Content that I would get my answers tomorrow, I gave Lysandra a grin and moved over to the bed. She removed my towel and pulled me on top of her, smiling as I crawled over her naked body. I leaned in to kiss her lips, my hands getting tangled in her hair as I did. I was sore, tired, full, and a little chilly. This wasn’t a night for hot, elf-pussy-destroying porking. It was a night for slow and easy sex. Pulling her hips closer, I parted the lips of her vagina with my tip. Lysandra moaned as I got to work, obviously faking it, but I wasn’t in the mood to impress.

Maybe it was my old-fashioned sensibilities, but to me, some things in life are hallmarks. They’re standards by which everything else is measured. They're familiar and remind you of a simpler time, of a place you can return to whenever you want. Such things keep you grounded in a world where everything is always shifting. Some people enjoy raunchy fetishes, always craving something extreme or novel to keep their interest, and while I'm no stranger to the exotic, that wasn't me. You need something to remind you of the good times, something you can reflect on not because of what was done, but why, and who it was with. It's camping under the stars, eating a home-cooked meal, and taking a pretty girl down for a few good minutes of missionary. That was what I needed this night. As I felt Lysandra squirm under me, I kept an even pace as my dick sank deeper into her wet snatch.

Her fingers clawed my back, “Oh god, you’re in so deep!”

I wasn’t so deep, balls deep, in deep, or any kind of deep. This was outright fabrication on her part and uncreative at that. Every girl at the Lion’s Pride said the exact same thing, which I guess meant she was coming off as a prostitute. This made the ensuing sex slightly less comfortable. I continued nonetheless, my hips grinding between her thighs. I grabbed one of her breasts with my hand and suckled on her nipple a bit, she did have gorgeous breasts.

“Baby, mmm, oh that’s so good!” she said as I kissed her tits. The falsehoods just kept coming. This bed was a strange facsimile of this city, lies and slander hidden behind the veneer of beauty and kind words. I was paying more attention to my own internal monologue than I was the woman in this bed. There must be something wrong with me, I thought, but frankly I didn’t care. Lysandra was no Anya, and she sure as hell was no Syndra. I kept going, deciding to finish this before it got any more weird or uncomfortable. By the time I was nearing my climax I felt less like I was fucking a beautiful woman and more like I was feeding a piece of rope through a pipe.

“I think… I-I’m gonna cum!” she cried, her body shaking a disingenuous way. When a girl orgasms, it is the definition of ecstasy, she looks like she is on another planet. Her body tremors with pure pleasure as she grips onto your back for dear life, begging for every single thrust. This looked like Tourette's. I pushed harder, watching her tits bounce in time with my thrusts. Finally I leaned over, body tense, and came. I hadn’t even built up a full head of steam but she rocked her hips into me, coaxing it all out. She just didn't get it, not every night needed to be an event.

Casually I rolled off her, it was far from the best I’d had, but it got the job done. She curled up next to me, “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” I said. The look in her eyes was genuine, even if the sex wasn’t. She really did want me to have a good time. I pulled her closer and she snuggled with me, throwing the sheets over us. It didn't take long for either of us to fall asleep that night.

The next morning I was still a little sore from my tussle with Sir Patton but I shook it off. Lysandra was already dressed by the time I rolled out of bed, and after a quick breakfast she had me out the door. This time though we weren't headed for the Bazaar. Having the day off, she instead led me towards the gates of the city.

“Wait, this is outside the city?” I asked, “I'm not permitted to leave yet.”

“It should be okay as long as I’m with you,” she replied. I could tell there was some hesitation in her voice, the same kind of apprehension that she had when we strolled through Murder Row. Nevertheless she led me through the city gate, off the beaten path, and towards the countryside. Eversong Forest wasn't particularly dense, but I didn't like being this far from civilization in what was technically hostile territory. Lysandra must have sensed my nervousness because after walking a while in silence she turned to me, “It isn't a place we usually go,” she admitted, “at least, not willingly.”

“What do you mean?”

“You'll see, we're almost there.”

We climbed a hill that overlooked an area about a mile or so away from the city. Below were the hovels of… it was difficult to describe what they were exactly. They looked like elves but were misshapen. Their slender frames were emaciated so they appeared as shambling skeletons. Deathly pale skin clung to their bones and their sullen eyes were recessed. Each of them meandered almost blindly, desperately trying to absorb whatever magic it could from the surrounding area, leaving this part of the Eversong Woods a dull and dead place. I turned to Lysandra, thoroughly disgusted, “What are these things?”

“They're Wretched,” she said.

“Yeah, but what are they?” I asked.

“Wretched, it's what we call them. They are what happens to a Blood Elf when they lose control of their magical addiction.”

“So wait,” I said, turning to look at the creatures again, “Those used to be elves?”

“They still are, technically, although no one really considers them such. They're practically mindless, driven by their cravings for magic.”

“I still don't get it,” I said, staring at them, “If the elves are addicted to magic, and it turns them into this... why all the mana crystals?”

Lysandra shook her head, “It's a two-way street. If we're deprived magic too long, we succumb to this insanity. The hunger for magical energy takes control, destroying our minds.”

“And if you have too much...” I started.

“...the same thing happens,” she said.

It still didn't make sense to me, “How does it affect all Blood Elves?” I asked, “Many of you weren't even alive when the Sunwell was destroyed.”

“It's inherent in our essence, a racial addiction. We evolved around magic.” Lysandra’s gaze shifted out over the helpless creatures, “Even those who never saw the Sunwell suffer from it.”

“The sins of our fathers.”

With a dark expression she looked at me, “It is a tenuous path each of us walks, Jack. That is why we need to control the Light again. My people need its magic to survive, whatever the cost.”

“I can see that now,” I replied. I honestly had no idea the elves were this bad off. Their lives depended on not giving in to a constant temptation to drain more than their share of magic, but at the same time not starve their addiction. No wonder they were so callous towards those who weren’t able to control themselves. It reminded them of what they would become, what they struggled with every day.

As we walked back from the Wretched hovels, I began reconsidering my view on the Blood Elves. Perhaps I was being too harsh on them, they’d done everything they could to make me feel comfortable here and they genuinely wanted to learn about the Light. Sure, they still despised humans for the most part, but could I blame them? Look what we did to the High Elves during the Third War.

When we returned to the city I had Lysandra drop me off at my room. Although she stopped by periodically to make sure I was alright, I didn’t leave all day. Pulling up a chair, I began to look over my lecture notes for the next morning. The Silver Hand wanted me to discuss things like charity and chivalry, but that was going to change. Carefully I considered everything I’d learned, all the hints and innuendos about their trouble channeling the Light, and I began to write one from scratch. It wasn’t easy covering all the bases with such fresh inductees but by the time I was finished I had a primer that would, with some luck, finish rounding off the education these elves so sorely needed.

Lysandra entered the room that evening as I laid my pen down, rubbing my eyes with my hand. She walked up behind me and massaged my shoulders a bit, “Are you still working?”

“It’s almost done,” I said, looking over what I had so far. It was missing most of the structure a formal lecture would have, and all observance to tradition and ceremony took a back seat to prudent implementation, but it was all there. Everything they would need to channel the Light for themselves, even if their faith had waned this far.

“Jack,” she said, pushing my notes away from me, “there’s something else you should probably know about the paladins here.”

“What is it?” I asked, only half listening. My mind was still buzzing with my lecture.

“The Blood Knights haven't been entirely honest with you,” she said. “It has to do with how we channel the Light.”

“Oh, that,” I said, “It’s a lot like arcane magic, right?”

“Well, yes, but it isn’t that simple.”

“Don’t worry, I've seen how the paladins cast it so I have some idea how it works.” I held up my notes, “Hopefully what I go over tomorrow will help.”

A pained expression crossed her face, “No, there’s something else I need to show you.”

Seeing as how I’d left the city once already and spent all day pouring over my notes, I wasn’t really in the mood for another trek. With a sigh I asked, “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

Lysandra looked at me with nervous tension for a moment but nodded, “Yes, that would probably be better.”

“Okay,” I stood up and stretched a bit, “I think I’m going to turn in early tonight.”

“Do you want company?” she asked. Not in her usual flirtatious way either. It was like she genuinely just wanted to spend the night with me.

“Sure,” I replied.

After stripping down for bed, we snuggled under the covers. Lysandra fell asleep pretty quickly but even though I was tired I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking of those hideous creatures just outside the walls. It reminded me of Stormwind with the gnoll and kobold infestations, except those were mundane creatures, almost animals. These Wretched were more sinister. Monsters of their own creation, phantoms that resembled the worst of what elves could become, lingering on to remind them of their own cursed existence. Kinda like my ex-wife. Somehow, I had to help them. Eventually though my exhaustion took over and I got some sleep.

That morning I got myself ready and headed back to the Bazaar. My new notes were organized and ready to go but Lysandra still wanted to show me something. Apparently it was in Farstrider Square, although I never noticed anything out of the ordinary there myself. I declined, mentioning that I needed to present my lecture first. It was only after promising to see whatever it was she wanted to show me right after that Lysandra agreed to escort me to the Bazaar. She was getting persistent about this.

My lecture this time went better than I could have hoped. All the paladins in attendance were rapt with attention as I tried to explain in simple terms how specifically to exploit the Light in order to stave off their magical addiction. The initiates took notice too, although their grasp of the material was a bit lacking, it did allow them to tap into the holy magic further than they already could. By the end of the lecture, and after a few demonstrations, it appeared I'd broken through. A couple paladins tried the new techniques for themselves as the assembly dispersed, pleased with their new level of control.

When I finished speaking, Sir Patton came forward to talk with me. “Sir Abrams, or should I say Jack, that was a fine lecture today,” he said, shaking my hand.

“Well, Lysandra inspired it,” I said, motioning towards her.

“Ahh, Sir Dawnsworn, I knew pairing you with the human would prove fruitful!”

Lysandra ran her hand through her hair awkwardly, “Yes, sir.”

“Anyway,” he said, turning back to me, “Jack, I have a proposition for you.”

“Go on,” I said.

Sir Patton beckoned me to follow him towards Farstrider Square. “Your knowledge of the Light and skill in battle can’t be questioned; it is obvious you and your Knights of the Silver Hand have much to teach us. How would you feel about a permanent garrison here?”

I had a feeling something like this was coming, a contract extension or an annual speaking event perhaps, but a permanent position? I looked at Lysandra, she seemed just as surprised as I was. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m flattered, but I’m afraid living in this city is a few paygrades above what I can afford.”

“Your salary will match your rank, of course,” he said.

“But I have allegiance to the Silver Hand, I can’t simply sign on with the Blood Knights.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think of it,” he said, “Your affiliation with the Silver Hand would help keep ties with the Alliance open.”

I gave him a confused look, “I thought your people were allying with the Horde.”

“We are, unfortunately, but believe me when I say that many in the city aren’t entirely comfortable with that decision. We would like to remain amicable with the Alliance, or at least have more diplomatic channels.”

“I see,” I said, the Silver Hand would certainly be happy about that. I thought about what this could mean, a chance to live in this lavish city as a real citizen. A chance to afford everything I could possibly want. No more contract work, no more traveling around, and no more derision from the other paladins. I would be a respected, no, a prestigious paladin. This was all gravy, my ship had finally come in! Plus, it would give me the chance to settle down, maybe start a family. I turned to Lysandra, she still seemed shocked but not entirely happy either.

“Well, what do you say?” Sir Patton asked.

“It sounds fantastic,” I said, “I’ll have to discuss the arrangement with my superiors, but I don’t see there being any issues.”

“Wonderful!” he said, stopping in the middle of the Square, “I will begin getting things ready for the transfer on my end, if you need me for anything, just send word.”

“Of course, thank you, Sir Patton.”

A quick salute was exchanged and he set off for the barracks. Lysandra pulled me aside for a moment once he was out of earshot, “Jack, are you serious?”

“Of course, this is amazing! I mean, I’m going to get to LIVE HERE!” I said, unable to contain my excitement.

She shook her head, a smile crossing her face, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Oh yeah,” I asked, putting an arm around her waist, “you didn’t think you were going to get rid of me that easy.”

“No way,” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck. She pulled me in for a kiss.

I lifted her off her feet a bit, smooching her before putting her down. “Now, what was it you wanted to show me that was so important?”

Her expression sank and for a moment it looked like she didn’t know how to respond. “I um,” she sighed, “It’s something you need to see.”

“Yeah? You don’t seem so thrilled about it.”

Lysandra rested her forehead on her fingertips, “We--I can’t keep it from you anymore. It’s just something you have to see for yourself.” She looked sadder, “Follow me inside, please.”

Straightening up, I did just that. The barracks wasn't off limits but as went further in I got the feeling I wasn’t supposed to be in this part of the Farstrider’s quarters. Around every corner of the barracks Lysandra peeked about, checking to make sure no one passing through was a superior officer or someone that might land her in trouble. We proceeded downwards, following a winding path of open corridors that lead to the veteran’s barracks. She stopped at the entrance to their common hall. Opening the door I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Half a dozen elf mages stood in a circle, casting binding magic upon an enormous illuminated being. Holy magic radiated from it like a torrent as paladins I recognized from the square walked leisurely about the hall, occasionally tapping the creature’s energy like a mana crystal. Although I did not know what this creature was, I could tell it was incredibly powerful. The Light it emanated carried a feeling of goodness but also much pain. I could feel it scratching at the back of my mind, desperately trying to tell me something, and though it could not speak through its magical chains I could sense it from the distorted holy magic it gave off. This creature, if it could even be called such, was the true source of the elves holy magic.

I pulled Lysandra back around the corner, “What… in the Light’s holy name is that?” I asked, my jaw on the floor. “It looks like a giant floating chandelier!”

“It is called a Naaru. They’re beings of Light, we captured this one when the Dark Portal opened,” she explained, “Its magic helped us to defeat Scourge and reclaim our home.”

“It helped!?” I said incredulously, “Or you forced it?”

“It’s not that simple, Jack.”

“Really?” I said, “Because it looks to me like you’re keeping this creature as a prisoner.”

“We’re using it to rediscover the ways of the Light!” she said. “We know this isn’t a permanent solution, that’s why we came to the Silver Hand.”

“And just happened to leave this little detail out when you did of course. That thing is going to be drained to death by the time your people are through with it.”

Lysandra shook her head, “You have to understand, without the holy magic this Naaru gives us our homeland would be overrun with undead, so many more of our people would have died--”

“And that makes it right? That makes keeping a holy creature as a thrall okay?”

“It was our only choice!”

“You lied to me,” I said, approaching her, “You told me you needed my help to focus your magic but what you really wanted was to learn how to dominate this creature.”

“No, that is not true,” she said, not budging.

I stopped myself before I did something I was going to regret. I couldn’t make a scene and risk alerting the other elves. Taking a moment to collect myself, I muttered, “The Silver Hand is going to raise hell when they hear about this.”

Lysandra’s eyes widened, “You can’t tell them, please, Jack!”

“Not even the Horde will accept you once they find you’ve been channeling magic from a chained Naaru,” I said, ferocity in my eyes, “And when the Cathedral hears about this, there will be such a crusade against Silvermoon you might just fall to your knees and truly pray for the first time in your life.”

I could see the fear in her eyes, her voice began to quiver, “Jack, you can’t tell them!”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

She placed her hands on my shoulders, “Because if you do my entire people are going to die, or worse.”

“And for what you’re doing,” I gestured to the enormous purple creature in the other room, “You don’t think you’ve brought this on yourselves? The Sunwell wasn’t enough, you had to bring this on your heads as well?”

“This creature is our salvation,” she said, “How can you not see that?”

I glared at her, the righteous fury burning my insides to blackened coal. Her entire race depended on mastery of the Light, mastery which was being relearned through the torture of a powerful but innocent being. There was no way I could ignore such a crime. But I couldn’t believe every Blood Elf was in on this either, considering how secretive and secluded it was. If I told the Silver Hand about this the Blood Elf lands would be shattered to pieces, their kind would be extinct in a generation. If I did nothing, this creature would continue to suffer for god knows how long. The indecision tore away at me.

“What made you show me this,” I asked, still desperately trying not to lash out. “What made you think this was a good idea?”

“I never said it was a good idea,” Lysandra replied, “But you deserved to know, to see the whole picture.”

“Why though?”

“Because… it was the right thing to do.” I stopped my soon-to-be-tirade and let her continue, “I couldn’t let you go on teaching us without knowing the cost.” She took a step away from me, “I’m not proud of what we've done, but it saved my people, and those are the ones I’m sworn to protect no matter the price. You’re sworn to defend the Light. You had to know.”

I paused, the right thing to do? There was no right thing to do here. I could either condemn an entire race to die for the sins of a few, or allow them to continue to torture this Naaru. Maybe I could fight them myself, but what good would one paladin be against so many? I’m not lawful stupid.

“Jack, no one here was ever asking you to help keep this Naaru captive, just the opposite,” she said, “If we can learn to channel the Light by faith alone we won’t need it anymore. That’s why we brought you here in the first place.”

I shook my head, “I cannot be a part of this.”

“You already are,” she replied.

Her words struck me like daggers. Until this point I’d been an unknowing pawn, now the veil was lifted and I had a decision to make. And yet, ironically, I knew there was no choice at all. Even in my righteous indignation I was never going to tell the Silver Hand about this, I couldn’t have the blood of an entire race on my hands. I also knew I was never going to set foot in Silvermoon again. The guilt clawed my heart, I couldn’t return to the Knights after this either. The entire time I stood there deliberating I could feel the Naaru crying for me to do something, anything. Staring at it longingly, I removed my helmet, running my hands through my hair. I turned my back, walking back up the corridor, feeling the creature’s sadness wash over me. “Take me to the gates, Lysandra,” I said, “I need to leave.”

She drew back, “Does this mean you are going to tell the Silver Hand?”

“Nothing I’ve seen will leave this room,” I said, not looking at her.

I could hear her breathe a sigh of relief, “Thank you, Jack.”

“It’s Abrams,” I replied, “Now take me away from this place.”

Lysandra paused for a moment, then motioned for me to follow her. I didn’t say a word as we walked I didn't even bothering to collect my payment. As we left the city, my escort waited until we were clear of the guards to break it off. “I’m sorry to see you go, Sir Abrams,” she said to me as we parted.

There was sincerity in her voice I didn’t expect. Her bringing me to the Naaru to begin with, that implied more character than I felt from any of the other elves. This girl might occasionally be a nitwit but there was still a conscience under that veneer. She honestly felt she was doing what was best for her people. Sir Patton too for that matter. For all his incredulity he seemed to be hell bent on creating proper paladins. Maybe my lessons would be used for good when all is said and done but my cynicism was too strong to believe it. Nonetheless, I turned to her before leaving, “Think carefully about what you’re doing, Sir Dawnsworn.”

“I have,” she said, voice strong, “Your assistance to my people will never be forgotten.”

I winced at those words.

She must have seen my reaction because her face softened. There was no malice between us, but the distance was vaster than the Thousand Needles. “Goodbye, Sir Abrams,” she said.

“Sir Dawnsworn,” I replied.

She turned and headed back towards the city as I marched south, away from the elven lands for good.