Magister Luminash Dawnwing

Dedication

The Ghostlands remained ever a place of desolation. Here, perhaps, a more desolate place than any for the last children of the Dawnwing line. Among the ruins of the once-proud Dawnwing estate, before a monument of smooth, white marble, starkly pristine in a land of decay, knelt Luminash and Theras, speaking in unison.

“To your memory, Selius Dawnwing, father, magister, and true scion of the Highborne, your son dedicates this flame.”

“To your memory, Selius Dawnwing, grandfather, magister, and true scion of the Highborne, your grandson dedicates this flame.”

Father and son whispered a soft prayer in Thalassian as they knelt before the monument, the magister’s hand cupped over a candle in one of the lower recesses, eyes closed as a tiny flame sprung to life. The phoenix and rising sun that crowned the monument, the crest of the Dawnwing line since their exile from Kalimdor, could scarcely manage to shine in the gloom of the bleak forest, even golden as it was.

He did the same with a second candle, on a level with the first, the pair whispering another prayer.

“To your memory, Leanna Dawnwing, mother, priestess of the Eternal Sun, whose Light illuminates us all, your son dedicates this flame.”

“To your memory, Leanna Dawnwing, grandmother, priestess of the Eternal Sun, whose Light illuminates us all, your grandson dedicates this flame.”

Luminash stood, stepping back and motioning his son to come forward.

The Farstrider stood as well, placing his own candle at the foot of the monument, apart from the alcoves carved into its body. He brought a match forth from his pack, struck it, and lit the flame, whispering his own prayer.

“To your memory, Seladra Bel’asan, mother, seeker of truth in all things, true servant of your people, lost before your time, your son dedicates this flame.”

Stepping back from the monument, Theras stood with hands clasped behind his back, his father stepping forward once more, now to cup his hand over the final candle, elevated above the rest in the final recess. A flame sprung to life as father and son spoke.

“To the memory of all who came before, illustrious forebears, ancestors, whose examples lead the way, whose efforts carved a path through hardship, a path leading to this moment, your children dedicate this flame.”

Luminash then raised a hand to the sky, flames flickering and sprouting from his fingertips, rising to wreathe the golden phoenix and rising sun in fire, illuminating the crest and dispelling the gloom around the memorial, a flame that would last for the year to come.

Theras joined his father as they spoke the final lines of their dedication, “May your memories, like this flame, last ever more, a beacon in the dark for your lost children. We, those Children of Blood, the final scions of Dawnwing, now and forever dedicate this flame.”