She was dreaming. The sky was still deep amethyst, but the night stars were twinkling out of sight. The house was silent; Liraedra had not yet arrived to begin preparing breakfast. Liquidlight slipped on a pale silver robe and slipped out the back door.
The cool paving stones did not betray her travels as she swiftly exited the city. The stable master tilted his head up slightly, but returned to his slumber before she has led her hawkstrider out. She gently puller the rein and the two took off.
As they arrived at their destination, the sky was beginning to lighten. The blood elf dismounted and led her strider to a grassy spot. She walked to the edge of the water and sat, cross-legged. She took in a deep breath, and she could taste the salt of the water on her tongue. Exhaling, she smoothed her robe and began to chant to herself quietly.
There was one ship docked at the Sunsail Anchorage that morning. The first rays of the sun hit the main mast, creating a sharp golden blaze that looked like a fiery sword spearing through the deck. The light swiftly met the water, and where the waves hit the bow an amber sparkle danced on the cerulean tide. Liquidlight felt her face warming. She loved the break of day. The promise of a fresh star. Sun rising over the water, the never-ending song of the waves, the breeze salty and eager. The beams of the ship creaked lowly, and the priest's thoughts drifted to a certain sailor. She gazed out at the water, as if to will his craft into sight. She searched the horizon, a silhouette of a sail, perhaps.
The corners of her mouth eased into a smile. His ship would be back in port today. Liquidlight hungered to see him. He was not tall, barely a hand's height over the priests's head, but he was broad and muscled. His shoulders were tanned and well-carved, the sinews echoing the twists of the ropes on board. The ship would be busy as it prepared to dock. He would feel her eyes on him, and pause his task. His hand would rise to shade his eyes, and he would gaze to shore, as if surveying the port. Their eyes would meet for a brief spark of a moment, and he would return to guiding the vessel safely to shore.
A sudden squawk from her hawkstrider startled her.
Reprimanding her distraction, she returned to her recital of spells. Her sandals were beginning to warm with the light of day. Her chest, too, quickly heated. She inhaled, and the air smelled acrid. Her eyes popped open, and the ship in front of her was ablaze. Flames were everywhere, reaching the crow's nest. The smoke burned here eyes. Jumping up, she looked around but found herself surrounded by fire. Liquidlight tried to yell, but she was choked by smoke. The taste filled her mouth, but the sensation was not one of blackened soot, but of seared flesh. A distant voice could be heard, but the blood elf could not make out the words. She felt her body shaking -
"Liquidlight! Wake, priest! Wake! You are needed! Wake!"
The orc tugged roughly at her shoulder and she sat up with a start. There were no flames, no ship, no sailor - only the cold walls of her garrison, and a sickly smell in the air.
Liquidlight rose from her bed and slipped on a pale silver robe. She silently recited a quick prayer of fortitude as she followed the orc into the darkness.
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