Of Flame and Sun

Dawn was breaking over Silvermoon. It started out like another ordinary day in the High Elven kingdom of Quel’Thalas. News had not yet reached the city about the invading Scourge army making its way towards the city.

It was in the Royal Exchange of Silvermoon where it all began for Archion Dawnfire. He was a recently married man, and a happy one. Archion had lived a high-end lifestyle for most of his life, due to the nobility of his parents. The High Elf had practiced the art of pyromancy since he was young, despite the preference to cyromancy and raw Arcane use by other Quel’dorei.

His wife, Vellithela, was a pure-hearted and loving priestess; her skin was pale, and her wavy black hair done with a headband on top. It was midday now, and rumors of the approaching Scourge forces had begun circling through the city. Archion was in his father’s office in Sunfury Spire when he heard the news about Fairbreeze falling to the Scourge. It was evident at this point that Silvermoon would soon fall to their might as well.

“Do not worry, my son. I will have a portal arranged immediately to get you to safety in Dalaran.” Stated his father. Archion protested to this; one of the first times he actually protested against his father’s wishes. “No. Velli is still out in the city. I would rather die than leave her to the undead. Her fate will be the same as mine!”

After his father eventually agreed to allow him to search for her, Archion went rushing off to the Royal Exchange. They had agreed to meet up there earlier. Archion found her in their usual spot; behind the small fountain in the southern part of the Exchange. A bright, loving smile lit his youthful face. The two kissed for quite a long moment upon meeting up, forgetting all of the troubles in the world. It was then that the screams could be heard from the direction of the elfgates. The Scourge had come. Archion pulled away from the kiss slowly, turning his attention towards the path leading towards the Walk of Elders. As the terror began to appear in his expression, he turned back to his wife abruptly. “We must go. NOW.”

Vellithela looked confused. She obviously had not the faintest idea as to what was happening. As the two began to hurry off back towards the spire, the screams grew louder. Soon enough, they burst into a run, only to notice the horde of undead monstrosities approaching behind them. Archion kept his gaze ahead of them, hurrying as fast as he could. Due to his strong focus in pyromancy, he had not found the time to learn how to teleport or craft portals himself. Soon enough, the two were joined by many other High Elves running for safety, making it harder for the two to keep track of one another.

It was then that Archion heard a scream from behind him, the voice being his wife’s. He turned around abruptly as he neared the Farstrider’s Square, only to see that she had tripped. Before he could even rush back to help her, the Scourge had caught up to the poor girl. Soon enough, he saw the blade of one of the skeleton soldiers pierce through her lower abdomen as she tried to lift herself. She looked back into Archion’s terror-struck eyes as the blade pierced her; the last thing she would ever see before the life left her body. The corpse was soon trampled by the wave of undead, now setting their sights on Archion. The horror and agony he felt at that moment soon turned into blind rage, and the elf began blasting the Scourge with a host of fire spells, though their numbers were far too great.

When his magical energy was depleted after taking out a number of ghouls and soldiers, Archion was forced to run from their overwhelming numbers. He ran and ran, up through Farstrider’s Square. Countless screams came from behind him, as the High Elven guards and soldiers met their ends to the undead.

All seemed lost from him as he felt the hope for his own survival drain his body. Suddenly and almost miraculously, his grandfather, Archmage Solinar Bloodmoon, appeared right before him. While the forces of Silvermoon continued hopelessly fighting off the undead, Solinar took this time to craft the two a portal to Dalaran. Although he had escaped death, Archion still felt dead on the inside after watching his wife slain. She was nearly everything to him.

Archion was a changed man from that day on. No longer was he that bright, lively, and joyful individual as before; now his heart with sorrow, contempt, and rage, seeking revenge on the ones who ruined the wonderful life he had. His persona grew dark and often irritable. Completely different from the friendly and positive elf he was before.

Five years after, Archion returned to Silvermoon as proud Sin’dorei. Having joined with Kael’thas Sunstrider and his Sin’dorei from the beginning, Archion had come to idolize the prince greatly. His fire magic had also improved substantially, but little did he know that his life would soon take another dramatic spin.

It was in the streets of Murder Row where Archion found himself wondering one evening. A shadowy figure near the Sanctum of Warlocks would soon catch his attention. The demonic arts of the Warlock had indeed peeked his curiosity before, though he always restrained from delving into it. As he glanced at the somewhat familiar figure, he heared that sly voice of his mutter, “Hello, Archion.”

Archion froze. He knew at once who it was. Prior to the Scourge invasion, Draconar Bloodmoon – the youngest son of Solinar and Archion’s uncle – had also taught Archion a few things in the way of fire, though the spells Draconar learned through him were often rejected by the High Elven culture due to their destructive nature. Now he stood there, face to face with a former mentor. Archion could see the smirk on Draconar’s face from the shadows as the figure turned to head inside, almost as if beckoning Archion to follow. Of course, Archion followed.

That was the day he was initially introduced to the demonic arts. Draconar had become well versed in the ways of the Warlock during his stay in Outland, when he followed Kael’thas into the Dark Portal. The knowledge Draconar had gained was so great that he ended up abandoning Kael’thas and his forces in favor of further pursuit in Demonology.

Soon enough, Archion became experienced in the Warlock arts under Draconar’s instruction, especially in the more destructive fire spells. Vengeance would soon be his.

Or would it be?

Prior to Kael’thas’s betrayal, Archion held his prince in the highest esteem. It could even be said that he worshiped him. Then came that day when the beloved Sun King would betray his own people and attack the city. Archion did not at all take well to this upon hearing the news. How could he of all people do something like this? To his own people, no less? Something had to be amiss, he thought. Maybe it was not the Sun King that was wrong, but perhaps the Sin’dorei that threw away their loyalty to him.

This thought drove Archion mad. He knew then that he had to fight for his idolized prince. Gathering a set of armored, red robes, Archion ventured off to the Magisters' Terrace. Unbeknownst to him, his long-time friend and cousin, Elarian Sunsilver, had been recruited by one of the Shattered Sun’s groups to assault Kael’thas in the Magisters' Terrace.

Standing there in the shadows, his thoughts beyond scattered at this point, Archion watched the Sunblade prepare themselves for the attacks in one of the courtyards. It was not too long before the Shattered Sun would emerge, charging into the area and slaying each of the Sunblade around. Archion would remain hidden. After the courtyard had been cleared of Sunblade, the Shattered Sun warriors began to push forward. It was at this point that Archion’s eyes fell on Elarian, who had allowed himself to fall behind to check for any leftover Sunblade.

At that moment, Archion decided to reveal himself. The High Elf turned sharply to Archion immediately upon noticing him, not recognizing him from under his hood at first.

“Well, well, well. Look who just happened to show up…” Archion muttered out, keeping Elarian in a safe distance.

Elarian blinked, recognizing the voice. His eyes simply looked at the Warlock in disbelief. “…Archion? Is that you? What are you doing here?”

“The Sun King’s bidding, of course.” Archion stated rather flatly.

Elarian sighed deeply, his expression immediately growing stern. He looked at Archion with sheer disappointment. “Archion Dawnfire. Look at yourself. You have absolutely no business here serving the Sun King and the Legion.”

“Do you not understand, Elarian? Just think. The power the Legion could bring to us! All of our problems will be forever resolved!”

“And what about Velli?” Elarian asked, his expression stern as ever. “Do you really think this was what she would want?”

Archion blinked, trying to hide the emotion and guilt in his eyes that seemed to spawn upon hearing that question. “She would want me to be happy…”

“And this is making you happy?” Elarian signed. “And just think, Archion! Who were the ones that killed her? The Scourge! And who is responsible for creating the Scourge?”

Archion’s expression continued to sink as he responded, “…The Legion.”

Elarian’s calm, blue eyes seemed to peer directly into Archion’s fiery green ones. “So, your answer to your unhappiness is to serve the ones that killed the one you loved most?”

Grunting, Archion shook his head, the rage in his heart taking over. “It is too late now, Elarian! I will not abandon my Lord!” Raising his hand, the Warlock gathered a handful of felfire and tossed it at the High Elf.

Elarian frowned, quickly countering the felfire bolt with an Arcane barrage, the two spells exploding in a mixture of felfire and Arcane upon contact. Archion took a few steps back defensively, but before he knew it, Elarian had vanished. The mage appeared instantly right in front of him, and the Warlock would soon find himself flying back down onto the ground after being hit dead on with another Arcane barrage in the abdomen. He was cornered now. Defenseless. It was surely all over for him. The moment Archion dared to look up to his former friend, he found a calm expression on the High Elf’s face. “Let’s go home.” Elarian said, offering a hand out to help him up.

Archion just stared up to him incredulously, his expression both astonished and tearful. He could not believe his friend would forgive him after that. “But…” He started out.

“No ‘buts’!" Elarian replied, before giving him a warm, forgiving smile.

It was then that Archion understood. This was a kindness that his Sun King would never offer him. He reached up to grab his friend’s hand.

Elarian never told anyone about what had happened that day. He knew that Archion had learned his lesson. At the same time, Archion knew he would never truly be able to repay Elarian for that act of kindness and compassion, and from then on, he would always hold his friend in the highest of regards.

The incident at Magisters' Terrace would never leave his mind. Not for one moment. Archion Dawnfire finally understood that it was time to put the pains of his losses in the past, and fight for the ones he still had left. From the flames of the phoenix and the light of the Eternal Sun, Archion would rise to become the Sin’dorei he is today.