The brutal winds of the Tanaris Desert did not follow her to the Shimmering Flats. The pinkish early morning light heartened Tirasa now as she rode across the crystalline expanse, and she mused to herself that so long ago, sunrise had been an indication to sleep. But at this time of morning, none would be awake to stop her, none would be awake to argue.
The racetrack bleachers would be relatively empty at this time of morning as well, though lately it seemed as though very few people were interested in the racing at all. Making her way to the center of the rickety construction, she seated herself upon the bleached wooden boards and began to pull some paper and writing instruments from her pack. Her trustworthy accountant, a priestess of Elune, and a friend, would see these letters to their recipients later today. And by that time, Tirasa would be in the throes of her destiny.
The letter to the Talons was difficult, but not overly so. It seemed just another betrayal, and she had betrayed them so often as of late. No fit commander, she. But they were more than just her squadron; they were her companions as well, and Tirasa paused as she remembered the very first excursion she had led. Raelis, Taunus, Tanna, Corpang, and Jarrax to Blackfathom Deeps. They had all fought valiantly, and, against all odds, had emerged victorious against those pawns of the Old Gods. Trackers and Assassins all… no priests or druids were needed when the Talons were on the job.
Of those four, only three remained. Tanna and Taunus were lieutenants, her most trusted. She was sure that Corpang would be promoted upon her departure. And now, once again, she was betraying their trust. Gritting her teeth, she continued the first letter, scratching her G2 Metallic Preciso-Grip 3000 more coarsely across the paper as she signed her name.
Tirasa’s eyes became watery as she gazed out across the salt-whitened landscape, lit up now almost brilliantly with the heralding sun’s colors. Ardanas… what to tell him? For a moment she lay the gnomish writing instrument down, thinking perhaps she was being too hasty. Did she really need to do this? Look at everything she was giving up! Was it truly necessary?
Their last night together, there had been a thunderstorm. The pattering of the rain against the roof of their new house in Stormwind had done little to dampen the passion of their lovemaking, if anything, it had intensified it. Alone together in the midst of nature’s onslaught, they had clung together, the downpour projecting a curtain of secrecy around them. For once, no worries of their relationship being discovered.
And afterwards, as they had settled off to sleep, Tirasa recalled that she had not known such peace in a very long time. Burying her nose into Ardanas’ grey-streaked longish hair, she kissed the nape of his neck, and was comforted even more by the scent of his skin. Tirasa loved the smell of him. She was never sure if it was cologne, though she doubted that. More than likely it was just the soap he used, mingled together with his body’s own aroma, that conspired to make him irresistible to her.
Now, on the deserted bleachers out in the middle of the Salt Flats, a river of tears drenched the paper before her, and she balled it up and tossed it away. But then she remembered how Ardanas suffered each time she became ill. Even if he could bear his own torment by the fel magics of that vile staff, would it be fair to add the burden of her own sickness, which she was sure would double and triple in time, perhaps killing her? The answer made clear to her, Tirasa began the second letter.
Finishing the missive off amidst a bout of petulant hiccups, the sobs began anew when Tirasa gazed at the bracelet upon her left wrist. The small blooms fashioned out of multicolored stones glinted as if in joyful greeting to the sunrise, their intricately carved petals seemingly twisting to get a better view. His mother’s bracelet… given to her by his father before their marriage. Ardanas had made a promise to her, a promise that she would not hold him to upon her imminent disappearance and possible death. Unfastening the delicate clasp, Tirasa brought the bracelet to her lips, and then to her heart, holding it there for several long moments before placing it in a small satin pouch. My heart… my soul…
*********
Tirasa dismounted, smacking the giant black-striped cat on the flank to send him away. Gladly the Kaldorei blacksmith in Gadgetzan had been willing to take the animal in, albeit with a disclaimer should Tirasa ever return. Sinking into the shadows created by the sandy cliff behind her, the assassin slowly moved forward.
Silently jostling several small stones in her hand, she eyed the bronze dragon before her warily. One mistake… and she’d be dead. Of course, there was always the possibility that she wouldn’t be permanently dead… but then, the bronze guardians would be alerted to her designs, and the second attempt would be much more difficult.
She glanced at the glowing indigo door to her left, and she became more aware of the buzzing sensation throughout her body that occurred every time she came near this place. Would the door open for her? She was almost completely sure that it would, however, what lay beyond it, she wasn’t completely prepared for. The Caverns of Time… time itself lay behind that door? The thought was of course incomprehensible, so Tirasa pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on the task of the moment.
A split second from now the flying guardian would be in a position to allow her to slip behind him through the door… there. Holding her breath, Tirasa tossed the pebbles away from her, and the dragon turned.
She hurriedly stepped forward, and her world went black.