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seilune · 6 years

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The Ascension

Seilune descended the spiral staircase, her fingertips trailing across the smooth golden railing. She elevated her head with poise, an air of regality wafting about her as she strode into the sitting room. Seated on the divan were her parents, Lord Ashtal and Lady Ysune Astrande. Their eyes were glued to the entryway, having awaited the arrival of their daughter. Moments prior, the heiress was sobbing, feeling emotionally exhausted after that evening’s mission with the Agents. They had seemingly defeated the Divine along with the Cradle, but it came at a price. Agents fell to their untimely deaths at the hand of the twisted being, only to be resurrected during the Director’s time of anguish. She paused before taking a seat on the divan seated across from her parents, using the moment to further compose herself. A heavy breath gushed through her nostrils, flooding her body with a still and steady calm.

“Mother, father,” the heiress addressed as she finally occupied the space, bowing her head to them in respect. “I apologize for the quick retreat to my bedroom, I am feeling rather fati—“

Lord Astrande lifted a hand, stopping her. “No, no. It is quite all right, Seilune. Your mother and I are aware that the work you do with the Agents can be tedious and tiring.”

Lady Astrande glanced to her husband, nodding in agreement. “And we find your work and you quite admirable,” she chimed in, smiling warmly to Seilune.

“Certainly,” Ashtal added. “What you have done and what you continue to do has been towards ensuring the betterment of Suramar, the Shal’dorei, and...House Astrande.”

The heiress found the exchange rather cryptic. What has brought on such a conversation? She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, crossing her legs and folding her hands neatly on a pointed knee.

“My Starflower,” Ashtal continued, his violet eyes peering into Seilune’s. “During your time as an Agent, you have endured so much. Abduction, injuries, ruined gowns…” He chuckled softly, shooting her a sly grin as he teased. “You have walked through fire and have only become more tempered.”

With the wave of his hand, Ashtal commanded a sword to materialize at his side. It was a sword Seilune rarely saw, a sword of legends. Kal’Serrar. He gripped his fingers tightly around the hilt, extending the blade horizontally to Seilune.

“You know the story of my father’s blade. It’s one you have heard all of your life,” he spoke as he tilted the weapon. “Please, tell it to me.”

A story she had heard all of her life—that was accurate. Seilune lost count millennia ago of the number of people who would told her of her grandfather’s immense sense of honor, and of the sacrifice he made for Suramar. She was always referred to as the “granddaughter of High Lord Astrande,” never allowed the privilege of having an identity of her own. No matter how diligently she worked to create her own legacy, she was always cheapened by her association with others. The heiress looked to her mother, who gave her a reassuring smile and nod. “Your father—my grandfather, Raveis Astrande, he was the first wielder of Kal’Serrar,” she began. “The blade was crafted from the finest of steels and enchanted with the waters of the Well of Eternity. It allowed him to unleash devastating attacks, serving him well as he fought against the Troll tribes who tried to hinder the expansion of the Night Elf empire. Kal’Serrar was at his side when he helped found Suramar City and when he built Aubade, and it remained at this side from then on. That is...until the Legion invaded during the War of the Ancients.”

She paused, searching her father’s visage. This part of the tale had always troubled him. Ashtal bore a somber expression, his gaze now trickled to the floor. He spoke no words, simply waving a hand to tell her to continue.

“He fought nobly in the war, cutting down demons left and right until he came face-to-face with a Felguard commander, Xarzinar. He managed to overpower grandfather, shattering his body and Kal’Serrar along with him. But you, father—you slayed the demon and retrieved the broken pieces of the blade. After the war and the erection of the barrier, you had it repaired and infused with the essence of the newly-formed Nightwell. Since then it has been kept safe, never allowed to leave the walls of our manor.”

“Until now,” the Lord added, trailing his gaze up to his daughter’s visage.

Seilune canted her head to the side in confusion. “Until now?” She questioned, repeating his words.

Ashtal reached across the coffee table that separated him and his daughter, taking her hand in his own. “Seilune, your mother and I are fully aware of what has transpired in Darkshore, as well as the burning of Teldrassil. We know that it is only a matter of time before the Alliance come looking for blood. In these dire times, our House needs to be led by someone who can persevere. Like Kal’Serrar, you have been broken. But you have come out more resilient because of it. With each trial you have faced—with each victory and loss, you have been retempered, your faith and focus never wavering. Which is why…”

He glanced to Ysune, who nodded curtly. “...I am passing the mantle on to you, Starflower,” he declared, squeezing Seilune’s hand gently.

Suddenly, it felt as though the entire weight of the world fell upon Seilune’s shoulders. She already bore immense responsibility as an Agent, weaving alliances and working to maintain peaceful relations. As an Arcanist, she thwarted the enemies of the Shal’dorei, either incapacitating them with her charm or breaking them beneath the might of her power. But lately, she questioned her own prowess. She was unable to prevent the outbreak of the War of the Thorns, and she was unable to protect her fellow Agents, whose lives had been snuffed out within the Divine’s grasp. Could she truly lead her House?

Seilune’s throat tightened as the anxiety took hold. In desperation, she reached to her hyoid bone, clawing at the invisible force that tried to strangle her. “F-Father...,” she managed to stammer. “Are you sure? You have lead our House for over 10,000 years. The distillery was founded by you, and it was you who made our wine so enjoyed by our people. This...this is all so sudden. I...I don’t think I am ready or even worthy to be.”

Sympathy was etched into Ashtal’s features as he listened to Seilune’s meanderings. Looking at his daughter was like looking at his own reflection, but not because she looked so much like him. Rather, because he was once in that very position. “I felt the same way when I became Lord,” he replied softly. “I was much younger than you, my father had just died, and your mother and I had been married only a short while—I didn’t think it was my time. But what you must learn to understand, my Starflower, is that things don’t always go according to plan. You can plan out your entire life and in an instant, it can be shattered. It is during times of immense pressure when one either bends or breaks and you, my dear, will adjust.”

“The…” He paused briefly, sighing heavily as he mustered the bravery to speak the words. “The shame I brought upon our House—I simply cannot be expected to lead it admirably no longer. My father did not found this House and build this estate for them to scatter like ashes in the wind. No, no. He wished for it to stand the test of time. But you, Seilune. You can. Your quick thinking is what saved us all. Your position as a diplomat and an ambassador, it has allowed us to bask in the limelight once more. We are prosperous again because of you and, because of you, we will continue to be.”

He lifted her hand to Kal’Serrar, gently wrapping her fingers around the hilt. “The days of Lord Raveis and Lord Ashtal Astrande are over. Now begins the era of Lady Seilune Astrande. With this blade, it is time for you to carve out your legacy.”

Seilune swallowed hard, apprehension riddling her to the bones. But she wasn’t about to abandon her responsibilities. The future of her House depended on her, and she knew what she must do to ensure its longevity. Her fingers settled into the grooves of the hilt and she gripped it tightly. With a touch of flair, she lifted the blade towards the heavens, the chandelier bathing the heirloom in a golden light. “Mother, father. I will make you both proud. I will lead our House to newer and better heights. We will stand upon the precipice of greatness, looking across the expanse from the loftiest of heights. The world will know our name and admire it, and our line will continue to flourish. Ru-shanna Astrande!”

#seilune astrande #ashtal astrande #ysune astrande #storytelling

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