Dear Diary

[Nephuria]

Entry 1:

My name is Aloria Silverstar. Much has changed recently. Though the memories from my life before the fall of the great Wall surrounding the city of Silvermoon were forcibly closed to preserve what mental health I could salvage; of late it seems the barriers I set up to protect myself from the feelings of remorse and loss that in the first years threatened my sanity to the point I was ready to end it all, are slowly crumbling.

The full ramifications of my action since are beginning to weigh on me. Why now, after so many years these thoughts have resurfaced I am unsure. Perhaps it is the tole that has been extracted from my soul, the weariness of dealing with the darker arts and darker entity's roaming Azeroth. Constant worry and fear for my own life, and the lives I hold dear are making me feel my age, and the responsibilities hang heavy on my shoulders.

Though through demons I have found a level of control and use for them, the recent visits by a Demoness of the Legion attempting to ascertain control of my Coven has forced me to step back and realize the depth and ramification of attaining greater demonic power and knowledge.

Demonology was never intended to take such a large portion of my studies, Curses and fel flames were always my preferred forte . Now however I have begun down a path from which redemption seems a vague concept, and nearly unattainable as deeply in the darkness as I have gone. I heard a Priestess tell me, "No one walks so long in the Shadows that they cannot find the Light again."

Is that what I really want, redemption from the dark things I have done, the wrongs I have committed. In a way it is, but what can I do? The people do not trust a warlock, and one who wished to be redeemed and bring respect back to her magics seem near impossible. No one trusts our kind, Warlocks, they see nothing more than fel addicts and undesirable people. The road back will be long and as I have found out the prejudices against my kind are evident even with other Sin'dorei. How am I to turn things around, make myself worth honor and make it seen I wish to work toward sealing this demon away, along with her ilk.

The Blood Knights have been of little help, they scoff at my warnings about the Demoness roaming Azeroth openly, it is as if they fear to step in. Cowardice is an ugly trait but by both a Priestess and Blood Knight I was scoffed at for my warning to them. How can I help the people I live amongst, when they seem so tied up in their own affairs they do not pay mind to the dangers walking our worlds.

I am beginning to think this cause a worthless one. But perhaps soon, I will be able to find someone with the authority or power to face the demon wench. Her powers grow, as do her servant numbers. I am trying to return to the Light, to the grace of being righteous. It seems, no one else shares this want, and realize it or not, they are sealing their own fates.

I pray that in time I may find someone of sense to listen, but with each day that passes my hope dwindles. Righteous people must still exist, ones who would no scoff and write me off as unimportant. It is not my importance I wish to see made greater, but the importance of stopping this Legionnaire Demoness. She holds much power, and I cannot face her alone, my death could have found me, it still may yet.

I am beginning this journal to keep a record of what I know. If I do not survive to see this dealt with, perhaps in the future this book, this diary of events, will provide some help to those in the future who realize what a growing problem this is to become. I am walking in dangerous waters, unable to see through the murky waters to where the treacherous undercurrents and drop offs hide.

My mind is full, my stomach empty. A bad combination for a night of rest, but I have faith in my perseverance. I hope to live to see the matter dealt with, but no one seems to think a Warlock can be trusted, or they are to closed minded to see that being a Warlock does not define me, being a Sin'dorei is who I am, above all else. The unbending will of myself cannot falter until I breath no more. I pray, something I had long given up; that realization will return to those who should be willing to help dispose of this demoness.

I will begin the morrow as I have the passed few, searching for those with brains enough to listen to sense, and wisdom enough to know, we must do something. Kael'thas was messing with dark energies, for that he was decommissioned. I have no love of the Legion anymore. They have betrayed me and shown their true colors. I must find someone who can help, someone with enough backbone to do what is right despite what others might think.

The hours grow later, night fading into morning dim light. I will retire to bed now, with a heavy heart and full mind. Perhaps on the morrow things will begin to look better.

Until my next entry, may the powers that be see us all safely into the day, and each day after. I can't help but wonder, what will my Coven think when I reveal the changes going on within me. Time will tell, I only hope it does not rip us apart. For now, they are all that I have left and they are safe. For that, I am thankful.

Until next time.

Signed.
Aloria Silverstar, Previous Magistrix to Eversong Wood.

[Nephuria]

Entry 2:

It has been some time sense my last entry, in the gap of space I have not only done much, but learned much as well. These cowards who remain, these so called 'Blood Elves' are perhaps the most pitiful excuse of our race that has been left. Those worth their weight died doing what was right, what was needed when the Well fell, all that is left are spineless cowards, ones who had things been as they were, never would have been permitted to breed.

The gene pool is dwindling, as are our numbers. In no way are these the people that once carried nobility and meticulous thought to their actions. It is sad to have to admit, but those who are left are fools, Lords and Lady's more interested in the fluff of their titles than doing what the title was created for.

I see ones such as Lord Leron Silverfang, and I wish to puke. He does nothing that does not gain himself leverage among the diplomats. He will be a diplomat of a fallen people with his lack of care about dangers pressing his walls, as well as infesting the city. Those in the Sun Court hide away, hoping the deaths and fighting of the rest of the city will allow them safe passage out to Undercity in the chaos of things.

What a surprise will be awaiting them. Undercity has closed up tight, since the attempted slaying of Sylvannas Windrunner. Orc's guard the elevators now, and their temperament is as bad as the arid wastelands surrounding their home city of Ogrimmar.

No, death marches toward Silvermoon, and I have given up on my attempts to warn them. I have issued a summons to my Coven, to withdraw from the soon to be fallen city. On my exit from the place I spied the Demoness' minions watching me from what they considered safe distances.

Rounding the corner from the Bazaar to what was now the main entry of the city I hid behind a wall, as an elf who wreaked of demon blood and fel powers stuck his head around the corner. His shock lasted but for a moment, a moment too long, as my dagger slid across his throat as if it were made of nothing more than silk on a sun-toasted red skin. His blood incinerated before dripping onto my long red woven sleeve. I bent to wipe the dagger clean on his cloak, before standing and making my way out of the city.

I picked up my Warstrider from the stable he had been kept at, paying a too large fee to the greedy stable master. My smile must have said my thought, for the man fumbled to gain control of the bird, and have me on my way in the quickest manner possible.

His wife was unseen, and unseen is how I wished to remain. I lifted a fine powder from a pouch of green upon my belt; the man shook with indignation, knowing I would not dare cast a spell upon him within Sin'dorei lands. For all the anger inside me, I still knew it to be fool hardy. Instead, I pulled out a dust of white, glass ground so fine it sliced my hand in many places.

I smiled, bringing my palm up, hand open. He blinked, wide eyes; and I saw my chance. With a powerful exhale I blew the shards of glass into the man's eyes, he began to scream as the glass sliced his eyeballs in more pieces than I could have managed with a knife. He rubbed his eyes, making it worse. Blood began to flow like red tears down his face. He opened his mouth to scream, and I pulled him close, dropping the remaining glass dust down his throat. His cry went from loud, to soft screams as blood frothed from his mouth. It would be entering his lungs now, searing them as if flames had licked them.

He finally convulsed, falling to the ground, chocking upon his own life giving fluids. No trace of magic would be found. It would appear a rogues trick. I turned on my heel, leaving the man to bleed out internally as his airways filled with more blood, foaming from his lips. His eyes took on a glaze, a look that no longer saw this world.

I found my mount, glad to see me as he was, and hopped upon his back.

"We return to the estate, Silvermoon has dug it's bed, a city of corrupt morals and leaders who care nothing about anything except their own lively hoods. When the hounds come for them, this time; we will not aid there defense, they had their chance and they scoffed. It is time to leave them to their deaths; and past time we relocate."

Aloria nudged the beast into movement, sparing a glance for the once grand city. "Perhaps some will flee, those who do not, did not deserve to. It is long passed due for the weak to be cleansed from our gene pool."

Aloria turned, looking ahead, as they traveled away from the Elven held lands. She would find redemption for herself, but first redemption must find the people. There was no stopping this now, it's wheels set to motion.

She pulled out a paper, writing easily atop the moving beast. She addressed it to a Demoness whom she despised.

'The city is yours, do as you may. The gene pool needs cleansing, and you enjoy such things. I bow out, I shall not hinder you in any way. The gates are weak, as are the fortifications. Cleanse these people, it is time a new age dawns for them, one raised through the blood of those unable to see truth.'

She sealed the letter, closing it with red wax in the shape of a star. Soon she would have her imp take it, but only once he was cleansed of his memories of where the woman lived.

It has been done as I have recorded, the Light forgive me for what I do, but it is a rude awakening to the populace, they cannot continue as they are, they are secluding themselves from the world again, and that was the reason the Well was lost last time. I cannot allow it to reoccur.

Whomever this book finds, know I have done what I must to ensure, we are not wiped to near extinction once again.

Signed with guilt and the knowledge of what must be done,
Aloria Silverstar.