Chapter Text
The sun set over Quel'danas. The island, like the mainland to its south across the channel, stood draped in the eternal warmth of autumn. From the terraces atop the highest hills of the Isle, the tops of all the trees caught the light of the water from the channel and seemed to gleam brilliant red and gold in the fading light. The spire-towers of Silvermoon on the Quel'thalas mainland glinted in the distance, gradually shadowing to silhouettes.
In the evening, the terraces were usually quiet. From time to time, a servant with his head bowed and tunic dirty would slip out from one of the buildings, breathe a sigh of relief, and head to the servants' quarters -- but not before taking a moment to watch the sunset. The servants smiled.
Sometimes, the Sunwell Guardians took evening walks along the terraces. They smiled as well, but only at each other, and theirs were the thin-lipped smiles of formality.
But Vyn'thas Averyn hardly smiled at all.
He walked beside another elf—this man, equal to Vyn'thas in height, spoke incessantly. He gestured with his arms, voice carrying across the terrace and laced with pride. “In truth, my son's studies have far exceeded my expectations of him. Callidus' abilities with arcanistry have far surpassed what mine were at his age. Even Instructor Flameborne is impressed—and you know how difficult the man is, yes?”
“I do, Ryvian,” Vyn'thas replied. He knew the dark-haired elf anticipated some kind of compliment, and it was unlikely that the subject of his son would be dropped until it was given. “His progress is impressive, indeed.”
Ryvian turned up his chin with pride, looking out over the terrace as they walked. He adjusted the collar of his robe, clearing his throat. “If Callidus should continue at this rate of progress, I do believe he'll be made a true Guardian by the time he's come of age.” Ryvian glanced sidelong at Vyn'thas, who caught his gaze. “And what of Jaithys, your eldest? He and Callidus are nearly the same age, after all.”
“Jaithys is not so show off for an audience,” Vyn'thas replied, his tone a bit testy. He knew Ryvian well enough to recognize a passive insult. “He studies as much as he is able, and he's progressed well enough. I've no reason to find fault in him.”
“Of course, of course,” Ryvian said, holding up one hand, but he kept his little smile. “I'm certain you've enough of that with your second son.”
His tone was teasing, but Vyn'thas did not smile. He let a sigh and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, choosing not to bait Ryvian with a reply. They walked in silence for a moment to the edge of the terrace and, instead of turning around, Ryvian placed his hands upon the rise and gazed out over the Isle. The setting sun had made the hills and spires of the mainland into shadows, piercing the sky above.
“There's something else I'd meant to speak to you about, Averyn.”
Vyn'thas turned a glance to him, raising his eyebrows and keeping his tone as casual as he could. “Oh? What is it, then?”
Ryvian cleared his throat again and reached into the gold-trimmed pocket of his robe. He withdrew a familiar piece of parchment; Vyn'thas could see upon it the red wax seal bearing his family's crest. “This is the letter you sent to the rest of the Guardians, Vyn'thas. I'm merely asking for a bit of clarity on your reasoning for such a request—”
“You've met the man called Firewing, Ryvian,” Vyn'thas interrupted, frowning. “He was at the banquet just a month ago. You said his research interested you—”
“It did, it did,” Ryvian held up a hand, turning to face Vyn'thas. His eyes narrowed, the proud little smile he always wore shifted to a somber seriousness. “But clearly not to the extent it interested you. Please, allow me to clarify. Your letter states that you wish for us to allow this Revastus Firewing to work alongside us, and allow him to study the Sunwell directly?”
Ryvian looked down at the letter and raised his eyebrows as thought it were the first time he'd read the words. Vyn'thas pursed his lips and drew a breath, sighing. “I knew you of all the Guardians would be the one to question it. Can you not see the benefit? Firewing has experience and knowledge of the world that we do not, even in our position of power, Ryvian. We've not seen his type of approach to research in Quel'thalas in centuries.”
“You are asking us to break tradition and allow one who has not been sworn into the Order of the Guardians direct oversight and study of the Sunwell.”
“Yes.”
“Explain, Averyn.”
Vyn'thas cleared his throat this time, pausing a moment to gather his thoughts. “For generations, Ryvian, our Order has never broken our basic traditions. Think of what might happen if we allow someone outside of the bloodlines to research the Sunwell—a different perspective than that of our fathers, and their fathers before them. Think of what might be gained—what new power Firewing might find for us, Ryvian.”
He waited for one of Ryvian's usual hasty replies, but the other man merely raised his eyebrows again, thin lips drawn together in a tight line. Vyn'thas drew a breath to continue, but Ryvian held up a hand to interrupt him. “Have you gathered the support of the others, then?”
“I have. I've spoken with Kaylai and Athael, and then Ethahir—he was reluctant, but they've all agreed with me, Ryvian.”
He kept his gaze steady, and Ryvian once again held a long silence. Finally, the other elf shook his head, brushing his dark hair back with one hand. “I will say that I still do not like the idea, Averyn. The Guardians have held one duty for as long as the Order has existed, and that is to oversee and protect the Sunwell at all costs. In my personal opinion, this idea of yours is entirely contrary to that duty. We know not what will come of this, Averyn. It is a gamble.”
Vyn'thas nodded once. “I fully understand that, Ryvian, but if I did not trust Revastus Firewing completely I would not go through with this.”
“I am aware, and I do trust you, Averyn. For that reason, I will give my consent.” Ryvian turned to look back over the Isle. The last light of the sun was fading behind the spires across the channel. “I simply hope this man will prove as valuable as you believe him to be.”
Trying not to let a sigh of relief, Vyn'thas nodded again. He had already discussed the matter with the man called Firewing, and he'd assured him that the other Guardians would allow him direct access to the Sunwell. Vyn'thas would have hated to tell him, after such a conversation, that the opportunity would be denied. “Thank you, Ryvian. You've my deepest gratitude.”
Ryvian waved his hand in dismissal, turning away from him to walk back down the terrace. “Think nothing of it, Vyn'thas. You may thank me when we've gained something from this endeavor of yours.”
Vyn'thas could not tell, this time, if Ryvian was serious.
- - -
Jaithys had seen his father speaking to the man called Revastus Firewing more than once at the recent banquets. At first, he'd wondered what the man was doing there—he looked the slightest bit out of place, and the way he carried himself did not instantly suggest his nobility. He was an older elf with a harsh, grating cough that made Jaithys cringe. Revastus wore his graying hair in a braid and the style of his robes, while still presentable, seemed the slightest touch out of date.
Having originally assumed the man to be nothing more than a guest to the banquets—perhaps a friend to one of the other Guardian families, nothing more—Jaithys was surprised to hear his father speak so excitedly about him after each of their meetings. Revastus, Jaithys learned, was a traveler.
“He has seen more of the world than you and I will ever see in our lifetimes, Jaithys,” Vyn'thas told him. They sat together in his father's study, looking over a book by candlelight, but Vyn'thas was clearly distracted. “He is lucky for it—I will have you speak with him sometime, Jaithys. You will learn much from him that you cannot learn from the Guardians.”
The opportunity for such a conversation never arrived until Vyn'thas had gone forward with a plan to bring Revastus to the Plateau to research the Sunwell directly. Jaithys had overheard his father discussing this with the man one night at the door while he and his younger brother Shias studied in the adjacent room. The next day, Vyn'thas invited Jaithys to accompany him to the Plateau and welcome Revastus.
They stood at the edge of Parhelion Plaza in the shadow of the Plateau. Callidus Dawnheart, the dark-haired smirking son of Ryvian Dawnheart, wandered by after his morning lessons were over. When Vyn'thas told him who they were waiting for, he decided to stay.
Callidus stood beside Jaithys, just a hand's breadth shorter. “My father doesn't seem to like this Firewing—I'll have to see for myself, right? I hope you don't mind, Lord Averyn.”
Vyn'thas did not have time to reply—he glanced out over the plaza, placing a hand over his eyes to block the sun, and grinned. Following his gaze, Jaithys could see Revastus coming towards them, a few servants trailing behind him. Two of them carried several boxes and seemed ready to fall over at every step. The third, a short distance behind the others, led a strange beast by a rope. It was clearly a cat, like the lynxes of Eversong, but the thing's fur was a deep orange, striped in black. Jaithys squinted his eyes and frowned—he'd never seen such a thing before.
“Father, what is that?”
“It's a cat,” remarked Callidus, turning up his chin. "Obviously."
Ignoring the other boy, Jaithys looked to his father, but Vyn'thas did not answer—he moved across the grass to greet Revastus warmly, placing a hand to the older man's shoulder. Jaithys and Callidus exchanged glances before following.
Revastus had a strange look about him; he looked over his shoulder a few times as the three servants caught up. “You did not have to send them,” he said quietly. His pale brow furrowed over his eyes, and he let a slight hack of a cough.
Vyn'thas kept his hand at the man's shoulder. “Nonsense, Revastus. It is the least I could do. Now,” he stepped to the side, gesturing beside him to Jaithys and Callidus, “I would like to introduce my eldest son, Jaithys—and this is Callidus, Dawnheart's boy.”
“Ah,” Revastus nodded stiffly, looking between them. Jaithys bowed to him, but did not turn down his gaze—he watched the elder elf peer at them for a moment, and his weathered hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. When he spoke, his voice seemed as stiff as his neck. “I have heard you are both quite advanced in your studies.”
“Yes, sir,” Callidus said. Jaithys had expected this, and by contrast, he simply nodded, and kept his head bowed again.
“Good—very good,” Revastus nodded again, and the same cough rose in his throat. Vyn'thas' hand remained steady at his shoulder until the fit had passed. Jaithys stood before them, his ears drooping a bit, a cringe on his face.
“Come, then,” said Vyn'thas. “I'm sure you're going to like what I have to show you.”
They ascended the stairway to the terraces that circled the Shrine of the Eclipse, and beneath it, the Sunwell itself. Jaithys knew where they were going before they got there—it was a room his father had used to store materials often used in the observatory. He'd had it emptied the day before; suddenly, there had been gnomish telescopes and scrying gems littered about his father's study.
“Here we are,” Vyn'thas reached the doorway to the chamber and gestured about with one arm. He'd taken everything out of it save two tables set against the walls to the left and right. It was a sizable room, painted pearly white, its single window draped in long red curtains. Jaithys took a step in its direction—below, he could see the plaza and the road up the hill to Magisters' Terrace. “It is the best I can do—I hope it will be enough room for you.”
“It shall,” Revastus said, hastily. He stepped into the room and paused a moment with a brief look of confusion. Then he glanced behind him and beckoning the servants forward. They brought the boxes and the orange-furred cat, which Callidus could not seem to take his eyes away from. Jaithys followed his gaze. The cat was muzzled, but it still appeared sluggish—perhaps it had been enchanted for safety.
As the first two servants set down their boxes, Revastus moved to begin unpacking them, waving the servants away. Jaithys strained to see what was in them. He caught sight of a few crystals, glass vials, and other tools he'd never seen before.
“Sir—sir, what is the cat for? Where's it from? It's not like the lynxes.” Callidus finally spoke.
“It's for an experiment, child,” Revastus said. He didn't glance back at the creature or the boy. “It's from the far south—it's a tiger, not a lynx.”
“A tiger,” Jaithys repeated to himself, narrowing his eyes at the creature. It was different, clearly; its ears were shorter, its eyes did not glow. Perhaps it was not enchanted at all, it was simply not as fierce as the wild lynxes in Eversong.
“You may begin your work as soon as you wish,” Vyn'thas said, moving to help Revastus with the boxes. “And—ah, if you've any need of assistance, might I offer the aid of either of these two boys? They are quite capable, and I must say that working alongside you might benefit them in their studies.”
Revastus seemed distracted. He glanced up, one finger pressed against a blue crystal in his hand, inspecting it for cracks and flaws. “What? Ah, yes—very well.” He paused again, looking back to the crystal and peering intently at it, his nose nearly to its glinting surface. “Perhaps one of them might stay and help me set these things up...?”
Jaithys looked to his father, which he quickly realized was a mistake and a waste of time—Callidus stepped forward, extending a hand, “I'll help you, sir. Where should I start?”
Catching a look of brief disappointment on his father's face, Jaithys cleared his throat and spoke as politely as he could, “I'll be willing to help as well, when you're in need of me. Callidus will be busy sometimes.”
The other boy didn't seem to hear him. He'd already plucked up something from within the box: a strange metal device, perhaps gnomish or goblin, Jaithys couldn't tell. He wished he'd spoken sooner.
“We'll leave you be, then,” Vyn'thas said, backing towards the door. “If you've anything to request, please, send one of the servants to my residence. I'll do what I can to assist you as well.”
“Thank you again, Vyn'thas.” Revastus kept his eyes on the crystal a moment longer before he blinked and turned, bowing stiffly to Jaithys' father. He then began to cough again, and turned away.
Vyn'thas put a hand to Jaithys' shoulder, leading him from the room. “Forgive me, Jaithys, I would have rather you stayed to help him—I'm certain you'll have your opportunity.”
“If Lord Dawnheart doesn't like him, father,” Jaithys said, “Callidus won't stay there for long.”
“You're right,” Vyn'thas gave a dry chuckle. “Now—might I ask you to go see about your brother? Do make sure he's studying, Jaithys. You know how Shias has been.”
With a sudden heaviness in his shoulders, Jaithys nodded. When his father smiled and looked away, he frowned and let a pained sigh through his nose. He wished even more, then, that he had volunteered to work with Revastus before Callidus had opened his mouth.