Shandris Feathermoon's expression was icy. She glanced at the half-elf before her, then turned to Jaina and said with some displeasure, "Jaina, are you joking with me? Don't you know I've long been the only surviving member of my family?"
Jaina hastily replied, "Shandris, I'm not joking. This half-elf mage standing before you really does call himself Shawn Feathermoon and claim to be a member of the Feathermoon family. Perhaps there really are other survivors of your family?"
Shandris shook her head. "If there were other survivors, why has no one come looking for me in ten thousand years? There can't be any."
Shandris Feathermoon's expression dimmed.
She recalled the scenes from ten thousand years ago. Raging flames had destroyed the night elf capital, and thousands upon thousands of night elves had died in the fel flames. The horrific final moments of her kin still seemed to linger before her eyes. Those scenes had appeared in her dreams countless times.
Though she had long grown accustomed to them, and many memories had faded with time-or perhaps she had unconsciously let them fade because, deep down, she could not bear to remember-hearing someone mention the Feathermoon family again still filled Shandris with profound loneliness.
The Feathermoon family, once night elf nobility, a ruling family standing high above the clouds, had simply faded into the dust of history, like passing smoke. Even she herself, aside from the family blood flowing through her veins, possessed only a single thing that belonged to her family: the amulet she had worn since childhood.
That Feathermoon Amulet was proof of her identity as a member of the family.
Every Feathermoon Amulet was unique.
They were made from the finest hippogryph feathers, soaked in the Well of Eternity for long years, then bathed in potent Moonlight Magic.