The sun had only just begun to rise on the horizon, tinting the sky with a soft orange that lit up the vast expanse. The still-cool morning air brushed against the skin as Kaelion walked among the recruits, watching their movements with the sharp, critical gaze of a seasoned mentor. Training was in full swing. The sound of clashing swords, feet pounding on the ground, and shouted instructions mingled in the air. The novices faced off in pairs, fighting with determination, though most still lacked the necessary skill and coordination. Kaelion closely observed a young night elf battling a human. The boy's face was tense, his posture a bit stiff, and although he tried to control his sword, his movements lacked fluidity.
—Sarelin, improve your stance —Kaelion said firmly, pointing to how the young elf held himself upright, forcing his balance.
The soldier nodded quickly, without taking his eyes off his opponent, and adjusted his stance, tightening his form with more discipline. Kaelion continued his rounds, observing the other duels. A pair of humans faced each other, their swords striking hard. Their movements were somewhat clumsy, but the younger one, a brown-haired boy with dark eyes, showed some promise.
—Harrison, loosen your arms —Kaelion said seriously.
The young human quickly relaxed his shoulders, improving his fluidity in the next exchange.
—And you, Fallon, with that stance you waste the sword's weight trajectory. Instead of striking straight on, you should rotate your torso slightly and use the momentum.
Soldier Fallon nodded, understanding the correction, and began applying the change in his next move. Kaelion let his gaze drift once more, stopping on Edric, who was again facing the same night elf he had trained with earlier. This time, however, the young human showed something more in his fight: an unexpected move that surprised his opponent, a swift and calculated strike that knocked the night elf's sword aside, leaving him vulnerable.
—Very good, Ravenshade —Kaelion said, a faint smile forming on his lips—. I see you've improved. But don't forget: the key is always maintaining control. A quick strike is effective, but if you don't keep your center of gravity, it'll be harder to follow through. Keep your stance firm.
The night elf, still regaining composure after Edric's move, turned toward Kaelion with a gesture of gratitude.
—And you, Lirael —Kaelion continued, addressing the night elf who had been outmaneuvered—. Against a move like that, you must block immediately. If you don't, he won't give you a chance to launch a counterattack.
Soldier Lirael nodded, acknowledging the correction.
—Understood, sir —said the young elf.
Kaelion nodded with satisfaction before continuing his observations, his gaze critical yet filled with firm hope that these recruits could reach the skill level necessary to survive in these dangerous lands. As Kaelion kept watching the novices, correcting stances and movements, he was interrupted by the arrival of a messenger. The soldier approached quickly, eyes fixed on Kaelion.
—Soldier Lir'Thalas, message from the general.
Kaelion took the letter and unfolded it calmly, reading the words swiftly. Then he looked at the messenger and, without haste, tucked the message into his belt.
—Thank you, soldier —he replied, nodding slightly.
Turning back to the young trainees still practicing, Kaelion gestured for them to continue.
—Keep training. Don't forget your lessons —he said with an authoritative voice as he stepped away.
Soon after, Kaelion walked a few paces away from the group with his bow and arrows, heading toward a target set a few meters away. His students watched in silence, knowing it was time to see their teacher in action. Kaelion took an arrow with expert fingers, placed it on the string, and focused on the target. His eyes locked onto the impact point, without a moment of hesitation. He took a deep breath and, with a fluid and precise motion, loosed the arrow. The projectile flew through the air, and before it struck the target, Kaelion spoke to his students:
—The key is focus. Always aim calmly, breathe, and let your body move naturally—don't force the shot.
The recruits nodded, fascinated by their teacher's skill. A little farther ahead, a dryad instructor was guiding several trainees in spear handling. She gave clear and precise instructions on stance and the correct attack angle. The dryad, a humanoid being with an ethereal, arboreal appearance, had the lower body of a deer, covered in moss and bark, giving her a unique agility to move between the trees. Her arms, slender yet strong, moved gracefully as she adjusted the trainees' positions, teaching them to handle spears with skill and precision. The dryad radiated a deep calm, typical of forest guardians, and her presence was as serene as the very nature she protected.
—Whenever you strike, stay focused on your target. Don't let fear or fatigue interfere with your concentration —she said in a gentle yet firm voice.
Watching the trainees, Kaelion approached a night elf girl who was struggling to handle the spear. Seeing that her stance was still incorrect, Kaelion offered a piece of advice.
—Try holding it like this —he said, slightly adjusting the position of the spear in the young elf's hands—. Feel how the weight of the spear should balance with your body. It's not just strength, but control and grace.
The young elf looked at him gratefully and adjusted her stance, trying to follow Kaelion's advice as she continued her training.
The cool dawn breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees, and the still-dark sky began to tint with a bluish gray. Kaelion approached Aerion, whose figure stood silhouetted against the horizon—serene and distant, as always.
—I received a letter —Kaelion said, breaking the silence. He took the message from his belt and held it out to Aerion with a neutral expression—. It's from the general.
Aerion raised an eyebrow, his gaze curious but cautious.
—Well? What does it say?
Kaelion unfolded the letter and read it quickly, his eyes shining with a mixture of weariness and disinterest.
—He's coming back in a few days. He also mentioned they're looking for volunteers to go to Feralas.
Aerion frowned, thoughtful. The mention of a new destination seemed to intrigue him, though he didn't show it openly.
—Sounds quite imposing. I don't know much about those lands... How would you describe them?
Kaelion paused, looking out toward the horizon, as if searching for the right words.
—Mosquitoes, giant insects, ogres, and corrupted magic—courtesy of the Burning Legion. The last part, I believe, is what we'll be fighting.
Aerion let out a soft laugh, though there was no humor in it—only a trace of shared exhaustion.
—Sounds fascinating —he replied, his voice laced with irony.
Kaelion, now gazing at the ground, began to waver. The idea of leaving all of this behind made him hesitate—but it also called to him.
—I don't know if I should go... I'm starting to get used to...
Aerion cut him off, his tone direct and firm, as if he had been expecting that answer.
—Go. You've been stuck in the conflict between our factions for too long. You need to disconnect—go for something different. Nothing will change when you return.
Kaelion looked him in the eyes, searching for something more in Aerion's words, but in the end, he nodded slowly, adding nothing further. A heavy silence settled between them, and the time to return to the outpost was drawing near.
—I have to go now, —Kaelion said with a quiet sigh. Farewells never pleased him, but this one was necessary.
Aerion stopped him with a gesture, his voice deep and serious.
—Wait. You mentioned corrupted magic. Take this. —He handed him a small, dark vial with a worn label. — It's not much, but it'll help stabilize things until you find proper aid.
Kaelion took it without much thought, the vial cold in his hands. He looked at the antidote in silence, recognizing the gesture without needing words.
—Thank you, Aerion. Perhaps I'll see you again.
Aerion nodded, his face as impassive as always, but there was something in his gaze that seemed to say more than his lips ever could. Kaelion turned and began to walk away, but just before vanishing into the shadows, he paused. He looked back, his voice low and uncertain.
—Aerion... have you ever wondered why we do this? —His voice carried a subtle unease.
Aerion looked at him in confusion, his expression reflecting the same unspoken question.
—This? —he replied, genuine curiosity in his tone.
Kaelion sighed and gave him a long, searching look, as if the answer had been burning inside him.
—This... meeting here, night after night, in this same place, to talk. Why do we do it?
Aerion thought for a moment, his gaze lost in the distance before answering with a strange sincerity.
—I suppose it's a form of escapism. Or maybe for the same reason you gave me that bandage, or that food pouch. Because we all need something to keep going.
Kaelion nodded silently, his face softening with a faint smile of understanding, as if he had found some peace in the answer. With one last look, he turned on his heel and started down the hill, heading back to the outpost. Aerion watched him silently until his figure vanished into the dim morning light, the wind carrying away the last of their words.
The following morning, Kaelion was checking his belongings one last time before departing with the reinforcement group bound for Feralas. His gear was in perfect order: his bow well-strung, arrows inspected, and his sword secured in its sheath. However, before leaving, his gaze drifted toward the training grounds. The recruits were deep into practice, and among them, he spotted Edric sparring with the same night elf he used to train with. They faced each other with determination, their swords clashing in a rhythm that showed how much they had improved. After an intense exchange of blows, they pulled apart, both panting. Edric wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled.
—Not bad, Sylvaris.
The night elf nodded with satisfaction.
—We're getting better. I'm no great Jarod Shadowsong, but it's a start.
Before they could relax, a firm voice caught them off guard.
—Good work, boys, —Kaelion interrupted, arms crossed— but if your goal was to disappoint me, you nearly succeeded.
The two young men straightened up immediately.
—Edric, —Kaelion began— you attack with too much aggression, but you neglect your defense. A more experienced opponent could easily use that against you. Learn to balance your movements.
Then he turned to Sylvaris.
—And you, you're agile, but you become predictable once you're in your comfort zone. You need more variation in your attacks, or someone with enough patience will take you down effortlessly.
Both nodded, absorbing the feedback. Kaelion turned around, but before walking away, he added:
—When you finish training, come to my tent. I need to speak with you.
The recruits exchanged a curious glance, wondering what awaited them.
A few hours later, Edric and Sylvaris arrived promptly at Kaelion's tent. The interior was simple and functional, with no decoration other than a map pinned to the table and a couple of weapons neatly aligned next to his bed. Kaelion awaited them standing, arms crossed, his expression calm but firm.
—Alright, —he said bluntly— I'll be away for a few weeks. Someone will need to take care of my duties, whether that means cleaning the stables or covering my watch post on that beast-ridden perimeter no one here seems brave enough to patrol.
The young men exchanged a quick glance, holding their breath. Kaelion continued:
—On second thought, there is another option: you can stay behind and take care of those tasks… or you can come with me to Feralas.
The proposal hit them like a bolt of lightning. Edric stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
—Are you serious?
Kaelion held his gaze firmly.
—We leave in a few hours, —he confirmed— Bring only the essentials. No unnecessary weight. I want you ready as soon as possible.
He paused before adding, in an unwavering tone:
—That's an order.
No further words were needed. Edric and Sylvaris stood at attention instantly and exited the tent with renewed energy, ready to prepare for their first real mission.
The military reinforcement caravan set out toward Feralas, crossing the vast expanse of the Barrens. The soldiers rode on mighty saber cats, their claws pounding the dry earth as the wind kicked up clouds of dust in their wake. Upon crossing the border into Desolace, the change in scenery was immediate and brutal. Gone were the arid, reddish grasslands of the Barrens—replaced by a withered land stained in muted greys and purples. The ground, cracked and barren, looked as if it had been drained of all life, save for the twisted thornbushes that grew in wild, chaotic patches. The breeze carried with it a salty stench, tainted with a hint of magical corruption—an unmistakable sign that the land still bore the scars of ancient battles.
On either side of the path, eroded rocky hills loomed like forgotten tombs, casting long shadows across the road. Dead trees, their branches twisted like claws, jutted from the soil as if trying to cling to the last remnants of life in that desolate place. In the distance, the ruins of old stone structures rose like silent witnesses to a violent past, worn away by relentless winds. But the most unsettling presence was the local fauna. Basilisks with dull scales and glowing eyes stalked between the rocks, their rigid, serpentine bodies moving with silent lethality. Their gazes, capable of petrifying an unsuspecting prey, gleamed ominously in the dim light. And they weren't the only predators—packs of scavenger hyenas roamed the area, their ghostly laughter echoing through the air as they fought over the remains of fallen beasts. Farther ahead, members of the Gelkis centaur tribe could be seen in the distance, watching the travelers warily, their spears ready to defend their territory if necessary.
As they advanced, the soldiers felt the weight of desolation pressing down on them. Even the saber cats beneath their saddles growled uneasily, their ears alert, sensing danger lurking in every corner. Kaelion, eyes fixed on the horizon, knew this land was as hostile as the conflict awaiting them. He surveyed the landscape with a serious expression. Though it wasn't his first time crossing Desolace, it always served as a reminder of what corruption and neglect could do to a land. This place had been ravaged by the march of the Burning Legion and the war between centaur clans—and its wounds had yet to heal. At his side, Edric and Sylvaris looked around with a mix of awe and apprehension.
—This is nothing like what I imagined Kalimdor would be, —murmured Edric, turning his gaze away from the scattered bones of an ancient centaur corpse on the ground.
—No, this isn't Kalimdor... This is what's left when the world is abandoned to death —replied Kaelion, his eyes fixed firmly on the path ahead.
The words lingered in the air as the caravan continued forward, each step bringing them closer to the dark secrets of Desolace—and beyond, to the challenges awaiting them in Feralas. As they moved through the arid terrain of Desolace, the sound of saber cat claws against the dry earth mingled with the harsh wind carrying dust and the distant echoes of unknown howls. Edric, frowning, looked around with clear discomfort. It wasn't just the heat or the desolate atmosphere—there was something deeply unsettling about that place.
—What was this place like before? —he asked, his eyes still fixed on the horizon and its gray, eroded hills—And what happened for an entire region to end up... like this?
Kaelion, riding beside him atop his dark-furred feline, took a moment to respond. His amber eyes swept across the barren plains and the scattered ruins nestled in the exposed rock.
—This was once a forest as lush as Feralas, —he replied in a measured tone— But the War of the Ancients changed that. When the Burning Legion invaded, their demons and fel magic corrupted the land. The trees died, the soil turned to dust, and the dark energies never truly left.
Edric swallowed hard, staring at the cracks in the earth.
—It's been thousands of years, —he murmured—How hasn't it healed?
Kaelion let out a quiet sigh.
—Nature can heal... but some wounds are too deep. And others... never stop bleeding.
Edric fell silent, reflecting on the night elf's words while the wind howled through the rocks, like a distant echo of better times. Sylvaris, on the other hand, didn't seem as surprised. He had heard the story before, and although it was his first time crossing the land, it looked exactly as he had imagined: a silent wasteland where the earth seemed to have forgotten life. His attention, however, shifted to Edric, who was taking everything in with a mix of awe and unease. The young man couldn't seem to look away from the landscape, as if trying to etch it into memory. Curious, Sylvaris tilted his head slightly and asked in a casual tone:
—Edric, what brought you here?
Edric took a moment to respond, as if the question had caught him off guard. He absentmindedly stroked the neck of his saber cat, gathering his thoughts.
—I suppose... the search for something more, —he finally said—. I was born into a merchant family in Stormwind, surrounded by maps, spices, and ships I was never allowed to touch. My life was all planned out—business, trade, a safe existence... and terribly boring. So when I had the chance, I took up a sword and decided to see the world for myself.
He shrugged, offering a lopsided smile.
—I didn't imagine I'd end up riding with two elves across a cursed desert, but... well, that's life.
Sylvaris watched him for a moment, his expression calm as he assessed the human.
—Safety isn't always a cage, —he commented—. But I suppose some are born to break the bars.
Edric chuckled under his breath.
—Or to get completely lost trying.
Kaelion, who had remained silent until then, let out a quiet snort, but added nothing. Edric blinked a couple of times, then threw the question back.
—And you?
Sylvaris kept his gaze ahead, guiding his saber cat skillfully over the uneven terrain. His expression darkened slightly, though his tone remained steady, as if recounting an unchangeable fact.
—My story isn't so different from yours, though the path I took wasn't by choice. I was born in a village south of Moonglade, where life was peaceful... until war decided otherwise. I was trained as an archer from a young age, later as a swordsman, and when the call came, I didn't have the luxury to hesitate. I fought in several campaigns, defending our lands from invaders. But some battles can't be won with arrows or blades.
He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping across the barren landscape, as if he could see echoes of another battlefield there.
—Felpine was one of those.
Edric frowned, intrigued.
—Felpine?
Before Sylvaris could respond, Kaelion stepped in with the same calm with which he had recounted the history of Desolace.
—A place where another incident occurred, not so different from what happened here —he said, his tone firm, though tinged with gravity—. It also left scars, rendering the land uninhabitable.
At that moment, the wind blew with force, lifting a cloud of dust that quickly dispersed. Edric felt a chill—not from the cold, but from the thought that there were more places like Desolace, where war had torn life out by the roots, leaving behind only ruins and shadows. The dry wind still howled behind them as Kaelion pointed toward the horizon, his gaze as sharp as a blade under the moonlight.
—Look. There it is. The gate to Feralas.
Edric and Sylvaris looked up and spotted the imposing entrance nestled between the desolate mountains. A narrow path twisted between the gray stone crags, as if the earth itself tried to hide what lay beyond. Without hesitation, they quickened their pace, feeling anticipation mingle with the weariness of travel. However, nothing prepared them for the moment they crossed the threshold. Suddenly, the arid land was behind them, and the shadow of colossal ancient trees enveloped them. Crossing that boundary was like plunging into an emerald ocean: the air grew cooler, filled with moisture and the unmistakable scent of fertile earth. The lush canopy filtered the light, painting the ground with patches of green and gold, while hanging vines swayed gently in the breeze. It was as if they had stepped into a place belonging more to the Emerald Dream than to Azeroth itself—a tangible reflection of that ethereal realm where nature unfolded in its purest, most mystical form.
The gnarled roots of millennia-old oaks jutted from the earth, intertwining as though the forest were weaving its own paths. Giant ferns grew beneath the shadow of wooden sentinels, and glowing mushrooms dotted the trunks with a faint luminescence, like fireflies trapped in the bark. The sounds changed too. From Desolace's silent desolation, they stepped into a constant murmur of life: the distant cawing of exotic birds, the hum of insects hidden among the leaves, and the creak of branches betraying the presence of predators in the undergrowth.
Farther ahead, in a clearing, Edric spotted the silhouette of a hippogryph, its iridescent plumage catching the filtered light that streamed through the trees. The creature lifted its head, watching them warily before spreading its powerful wings and vanishing into the canopy. But not all creatures were so majestic. Near a streambed, shadowy forms lurked beneath the foliage: massive ironfur bears with claws strong enough to splinter wood and jaws that could crush bone. Beyond them, sleek shadows moved among the bushes—perhaps jungle panthers, their golden eyes gleaming in the dim light like predatory beacons. Edric swallowed hard, trying to take in the immensity of the forest.
—It's… breathtaking —he murmured.
Kaelion, gazing at the path ahead with an unreadable expression, gave a quiet nod.
—Welcome to Feralas.
The caravan's advance grew stealthier as it ventured deeper into the forest, as if the very majesty of Feralas commanded a hushed reverence from the travelers. Kaelion, Sylvaris, and Edric were not the only ones who noticed the change; the other soldiers also glanced around, some with caution, others with fascination. The dense forest pulsed with life—every shadow held a mystery, and every sound was a reminder that they were not alone. The march continued, disappearing into the tangle of ancient trees, while the damp air washed away the last traces of Desolace's dust.