Azeroth, Silvermoon City.
Leras Windrunner, his blond hair tousled, lay idly on his bed. Days without his sisters' eyes on him were especially easy and carefree.
He rolled over on the bed and stretched. Comfortable and pleasant!
Normally, with three pairs of eyes watching him at all times, he was terrified of doing anything wrong and immediately getting a lecture.
That was also what had made him quiet and withdrawn in front of his sisters. Heaven only knew which one of them might be in a bad mood and just happen to take it out on him.
He rolled over again. No war, no chaos, no nagging from his sisters—he felt an unreal sense of peace. Where was he? Silvermoon City? No. As long as he was on his own little bed, he could roll around to his heart's content.
There was no whistle outside gathering the Rangers, no clamor from the Theramore market. Outside was quiet, peaceful Silvermoon City.
Quiet? "Deng? Ding?" What was that sound?
Leras's long ears pricked up, then swiveled around. At last, he confirmed that the music was coming from outside the window on the other side of the room.
He rolled over and sprang nimbly to his feet, walked to that window, quietly opened a crack in the curtains, and looked outside.
The music kept drifting over. His eyes searched constantly, and his long ears tracked the direction as well.
Finally, he saw that beside the inn was an abandoned garden. What had once been a beautiful place was now nothing but weeds. Fortunately, several tall ancient elven trees still stood proud, and beneath them, old stone steps stubbornly showed through the wild grass.
At that moment, a graceful figure was sitting on the stone steps beneath a tall tree, holding an elven harp