Before These Tides, A History of the Dragon Rider (part one)

She could listen forever to the Mother's Song.
Soothing, secretive, sensual.
A lulling rhythm echoed in varying decibels as Elune pulled her to the shore, then, fickle goddess that she was, changed Her mind and pushed her away again, like a lover who tempts and teases, but never fulfills. The pattern began again, then moved through to completion, stilling to silence, a pause between Her breaths, a heart-beat abruptly arrested like the end of a hiccup, a thought that this time was the last time.
Yet....it was not.
It had not been since before Tyrannde knew of her own existence, and it would not be until long after she ceased to be (even though her particular race of night elf lived for centuries -- not immortal, but man would beg to differ; only Elune knew better.)
The Mother had always been...since the day the Creator formed her.

She loved the Mother's song. It filled her completely and became her reason for listening, for living.
Constant, captivating, complete.
Comforting her when nothing else could. It had been her refuge in all manner of times - betrayal, inquisitiveness, strategy, ruthless aggression, deception and mistrust of the ones closest to her - yes, even when her heart was bruised and battered, something she dare not display to any of those around her, not her companies of the Sisterhood, not her guardian court of the fae, not the generals nor the strategists, not buried in the Blades of any of her five sons, not even the Beautiful one who lay deepest in her heart, especially not he!, not even Dorak her closest protector and confidant - no, no one - only the song of the Mother could she cling to, with every sense of her body, as she was overwhelmed, completely immersed within Her glory, until slowly she could feel the panic yield to peace - blissful, faithful, incomparable peace.

Tyrannde loved the Mother most when she was fully surrendered to her, when her eyes were filled, her nose was filled, her ears were filled, her body was buoyed by the sweet, soothing, wet waters, when she was One with the sea. It was unique, the way of their joining. She recognized it as such early on in her life, intuitively knowing even then, this.....this....set her apart from others of her people, made her....different. But it was a place in which Tryannde was comfortable. She welcomed it, explored it, embraced it. The Spirit of the Mother moved into her, driven by the unrelenting force of her omnipresent waves, and together they skimmed over the face of all in unmatched power - the earth, the waters, the heavens, even the Emerald Dream.

The Emerald Dream had been Tyrannde's end, along with all her race, the Kaldorei.
Mated to the most powerful Druid in their culture's history, Malfurion Stormrage, it was he who had saved them all and sacrificed himself to the Dream, allowing its guardian, that great green dragon Ysera, to capture him, so that Tyrannde and all their people might escape. But as she fled, Tyrannde stole something very precious to Ysera. The great beast's roars of anger rattled the world for many nights without ceasing, bringing the fear into the Kaldorei hearts that she and her dragon-army spawns were making preparations for coming out of the Dream to launch a strike upon the great Home Tree, Aear Alda, of the Kaldorei. Eventually, however, Ysera came to realize that she was thwarted - that to leave the Emerald Dream as guardian and deal with the thief would leave Malfurion, and the other dreamers, exposed, unguarded -- they could be rescued -- which would mean the end of the Dream and all who lived within its bounds.
If there are no dreamers, then there can be no dream, and no participants therein.
Relunctantly, Ysera remained.

But her anger grew.
It became an itch, then a yearning, and at last her reason for being, festering inside her like an abcess that has no release.
She spent every moment planning and calculating, scheming to find a way to pay Tryande back and reclaim that which was hers.
Revenge is a powerful motivator. It cannot be held back forever. Such is the sinful nature of the world and all its creatures herein.

And eventually came the day when Ysera succeeded.