"If a body loses its will, the will to live, it dies! If a soul loses its body, it may still linger as a ghost… but that is because of its will. If that does not prove what I say, then think of the worst alternative: when body that loses its soul still lives. Although it hungers for the soul it lost for all time; it still walks the earth. Beings such as that will claw at the edges of others' souls and create more soulless in the pursuit of finding what they lost, but their attempts to replace a lost soul are as futile as attempting to forge a pristine diamond from coal dust. What causes that body to continue to seek in vain? The will does! Pray to whomever it is that you humans worship that you will never be left as a living will without a soul. Even I, a taker of souls, ensure that the body is slain when the soul is taken. But, I digress. Let us continue the lesson."
Book 1 - Chapter 1: Maldelic
"Your soul is mine," the drowned sounding voice of a man who looked like a rotting corpse seethed as a violet stone formed in his hand and the bearer of the soul from which he formed the stone dropped dead. Holding the stone out like candy, he cast a demonic summoning spell. In response to the call, a Voidwalker which he had dominated ages ago appeared and became his to control once more.
"Send me back!" The voidwalker cried out to no avail, but its master had already moved on to take the soul of his next victim.
Pausing to order his minion, the master flaunted his domination of the lesser demon. "You will not go back, you will attack them." The summoner, a warlock by training, pointed at a group of high elves who were standing guard at the Quel'lithien lodge in the Northeastern hills of Lordaeron.
The entire area surrounding the Quel'lithien lodge had become a corrupted and rotting land known as the Eastern Plaguelands. A dank mist hung in the air across the entire region and everything was in a constant state of decay and disease, just like the warlock himself. The only plants that seemed to grow well anymore in the Plaguelands were mushrooms, and they grew to be fifty or more feet tall. Certain places, such as the Quel'lithien lodge and the grounds upon which it stood, were protected and purified by the magic of the elves. The warlock envied the elves for this and committed himself to make them suffer as he suffered in undeath; however, this was only an excuse for the warlock to take what he really wanted: the elves' souls.
Souls were the currency of the warlock's trade. With souls he could summon demons, defeat his enemies, and even craft marvelous magical stones. While most warlocks would take only the souls that they needed, this warlock was obsessed. Many of his comrades and mentors wondered why he kept so many souls, but none of them asked. In truth, everything the warlock did lead him to take more souls. The people whom he took the souls from were varied too. While some warlocks would only take the souls of those they condemned, this warlock collected on a whim. Even more peculiar was the warlock's practice of taking souls from beasts; these souls were much less valued by the common warlock then those of intelligent beings.
Once when a merchant noticed his hoard and asked him why he kept them, he furnished the strange reply "Because they sing to me". Every soul that the warlock captured cried out against its imprisonment, forming an eerie song for any warlock willing to listen. Most warlocks never listened for this song or blocked it out if they began to hear it, but this warlock was completely obsessed with perfecting it.
"Yes, Master." The voidwalker obeyed and charged headlong into combat as his master stood back and picked away at the elves in a symphony of shadow and flame magics.
Each elf who fell to the warlock gained him another soul to use; they all spoke shrill pleas, crying to be released in some way and at least not fed to one of his demons. After having cleared the lodge, the warlock held his rotting hand to his dry bug-eaten chin. "Good, now to find more. I have enough whining elves and anguished lamenting scourge souls." He spoke to himself as he usually did. "I need souls to add strength to the symphony… Scarlets should do."
The 'Scarlets' that the warlock mentioned were the many and zealous members of the self-titled "Scarlet Crusade". The Scarlet Crusade was a group of humans that had risen up in opposition to the undead scourge that had gripped the plaguelands, as well as any living being who would stand in their way. This, of course, included the great alliances of their world, Azeroth. Scarlets treated the Orcish Horde and their allies, as well as the Alliance of men as hated enemies. Despite their sophistication and organization, many viewed the Scarlets as an overgrown pitchfork mob. To the warlock, the zealous shouts of their contained souls added force and volume to the 'song' that he heard all the time. The nearest 'infestation' of scarlet crusaders was in the southeastern city of Tyr's Hand; a city-state which had managed to protect itself from the blight that had transformed eastern Lordaeron into the Plaguelands. It would take him more than a week to reach the borders of Tyr's hand even at full gallop, but the warlock was willing to search far and wide to try and perfect his masterpiece.
Climbing onto his favored steed, a dreadsteed from demonic world of Xoroth that bore the name 'Keidran', the warlock began to make way for Tyr's Hand. Even though the steed did nothing but carry him, the horse was famed for being more malignant and evil than any of his lesser demons. After riding for a few hours, day-dreaming of how he could perfect his symphony with only the most powerful and deadly of Scarlets, the warlock quickly pulled his steed to a halt. The abrupt stop was called for because the warlock felt a pulsing from the bag that he tossed his soul shards into. Opening the bag, the warlock quickly discovered that the offending object was a small globe that he had been given by the brotherhood of warlocks who were in the service of the Dark Lady.
Service to the Dark Lady, Sylvanis Windrunner, and her undead followers who were known as the 'Forsaken' had always been a touchy subject for the warlock. It was true that he was a member of the Forsaken and he had carried out missions for the banshee queen in the past, but he was no soldier and he truly served no one except himself. Picking up the globe curiously, the warlock spoke to the stone in almost the same languid tone as the voidwalker which accompanied him. "What do you want from me?"
The voice returning through the stone belonged to an orc who had come to the great Undercity in Lordaeron to train the less experienced Forsaken warlocks and indoctrinate them into the brotherhood. The warlock had not spoken with the orc or needed his training in quite some time. "A message has come for you from a powerful warlock. You will return to the Undercity to receive it." The orc, whose proper name was Kaal Soulreaper, spoke to him through the stone.
"Why should I? If this is a message, leave it in the postbox and cease your prattle." The drowned voice continued, not wanting to be disturbed from seeking Scarlet souls.
"Prattle? Do not forget where you gained your training warlock." Kaal threatened, angered by the insolence of his former student. "This message comes from a power that neither of us is fit to question."
"My name is Maldelic. You will remember that." The warlock simmered for a moment, angry that he was being called to return at a time like this. "I am not coming! Whatever this is, it is not more important than my symphony."
"I have heard enough of this disrespect!" the voice paused for a moment. "Come here!" The warlock yelled next, causing the stone to glow brightly. Before Maldelic could toss it aside, the stone summoned both him and his dreadsteed to the Undercity.
The Undercity was the capital for the Forsaken. It was a buried city located deep underneath the ruins of the former Human capital city of Lordaeron, although calling it a city barely did it justice. This capital was an underground metropolis for the undead. It was amazing that such a large cave structure could hold up with an abandonded city on the ground above it. The metropolis was constructed following a pattern of concentric rings with various catacombs and chambers twisting off of it. Most trade activities took place along the center and inner rings while the craftsmen and trainers did business in the outer ring. The outer ring was divided into quarters which were named for the types of warriors that trained in that quarter. The destination within the city that Kaal pulled Maldelic to was the Temple of the Damned within the Undercity's 'Magic Quarter'.
This temple, the center of all warlock and mage activity within the Undercity, took up the majority of the 'Magic Quarter'. Adorned with a gigantic stone skull and a tiered top portion, the temple resembled a ziggurat. The building had several large entrances; two on the sides that led to the top floor of the temple and two on the front which led into the main room. The main room was a large circular open space that reached to the roof of the temple. This room was lined by multiple stories of smaller chambers where warlocks and mages slept and practiced their arts. Typically, warlocks kept to the lower floor and the main room while mages resided in the side chambers and upper floors of the temple. With the rituals that the warlocks practiced below, no one could blame the mages for wishing to train as far away as possible within the gargantuan building. If the amount of shadow and arcane energies channeled in that building were part of a single spell instead of separate practices, they might have torn a hole in the world.
The light was dim in the temple as usual, coming only from ritual candles on the ground and the torches around the walls of the main room. The warlocks in the temple preferred dim light, as darkness and shadow were their trades. To match the dim light, he air in the main room carried a dank smell which was a mixture of brimstone, incense, and rot. It was amazing that any being aside from an undead could tolerate such a smell for an extended time, but nevertheless many of the warlocks in the temple were orcs. Most orcs on Azeroth had returned to the ways of their forefathers and embraced the elements, but there were still those who studied shadow magic. Perhaps the orcs put up with the smell of the Undercity because they knew that this city was the furthest they could go from the watchful and ever-wary eyes of the Orcish Warchief, Thrall. The scent was so thick in the air that it coalesced as visible smog and hung around the ankles of the temple's inhabitants, shrouding their boots and the shorter demons that they had summoned. Rats roamed the temple freely, often being swept up and eaten by hungry imps who stood around waiting for the next command from their masters. Although the temple itself and the entire Undercity were only five years old, the decay from being a bastion for the Forsaken sometimes made the buildings resemble ancient ruins more than recent constructions.
"Damn you Kaal, it will take me a month to get back to the Tyr's Hand!" Maldelic exclaimed as soon as he appeared. Looking for the dark orc, Maldelic thought first to attack him and then suddenly heard Kaal's malevolent voice whisper "May your flesh be cursed with weakness!" at him. Falling off of his steed, Maldelic found that he was barely able to climb up to one knee again. "What is the meaning of this? I have little time. I must complete my symphony."
"What? Are you a bard by profession?" Kaal stepped forward into the light of one of the torches and laughed heartily, knowing that Maldelic was subdued.
Kaal Soulreaper was an orc of average stature and above average intelligence. Any orc who could convince the Warchief to let him remain a member of the Horde while practicing shadow magic could be called cleverer than the average orc. Although Kaal was not the most powerful warlock in the Horde, he was certainly more powerful than any of warlocks whom he had trained, Maldelic included. The orc always wore long dark robes and his eyes glowed red like a caged demon was peering out of his soul and waiting for a chance to escape. Despite this caged disdain, the orc was always willing to share his knowledge and bring more orcs and undead into the fold. Kaal had a few simple demands from his students: obedience and respect; Maldelic showed Kaal neither of these and so he often incurred the orc's rage.
"Warlocks have no need of such frivolous pursuits. Now, stay your tongue insolent pup." The master warlock leaned over into the shadows once more, picked up a bag that had been sitting at his feet, and threw it at Maldelic. "You don't deserve a gift like this. You are a greedy and disrespectful warlock who hordes souls. You never pursue advancement among us and you never give anything back to our dark brotherhood. The world would be well rid of you and your constant ranting about symphonies and music." The evil orc paced back and forth before the weakened undead, the shadows making him look much larger and more imposing than he really was. "Nevertheless, you have received a calling from the Greater Shadow Order of the Itjahzi; a legendary order of warlocks whom I have only found mention of in archaic texts from this world. In all of my work raising new brethren I have only been contacted by a greater order once. Being contacted by a greater order, especially one as powerful as the Shadow Order of the Itjahzi, is a calling that comes once in a lifetime. You could never have warranted this on your own."
"So you're jealous then?" Maldelic interrupted Kaal, grinning at his victory over the orc. "It is a shame that I have been summoned to them and you have not; since you seem to idolize them and I know nothing about them. I will answer this summons to spite you then… as soon as my symphony is complete."
Ignoring the undead's insolence this time, the warlock trainer focused on what Maldelic had said. "I thought you a fool before, undead, but you would be truly mad to ignore summons from a Greater Order. The only reason I am even giving this package to a lowlife like you is because ignoring it would also mean my death. Now, take it and get out of my temple." Kaal barked angrily at the impudent undead.
Able to move again, Maldelic slowly climbed onto his steed and trotted out of the temple, trying to run his steed through as many ritual symbols as he could on the way out. The undead considered if he was getting out of practice in being beaten by Kaal Soulreaper, but then again he had never tested his former master's full power. Quickly, the warlock put the idea aside as he looked at the package which was sent to him. The package itself was a plain brown wool bag which was tied with a simple rope. The only remarkable part of the package was a small vial which was tied to the other end of the rope which closed the bag. Untying the vial, Maldelic raised it to his eye level as he crossed a bridge over the putrid green river in the Undercity. The vial appeared to contain only a rolled up piece of parchment, so the warlock leaned over as he led his horse off of the bridge and broke the vial on a higher part of the stone edge of the bridge. Although everything was trivial compared to his hunt to complete his symphony, Maldelic decided to read the note and humor the 'Greater Order'. Glancing at it once, the warlock suddenly pulled on the reins of his steed to make the demonic animal stop and then examined the note more carefully.
"I know the perfect symphony for which you search and I hold it deep within my soul. All of your attempts are shameful and for naught. If you ever want peace, you will come. –M.D."
Seeing this, the warlock grew angry, confused, intrigued, and paranoid all at once. Dismounting, the warlock led his steed over to an empty spot along the walls of the magic quarter and then sent the steed back into the nether. Placing the package on the ground and sitting down beside it, Maldelic tried to calm himself down by talking the situation over with himself. Aside from his obsession on symphonies, the time Maldelic spent talking to himself also made him stand apart from the crowd. The warlock never believed it was useful to talk to anyone else, but he needed to talk aloud to himself to be able to hear his thoughts over his symphony. "How?! How could anyone know about my symphony or know what it will be? Who has been watching me? How do they know what I want?" Maldelic upended the bag to examine the rest of the contents.
"Runes of teleportation… pah." The warlock rifled through emptied contents of the bag and chuckled at its contents. Continuing to search, the Undead found an item of more interest. A small golden signet ring was in the bag, bearing two initials on the top, a name repeated on each side of the edge, and a curious phrase around the band. The ring also appeared to have been used to seal wax on letters before. All of the writing on the ring was in the language known as 'Common'. Although the Forsaken accepted a dialect of Common called 'Undercommon' as their language, many of them still knew Common from their human lives. Maldelic only had a cursory knowledge of Common as he retained no memories of his human life. Piecing together what he knew, the warlock slowly translated the ring as he examined it. Starting with the phrase on the band, Maldelic read the text. "Enlightenment through exploration." The undead translated the phrase from the band. "Is this some sort of trite motto? This is completely irrelevant." Turning the ring to look at the top, Maldelic continued. "M.D." The warlock looked at the lettering on the top of the ring and then suddenly grabbed the note from the outside of the bag. "M.D. here too! This ring belongs to the man who wrote this." Peering closely at the edge of the ring's top, Maldelic focused on the last bit of writing on the ring. "Drakivaz… Drakivaz? I know this name. Why do I know this name? I've never heard it before. It must be his last name if he is M.D. Now, why would he send me a signet ring?" The warlock thought for a moment then shrugged and slipped the ring in his pocket. "It should at least fetch a few silvers at the market, but why do I know this name? There must be more in here."
Only a few moments before, the selfish warlock had not cared in the least about the summons, but now he was intrigued by the names and the notion that someone might know the symphony of souls which he strived endlessly to create. Pausing for a moment, Maldelic considered another possibility to himself. "This could all be the work of that damn orc. He knows I have mentioned my symphony and he disdains my search. If he is tricking me with something this close to me, I will kill him." The warlock jumped up, slamming his hands together in anger. "I don't care if the city exiles me, I will kill him!" Maldelic nearly yelled, quieting down and sitting against the wall again upon noticing that he was drawing attention with his vocalized internal monologue.
Examining the rest of the bag's contents, the warlock was nonplussed. The bag contained warm clothing that looked to be his size, some meager and smelly rations, a few torches, and finally a great shadowy hammer-head with some rusted out engravings upon it. Recognizing that one of the markings on the hammer-head was a common Alliance marking, the warlock quickly slipped the hammer back in the bag followed by the other items he had dumped out. "Clearly, whoever he is, he doesn't care for my safety."
Although the better part of his instinct drew him to return to his task of gathering souls, Maldelic was intrigued by the note and the contents of the bag. Taking out the runes of teleportation, the warlock set about assembling the small glowing shards on the ground. The runes fit together like pieces of a puzzle, forming a large circle adorned with shadowy symbols. For once in his unending pursuit of his symphonies, the Undead's heart moved him away from his search and towards the mystery that lay before him. Looking closer at the runes, he saw that they were made of a strange ice which wasn't melting. Taking his gloves off for a moment, the warlock touched one of the runes and found it so cold that it was painful to touch. Continuing to puzzle the runes together once he had put his gloves back on, Maldelic began to talk aloud about the situation once more. "The Itjahzi; an order I've never heard of. Not that I care much about orders and hierarchies anyway. My task is far too important for me to waste time on such organizations. I expect this 'M.D.' must be a powerful warlock to have me summoned, but if he is vulnerable and knows my symphony then I will just take his soul and tear my masterpiece from it bit by bit."
Moving blindly ahead, Maldelic quickly completed the summoning circle. As the last rune was placed, the separate pieces glowed with a bright blue light and fused together. The warlock knew enough of the mage's school of magic to tell that the runes led somewhere far away, but the location runes within the circle were a character set which he had never seen before. Being akin to endless searching, this only intrigued Maldelic further. Picking up the bag, the Undead looked around the Magic Quarter once more to see if Kaal or anyone else was watching him. Seeing no one, the undead stepped onto the runes while talking aloud again for re-assurance. "All curses on that damn Soulreaper if this is some sort of deception." The warlock disappeared along with the bag in a nova of frost and shadow energy.
"Good, he has used them. Now, let's see how well he can hear me." A voice in the dark commented; the progress of the warlock was watched by unseen forces.
Appearing on his back in the middle of a snow covered field sparsely filled rickety trees, the Undead stood up and tried to regain his senses. Some teleportations were as simple as stepping through a portal as if it was a doorway, but this teleport had been rough. The warlock felt weakened and disoriented, like he had been pulled through the twisting nether between places by his neck and dropped at his destination. "Where has this taken me?" he shivered, which was unusual for an undead. "What cold can make the dead feel it? This should not be possible." Maldelic looked around and saw nothing except the vast fields and sickly trees.
The wind howled once more, almost knocking the undead over. "This must be Kaal's trick; send me here to freeze solid." The warlock searched through his bags for the globe that Kaal had contacted him through. Frowning in disgust, he realized that the globe was powerless in this location. Throwing the device across the snow, Maldelic looked at his surroundings in more detail. The entire area which he stood in was wild and the warlock thought it uninhabited until a mammoth suddenly came into view over one of the hills of snow some distance away. Maldelic never remembered seeing a mammoth before except in drawings, so the appearance of one served little to help him figure out where he was. The only other feature in the landscape aside from nearly dead trees and snow was a curious cave to the West. The cave opening was facing east, so the Undead knew it would be out of the fierce wind if he could reach it. Opening the sack again, Maldelic pulled out the warmer clothes which he had noticed and quickly pulled them on over his robes.
"These fit perfectly." The warlock commented aloud and picked up the sack again once he was dressed. "M.D. knows far too much about me." The traveling outfit consisted of a grey fitted long coat with buttons to fasten the front shut, a heavy woolen hat, a set of thick gloves, and a re-enforced set of boots. The circlet that the warlock wore for battle caused demonic horns to appear on his brow, so the warlock had to rip holes in the hat for it to sit properly. Much to his despair, Maldelic had to take of some of his battle gear to fit into the warm clothing. Having to take off these valuable protectives, like his shoulder armor, put Maldelic ill at ease. Despite the worry, the prospect of becoming a frozen ever-living statue was worse than losing some protection.
All the time that he was dressing, Maldelic thought of where he might be and of what he would do to Kaal Soulreaper when he returned to the Undercity. "Once I find a way south again, I'll get ahold of some seaforium charges and blow up his temple. South? How do I know I'm in the North?" Maldelic looked to the sky and studied the angle of the sun to confirm his suspicions. Coming to an epiphany about his location, the warlock suddenly shouted out. "Northrend… I must be in Northrend. Far from the sun, mammoths and rickety trees around. No wind or cold could cut like this except on the frozen continent. Why have I been brought here?"
Looking to the cave again, Maldelic shivered and began walking towards it. "I'll have to find out once I am out of this wind; my joints are starting to freeze up." The pace of walking was slow and the cave was deceptively far away. Initially believing it to be close by and nearly too small for someone to fit in, the warlock quickly discovered that it was large enough to fit even the mammoth he had seen in the distance. Reaching the entrance, the undead pulled one of the torches out of his bag and set fire to it with one of his common spells. Out of the wind, Maldelic rested against the edge of the cave entrance and thought about what to do. He knew that he wanted revenge on Kaal for this trick, but he also knew that he had no good way to return to the Undercity. Perhaps if he stood still enough Kaal would summon him back, thinking he was frozen and dead. Pausing to examine his surroundings, Maldelic became completely distracted from the idea of revenge. This cave was not a typical cave past the entrance and the warlock had failed to notice that as he approached. The inside of the cave was lined with a strange blue crystal. The entire wall bore the crystal, but veins of higher concentration also ran through it. Being a miner by profession as well as an engineer, the warlock knew rocks and minerals. Nothing Maldelic had seen before resembled the crystal on the walls of the cave. In addition to the crystals and the cave, the area had a magical aura about it. The warlock could tell that the aura was arcane because he had a sensitive place on the back of his head that tingled and burnt when he was exposed to arcane magic. Never having had this examined, Maldelic had learned to ignore the feeling and use it to figure out when mages were nearby.
Thinking back on this tactical ability, the warlock looked deeper down the cave. "I know what you're doing Kaal, you've hired some mages and hid them down this cave." The warlock said quietly to himself and then turned and yelled down the tunnel, straining his drowned-sounding voice so that whoever was in the cave could hear him. "I know you're in there, assassins, come out here so you can at least see who is going to kill you!" For a moment there was no noise from the cave, but then the echo of what Maldelic had said returned to him. Shockingly, the echo sounded different; it lacked the drowned gargle of his voice and sounded almost human. "What trickery is this?" The undead yelled down the cave again, receiving the echo in the same voice as the first echo. Leaning against the wall of the cave again, Maldelic sat down. "Well, I'll just wait out here then. They'll get bored eventually and come closer."
The warlock had planned to keep a vigilant watch and the edge of the cave, but after a short time he ended up falling asleep. Maldelic never dreamed, and so sleep was a minor inconvenience rather than something for him to look forward to. This time however, the undead had a vision while he slept. In the vision, he saw a man sitting at a large wooden table surrounded by darkness. The table was worn and looked to be made from wood common to the parts of Lordaeron outside of the plaguelands. The only light was coming from a single large candle and a small oil burner which was keeping some colored wax hot. The table was stacked high with rough blank pieces of paper, envelopes, and sealed letters. The man at the table was writing a large number of short letters. For each short message, he poured a few drips of the dark green wax on the envelope fold and pressed his ring into the wax to seal the letter. The ring which he used was the same ring that was now in Maldelic's pocket. Maldelic could not make out the man's face, but he could hear the man. As the man worked, he quietly hummed a curious low-pitched melody. Upon hearing this melody, all other thoughts ceased in Maldelic's mind. The warlock stopped paying attention to what the man was doing and to the surroundings in the vision because the melody was perfect. The notes, the movement of the music and the rhythm were exactly what the warlock hungered for. Although he had worked for a long time on his symphony, Maldelic was still stabbing at the notes and had thought nothing of a tempo. The great hunger that filled the Warlock's body and drove him to endlessly work on his masterpiece was completely satiated by the sounds he heard in his vision. Feeling extreme relaxation, Maldelic simply stopped and listened to as much of the music as he could.
Waking suddenly, Maldelic looked around and felt the emptiness grip him again. His torch had burned down in the time that he had slept. After realizing that no one was there, Maldelic looked down his nose and noticed an icicle had formed on it. Breaking the ice away, the warlock tried to grasp from memory at the perfection that he had heard briefly in his dream, but the tune had already left him. He could not find the melody again; only the cacophony of all the souls he had captured filled his thoughts. Speaking aloud to himself, Maldelic reviewed what had happened. "A dream… I never dream. Kaal is playing games with me, but how could he know such perfection." The warlock thought back to the note as he stood up and paced around the mouth of the cave. "M.D. might be real. Was that him in the dream? I can't remember. This might just be another temptation to put me off guard!"
In answer to his doubts and without his request, Maldelic suddenly heard a hint of the same melody from his vision coming from the depths of the cave. Lighting another torch and racing down into the cave about twenty yards, Maldelic hoped to come upon the source of the sound. As soon as he had passed the entrance, the crystal on the walls shimmered and then grew across the mouth of the cave like water freezing on a pond. The transition was quick, so quick that by the time Maldelic realized what was going on, it was finished. Turning around and dropping the torch, Maldelic ran back to the mouth of the cave and began to beat on the newly formed crystal. "Let me out of here you damn orc!" The warlock protested loudly, hearing the human echo from the depths of the cave once more.
As Maldelic continued to rant and pound on the crystal, his torch slowly went out again and gave way to complete darkness. Looking around, the undead strained to make out anything in the cave until suddenly, the crystal all around him lit up with a dim blue glow. Ceasing his cries for release, Maldelic wondered at his surroundings. The arcane aura he had felt was magic running through the crystals and not some group of hired mage-assassins. Now the magic caused the crystals to glow when all other light failed. Staring at the walls, the warlock noticed the thick veins were not staying in one place. Shapes and pictures began to swirl about the walls of the cave, as if the crystal was trying to communicate with him. One of the shapes interested Maldelic enough to call him away from the cave entrance. The thick veins of crystal had coalesced to form a map of Azeroth on the wall. As he approached the map the crystal veins focused on the High Elven lands of Quel'thalas, shifting to represent only those lands and not the rest of the world.
Quel'thalas had been ravaged by the undead scourge and the Lich King during the Third War, the war against the Legion. Maldelic had never liked that title since it was one used by Humans and wasn't even a war between orcs and men as the first two wars in this era had been. Since that time, which was over four years past, Quel'thalas had remained closed to everyone except the elves. Maldelic had only ever killed elves for the harmonies they could sing in his symphony, so he was nonplussed as to why the map would show him Quel'thalas. "Why has this changed? What does this cave have to say to one such as me? I have no past to be reminded of and I want no future aside from the one where my symphony is complete." Maldelic looked into the luminescent depths of the cave.
Still curious, Maldelic decided to touch the map and see what would happen. Reaching out, he felt that the crystal on the wall was warm from the energies flowing through it. As soon as his hand was on the picture, the crystals lit up brightly. Trying to pull his arm away, Maldelic noticed that it would not move from the wall. "Oh, I'm going to regret this." He looked at the wall as a beam of blue energy shot from the crystals into his eyes. The warlock's vision clouded over and his consciousness faded.