iliadras

[iliadras]

The Nightmare – Sloth

Ilia’dra’s den was not a place of peace.

No, she’d not been granted the luxury of such a haven. Since the moment she had been hatched, the whelp was shadowed. Watched, soothed, warped—stolen away by her ‘father’.

Xarzex. Defiler.

It was he who had sequestered her away, severing her connection to the Emerald Dream. By his design, she was alone, cursed to spend an eternity at his side.

And yet…

He was gone, too.

She had given him time to come back to her; grace. No matter if she starved herself to death while she awaited his return. No matter if she couldn’t sleep. No matter, no matter. She would not leave her den without him—five years had done a number on her, it seemed. How terrible of a child, how petulant, must she have been if she were to forget his lessons so easily? She was but a girl. Any proper adventurer would slay her without a moment’s hesitation should they stumble upon her in the open.

So she starved.

So she languished.

So she wasted.

No matter, no matter.

A week passed, and her gut twisted and ached from the emptiness. A void, gnawing away at her insides. A second week, and she lacked the strength to even stand. A third, and she could no longer crawl to the mouth of her cave to take a breath of fresh air. A fourth, and her eyes finally drifted closed—leaden, too heavy to open. 

Footsteps approached on the thirty-third day. They belonged not to Xarzex, whose legs tapered into hooves, but to a stranger. She did not recognize the sound of their weight, of their gait, of their breathing. A rumbling, heavy sigh expelled from her nostrils, insisting upon her condition. She was alive. Whoever this was, they could not steal from her without killing her first.

“Hello?” A man’s voice. Elven—likely a druid from the villages in Val’sharah, just below. Ilia’dra did not understand how he had found her den, how he had even reached such heights, what with how she’d hidden herself away within the bowels of Highmountain. Not even a lip extended out past the mouth of her cave, barely a six-foot opening from which she could flee.

Again, she sighed. A low groan built within her throat, then echoed out across her den’s walls. She couldn’t speak.

“Shit, shit…”

She was dying. Ilia’dra knew this, and she knew full well that whoever had found her realized the same. It was a wonder he seemed concerned, however, if her ears did not deceive her. She prayed to the Nightmare that they weren’t. It was a long shot, but one she was willing to stake hope on.

“I’ll get water. And—and food. Don’t move.”

Not that she would if she could, anyway.

…Xarzex would kill them himself if he were to ever come back.

#world of warcraft #writing blurb #blurb #writing #wow #the emerald nightmare #the nightmare #the emerald dream #the dream #val'sharah

[iliadras]

#world of warcraft #the emerald nightmare #the emerald dream #emerald nightmare #emerald dream #val'sharah