The small home in Ashenvale is abuzz with many elves; the den area is crowded with smiles and clasped hands and
backs, the lawn a wave of eyes constantly darting from the entranceway of the home to the small path up from the
main trail. In all, over sixty congregate in the area. Twenty-five pets of different varieties- pigs, bears, cats,
spiders- mark the border of the gathering, their vigilance permitting the elves to enjoy the passed drinks and
roasted meats. Pets are rewarded with tidbits tossed their way, the tails and snouts and pincers wiggle with glee.
Darnassian accents from beyond Forest Song and Auberdine flow quickly amidst the local tones, and excitement
bounces from one elf to another, restrained with respect and awe of events in the near future.

"She arrives!"

A tall male elf with flowing purple hair and light blue skin lumbers forward from the main path, his right arm
locked, bent at the elbow and hand extended palm down. The full moon overhead gleams on the light chain armor he
wears, despite the festive occasion. He bellows again, "Make way!" and the throng slowly quiets and moves aside to
allow a path to the doorway. A cool, frail, purple-tinged hand rests atop the male's. The owner moves slowly along
side the massive warrior, her hair a pair of green braids on her shoulders, looped and tied to be a two large
circles, one on either side of her head. Her glimmering deep green ceremonial robes swallow her from gleaming
silver torque to ground, giving her a gliding effect instead of showing her lopsided gait. The elf is timeless,
seeming old as the land itself, yet the smile on her face is girlish. Her eyes have long since lost their glow and
use, and a silver sash blessed with a spell long forgotten is bound across them. The sash sparkles in a faint blue,
and though the gatherers have witnessed her at every birth in the area since they can recall, it still takes their
breath away. She laughs softly, patting the male's hand affectionately.

"Jepars, you mustn't bellow so. Your mother could be put into the birthtime labors from your noise."

Grumbling, Jepars uses his free hand to cover hers as way of apology. He turns his head slowly as they move
closer to the home, scanning the edges of the crowd. Something treads on his nerves, and he is anxious to have the
Oracle inside the home. Once he relinquishes the mystic to his mother's attending friend, he resumes his post at
the edge of the crowd.

In the bed chamber, Relanaria grimaces as she is taken by fits of pain. Already having bore one child to the
world, she realizes the meaning and tries to calmly call the docile she-elf across the room.

"Karae, it is time!"

Half an hour later, Karae holds the infant in the extra cloth of the Oracle's robe. She glances from Relanaria
to the babe to the Oracle. Never has Karae seen an elf with such coloration, pink skin and hair white as the moon.
The Oracle disregards the tension in Karae and places her hands over the babe. Quickly, her softly smiling mouth
hardens into a grim line. She turns her head towards Relanaria, who lies weakened in the bed. The Oracle's hands
begin to shake, and her entire body stiffens. All the occupants are silent, including the small baby, until the
Oracle slackens her posture and drops her hands to her sides. Karae changes the baby to a new wrap and hands her
gingerly to Relanaria, then leaves to announce the arrival.

The Oracle glides to the side of the bed as Relanaria takes in her daughter's small smile. Her face lightens as
she plays with the baby's hand. The Oracle's tone is pleasant, yet determined.

"Relanaria. Your child. Your child is- different."
"How do you mean?"
"I do not need my eyes to feel how Karae reacts to it. The body and mind are intact, but-"
"Her skin is so pink, her hair so white."
"Unusual, to be certain. How is her father?"
"Her- father..."
"Yes, Relanaria. How is his skin?"
"Blue as well, hair and skin both."

The Oracle tenses and grips her robe.

"How can this be?"

Relanaria touches the tuft of white hair on her baby's head, her heart pounds for a way to avoid that line of
questioning. How to tell something like this?

"Could you not make a prediction for her then?"

The Oracle dips her head a bit, then nods.

"Times I see are not always easy, though good fortune may still be found."

The Oracle rises to her feet and leans over the bed, her voice lowers to a hissing whisper as she speaks.

"Your girl has a hard journey ahead. She will find herself alone when she needs help most. Then, my dear, your child will die."

Relanaria breaks into a sob and catches her breath.

"How is this possible! Is there nothing good that you saw?"
"I wish I could give you more. That is all I have seen."

A brief pause, and the Oracle places her cool hand on Relanaria's shoulder.

"Your daughter. Her name?"
"I will call her Dess Ara'na."

Relanaria does not look up at the Oracle, concerned that somehow her sightless eyes may spring back to life and pierce her soul with their gaze. After a moment, the Oracle quietly glides to the door and places her hand on the doorframe. She pauses, then turns her head back to Relanaria, a slightly threatening tone to her words.

"What have you done?"