AN: Spoilers for Warlord of Draenor. AU, because this is unlikely to happen, even though it would give Blizzard a way to give draenei a new class. SPOILERS! HUGE SPOILERS! Former High Priestess Ishanah is distraught over the death of her mentor and beloved. Can she find salvation elsewhere? SHORT story.

Salvation and Damnation

Former priestess of the Aldor, Ishanah, sat on the burned ground, legs crossed. Tears streamed from her blank, silver eyes.

It didn't matter that the Naaru was saved. What had the Naaru honestly ever done for her? Nothing. Nothing at all.

It was him. He gave her light and life. He gave her meaning. And now he was gone.

Because of Ner'zhul. Because of some pathetic excuse for a being of the Light. Wouldn't the Light, if it were real, have seen his true potential, his...his people's need for him?

There was no Light. She was no priestess. The Naaru he'd saved was gone. Ner'zhul was gone. This was an empty place. She lay down on the charred ground, ignoring the filth covering her white priestess gown.

It was ripped, torn, just like her mind and body had been. She broke into unabashed sobs.

"Why do you cry, little one?" A voice, deep, commanding, but also soft and gentle. Like his. Like Velen's had been before he'd gone. She looked up, hope swelling in her heart, hope that then crashed around her like glass.

This was not Velen. This was some other draenei. Her breath caught. A draenei like no other. He wore a long, silken red robe, his horns were curled against the side of his head, which was covered in soot-black hair, and...he had wings. Glorious, ruby wings, matching his skin.

"Who...who are you?" She gulped back a sob. Some draenei had ruby skin, but none had wings. Just as none had the pure alabaster, light-emitting skin like Velen.

"Someone who is as hurt, if not more, by his death as you are. I want vengeance. I always get what I want. I know you want vengeance." He held out his slender hands to Ishanah.

The former priestess took them. They were smooth and silky against her torn, burned skin. Just as Velen's had been. She staggered as the winged draenei pulled her to her unsteady feet. Her hooves felt blasted, as if someone had shoved needles in them.

He ran one silken ruby hand across her torn azure face. "You're beautiful. But you don't believe anymore, do you? You have no power, if you do not believe. Priestess no more. My lovely Ishanah. We've met. Twenty-thousand years ago, although you probably don't remember me."

Ishanah shook her head. There was no way she would ever have met a man as beautiful as he and not remembered it. "I don't. I don't think I've ever met you. I'm not a priestess. You're right."

She yanked the crystalline necklace, adorned with the Aldor sigil, from her neck and tossed it from sight.

"If the Light allows this to happen, then it cannot exist." She almost lost her footing and would have fallen if the beautiful male draenei hadn't caught her in his strong arms.

She noticed that, also like Velen, he was slender and didn't have the massive chest like most men of her race did. Beautiful. Ishanah leaned into his chest, feeling the silk robes against her cheeks.

"I can give you power. I can give you vengeance. I want it too." His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was seductive, sweet as Velen's when he spoke of the Light. "Power to kill Ner'zhul. Power to kill the Iron Horde."

"What power?" Her voice was so soft she barely heard herself speak.

"This power." The draenei flared his ruby wings, held out his slender hands, adorned with nails so long they looked like claws, and said something in Eredun. Green flames erupted from his hands, turning to scorching fire when they touched the ground.

Everything around Ishanah was an inferno of green and orange flame. She recognized this. This power. It was the power of a warlock. Her heart pounded in her chest. She was beginning to think this was no simple draenei mage.

"Warlock magic...it's evil. Demonic." She backed away from the lovely draenei, but her eyes were transfixed on his. They were like Velen's. Like looking into many ageless stars. Universes.

"Magic, no matter what type, is only as evil as those who use it. Are you evil, Ishanah? Or do you simply want revenge?" His voice was a purr that made her shiver.

"Who...who are you? You're an Eredar." She felt some of the fear slide away when he'd told her how magic worked, however.

"So are you. Your entire race. You're all Eredar. Do you want to become true Eredar again? Do you want to see Argus again?"

Ishanah looked into the eyes full of universes, green fire burning in the edges of her sight.

"Yes."

The draenei male smiled. "Welcome to the Legion, Ishanah, my high priestess, my very first. My mistress of the dark."

She felt her body shudder as it was filled with ecstasy. Ecstasy and fear, fear that turned to warmth and comfort as her Eredar body adjusted to the flames of the Legion.

"Warlock..." Ishanah whispered. "I am a warlock."

The Eredar lord in front of her smiled. "Yes. The first draenei warlock. And you know me at last. I am the Lord of the Burning Legion, Kil'jaeden, and Ner'zhul and the Iron Horde killed my brother. I will fight with the backing of the entire Legion to get vengeance."

"And I will help. I will lead my lost people to glory. To the path and power of the warlock. We will be revenged upon for your brother, my beloved's, death." Ishanah, first draenei warlock in the universe, stood, full of power and flame.

The torn priestess robe had been cast aside, as had all she'd believed in. She stood naked. Eredar. Her silvery white wings slowly turned as black as her heart and skin. The silver glow in her eyes faded, replaced by crimson flames.

"The draenei will rise from the flames. We will take what is ours. At long last, my people will have our world."

Kil'jaeden smiled.