WoW- Shadow of Twilight (000-Prologue)

PROLOGUE-

         The silence of the night was getting to him as he sat there, head nodding over the sheets of paper he was reading over, various reports and information having come in in that day alone, enough piles of it to bury the table.
         Braeken Shai'Es let out a wide yawn and leant back in his chair. His wolven features, from his Worgen heritage, were tense with exhaustion- his violet eyes, usually glowing bright, were dim shadows, and his spiked hair was drooping. Thanks to his failing strength, his heavy mail armour felt like a thousand tonnes of rock on his tall, thin frame. Not for the first time, he showed every sign of his thirty-three years, despite the fact that a badly-placed curse during a fight with a Lich many years ago had lost him a few years, leaving him looking only about twenty-eight. The only changes he had had physically since were the change of becoming a Worgen and the occasional haircut.
         He let his eyes drift down to his side, where an ash-blue fox was sleeping, and he half smiled. At least Alma, the fierce she-wolf who served him as a pet, having been tamed many years before by Braeken using his hunting skills.
         “Still awake?”
         Braeken gave a start, and looked up to see a Draenei girl standing opposite him. Twenty-five, tall, thin; her tail hanging loose behind her, her long curving horns protruding from among her deep blue hair, which was tied back into a ponytail; her eyes glowing white. She was ethereally beautiful, Braeken noted idly- then mentally slapped himself for having that thought.
         “As ever,” he nodded to cover his moment of distraction. Rósé Moria Kaine, the shaman bodyguard assigned by the Earthen Ring to protect Braeken and his family in exchange for the aid he had given them during the war against Deathwing, frowned at him, then shook her head and came over, kneeling in front of his chair.
         “You need sleep.”
         “I need to get through these reports.”
         Rósé looked into his eyes for a long time. Her hand drifted up and rested momentarily on his cheek.
         Then slapped him.
         He gave a start and sat up straight.
         “Sleep,” Rósé said with a mild, shadowed grin.
         “You didn't need to slap me,” Braeken snapped, rubbing his sore cheek.
         “Apparently I did, otherwise you wouldn't have moved. Come on, Brae, you need to get some rest.”
         “Don't call me Brae.”
         “Don't be such a miserable git,” Rósé smirked.
         Braeken sighed, looking at Rósé with an expression torn between exasperation and amusement.
         “You take your job too seriously at times.”
         “It's my duty to protect you. And that includes from yourself.”
         “Pest.”
         The two locked gazes for a moment, then Rósé held out a hand to him. Braeken unwillingly let her help him up and away from all the papers.
         “How are the girls?” Braeken asked as they walked together through the dark corridors.
         “Both totally exhausted,” Rósé chuckled “Luca went shopping this morning and didn't get back until about an hour ago. Aémi's been practising with the Knights of the Ebon Blade again.”
         “Kicking their asses through the wall again I bet.”
         “Yeah. She even marked Darion a couple of times while sparring.”
         “She's getting to be the best.”
         “She's getting like her father then,” Rósé smiled at Braeken, who smiled slightly at the compliment.
         “I'm good, Rósé, but not that good.”
         “There are better hunters out there, Braeken, but there are no better men. You've overcome so much, done so much. Look at the Order- it's gone from struggling along to being recognized by both Varian Wrynn and Garrosh Hellscream themselves.”
         Braeken couldn't disagree with that. Since he had, with the aid of a friend who had died nearly a year previously, gathered many adventurers together into a special organization called the Order of Aszune- named thus after the universe that the lands of Azeroth lay within- Braeken had faced many troubles. But recently things were improving, and the King of Stormwind, Varian Wrynn, had recently commended the Order and granted them a small fort within the confines of the city, and the leader of the Horde, Garrosh Hellscream, had allowed them a second fort in Orgrimmar as a forward base on the continent of Kalimdor. The Order was an organization designed with the intention of working to quell threats to the newly restored peace following the destruction caused by Deathwing and his Twilight's Hammer cult following. Members of both the Alliance and Horde had joined the Order, and worked tirelessly to not only heal the land alongside the Earthen Ring, but to try and bridge the gap between the Alliance and Horde.
         It was, Braeken thought for the thousandth time, just a shame she wasn't around to see it all come to fruition.
         “You're thinking of her again, aren't you?” Rósé suddenly asked. Braeken looked round in surprise.
         “How did you...?”
         “You always get the same sad look when you think of her. It isn't healthy, Brae. You need to let go.”
         “I wish it were that easy, Rósé.”
         “Aihime wouldn't want you to destroy yourself like this.”
         “Maybe not. But I can hardly find out if that's true, can I?”
         Rósé had no reply for that, and simply went silent. Braeken's wife, Aihime- a Worgen mage whom he had trusted more than any other- had simply vanished nearly three months previously, and everyone assumed she was dead. Maybe she wasn't, but Braeken believed she was, and it hurt him more than anything.
         They finally stopped outside Braeken's room.
         “See you in the morning, Rósé,” Braeken nodded to her. She hesitated a moment, then nodded back.
         “Yeah. Get some rest.”
         'Not effing likely...' Braeken thought morbidly as Rósé left, and despite himself, he knew that she too doubted he would sleep. And she was right. He had never told her- or anyone, with the exception of his sister, Lexíe- about the nightmares that plagued his sleeping hours. Nightmares in which he saw Aihime, dying, again and again, suffering...
         Inside his room, he went to his bed and lay down, intending to read some more reports there. But he found himself being dragged under by exhaustion. He struggled for several long minutes to pull himself together, unwilling to surrender himself to the grasp of the nightmares, but it was an effort fought in vain. Eventually, with a sigh of misery, he let himself drift away into sleep.
         But before he fell to sleep, his eyes drifted to his night-stand, which he opened with one clawed hand, and from within it took a small ring. It was no more than a mood ring, the colour changing rapidly as his sleep-addled emotions swam around his mind. The colours were almost hypnotic in the dark, the magically-enchanted band glowing brightly. As usual his mind began to reach out to the past, remembering the ring lying in her palm as she gave the ring and, through it, herself to him.
         'For eternity...'
         A single tear fell and stained the pillow, then Braeken surrendered himself to the black realm of nightmare...