Destiny or Desire

Part 3: Exiled and Reviled

Zaryinor followed Aryendril through the marble streets of Silvermoon, focusing on the small crystal in his hand. The crystal pulsed with magic and energy, glowing purple with a bluish tint to it.

Aryendril bought the mana crystals daily, keeping their family stocked up on the small stones infused with magic. They drained the energy from the crystals to keep themselves in check, knowing painfully that the source they used to draw their magic from was now destroyed. Even though it was little and didn't do very much for the faint headache they got from the withdrawals, Zaryinor knew his family refused to resort to what the Blood elves consumed.

That was why Rhothomir was ill.

The retraction of the magic leaving his brother's body was too vicious and uncontrollable, and now Rhothomir was sick. Zaryinor saw how desperately his mother always gave Rhothomir the mana crystals, hoping the magic he could absorb from inside would restore his strength.

It wasn't working.

Zaryinor closed his eyes as he trailed behind Aryendril, focusing on the patterns of energy he could feel pocketed inside the gem. He concentrated on the magic, using the strength of his mind and faint addiction to draw the energy out and into his body.

The feeling was like a small wave of refreshing air that fluttered through his mind, blowing away the remnants of his headache and weakness. He longed for the feeling as much as anyone else in Silvermoon did, but he knew he could only use the crystals sparingly. Rhothomir needed them more than him.

That was another question that ran rampant through Zaryinor's young mind. Why did the withdrawals affect Rhothomir and not him? He was younger, more vulnerable. . . but he did suppose he was less exposed to the arcane than Rhothomir and his parents. They must've used it daily to conjure materials, enchant weapons, and teleport more freely throughout the city.

Zaryinor had never done that as frequently as his older brother and parents. He could blink if he consumed enough arcane, but that was a simple teleportation that only took him a few yards forward. It wasn't very useful, but the rush of magic he felt upon casting the spell was something he longed to do without consequences.

Zaryinor watched his mother struggle to hide the mana crystals she bought inside her satchel, and confusion rang like a bell throughout his mind. What was she doing? Why was she trying to hide the mana crystals?

He hurried beside her, carefully pulling the satchel open more widely for her. He opened his mouth with a question on his lips, but it died on his tongue once he noticed the Sin'dorei that approached them. He hid behind Aryendril, taking a hold of her dress fearfully as the Blood elves halted in their path.

"Aryendril Dawntreader!" one of the Sin'dorei greeted warmly, their tone and friendliness disgusting Zaryinor.

"You do realize we offer something far more efficient than those meager crystals you are wasting your money on?" the Blood elf asked, pulling a green crystal out from his robe. The crystal hummed faintly, glimmering with the sickening green magic that dwelt inside.

Zaryinor gulped uncomfortably, staring longingly at the green gem the Sin'dorei twirled between his fingers. He could feel the magic radiating off of the simple object, but also how consuming and. . . disgusting it was. He could feel the power it possessed and promised, but knew the price.

It was like this green magic imprisoned you in an eternal hunger worse than the withdrawals. . .

"Oh, of course," Aryendril said with her sweet and genuine smile. Zaryinor could see the nervousness darkening her blue eyes, and he reached for her hand.

"You know, the same thing that has befallen your son touched my daughter. She was just as he is; sick, weak, and pathetic. After taking this," the Blood elf tossed the crystal into the air, allowing it to hover with his magic surrounding the simple object, "she is stronger than she was before falling ill."