard that a young girl was asking around for me. What is it that I can do for you, Miss…?”

“Niyabi. Niyabi Sunmourner.” I mumble, being barely audible even to myself.

“Sunmourner? I know no Sunmourner.” He sounds very unimpressed.

“Sunweaver we were once called, but no longer.” I explain, my voice cracking slightly.

His eyes widen only a little.

“Now, Sunweaver; them I know of. I know of the ever-famous Kelthan Sunweaver, and I know of his bride Linessa Sunweaver. Kelthan spoke occasionally of his young daughter. You must be her.”

“Indeed, that would be me.”

“Have you seen or heard from him since the incident?”

“No, I have not.”

“How long has it been since then?” He seems to wonder aloud, and I feel a twinge of pain from resurfacing memories in my heart and my mind.

“It’s been fourteen years to the day.”

“Strange that it has been that long…”

He looks as if his mind is wandering to days long passed as he stares past my ear. I feel awkward as the silence only grows, and I clear my throat.

“Oh, I apologize. It’s not every day that an old colleague’s daughter comes to visit us! What is it that I can do for you, Miss Sunweaver?”

I can feel myself shaking. I swallow hard, straighten my back, and steady myself.

“I would like to join the Blood Knights, sir.”

He surprises me by smiling slightly.

“Following in your father’s footsteps, are you?”

I lighten up, and laugh a little.

“Perhaps. Maybe one day I’ll end up following as such, and we’ll see where it takes me.”

“Maybe you’ll be as good a knight as he was.”

He leads me in, steering me by my shoulders, and takes me straight to the training grounds in the back.

“Have you any skill with a blade?”

“Hardly anything worth mentioning.” I answer very truthfully.

He tosses a short sword to me, and I barely catch it by the handle.

“Come at me.” He commands.

I think I can see where he’s going with this. As much as I would like to say something, I’m frozen in place.

“What is the matter, young Sunweaver? Not in the mood to be swinging a sword wildly?”

“Not in the mood to play the fool, more like.” I respond.

He lets out a laugh, and runs at me, dropping his sword towards my head. I bring up my own sword to block, and the clashing of metal is almost deafening. He disarms me rather easily, and I almost squeak as I am pushed backwards and land on my rump.

“Do not worry, young Sunweaver.” He states, smiling. “We shall start you off simple. Go to the armory, take up a blade, and meet me back here in the training grounds in thirty minutes. We’ll get you taught as well as any other, young one.”

I blink a few times, then he steers me to the armory, and leaves.

Full of glimmering swords, tall shields, and mighty war hammers, the armory glitters like a treasure vault full of gemstones, and I find it absolutely beautiful. There is a strange beauty in weapons and armor; they give off a radiant aura of majesty and might. I gingerly lift swords that are far lighter than they appear, and watch them shine beneath the sunlight of our beautiful, shining city.

That was six years ago. Why does it feel so far away?