Music: Fallen Tears composed by Brunuhville

https://youtu.be/m4XGEzTOfdY

Eledrin was once a beautiful young High Elf, married to Zanris, a blacksmith who worked out of Tranquillien in Ghostlands.

They were very much in love and often seen out walking together arm-in-arm, near their home in Windrunner Village.

They had not been married long before Eledrin fell pregnant with their daughter, Talinda. The little girl was the apple of the young couple's eyes.

Eledrin was always singing to her daughter, or telling her stories or playing peek-a-boo, a favourite game of Talinda's. Eledrin just needed to put her palms to her face, open them and go "Peek-a-boo!" for happy chortles to begin. The sound of her daughter's laughter made her spirit soar.

The family would play along the beach or in the woods, taking picnics on warm sunny days.

Regularly, they came home with Zanris carrying his daughter as she nestled in quiet slumber against his chest; her tiny thumb plugged firmly in her mouth. She was tired out from playing and running around all day with mummy and daddy.

Once the couple put Talinda to bed, kissing her goodnight, they would then collapse exhausted, but content, into bed.

Their life was idyllic, so happy, so beautiful, so perfect ... until evil visited their village.

*****

A cacophony of screams and roars rang through the woods. Undead marauders, led by a Death Knight on a skeletal steed ploughed through the area, killing everything and everyone in their path. Panic and despair gripped the villager's hearts; darkness had descended upon their haven.

Eledrin told Talinda to stay in a secret compartment under her bedroom floor with her favourite doll for company while mummy went to look for daddy. The little girl was terrified, tears streaming down her face, but she promised to do as mummy told her. Eledrin vowed to come back soon, and then all would be well.

Outside, amid the chaos, Eledrin ran, desperately searching for Zanris. He would have been making his way back home from Tranquillien when the attack started.

A shout came from her left, and she saw her husband fighting his way through the terrified Elves swarming to flee the attack. But, before he reached her, the scourge was upon him.

Eledrin stood, transfixed, unable to move as she witnessed the undead dismember her husband before her eyes. His body was scattered amid the corpses of neighbours and friends.

The world was caving in, its beauty, violated, torn asunder.

A scream pierced the young elf's stupor, and suddenly she was running back home. But, again, she was too late.

Her daughter lay, halfway out of the secret compartment, just a bloodied mess, her favourite doll still clasped in her tiny hands.

*****

Eledrin's cries of devastating grief rang through the village, rising well above the screams and shouts of the people running in fear of their lives. Her sorrow attracted the leader of the scourge.

With a heavy clunk from his plate armour, Arthas Menethil, Death Knight and once Prince of Lordaeron, dropped from his skeletal mount. With slow, deliberate strides, he entered the elven home.

He stood over Eledrin, silently observing the grieving mother. No remorse played in his eyes; he simply stared at the woman holding the body of her child in her arms. An evil grin stretched Arthas' mouth. "You will make a fine servant," he said coldly.

Eledrin looked up. Her vision, although blurred from tears, still identified the monster who stood in front of her. The prince was known to many, both human and elf alike. Once upon a time, he was not a man to fear; he was noble, serving the people through the purity of the Light, honourable and just. But he had become tainted, bewitched, lured by forces which promised supreme power, into carrying out their bidding.

"Finish me!" Eledrin begged. "I have no reason to live."

Arthas laughed cruelly and pulled his sword from its scabbard. "Oh, I will do better than that, elf." His face contorted, a sadistic twist playing on his mouth. With little effort, he thrust his sword through the young elf's chest.

She slid from the runic steel and lay, a crumpled heap beside her dead daughter. Arthas stood grinning over her, pleased with his handiwork. His eyes shone, cruel, victorious, as her essence began to flow into the cursed blade; another soul for his collection.

One of his necromancers came into the room. "Scourge, my Lord?" the defiler of souls asked, pointing to the dying elf.

Eledrin could not speak, she was too weak from her wound, but her fate, it seemed, was not to be with her family in the Twisting Nether. The one-time Prince of Lordaeron confirmed her worst fears.

"No," Arthas replied, still watching her. "I think banshee will be better. I want this one to serve us differently."

"Very well. And the daughter?"

"Let her rot; she is no use even as an undead. Anything out there that is not whole leave it to feed the worms. They are no good to me if my servants have been over-zealous in their work."

Grabbing the reins of his steed, Arthas pulled himself up into the saddle and watched as the remaining light faded from Eledrin's eyes.

*****

Eledrin woke at Windrunner Spire. For a moment, she thought she had risen from a terrible dream. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. But, it did not sound like herself. It was echoey, ethereal.

She brought her hand to her mouth, confused. Another shock greeted her. Her hand was not like hers; the flesh was translucent; she could see the rugs on the floor through her palms. Further inspection confirmed her worst fears; Eledrin was no more. Utter despair engulfed the one-time elf - her entire body was transparent, spectral. "No-ooo," she wailed.

Horrific images flooded her mind. Her beloved Zanris and precious Talinda; torn from life, left to decompose in the village below.

"Come," a voice said from behind. "We have work to do."

She turned and saw another creature, not unlike herself; a banshee. This one, however, was a leader; she possessed an air of authority, and the coldness of death emanated from her like a blast of icy air. Sylvanas Windrunner, once High Elf Ranger General, was now a banshee too and stood before Eledrin.

Sylvanas had issued an order, and one which Eledrin knew she could not refuse; even if she'd wanted to. She had no will left, no excuse not to do as this 'leader' demanded.

Everything Eledrin cherished was no more; her life finished, annihilated. Cursed now as a banshee, meant she could never be with her family in the Nether. There would be no peace for her and nothing else to do except follow the Ranger General's orders.

*****

For months Eledrin roamed the lands with her fellow 'sisters', and they helped ransack more villages, towns and outposts all in the name of the Lich King, with his puppet Arthas, and the scourge.

If it was at all possible, another little part of Eledrin 'died' each time she was a party to such evil.

Memories started to fade; her life before Arthas, all but forgotten, and a thickening shroud of despondency wrapped around her like a possessive lover.

Her call of death - the banshee wail - was heard echoing throughout forests, valleys, hillsides and mountains. Hundreds of innocents answered the call, and all fell.

Eventually, she and her sisters of death returned to Windrunner Spire. They hovered the ramps and sidewalks, wailing endlessly, tormented in their sorrow.

*****

Eledrin stared out over the village, her mind lost, wandering the empty land which stretched out beyond the Spire. Her ghostly eyes caught movement near one of the buildings below. She watched, keenly, trying to decipher what had moved. Nothing.

As she was about to turn away, she saw it again. A child; a girl - and she was running from someone while clutching a small doll. The little girl's laughter implied she was not afraid; whoever was chasing her was no threat.

Eledrin watched, fascinated, as the girl ran into one of the abandoned buildings.

Another movement from the side of an adjacent structure caught the banshee's eye. A man; a handsome man. He was creeping round to the door of the building, and then he jumped inside. A moment later, he emerged, scratching his head as if puzzled.

The child's laughter drew Eledrin's attention to where the little girl was hiding. The man snuck across the plaza to the doorway then ran into the building. After a few moments, he emerged, holding the little girl in his arms.

The banshee watched, fascinated. Laughter floated in the air like a song, innocent, playful, joyous, and it swam around the Spire.

Captivated, Eledrin floated down the ramp towards the village. Something, deep-rooted, was trying to surface, like a memory, lost, vague, distant. But she was inexplicably drawn to the playful individuals.

*****

As Eledrin watched from the lower ramp, the man and child continued playing a game of tag around the dried-out fountain in the village centre.

It was then Eledrin realised they weren't living beings. They were spirits, mere echoes of people passed on. More encouragingly, she considered as they were ghosts, perhaps she could approach them. At least she could not harm the dead, and it would be nice to have some company other than the morbid sisters of the Spire.

Music: Black Heart composed by BrunuhVille

https://youtu.be/R5_gkn3iLP0

She continued down to the bottom ramp, slowly, watching the two spirits play. The child's laughter was so sweet, warming – familiar. In that instant, the veil lifted.

Talinda!

And the man; he could only be... Zanris! Overcome by a mixture of grief and unbounded joy, Eledrin called out to them.

The little girl stopped running around the fountain and stared in her direction. And then she screamed.

*****

Eledrin jolted to a stop, utterly stunned by her daughter's reaction.

"Daddy! Daddy! It's one of the scary ladies from the Spire!" Talinda cried.

Eledrin watched in disbelief as Zanris scooped their daughter up and backed away. She tried to tell them who she was, but they were covering their ears.

Joy turned to sorrow as she realised her words were nothing more than banshee wails.

In desperation, she floated nearer, but Zanris held out his hand.

"Stop!" he shouted. "Come no closer, demon. I know you cannot hurt us, but you are scaring my daughter, and I bid you leave us alone. Now!"

He continued backing away with Talinda refusing to look at her at all, burying her face against her father's neck.

Eledrin had no choice but to do as he asked. What little hope had flared was snuffed out by Zanris' words.

She could not bear to see her daughter so terrified, but if Eledrin had still possessed a heart, she knew it would have crumbled to dust from this rejection.

Devastated, she turned and made her way back to the Spire.

*****

Days passed, and from the top of the Spire, she scanned the village, religiously, to see if Zanris and Talinda had returned.

One day, her daughter's chortles reached up through the woods. Eledrin floated to the side of the ramp, excited yet apprehensive. The banshee's pale lips curved into a semblance of a smile while watching the two spirits playing in and around the buildings.

Desperation gripped her; she had to think this through. How could she near her husband and daughter without causing them to fear? What could she do to make herself known to them?

She reached the back of the building in which they played and stayed hidden in the shadows, only catching glimpses through the window as they chased each other inside.

She was about to duck back as they neared the doorway, but as the sight of Zanris' handsome face came into view, she froze. Oh, how she longed to hold him; to be held by him. And their daughter; their precious little girl. She was so beautiful, so innocent.

As they rounded the building, they ran straight into Eledrin.

Once more, Talinda screamed at the sight of a banshee so close.

Zanris steered his daughter behind him. The little girl's hands clasped tightly to his jacket hem as they backed away.

Eledrin, inwardly bleeding from yet another rejection, fell to her knees, arms outstretched, imploring them not to be frightened. From behind her father's jacket, Talinda peeked out, eyes wide, lips tight, holding in another scream.

Then a special memory struck Eledrin. Slowly, she lifted her hands to her face, then opened her palms and mouthed "Peek-a-Boo!"

Talinda stared at her, silent, dumbstruck – a tiny flicker of recognition floating in her ethereal eyes.

Eledrin shuffled closer. Could this be the answer? Was there hope? She repeated the action, and waited, desperate to see her little girl smile.

But, her daughter wailed again ducking back behind Zanris.

A little deflated, but desperate to make herself known, Eledrin didn't give up. She tried again, and again, for all her daughter now concealed herself behind Zanris. But, it was no good; the little girl was too distraught.

*****

Eledrin dropped her hands to her lap and stared at the ground. Her shoulders heaved, racked by her ghostly sobs.

"Eledrin?" Zanris' voice came to her, soft, gentle.

She flinched. Had she heard correctly? Terrified she had imagined it only, she slowly lifted her eyes.

Zanris was looking at her in disbelief. "Is it you? Eledrin?"

She tried to smile, but it was so hard when her little girl still refused to look at mummy. Eledrin nodded, sobs, once again hitching her chest.

Zanris took a step closer, his hand reaching towards her, but Talinda became hysterical. "No, daddy, no! Don't go near the scary lady!"

Zanris turned to his daughter, trying to appease her, but the little girl would not hear of it. Her tiny face was all crumpled up with tears, and she kept shaking her head as she clutched her doll to her chest.

Zanris looked back at Eledrin; pain, written clearly on his ghostly features. His anguish showed in his eyes; torn between embracing his wife or comforting their daughter. There was no middle ground.

"Daddy, please! I want to leave this place. I don't ever want to come back."

*****

Closing his eyes, Zanris understood the needs of his daughter, but also lamented the fact she did not realise who knelt before them. Plagued aplenty by nightmares of the past, he knew Talinda could not cope with another thing to scare her.

He opened his eyes and looked, mournfully, back at Eledrin. "I'm sorry." He considered how to convey his thoughts without causing any more hurt to either his wife or daughter.

His eyes welled as he spoke. "I have to do what is best for Talinda. She asks where her mummy is, and I tell her that she now walks in the rays of Belore, guarding and watching over us as we play."

Eledrin listened with quiet reverence, fighting to keep her wails at bay. She knew Zanris had no choice but to do what was right for their daughter. And knowing he was there for Talinda, offered the banshee a little comfort.

She got to her feet, hoping for one last look at her precious little girl. But, Talinda did not emerge from behind her father.

The banshee turned to leave, utterly despondent.

"Eledrin!" Zanris' tortured whisper reached out to her.

Turning to face her husband for the last time Eledrin saw him mouth the words 'I love you'.

With a bittersweet smile, she gestured where her heart once beat and then mouthed the same sentiment.

Zanris' lips quivered in a forlorn smile.

Eledrin watched as her husband slowly turned, placing his hand on their daughter's shoulder. She remained watching until they vanished into the woods. That was the last time she ever saw them.

To this day, the Banshee bewails the loss of her husband and daughter. She drifts, lost, lonely, on the ramparts of the Spire. But, within her sorrow, a spark of hope remains, that one day, Belore will grant her dearest wish, to reunite Eledrin with her family once more.