Turning Red

By Dominic Sacco

Rise of the Phoenix

Born in the enchanted elven kingdom of Quel’Thalas, Phoenix is unlike other high elves: she has never had an affinity for magic.

Raised by a prostitute, she quickly grows disillusioned by her mother’s profession and drug use, making her an anxious, quiet child. Her life is grey and going nowhere. But when Phoenix inadvertently commits a crime and her mother goes missing, fate threatens to turn her life into a living nightmare.

Homeless and alone, Phoenix gets caught up in a perilous gang war and is forced to adapt in order to survive. She takes a side, but is it the right one? Can her allies be trusted if they are keeping secrets from her? Can they turn this flawed, redheaded rogue into a formidable swordfighter and find her mother?

Aside from the many trials she will face on her journey, Phoenix must also do battle with the most dangerous and unstable entity she knows: her mind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dominic Sacco
• Release date: Jun 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463322567

Dominic Sacco

Dom is an award-winning journalist who works in the esports industry. He graduated from Bournemouth University with a 2:1 degree in Multi-Media Journalism in 2007.A keen League of Legends player and WoW RPer, he has written for a range of publications including Games TM, Nintendo Official Magazine, games industry publication MCV as well as Riot Games.He currently works as full-time content director for the British Esports Association and in his spare time runs Esports News UK. He lives in the UK with his wife and three children.In May 2020 he published his very first book, a piece of high fantasy fan fiction based on World of Warcraft.

Book preview

Preface

Bal'a dash, malanore (greetings, traveller). A bit about me and this book: I have played World of Warcraft on and off since vanilla. I absolutely adore everything about the rogue class, elves, stealth characters and mechanics in video games, but I wanted to create a character that doesn’t follow that typical archetype. Someone flawed, with potential.

A couple of years ago, someone asked me what my World of Warcraft roleplay character’s backstory was. She didn’t really have one at the time, so I started writing something and it… got a bit out of hand to say the least! Two years later and I ended up with what you’re reading now. It’s the first time I’ve ever written a book and I’m glad I finished it.

More importantly, if you do read it, I would love to hear your feedback: good, bad and anything in-between. So please throw any morsel of constructive criticism my way (by emailing [e-mail] or filling in this feedback form) because I would like to learn and improve from this. I have ideas for some other (non-Warcraft) original novels in the future and this is sort of my attempt at testing the waters. I’d also like to write more stories based on this novel’s storyline in the future. You can sign up to this newsletter at dominicsacco.com to receive info on these.

This free fan fiction novel is inspired by (but not officially associated with) Blizzard Entertainment’s Warcraft franchise. Please note, some elements from the games have been reimagined in this novel, and all of the main characters in this book are my creation. So, fellow lore nerds who may feel the urge to flame me, please consider these points before doing so!

Finally, if I’m being honest, I feel that Phoenix is probably some kind of projection of myself. That wasn’t done on purpose, but something I realised about halfway through the book. Although I’m enthusiastic, I have a short temper. Writing this character has helped me cope somewhat with my anxiety and at times reckless, emotionally-driven decisions. I have a bad habit of sometimes burning bridges (hey, I’m a Scorpio!) and this book has acted as some kind of therapy for that. I write about esports for my job, so this was a nice release from that too.

Please note, this book has some adult themes in it (sorry mum!) so I wouldn’t recommend it to children.

I hope you enjoy what I’ve created and thank you for taking the time to read this.

Al diel shala (safe travels).

Dom

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Naariel for creating the artwork I commissioned (used with permission for non-commercial use). You can check out Naariel’s website here.

Thanks to my good friend Tom Stratford for turning Naariel’s artwork into a moving image using his leet animation skills. You can see Tom Stratford’s website here.

A big thanks to another good friend of mine, James Batchelor, for helping to proof this thing. He put up with years of grievance having to sit next to me at work so I am very grateful he somehow agreed to help out. Oh and he’s an author himself, so please do check out his work on the James Batchelor website. Thanks to other early readers, Roy Hemenway and Louise Wallgren, who helped me fix a few things, and to thewayitis35, thank you so much, I think you are my first real fan and I really appreciate your support!

Thanks to Leonardo Zorzi for creating Phoenix’s theme song and granting me the rights to own it.

Credit to dafont.com for the fonts used on the cover: Augusta by Dieter Steffmann and Seagram by Kaiserzharkhan.

A big thank you to my family, my parents for allowing me to chase my passions, my wife for putting up with my s*** and my and three children for giving me hope for the future.

Thanks to Vile Thorn and The Rookery for giving me the confidence to grow this character and to The Northern Terror for making my time in vanilla WoW so memorable. Also, thanks to Chiel, Ireshka and The Family, you probably aren’t aware but you picked me up when I really needed it. To all my past guildies, I will never forget the adventures we shared together.

Last but not least, thanks to Blizzard Entertainment for creating the Warcraft game franchise. Final reminder: this piece of fan fiction is non-commercial, entirely free and I will not make a penny from it.

"Anger is a wind which blows out the lamp of the mind."

Robert Green Ingersoll

Rogue

adjective

behaving in ways that are not expected or not normal, often in a way that causes damage

Prologue: Blood and water

Darkness has fallen and she walks alone; her bloodied boots brush softly across the sand.

The slim elf, dressed in faded red leather, looks up. The moonlight twinkles in her blue eyes as she pauses to soak in the view. The old, beautiful ship stares back, anchored by the water’s edge.

The twilight sky blends with the midnight blue water below, perfectly still and calm, the tide lapping gently onto the shore.

As she takes her first step onto the wooden deck, she pauses. Her former self would be fighting back tears, but she has cried enough. Instead, she lets the pain wash over her and pass by.

She walks slowly around the creaking top deck, brushing her hand across the ship’s rigging and handrail as she does so. Her worn red boots tap gently on the wood.

Upon reaching the helm, she holds the wheel in both hands, her tatty fingerless gloves tightening around it as she looks out across the water for a few minutes. A warm breeze flicks her fiery ginger hair backwards, revealing two long pointed ears. She stares, locked in thought.

She shifts her head to the left and squints. A frown spreads across her forehead as she taps her four fingers on the wooden wheel, one after the other.

With haste, she steps back and leaps onto the ship’s rigging like a cat pouncing upwards - and begins to climb. She moves swiftly, without effort, without conscious thought, and soon finds herself up in the crow’s nest. There, she crouches down low, shuts one eye tightly, and uses the other to stare down through a gap in the wood.

A figure emerges onto the deck below, the spurs on their boots ringing gently across the ship. They walk towards the stairs leading to the ship’s lower deck.

The blue eye peering from the crow’s nest narrows with loathing. The ginger-haired elf stands tall, grits her teeth and pulls a grappling hook and length of rope from her pouch. She swings it over her hand once before releasing. It flows through the air swiftly towards one of the lower masts.

The elf hastily unfastens her cloak, holds onto either side of it and places it over her head. As the hook below loops tightly around a mast, she jumps over the edge of the crow’s nest. Her cape slides down the rope, holding her light body and she moves with surprising speed, the wind rushing in her ears. The elf lets go of the cloak towards the bottom and kicks out her right foot sharply towards the person below her.

The figure dives to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack as the ginger-haired elf hits the deck hard and rolls forward, cushioning her fall.

The two elves rise in sync, turning to face one another. They are of similar height and frame, two silhouettes locked by fate.

They stand still in silence, as fresh rain begins to fall, lightly tapping on the wooden deck beneath their boots. The pair stare into each others’ eyes with disdain, the moment lingering and tension growing as they consider which moves they should make next.

Rage bubbles slowly inside one, hatred in the other, as they begin to circle one another.

The ginger-haired elf speaks, with spite and anger: After all you’ve done, you dare set foot here as well?

The other replies with a sarcastic curtsy, the gentle grin on her pale face belying a lust for violence.

Anger swells in the redhead. A sword is pulled from its red and gold scabbard. The other elf follows, removing a lightweight rapier from black boiled leather.

I look forward to the small ounce of joy your death will bring after what you’ve done, the ginger elf adds, her voice quivering. You have taken so much…

The patter of the rain on wood grows more frequent as it continues to fall, slightly heavier now.

And you from me, the dark figure replies. But I shall take it back tonight, and take your life, she adds, a smile curling the edge of her lips upwards as the words linger, masking her own hatred and sorrow. Just like the others.

The rage boiling beneath red leather reaches the surface, and the fiery elf bellows in anger, her battle-shout hanging in the air as she strikes forward, forcing her enemy into a parry. The pair lock swords and deflect each other’s blows in quick succession as the sound of steel on steel breaks the peace of the water’s edge. The rainfall gradually transitions into a noisy downpour.

The ginger elf’s rage is flowing freely now, her mind losing consciousness, completely seized by the red mist of fury that glazes over her eyes. Her subconscious mind is now in total control of her actions.

Her sword swings hard, with surprising strength, forcing her opponent to repeatedly absorb the blow with her own rapier. The struggling elf in black almost slips on the damp deck.

The golden-hilted sword returns, this time with greater force and speed as she strikes again and again with unrelenting aggression, making it harder for the dark figure to parry effectively and remain standing. Eventually, unable to keep up with the pace of attacks, she stumbles back and drops her sword noisily.

The elf in red looms over her on deck, screaming with fury, wildly pulling her own weapon back as she prepares to strike it forwards one last time with a killing blow.

But rage clouds her judgment; her balance wavers slightly. The elf in black twists her right foot upwards at the last moment, sending the spurs digging into red leather - and the skin of her opponent’s left thigh.

The standing warrior buckles as the elf on the floor sweeps her leg across low, knocking the ginger elf’s feet out from under her. Now it’s her turn to collapse onto the deck and drop her sword as she falls. The pair of rapiers lie just out of reach, both instruments of death lying still, tempting their owners to move and pick them up again, the blades glistening in the rain.

Ignoring the out-of-reach swords in favour of a quicker move, the dark figure spots an opportunity and swings her right leg over her enemy, straddling her. She punches her foe’s face with ferocity and a thin splatter of blood hits the watery deck.

The impact of the punch shakes the fiery elf out of her rage, as she returns to her senses. She looks up to see a face twisted with envy and loathing, and another fist slamming down towards her, right between the eyes.

For a split-second she wonders how she got caught up in such chaos and danger.

Phoenix braces for impact, moves her arms up in front of her face and closes her eyes.

Part I: Lighting a spark

"Scars are just a treasure map for pain you've buried too deep to remember."

Jodi Picoult

"For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse. So collapse. Crumble. This is not your destruction. This is your birth."

Zoe Skylar

Chapter I: Chance

12 years earlier

Phoenix Dreamfoil is where she shouldn’t be yet again, having snuck out of bed in the middle of the night for the umpteenth occasion this year.

The five-year-old is sitting on the second-floor balcony of Silvermoon City Inn located in Quel’Thalas. This region is home to the high elves - who are also known as the Quel’Dorei - and lies north of the Eastern Kingdoms.

Young Phoenix is watching the inngoers below laughing, drinking and gambling their night away.

Her blue eyes beam with childish wonder as she kneels and looks between the railings down on the only world she knows. The smells of roasted boar, beer, sweat and bloodthistle smoke rise from the inn floor and fill her nostrils.

The tiny elf’s face is like a podgy ball of dough, with a petite nose, a lumpy chin and pale, pinkish skin that contrasts with her fiery, messy ginger hair. Freckles dance across her cheekbones.

As she turns her head left and right, not knowing what to look at first, her hair follows. It comes to a sudden stop as she stares at someone below, and a lock of hair falls to rest humorously between her eyes, making her look like a tiny ghoul with a long hairy nose. She’s too engrossed in the hubbub below to brush it behind one of her pointy ears.

Her attention is drawn to an elf with silver hair dressed in all-black leather, sitting at the dice table. He has just raised his glass to celebrate a win, his other hand scooping gold from the table top as other men and elves watch on, some with jealousy.

Phoenix frowns. She recognises this elf. And she knows she doesn’t like him.

At another nearby table, a group of short yet stoutly dwarves are laughing loudly and hysterically. One occasionally slams his flagon down on the wood, sending beer splashing onto those around him. In one corner of the room, on a slightly raised stage, an elegant-looking female elf with a long decorative gown is playing a harp gracefully and effortlessly.

In the other, darker corner near the entrance, a couple of female elf courtesans are in conversation with one another, while flaunting their looks and catching the attention of a human man by the bar, who stares back at them. They are wearing revealing ornate dresses, with long satin gloves and tights. Their figure is human-like, yet ever so shorter and skinnier than the man across the room.

Phoenix smiles when she sees one of the female elves, her mother Amelia Dreamfoil, then frowns when she notices the man from the bar walking towards them. She doesn’t like her mum pretending to befriend other people for gold.

Her eyes wander again, this time spotting a goblin behind the bar, flipping bottles and pouring drinks with many years of experience. Phoenix finds it funny how a creature shorter than a dwarf can even exist, not to mention one with such a big, ugly nose.

All the music, laughter and colours below whirl around the elf’s little mind like a kaleidoscope.

Then, all of a sudden, there’s a flash of movement by the dice table. Two elves are struggling with one another, and the elf in black pushes another backwards, knocking him over the table. Glasses smash as dice tumble onto the floor, and the inn quietens as everyone looks to the source of the commotion.

The fallen elf stands and shouts at the male in black, while pointing: You’re a cheat! And a thug!

Other elves around the table stand. The Quel’Dorei in black, a tall and looming figure, smiles slowly, sips the last of his drink and places it calmly on the table, taking his time, knowing well that all eyes are on him.

After a pause, he raises his arms and says: I won fair and square.

This die is weighted, you liar! the other retorts.

The angry elf throws the die at the elf in black. It bounces off his chest to the floor. Two other elves move towards the agitated elf in retaliation, their hands moving for their weapons, but the figure in black raises his right hand and they halt.

Back on the balcony, young Phoenix’s mouth is slightly agape now as she looks down in curiosity. Her face and blue nightgown are encased in shadow, with moonlight pouring in from a nearby window. The inn’s fire below occasionally sends streaks of light up to flicker and dance with her silhouette.

The old goblin barkeep moves towards the table and politely asks all of the elves to leave, nodding over to the inn’s bouncer, a short, black, bald-headed and muscular elf called Solari, who nods back, with one hand on his sheathed sword. He suppresses a sigh and looks at the barkeep with disappointment, his body language implying it’s not the first time he’s had to kick them out.

The elf that lost the dice game is first to respond, hurrying past all a fluster and storming across the inn to leave, slamming the door behind him. The rest by the dice table turn to leave too, including the figure in black and his accomplices. Other guests start to talk normally amongst themselves again. The inn returns to calm.

Phoenix’s eyes are still focused on the elf in black as he approaches the inn door. Her gaze turns to horror as she watches him stop and look towards her mother, with contempt and intent.

The elf in black casually approaches her mother with a drunken glare, ignoring the bouncer’s verbal reminder to leave, and pulls her arm towards him. She recoils and mouths a response, but it can’t be heard over the noise of the inn. It seems no one else notices except the bouncer and Phoenix, and her heart thuds faster in her chest.

All of a sudden the elf in black strikes Phoenix’s mother in anger with his fist, knocking her onto the floor as she shrieks and curls up in pain.

The bouncer, Solari, rushes towards him, but one of the troublemaker’s friends raises his hand, placing an invisible magical barrier in front of the bouncer, who responds with his own spell. The two elves are locked in thought, their magic pushing against one another as a struggle ensues.

Silence falls across the inn again momentarily, followed by gasps and quiet mumbling as a crowd of people rush past to leave. The man by the elven courtesans slowly steps towards the elf in black and his two aides, mindful of the fierce magic at play.

Stupid wench, the figure in black says as he kicks Phoenix’s mother in the side.

Phoenix feels like she’s been winded herself as she watches on, with pain and helplessness welling up inside of her.

Step away from her! the human shouts and leaps to Amelia’s defense, throwing a punch at the elf in black, who expertly dodges the blow. The human leaps into the fray, knocking the magic user over almost by accident - and a fight erupts.

Phoenix looks around the room and waits for others to help apprehend the troublemakers, but finds only worried looks and eyes staring at the floor. A couple of dwarves stand, but they are slow to react and she doesn’t notice them; she only sees her mum writhing in pain, the outnumbered human and bouncer losing the fight, and panics.

She also sees her chance.

Half wanting to cry and half wanting the mean elves to disappear, Phoenix dashes towards the stairs as instinct takes over and the want to protect her mother overwhelms her. She moves faster than she expects, almost running straight into the wall at the top of the stairs. She pushes away, regains her balance and her bare feet patter loudly down the cold, concrete stairs, her ginger hair tumbling after her.

The child turns towards the inn’s entrance and runs at full speed, looking up briefly to notice that two elves and Solari are left standing, while the troublemaking elves have their backs to her. One is casting a spell with his staff and the man in black is moving his hand into an inner pocket. She can’t see Solari from this angle but hears him conjuring magic. Despite the danger, she tries her luck.

Phoenix runs towards the elf in black and jumps onto his back, clawing at his chest and biting his neck.

The adult instinctively swivels from the pain, grabs Phoenix by the head without looking at who she is and smashes her into a nearby table, head-first.

There is a bright flash - then the world goes black. This little girl will never be the same.

Chapter II: Rebirth

After two days, she wakes.

Phoenix is lying in her bed at the inn. It is dark; a cool breeze wafts from the open window opposite her to caress her face.

This small space adjacent to the inn keeper’s room contains nothing more than the essentials: a bed, a window, some books, a small pile of clothes.

It’s more of a large cupboard space than a room. But for Phoenix, it’s home.

The elf child slowly brings her right hand to touch her head and feels an immense wave of heaviness. The pain from the huge lump at the front of her skull is numb and constant, and her neck aches.

She looks to the cool night sky and feels the faint but ever-present warmth and energy from the Sunwell - a fount of magical power north of where she lives. She closes her eyes and focuses on it, as it soothes her injuries and soaks into the core of her being, her little mind, her soul.

High elves have grown accustomed to the Sunwell’s gift, with the magical properties helping to sustain their lives to hundreds or even thousands of years. As a young elven child, Phoenix is still learning about the Sunwell and its power. From her experiences so far, including the trips to the well itself with her mother, she enjoys its radiance but doesn’t fully understand it - though she already takes it for granted.

Phoenix suddenly thinks of the elf in black, and a wave of fear washes over her, making the head injury seem mild. She cries. She realises she has no idea whether her mother is alive or not, and this frightens her further. More tears fall.

Before she can shout for help, the door opens and a wrinkly, green head peers around at Phoenix, about halfway up the side of the door.

Chrim, the goblin innkeep, sighs. He potters over to Phoenix and does his best to console the elf child.

There there, you’re okay now, he croaks, while awkwardly patting her shoulder. This does absolutely nothing to stop the crying, but he continues anyway before taking a quick inspection of her head. He realises the patting is futile and begins to dress a new bandage instead.

Your mum is in her room, Chrim says. She’s been worried sick. We all have.

Is she okay? Phoenix manages to ask, a squeak amongst sobs.

Chrim ponders this, and half-nods, before scratching the few remaining wiry grey hairs on his head. Yes. You can see her for yourself, he says. It’s rest day, the inn closed hours ago. Can you stand?

Phoenix attempts to do so, while trying not to think about being unconscious for so long, her bare feet feeling the cold tiled floor and pushing the rest of her body up. She feels disoriented but repositions her footing and, after standing for five or six seconds, looks back to Chrim. He smiles an ugly goblin smile that means well, but the yellow crooked teeth are as reassuring as the pathetic patting. However, it’s a successful distraction, and Phoenix stops crying.

The goblin carefully applies the bandage to her head. He then leads her slowly through his study, past mountains of paperwork, books and bags of silver and copper coins, to the second floor balcony. The old green goblin and ginger elf child walk arm-in-arm, the same height as one another despite their difference in age. It makes for a rather peculiar sight.

Upon reaching Amelia’s door, Chrim knocks and announces: You have a little visitor.

A muffled gasp comes from the other side of the door before the words: Come in! Is -

Phoenix opens the door, her face flustered with dried tears, and stares up at her mother with expectancy.

She is wearing a white blouse and khaki skirt, with knee-high leather boots complementing her stunning figure. Deep brown curled hair falls to her waist. She stands with splendour, masking her narcissism, her face glowing in the flickering light from a nearby desk candle. An enormous bruise surrounding her left eye belies her beauty as she smiles.

Amelia hurries towards her child and scoops her up in her arms, squeezing her tightly and peppering her with kisses. Phoenix reacts with a quivering bottom lip and fights back more tears. Moments like this with her mother are rare; she doesn’t want their hug to end.

Phoenix opens her eyes to see her mother’s books, four-poster bed, chests, wardrobes and trinkets are right where they belong. Some vials and plant leaves are strewn across a desk nearby.

Are you okay, Phoe? Amelia asks, her hands scanning the bandage wrapped around her daughter’s head.

Phoenix manages a nod and asks: Mummy, did the bad man do that to your eye?

Oh what, this? This is nothing! Amelia shrugs it off and laughs at her child’s concern, as if it is somehow silly and unwarranted. He didn’t hurt me. I fell over, that’s all.

What happened to the bad man? Who is he? Phoenix asks innocently.

Amelia sets her daughter down and kneels to her level. "After you distracted him, Solari used a spell to stop his friends, and as some dwarves helped too. But he was too quick and got away… do not worry about him. He’s nobody and won’t bother us again.

Promise me, Phoenix - you must never do something like that ever again. You could have been seriously hurt. And you know you’re not to be in the main room at night.

Phoenix replies: But you were hurt and I was scared. What if that happens to you again?

Then… the inn will hire more guards, Amelia responds, with a reassuring smile.

They both know it’s a lie, what with the inn being a relatively humble establishment and Chrim just about keeping the place afloat, but Phoenix hugs her mother anyway and whispers her own lie back: I promise.

Amelia smiles and asks: How do you feel? Like your normal self?

Yes, Phoenix replies. And she does, for the most part, though her head still throbs mildly. Her mother doesn’t seem convinced.

A few hours later, as Phoenix tries to sleep, she shudders at the thought of the elf in black returning. The fear consumes her; she ends up tip-toeing into her mother’s room and snuggling up beside her sleeping parent in bed.

Her eventual sleep is fraught with nightmares of magic and death.

.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.

Amelia takes a few days off to comfort her daughter as they both recover. Phoenix thinks it might be the best few days of her life, spending all that time with her mother, talking and playing together.

But as the weeks pass, Chrim and Amelia soon resort to how they were before the attack.

Chrim throws himself into his books, the running of the inn and acquiring new business. He was never good with children, and rarely has any meaningful interaction with Phoenix.

Amelia works to earn coin and spends little time with her daughter, telling her the bruise has made her poorer. She rejects her child’s innate want for comfort, repeating the old line: It’s not that I don’t love you, Phoenix, but mummy can’t spend time with you while she’s working.

After the attack, Phoenix gets scared of the slightest things; loud noises or sudden movements startle her more than ever before. She rarely speaks unless she’s spoken to, and even then it’s one-word replies or quiet, shrill responses, unless she’s talking to her mother.

The occasional bar fight terrifies her; she seldom sleeps well and is plagued by night terrors. She has a recurring dream of a faceless man dressed in black chasing her and her mum through deserted streets of Silvermoon City. Her demeanor seemingly shifts from bright, warm and engaging, to quiet, nervous and anxious.

Almost every evening she struggles to sleep, and creeps to the second-floor balcony as usual to watch out for her mother, hoping that the elf in black will never return. But in the process she sees her mother kissing different people every other night, and taking them to her room. This bewildering activity pains the young elf, though she’s unsure why.

Only her mum can sate her fear and anxiety, and time with her is limited, so Phoenix caves inside herself as she grows, bottling her thoughts and emotions deep within. To a stranger, it would appear Amelia loves her daughter, but she gives her little attention and their relationship is not as strong as it could be.

The other subject of concern for Phoenix is the fact she has never known her father. When asking her mother about the topic, she gets no real answers.

You don’t have a father, Amelia would say.

The words would often swim around her head, painfully, like a recurring headache.

Amelia keeps her daughter sheltered at home instead of sending her to school, and teaches her the basics of reading, writing and history when she can. Phoenix also helps in the inn’s kitchen, washing dishes and running errands for the cleaning staff and head chef, a stout and blunt human, who insists she works in silence unless spoken to. He is a direct and threatening man, and runs his kitchen almost through fear, keeping his staff on their toes and working hard.

He scares Phoenix, which makes her rushed and clumsy. Sometimes the other serving children and dish washers berate Phoenix, mocking her quietness and blaming her for other people’s mistakes, getting her into trouble.

On top of it all, she struggles to make a connection with magic. While she is able to feel the warmth of the sunwell, it is passive - she is unable to summon the powers of even the most basic levels of magic at her will. Because of this, she receives further ridicule from other children.

While Amelia does not show her daughter much affection, she keeps a close, guarded eye on her. On the rare occasion they travel outside the inn, on trips to the Sunwell or Eversong Forest, the surrounding area magically blanketed in eternal springtime, Phoenix tenses up and worries about the world outside more than her difficulties indoors.

She avoids eye contact and interaction with other elven children, some of which bully her for being looked after by a whore, for not knowing her father, for her odd, quiet demeanor - and they know she will not fight back. Phoenix becomes ever more insular as she desperately seeks her mother’s attention.

As the months go by, this unfulfilled love, this natural desire for her parent’s attention, combined with Phoenix’s curiosity of her father’s identity and lack of friends her age, results in a troubled, quiet child.

But Phoenix loves her mother dearly and carries on through the pain, worry and uncertainty.

Ten years pass.

Chapter III: Change

Much has changed over the past decade, yet everything seems to have stayed the same.

Amelia, Chrim, Solari and Phoenix are all still working at the inn, but the latter is no longer a little girl. At 15 years old, Phoenix is now looking with interest beyond the boundaries of the building, questioning her purpose and starting to think about her future.

Despite Solari doing his best to teach her, Phoenix still cannot command magic. With her poor background and lack of access to respected magic schools, Phoenix all but gives up pursuing that avenue.

She doesn’t enjoy working in the kitchen either, so she instead expresses her desire to try new things.

For now, you can start working behind the bar, Chrim says to her frankly, with his increasingly wheezy and ageing voice. Two silver a week, with bonuses based on takings.

Phoenix knows it’s a lousy offer and Chrim has a lot more coin to spare, but it’s a new task and one that gives Phoenix a fresh sense of optimism. Plus, she has outgrown that small bedsit and wants to save for a room or eventually a place of her own.

She is also content in the company of bouncer Solari, who, like her, is a little insular and rarely speaks unless he needs to. Working in the main inn room, she feels he has her back if there’s any trouble. Over time, she almost forgets entirely about the elf in black from years ago. Almost.

.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.

On her second night serving customers, three young Quel’Dorei men enter the inn in cocky spirits and approach the bar.

How may I help you? Phoenix asks them politely. Her voice is no longer the cute, chirpy voice of a young child but while it is still delicate and quiet, it is also crystal-clear and well spoken. It is a welcome voice to hear, calming and pleasing, well-suited to an inn.

Inside, Phoenix still feels the same as she ever did - shy and insular - but is dealing with changes on the outside.

Standing behind the bar, the young elf has grown taller and looks paler than before, no thanks to her lack of time spent outdoors. Wearing a dull grey shirt and black trousers that elongate her skinny figure, she looks a little older than her years.

Her messy locks are longer, straighter and tidier than before - while retaining their fiery ginger tint - and her puppy fat has all but gone. Phoenix’s cute podgy face from her earlier years is now longer and better defined. Her smell is earthy, like freshly fallen summer rain or pine caught on a sea breeze.

She is starting to look a little more like her mother, turning into a young woman, and with that comes new glances and attention from certain inngoers.

You can get me a room and take your clothes off for starters, one of the elves smirks, sending his friends into laughter.

Phoenix is flustered with anger more than embarrassment and looks away in trepidation.

Her blue eyes are beautiful but they do not shine like her mother’s. Something is missing. She appears to be an elf devoid of character, devoid of the true care and attention she always craved from her mother.

Despite her distinguishable hair and relative good looks, Phoenix has the tendency to fade into the background. But now, working behind the bar, there is no place to hide.

I only serve drinks, she quietly replies.

Oh yeah, it’s your mum that serves the other goods, the customer sniggers. Three beers, then.

Phoenix pours the drinks and takes their money with an expressionless face. Inside, she is seething. She looks over at her mother, who is at the other end of the inn already flirting with someone.

Phoenix’s resentment towards her mother’s line of work has grown. Aside from the prostitution, Amelia has an addiction to bloodthistle. Not only is this frowned on in some parts of elven society, forcing Amelia to take it in secrecy (often with questionable people usually linked with her job), it means they had less money, and Amelia had to work longer to compensate.

The cravings also make her irritable and short-tempered, resulting in arguments between mother and daughter. Phoenix still loves her, but is disgusted by the thought of following in her footsteps. She instead focuses on learning her own trade behind the bar, and though the idea scares her, she feels like she wants to just run away. Away from her life, from her mother, from the addictions. There is nothing left for her here but drudgery.

.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.

Each night, after closing, Phoenix tries a different tipple. One quick, sneaky gulp to get a feel for the drink, better understand the inn’s customers and learn more about her profession. It helps her remember her customers’ favourite drinks, and to associate the different tastes of alcohol with different types of customers. Most are