The woman keeps a brisk pace as she enters her beloved city. The sound of her boots across the ancient roads of Silvermoon were filled with various emotions for her, but the most upfront was the comfort of days long since past. The memories where she would run into one of the alleyways with either prize in hand or steadfast lost, they were the first and oldest of her timeless memories.

Beyond them was the pains in the pavement's cracks she had grown up feeling. It was a soft, but constant throbbing of her heart that looked to these roadway blemishes with mixed pride and sorrow as she remembered the younger girl that would follow her around. The child that became her scar in her memory. The baby fat that rose when she smiled, the tears that fell when she saw the woman cry, so on were the faults that seemed to grow in her mind. Her own sister.

The only thing that filled the hollow feeling around her bosom was the screaming. It would have been a few years ago when the Scourge came marching through the elven lands. Quel'thalas stood defiant against the undead masses like they had all other threats for millennia. Yet their determination brought her people's demise-

No, it was nothing but a fall. She assured herself. Demise implies the end while a fall can be recovered from.

She lowered her head, repeating her words like a mantra until the words had lost their meaning and the phrase shortened to four simple words: No demise, just fall.

The woman rose her head high once more. She was determined to make today perfect. To do that, she couldn't lose herself to the voices in her head and she certainly couldn't let herself be defeated on such a momentous occasion.

With her chin held up high, she hurried into the nearby tavern. She brushed away the silky blue curtains as she entered, letting herself enjoy their texture while she felt them at her fingertips. After all, it wasn't everyday that she was able to feel the rich fabrics with her busy schedule. Though feeling them now, she wished she visited her former home more often. She took a seat in a particularly beautiful blue seat before taking out her pocket mirror and opening it up to spruce up her appearance.

Waves of long burgundy hair are pulled back into a loose ponytail, with stray bundles framing her face. Much to her pleasure, the loose hair was perfectly matched to her typical eyebrows in both length and width to look as though it was purposely done. Her thin ruby-stained lips were curled up into a small smile, standing out quite well against her pale complexion. Red and gold armour adorned her figure, rubies encrusted into her shoulder pads and gold-trimmed sword. The only thing that stood out against the multiple shades of red was her fel-green eyes that wandered the mirror's image.

Satisfied with her physical appearance, she set her mirror down. She looked around the room, with its midnight hues and gold trimming, anxiously searching for her a smaller feminine figure. She should have been coming to the woman, but the elf could find no signs of the younger one. Shrugging it off as a harsh journey for the girl, she simply picked up her sword and began to polish it.

It had been hours since she had first sat down in the inn. Patrons had come and gone, a few coming up to her to talk. At one point, she even had the innkeeper ask her if she wanted a beverage. However, she had whisked them all away though. She had simply wanted to see the girl.

The memories she had been trying to push down began to resurface. That final day replayed over and over in her head.

She saw her and the younger girl as they had been wandering the marketplace that fateful day. The two had been enjoying themselves, with the younger able to snatch a spare apple before the merchant noticed. The woman and the girl had been doing just fine, laughing at each other's follies and jokes until they began to hear screaming.

The younger sister looked to the older elf as they looked to the front gates where it had emanated. They couldn't see anything unusual but the people sprinting northward towards them. The girl had begun to wiggle through the crowd to see what the commotion was about, but the woman put her hand firmly on the other's shoulder. The girl stopped as she recognized the protective gesture, looking up to the still face of the other.

The woman had heard the former ask a question, but she couldn't make out the words. All she could see was the rapidly decaying soil that crept towards them.

"Sealda, get out of here." She remembered demanding, seeing the army behind the destruction coming ever closer. "Run!"

The girl hesitated, anxious about leaving the woman. She gaped her mouth in protest, but the older one was having none of it. With her hand unleashing the girl's shoulder from her bond, the girl took one last look at her sister. The two stared for but a second before the older of the two repeated herself.


This time, the girl bolted away from the woman. Grateful that the younger sister had listened, she turned to face the approaching army. She could see them much better now, with their rotting faces and deformed bodies. Their hands held various weapons, which were able to bring down both civilians and soldiers alike down. Some fought, others begged while more simply screamed. All fell to the might of the Scourge.

The older elf had spent her life learning to fight others to survive, even picking up a bit of swordplay along the way, but she knew what she could and couldn't do. Among the various things she was not trained to do, fighting an entire army of rotting corpses was one of them.

She began to run towards the western corridors. Not daring to look behind her, she could hear the cries of her people. True, she didn't like them, but they didn't deserve such a fate.

The woman kept running, the sounds of her boots against the pavement echoing along the wailing banshees. She huddled herself in a small corner, one she often frequented when she was hiding from the girl. She curled herself into a small ball, hands covering her ears to muffle the sound. Make it stop!

She could barely feel her limbs when the agonizing screams finally stopped, She didn't crawl out of her hiding place, not yet anyone. She had waited a few more hours until another elf found her sobbing.

That had been the first time she had seen a Sin'dorei, with the child's blank stare and few words. She hadn't asked his name or what had happened. Neither did the small child. All she did was search for the young girl, her sister.


She was declared dead after searching the ruins for weeks. The woman had held onto the belief that her sister somehow lived, be it by the Light as a spirit or a stow-away survivor. Yet that hope had diminished over the years. Surely, she would have heard something throughout her training as a Blood Knight recruit or her campaigns against the Lich King. Knowing the vengeful girl, she probably would have been the one to march up to Icecrown Citadel and knock on its door for retribution.

But she never did.

She was gone. At least, that's what she's always believed. A couple of months ago, however, she began a lasting friendship with a Shu'halo druidess that had healed her battle wounds. According to her, she had meet someone had matched up with the description of the younger girl. The druidess had organized a meet-up between the two at a local inn when she had finally made contact with the younger girl again. The woman could hardly wait, but she was beginning to have her doubts about her friend's story.

She was lost in thought when she heard a vaguely female voice cut the silent air.

"Are you Iscira?" A low, almost-demonic voice asked as it poked her shoulder.

The woman returned from her memories, feeling the warmth of her check. Raising her hand to wipe the tears away, the other woman pressed her claws against the woman's face as if trying to claw the water out of her face. She squirmed under the uncomfortable touch, turning to face the person that dare touch her when she was clearly upset.

The other woman had a similar ponytail to her own, except that it was charcoal black and was a few inches longer. Her eyebrows had also been dyed, barely sticking out of the luscious red blindfold she wore. On the top of her head, she had two brown stubs that looked eerily similar to a demon's horns. Her arms and chest was covered in intricate blood-red tattoos, only covered by a simple strapless bra. She had a matching skirt with fel-green patterns akin to her warglaives on her back.

"What the heck are you suppose to be?" The redheaded woman spewed out in a venomous tone. Of course it would be a demon hunter that interrupted her while she waited for her sister.

Unlike most demon hunters, who would have made a snarky remark or refused to care, this one seemed hurt by the question. "You don't remember me, do you?"

"Am I supposed to?"

The demon hunter nodded.

"Well, who are you?"

She turned her head to the woman's sword. "You're a paladin?"

The woman gave a slow nod, though she doubted the other elf could see it. "Yes…"

"Funny," The dark-haired woman declared. "It's rather fitting for my older sister."


"Though I can see why you wouldn't want to deal with me when I'm-" The demon hunter paused anxiously before pointing to herself. "-this. I understand. I'll be-"

Once again her words stopped, but not at her own thoughts. The paladin had pounced onto the demon hunter, enveloping her into a tight hug as she sobbed into her sister's shoulder. The demon hunter, unsure of what to do, relied on her instincts and gave her older sister a hug.

"There, there." She soothed the woman as she tried to think of something better to say.

"Sealda, you're alive?" The paladin asked as though it were a dream.

The demon hunter nodded. "Yes."

This only made the woman sob harder.

"Are you okay, Iscira?" The younger sister asked.

The paladin didn't respond immediately. She was trying to steady her breathing, but the years of silent grieving came over her like a tidal wave. "You're…"

"I'm what?"

"A woman." The older sister answered. "I never got to see you become a woman."

The demon hunter laughed. "I wouldn't exactly call myself just 'a woman.'"

Iscira looked to her sister with puffy red eyes and shook her head. "Doesn't matter."

"Really?" Sealda asked. "But I thought-"

"It doesn't matter right now."

The younger sister, holding her hysterical sister, let out her own withheld tears as she stroked the paladin's hair. "Whatever you say." She muttered softly, trying not to choke on the sheer emotions the encounter brought to her and the inner demons. She would have to worry about it later, but not now.

The two clung to each other, not caring what the other clients thought as they finally reunited with one another.

"Iscira?" The demon hunter whispered. "I love you."

Author's Note: This story is dedicated to my sister and her Sunfire Sisters OCs. Thank you for letting me use them to write the story of their reunion! As always, comments and constructive criticism are very welcome. Thanks for reading and have a fantastic day!