The Prologue and first part of the Book of the Fallen can be found here and here.

Tharion turned to another grave marker, this one a withered branch placed into the soil beneath it. In the early years, the branch still sprouted leaves, as if the life of its mother tree still flowed within. But this long separated, the branch was little more than a blackened wooden post in the ground.

At the base of the branch sat a small tome. Its pages were blank—one of the many signs of a locked spellbook. Only those allowed could read the contents and the incantations. The only writing visible was in the inside cover, and it was written in the refined flowing script of a highborne.

Seth’doril Sunblaze.

Tharion Greyseer placed his palm on the outer cover and began his meditation. And he remembered.

* * *

It had been raining within the Ashenvale, and the ground was soggy and the leaves still wet. The scent of fresh water permeated much of the area, with the exception of those areas infested with demonic activity.

A duel raged in one of these areas.

The felguard pressed his heavy blade forward against the arcane shield conjured by the night elven mage. The surge of fel energies caused the iridescent dome of power to spiderweb and crack, as if it were made of nothing more than glass. Seth’doril Sunblaze, known merely as ‘Seth’ amongst his fellow Netherbane students, pushed more mana into his defense, uncertain how long before the shield collapsed.

“Using only magic is a weakness, Seth.” Eraelan Netherbane stood calmly a few yards to his left, watching the struggle critically. The demon paid the elder demon hunter no mind, instead focusing only on the more frail of the two night elves present. “You have been taught how to use your blades for a reason. Make use of them!”

The arcane shield around the former member of the Moon Guard exploded outward, and the demon staggered back. This felguard was larger than others; stronger. It had been a commander during the Sundering and had returned to Kalimdor to seed his own brand of chaos. Today, he was being used for training.

The demon’s sword glowed an eerie violet color, the skull on the hilt almost alive with a wicked glee. The felguard raised this weapon menacingly and beckoned the mage to approach.

Seth’doril Sunblaze spoke a word of power and twin golden warglaives appeared in his hands. He narrowed his eyes, for he had yet to be ritually blinded, and he lunged towards the demon.

“Yes! That’s it, Seth! Use all that you have learned. Merge your disciplines for the hunt!” Eraelan grinned as he watched the mage swing the dual bladed weapons awkwardly. “Channel your magic into the weapons! That’s what they were made for!”

The felguard parried the sloppy strikes from the highborne, maintaining its footing and striking back at the inexperienced demon hunter. The beast was far stronger than the frail night elf, and it began to toy with its prey casually.

Seth struck with all his might, but each blow was deflected as the demon began to advance. Channeling all his remaining arcane energy into his weapons, Eraelan’s student could do little to hold his ground.

“Shan’do!” he shouted as the demon’s heavy strikes hit his blades repeatedly. “Shan’do! I cannot—”

Seth’doril’s plea was cut short as the felguard’s wicked blade pierced his abdomen. Blood pooled within the night elf’s mouth, denying him his final words. With a grin that revealed the truth about the strength of the demon, the felguard lifted the body off the ground, allowing the weapon to slide all the way through.

The two warglaives fell to the soft ground of Ashenvale forest.

“Your students are weak, Netherbane,” growled the felguard, tossing the lifeless body aside as if it were little more than a ragdoll. “Lord Xonath does not seek such pitiful warriors. They are unworthy.”

Eraelan Netherbane grinned at the demon knowingly as he stepped to where the twin glaives had fallen. Picking up the weapons, he merely replied “Indeed, Zevash. It is still early yet. I will forge a stronger hunter soon enough, you will see. Lord Xonath will not be … disappointed.”

Zevash snarled and straightened himself. He sheathed his weapon at his hip and cast one last glance at the lifeless body of the demon hunter’s fallen student. “He will judge that when he arrives, kaldorei.”

This made Eraelan pause as he looked up. “Arrives? Your master is coming here?”

It was Zevash’s turn to grin this time. “He will be soon enough. Prepare yourself and your ’students,’ Netherbane.”

Eraelan frowned. “Very well.”

Both the felguard and the demon hunter parted ways, leaving the small clearing at opposite ends. Neither of them detected the two pairs of glowing eyes watching them from within the canopy of the forest. In fact, neither pair of eyes noticed its counterpart, either.

The Sentinel revealed herself first, dropping down from her perch within the trees and approaching the fallen form of the mage-turned-hunter. She whispered a silent prayer to Elune before muttering one word and bounding into the darkness of the Ashenvale.

“Netherbane.”

* * *

Tharion removed his hand from the cover of the book and replaced it at the base of the wooden grave marker. He had not been a friend of Seth’doril. In fact, he blamed Seth and his kind for the state of the world after the Sundering, and the hatred had always shown through in Tharion’s interactions with the mage.

But on this evening, Tharion’s attitude was quite different.

“Seth’doril Sunblaze,” he whispered into the night. “Your failure revealed a new truth to us, a truth we should have taken to heart.”  Tharion, still kneeling in the center of the grave markers, bowed forward deeply. “You are remembered.”

* * *