Eversong Woods

Bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun, golden waves swept across the tranquil Golden Beach again and again, accompanied by wisps of breeze.

Behind him, the seemingly endless maple forest appeared unwilling to be left out. With the breeze's help, its equally brilliant golden canopy swayed.

The entire beach was bathed in this noble, sacred light.

Peaceful and serene, this stretch of coastline, named Golden Beach by the Quel'dorei, was where a young elf taking a nap was awakened by the cry of a seagull.

Unlike other High Elves, his smooth, silver-white hair added a touch of coolness to the golden surroundings. A closer look, however, revealed that the white strands carried a hint of withering and decay.

What drew the eye even more were his deep blue eyes, like two crystal-clear shards of magical crystal, filled with an irresistible charm. Yet perhaps it was just a trick of the eye—a flicker of emerald light shone within them, sending a chill down one's spine.

Lanlos was his name. At least, it was now.

In truth, his muddled memories told him that he should have had a surname, one that proved his identity as a Quel'dorei noble.

But after experiencing those several hours of death, he had buried it deep in his memories. Now, he was nothing but a wanderer.

That's right. Death.

Lanlos had died long ago beneath the sharp blades of the Forest Trolls.

A cold glint flashed through the young elf's blue eyes. He carried himself with a composure far beyond his years, and his deep gaze seemed able to see straight through another's soul.

Fate had played a cruel trick. Just before his kin were about to toss his body into the crematorium, his rigid chest began to rise and fall again.

He had come back to life.

But he was no longer the 'Lanlos' he had once been.

The young elf gazed sleepily toward the edge of the coastline. When the last glimmer of the setting sun sank into the Great Sea, he sighed as if in regret, then slowly rose to his feet.

It was time to leave. Once the sky grew completely dark, the savage Murlocs would begin their revels on the beach. Even the Quel'dorei Rangers' presence couldn't stop these pesky monsters from retreating to the deep sea whenever they pleased.

Feeling around in the grass beside him, Lanlos grabbed a dry, cracked 'branch,' used it as a cane, and limped along the coast.

Those several hours of death had left the young elf with more than just gray-white hair. According to the Priest who had treated him, his right leg had 'died.'

Every step sent a piercing pain through him, making Lanlos's brows twitch ever so slightly. Yet a faint, mocking smile played across his face.

Fate sure loved its jokes.

In his previous life, he had been tormented by illness. When he finally got the chance to enter the world he had longed for, he found himself surrounded by demons.

Now, after giving up all the power he'd fought tooth and nail to obtain, he had arrived in Azeroth looking like this.

It was enough to make anyone's jaw drop...

Was this because I didn't follow your rules and force myself to live a few more years? Is this how you're going to mess with me now?

Lanlos silently shook his head and glanced at his burdensome right leg. Whatever else, at least he could still feel pain. He knew the feeling well. In his previous life, it had stayed with him all along. For days? For years? He couldn't remember. He only knew that it was the feeling of being alive.

As he sorted through Vihana's memories and Belash's power in his mind, an unusual light shone in the elf's blue eyes.

The power of this world had never been limited to appearances. More importantly, as a High Elf, he had a long life ahead of him—and plenty of time to learn.

To learn safer powers, stronger powers, and powers capable of standing against demons.

To keep the Keystone's power from being exposed and drawing demons to him, Lanlos had hidden the conical crystal in the deepest, most inaccessible part of his memory. But he didn't notice the ominous green light that briefly flickered at the corner of his eye when he relaxed.

"Hey, Lance, you finally made it back." The sky had already grown dark, and the lights ahead made Lanlos quicken his pace. But then a familiar voice from nearby stopped him in his tracks.

He turned and saw two Quel'dorei in ranger uniforms emerge from the shadows.

"I've told you so many times, it's Lanlos, not Lance." The young elf gave them a helpless smile.

"Sure thing, Lance. I'll remember that." The male ranger leading the way waved a hand, clearly not taking Lanlos's complaint to heart. "Ilana, take the kid back first."

"What about the patrol?" Although it was hard to tell an elf's age just by looking, the innocence in Ilana's eyes showed that she wasn't much older than Lanlos.

"Don't worry. I'm the Murloc Slayer. Those little runts have no choice but to go around me." Sores thumped his chest, still acting like a carefree loafer, his voice full of scorn for the Murlocs.

Seeing Ilana gaze at the middle-aged man with admiration, Lanlos couldn't help but want to laugh.

The title of Murloc Slayer was something Sores had bragged his way into earning. It had been bestowed on him by some jokester, and was far more of a joke than a real achievement.

Sores was one of the few proper rangers in the village, but he wasn't strong enough to slaughter Murlocs by the dozen. On his own, he could at most pick on some unlucky stragglers.

But that was understandable. As Lanlos knew, although the Amani Trolls had been defeated by the alliance of the High Elves and humans several centuries ago and driven into a tiny corner of the Zul'Aman jungle, in the past hundred years these Forest Trolls had grown restless again, repeatedly stirring up trouble along Quel'Thalas's borders.

As the saying went, save the best for the toughest fight. Most of the Farstriders, the elite ranger corps, had been sent to the front lines. The remaining capable rangers were generally active in the big cities, which meant they didn't need to waste their attention on remote places like Golden Branch Village. As for people like Sores—mediocre in ability and poor in character—they'd naturally been left behind.

Sores caught the fleeting smile on Lanlos's face and immediately knitted his brows. "What, you think that's funny?"

"No, of course not. I was just laughing at those Murlocs. After all, they have to face the 'Murloc Slayer.'"

Lanlos deliberately stressed the final few syllables. Sores knew he wasn't sincerely praising him, and his cheeks inexplicably began to burn.

"Enough!" Sores raised a hand to block Lanlos's teasing gaze, cleared his throat, and turned to Ilana. "All right, take him back first. I can handle tonight's patrol on my own."

"Yes!" The elf girl put away her clearly unusual expression, gave a somewhat clumsy salute, and nodded to Lanlos before heading briskly toward the village.

After Sores disappeared into the night, Lanlos gave a slight smile. He silently returned the salute, then leaned on his cane and slowly followed Ilana.

Golden Branch Village lay at the southernmost end of Golden Beach. Though it stood beside the Erendal River, its swift current and the year-round mist in the nearby ravine kept it from becoming as prosperous as Sunsail Harbor.

But that was precisely why this little village, tucked between mountains and water, had escaped the Forest Trolls' attacks. Its peaceful, serene life had once made Lanlos forget that this was Azeroth—the war-torn Azeroth.

Though it was only a settlement of a hundred or so people, as the saying went, one could see the whole from a glimpse of the part. The High Elves' mastery of magic was plain to see.

Golden Branch Village was brightly lit beneath the night sky. Its distinctly elven cottages stood in neat rows, and crisscrossing stone paths stretched as far as the eye could see. Bright magical streetlamps stood before every home.

Several mischievous elven children had been swept up in their games under cover of night. They completely ignored the adults calling to them from afar, lost in a game of hide-and-seek.

"Jain, didn't you hear Big Sister Rashir calling you home?" As soon as they entered the village, Ilana grabbed a little boy who ran past her. With a stern expression, she spoke very seriously.

But clearly, the elven girl had little authority in the village.

"Let go! I'm about to lose sight of them!" Seeing his friends disappear around the corner, Jain pouted and glared at Ilana, who was keeping him from winning the game. "It's all your fault! They've all run off!"

Ilana's brows drew together slightly, and her voice softened, as if she were trying to reason with the child. "The village isn't safe at night. You can't go running around like this. If—"

"With a puny little body like mine, if I run into Murlocs or Trolls, I won't even be enough to fill the gaps between their teeth." Jain rudely cut off her warning and made a face at Ilana. Taking advantage of her surprise, he yanked his trapped shirt free. "Why are you just like Mom? I'm sick of hearing this stuff. You're so annoying. No wonder you can't find a husband!"

"You..." Jain's words had hit a sore spot. Ilana was so angry she was left speechless, unable to think of a retort.

Jain's eyes darted around like a little fox. He was about to take another jab at her when a figure emerging from behind him interrupted.

"You little brat, your mom's calling you home for dinner." His gray-white hair was somewhat disheveled. His shabby robe didn't smell, but under the cover of night it seemed rather ominous. With his sharp eyes and pale face, Lanlos's sudden appearance made Jain hold his breath without realizing it.

"Didn't you hear me?" Jain's frozen stance seemed to anger the mysterious outsider, who was a source of wonder and fear among the children. Leaning on his cane, Lanlos slowly stepped closer. The sheer difference in their height forced Jain to look up at him.

The consequence was that his fairly handsome face fell into shadow, like that of a demon.

"N-no, sir! I'm going home right now!" Fighting back his fear, Jain stammered, his voice clearly choked with tears. Then he turned and ran without looking back.

"Thank you." It might have been a bit much to scare a child, but the outcome was good. Ilana let out a long breath, her gratitude plain to see.

Lanlos didn't reply. He merely smiled and shook his head, then headed toward his home. Just as Ilana turned to leave, he suddenly stopped. "By the way, you and Sores should pick up the pace. Otherwise, those little brats will never let you hear the end of it..."

"That's none of your business!" Her cheeks instantly flushed crimson. Ilana whipped around, only to see that Lanlos had already gone far ahead. All she could do was stamp her foot in frustration, then hurry off in another direction, looking bashful.