Hello! So I'm going to start putting these out once a week on Wednesdays, because consistency makes life easier, and with classes I definitely need the full week. I barely finished this one xD And ohhhhhhh my! New lore for Lor! With patch 5.1, some stuff is going down with the blood elves, and I like to be consistent with what is actually happening in WoW, so I can't wait to find out what it is!...Anyone else as excited as I am? ;) Hopefully it won't conflict with my story somehow...
Chapter 4
I didn't have more than a minute to ponder this little revelation before the flaps of the tent opened.
It was him, of course. He looked like some pale haired god with the sun filtering in around him. And I did what any sane, rational night elf would do.
I screeched and leapt backwards, tripping over the cot forcefully enough to tip it and myself over, knocking into the delicate tent's wall and sending the entire structure careening to the ground.
Well that could have gone better.
I was in darkness for a few moments, so I was able to compose myself by the time the canvas and cot were lifted off of me.
Two green eyes met mine with thinly veiled amusement.
"Good morning," the—oh Elune help me—Regent Lord of— how is this even remotely possible—Quel'Thalas purred, offering me a hand.
The last thing I wanted to do right now was come into physical contact with him, but I took his hand anyways out of politeness. He pulled me up and I let go as quickly as possible, brushing myself off and adjusting my horrible dress. I was doing my best not to think, because if I started thinking I would remember that he was—
Okay let's think of something else now.
I took in the scene quickly with a glance. Blood elves were everywhere, probably over a hundred of them, taking down tents and putting out fires, saddling their bird-things and preparing to leave. We were in a field with a few trees scattered throughout, everything still that sickly color of reddish brown. Definitely the Eastern Plaguelands.
"We aren't too far off from Thalassian Pass," the Regent—you know what? Let's just call him Lor— Lor said as he grabbed my wrist and began dragging me off towards the tree line. "We should be able to make it to Tranquillien by tonight."
Tranquillien sounded vaguely familiar, and if I had to venture a guess I would say it was a town in the Ghostlands, the area south of Eversong Woods but north of the Eastern Plaguelands. I stumbled after him, having some major troubles finding my words. How could I talk to Lor now, knowing who he was? The only benefit of my position was that I got a fine view of his posterior, clad in heavy red armor like the rest of him. Very different from the leather I had seen him in previously. In fact, it looked like he had entirely changed classes overnight. What was he anyways? A hunter? I eyed his giant sword warily. That thing is probably as heavy as I am. A paladin?
"Why don't you ask the Argent Dawn for assistance?" I croaked out, finally regaining use of my vocal chords. We passed through the trees and a lake came into view.
"I have no desire to see them sniffing around in blood elf affairs. We have a few things to discuss, Miss Walker."
Great, back to the Miss Walker thing. Now that we were out of view of the other blood elves he released my wrist and turned to face me. He was standing too close. Like if I leaned forward, I would bump right into him.
"You're afraid of me now," he said quietly, eyes glinting dangerously.
And you wonder why? "I'm not afraid of you," I objected, but it came out too fast and high pitched to be the least bit convincing. I stood up taller, trying to come across as slightly less pathetic. I was probably about as intimidating as any trembling, tiny night elf in a skimpy scrap of cloth could look to a six and a half foot tall well-muscled, well-armored blood elf with a full arsenal strapped to his body.
Ha.
I really wanted to take a step back, but that would contradict the whole not-being-afraid thing.
"You flew faster than a dragonhawk when you saw me. I see the fear in your eyes even now."
That was probably because he was the Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas and therefore scared the mana out of me by default. "Perhaps I am just trying to lull you into a false sense of security."
He raised an elegant brow. "If that is the case, then telling me that would counteract your goal."
I frowned, tired of his mental games. "What do you want?"
"Master."
"Huh?"
"What do you want, Master."
"Nothing, thanks," I smiled faintly, purposefully misinterpreting his words. I clenched my hands so they would stop shaking. "Actually," I mused, poking his armor-clad chest, "a new journal and pen would be wonderful." I was already feeling the withdrawal of not writing everything down. Apparently I was as addicted to my journal writing as the blood elves were to their magic.
He sighed, one of his fingers twisting around a lock of my hair. I froze like a mage in Ice Block. I seriously needed to work on my social skills and not turn into a stone statue every time he touched me.
"Miss Walker, I believe we had a certain conversation yesterday."
"Oh yes," I laughed nervously, thanking Elune that words were still coming coherently out of my mouth. "Our long, intellectual, four sentence conversation while I was half unconscious."
His silence said, your point? I knew I had no advantage to press in this situation, and I had to give in, at least a little. "And when anyone is watching, I'll be your perfect little slave, your Excellency," I conceded, the title at the end mildly sarcastic.
His eyes widened and I realized my mistake.
Now he knew that I knew that he was who he actually was. Why did I suddenly lose all intelligence whenever I was around him? It was like my ability to think was proportional to the distance between us. When he was near, it seemed like my words had a tendency to start flowing out of my mouth with no filter for stupidity. If I stood there staring for another five seconds, I would probably start blabbing about how I understood a large portion of Thalassian or something equally unwise.
His hand fell from my hair and he tilted his head thoughtfully. Thankfully he spoke before I could form any more words. "Ah yes, I was wondering when you would find out that little bit of information. It was refreshing having a sentient being regard me with something other than fear or lust for power and money, but all good things must come to a close." His expression was somber. "I suppose that explains your reaction to me this morning."
"I'm n-not afraid of you," I repeated with a stammer. Very convincing.
His eyes narrowed and perused my body from the tips of my toes all the way to my now violet-tinted cheeks. I felt it like a caress, and I wondered absently what he would do if I ran and hid behind the nearest tree.
"Pet, you're shaking."
Oh I was, wasn't I. Body, you can totally stop that now. "It's cold, I'm wearing almost nothing and I haven't eaten or bathed in two days. What do you expect?" My words came out harsher than intended, but darn it, I was overwhelmed!
"You can bathe in Blackwood Lake, it's much cleaner than anything we'll find in the Ghostlands." He gestured to the body of water beside us. "Just don't go too far in. There are some nasty elementals that like to eat little night elves for breakfast. A servant of mine is going to come over here to assist you in a few minutes. You'll like her."
"I have to bathe in this thing?" I gasped, appalled, but thankful for the mental distraction. The lake itself didn't look so bad, but looks could be deceiving. The land around it was so wretched I couldn't imagine the lake itself being much different.
Finally given an excuse to back away from him, I walked the few feet to the waterline and dipped my toes in. "At least they're not melting off," I murmured as I wiggled them around in the clear, cool water.
"How much Thalassian do you know?" Lor questioned me, but I didn't turn around. I was busy peering into the water, trying to see if anything in there actually looked like it would want to eat me. His earlier words had been said a tad too seriously for my liking.
"Just the phrase I told you," I lied. I hoped he attributed the slight tremor in my voice to my fear of him and not my inability to lie convincingly. Understanding Thalassian without the blood elves knowing would be a huge tactical advantage for me.
He paused before continuing. "That night a month ago… it didn't happen. You will tell no one. Do you understand?"
Oh. It would make him look bad, wouldn't it?
"Were your emotions faked, then? An act so I would help you?" I voiced the question that had been lingering in my mind, attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible. I wanted to slap a hand over my mouth as soon as the words were out. I dared to look at him over my shoulder and found his face so close to mine that our breaths mingled. By Elune, he moved quickly and silently when he wanted to.
"Does it matter, pet?"
Breathing is good, breathing is good. I knew he was aware of his effect on me, and that darkly playful smirk on his handsome face wasn't helping.
Get back in control, Chasidah.
"Of course not," I responded briskly, turning away and glaring pointedly out over the water. I was so not looking that man in the eye right now, not if I wanted to keep some semblance of composure. "I assume last night did not happen either. Our relationship will be strictly platonic."
"Is that so?"
I narrowed my eyes at his tone, even though he couldn't see them. "You're the Regent Lord," I said, more to remind myself than anything. "You can't dally with lowly beings such as myself."
"Not publicly," he agreed, his hand brushing the collar that was still around my neck. He tugged on it and I was forced to lean back lightly against him. I tensed up tighter than a bowstring, but then forced my body to relax. Freaking out wouldn't help me here. My eyes widened when a thin blade came up in front of my face and angled down at my throat. Just for the collar, calm down.
"I haven't had the pleasure of a woman's company since I became Regent Lord. Call me reckless, but I'm willing to try."
What was he implying?
His hand made a slicing motion and I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt the collar drop off of me and heard it hit the ground with a soft thud. His hand lingered at my throat, sliding along my necklace.
"But let me make something clear, pet. I don't take betrayal lightly. I've made the mistake of trusting people before, so I will tell you this: I do not trust you. I will not trust you. If I think you are using me for some nefarious plot, or plan on spreading word of our arrangement, I will not hesitate to kill you. Otherwise, I foresee a mutually beneficial relationship."
"There is no arrangement. I won't have sex with you," I said, sounding shamefully out of breath. One of his hands was trailing lightly down my side, and even with his heavy armor in between us I still felt too exposed in my outfit. In fact, I was fairly certain that having the entire Great Sea in between us right then still wouldn't have felt like quite enough space. Lor had sensuality like a nightsaber had fur, and that foresty scent of his was beginning to mess with my brain and lower whatever meager defenses I had against him.
"Is that a challenge?" I heard the smile in his voice. I still refused to look at him. "And who said anything about sex, pet?" The words were whispered in my ear and I shivered involuntarily.
"Why don't you find some willing blood elf?" I rasped, barely finding my voice.
I heard a rustling behind us. His hands left my body and I knew he had leapt back with that frightening speed of his. "Don't forget about that journal, Master," I called out, pretending like the weirdest interaction of my entire life hadn't just happened. I glanced at his retreating form over my shoulder.
Hot green eyes snapped back to look at me just before he went out of view. "I'll see what I can do."
I turned back in a daze, sitting down on the sandy dirt as I listened to two pairs of footsteps. His heavy ones retreating, another, lighter pair coming towards me. Had I just agreed to something? What on Azeroth just happened? Did he seriously just imply that he wanted to be intimate with me, or was I really just that bad at interpreting social situations? Why would he even be interested in the first place?
In the span of two days my life had gone from mind-numbingly boring to lethally interesting.
"My lady?"
The soft voice came from behind me.
I wasn't expecting what I saw. The blood elf woman was beautiful, with long golden hair and a heart shaped face. She looked delicate, and reminded me of a graceful but easily frightened deer. Yet marring her face was a long horizontal scar that crossed over both of her eyes like some sort of macabre mask. Was she blind?
It's always hard to tell exactly where an elf is looking, because of the glow. I knew she was gazing in my general direction, but I had a feeling she wasn't actually seeing me. "Hello," I called back, "you speak Common?"
She nodded, walking slowly towards me. "My name is Ronae," she smiled shyly, and I instantly liked her because she was the first blood elf I'd met that hadn't looked at me with contempt at first glance.
I wondered where she had learned Common. A prisoner of war, perhaps? Or once a slave like me, but to a cruel Alliance master that blinded her? I wasn't going to ask.
The only thing I knew for sure was that she was carrying a dress that wasn't the one I was wearing, soap and a loaf of bread, and those were three of the top four things I wanted in my life right now.
I'd work on getting some paper later.
…
I didn't see Lor for the rest of the day, and I talked with Ronae continuously over the entire journey. She was slowly coming out of her shell, and I felt comfortable around her. I didn't get the impression that she judged me for being a night elf. Ronae was someone I wouldn't mind being friends with, had we both been on the same side. She told me all about Eversong Woods, and some of the important blood elves it would do me well to know. The man in the blue mail armor I had mentally dubbed general was, in fact, the Ranger-General of Silvermoon. His name was Halduron, and I could tell by the dreamy look on Ro's face that she had some major feelings for him. The sadness there told me they were unrequited.
We indeed made it to Tranquillien before night fall. Not that one could really tell when night was falling in the Ghostlands, because it was in a state of perpetual dreary, plague-infested darkness. I'm happy I was towards the middle of the crowd so I didn't have to come into contact with any of the undead that would randomly attack us. All I got to hear were the screams.
I'd been able to get some bread and water down, but upon entering this place I almost wished I hadn't, because the atmosphere alone made me want to retch. Halduron took a large portion of the troops with him to continue onto Silvermoon, but Ronae and I stayed in Tranquillien with the injured and those who were just too tired.
My healing magic was practically begging to come out. I wanted to heal something, anything, but Ronae told me I wasn't allowed to assist the wounded soldiers. This land was too far gone for me to even bother trying. Everything was dead, undead or infected by the plague, and I wasn't too pleased to find out we would be making camp here. But I sucked it up, slunk into the tent Ronae pointed me to, and went to bed.
One of these nights I was going to get more than four hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Tonight was not that night.
Awareness came to me quickly. A body straddled my chest and a cool hand was placed firmly over my mouth. Most frightening of all was the blade that I felt poised against my throat, the cool metal gentle but threatening. A little more pressure and it could go from painless to lethal.
But even with all this, the part of me that wasn't scared for my life was thrilled; because when my eyes snapped open I met the steady, narrowed gaze of a night elf.
"Hey," the rogue whispered harshly, her eyes glowing that beautiful white my species is so well known for. "Why are you with these gross blood elves?"
"Slave," I exhaled when she removed her hand. Why on Azeroth there was a night elf here in horde territory? Nonetheless I was unbelievably happy to see her scowling purple face.
She eased the blade off my throat and sheathed it. I smiled faintly but didn't dare to make any sudden moves. "Elune be praised, I cannot tell you how good it is to see a member of the Alliance," I whispered, feeling a great desire to leap into her arms and beg her to take me away from here.
"Yeah," she said as she hopped off of me and crouched down. "This could be useful, actually."
I became instantly nervous. "What could be useful to whom?"
"There are night elves here in these parts." Her eyes watched me speculatively. "As a slave, I bet you could get us information."
Nope. Didn't want to do it. I liked my head where it was. Though the night elf presence here was very interesting—there must've been some sort of secret operation going on.
"I'm not going to be able to get myself to the Ghostlands, you realize?" I responded, thinking that was probably a reasonable excuse. "I doubt they will even let me out of Silvermoon."
"You should be able to get out. You're a priest, tell them you need to gather herbs or something priestly like that. We have a scout at West Sanctum."
She looked young, now that I thought about it. Her voice sounded like it was in that awkward transition between child and teenager. "Where is that?" I asked. I had no idea what the layout of Eversong Woods looked like.
"West."
"That's not helpful."
"You'll find it, it's not far from the city. Get to the scout when you can. I'll tell him to watch for you. You're the only night elf slave I know of, so it shouldn't be too confusing."
"I don't think this is a good idea," I told her, sitting up. In fact, it was a very, very bad idea. "I'm not really spy material. I'll inevitably give myself away."
"Don't you love your people?"
I frowned, frustrated. "Of course I love my people."
"Then do it. Otherwise we won't be able to free you."
"Maybe I can free myself," I mumbled, knowing how unlikely that was. The promise of freedom was tantalizing, and she knew it.
"Good luck with that," she sneered. A pleasant girl, this one. "Meet him at West Sanctum when you can get away. He'll give you instructions. If you find out something important, tell him."
"You realize they all speak Thalassian?" I asked, acting as if I wouldn't understand it. She rolled her eyes.
"I'm sure you'll figure out something. I need to go."
She was gone in the blink of an eye, no evidence that she had even been here in the first place.
I curled up in a ball, pulling the blanket up to my chin. Lor would kill me if he found out I was spying. He had told me how he felt about betrayal quite clearly earlier today. I would die.
I even felt guilty about it for some unknown reason.
But these were things I would worry about tomorrow.
"Help me! Somebody help me!" The cries came from outside, and I realized that the fates were not looking kindly on me tonight. There would be no sleeping. I pulled my covers up over my face, hoping the noise would just go away. One of the blood elves would take care of it.
"My lord, my lord, please help me!"
I frowned. The only one I'd heard people call "my lord" here was Lor. The woman sounded traumatized, and I felt obligated to see what was actually happening.
I slid out of bed, my bare feet touching the cool dirt. I crept to the front of the tent and slid the flaps just barely apart so I could peek outside.
People were getting up, many stumbling out of their tents to see the commotion, some pulling on clothing as they went. A woman was on her knees in the center of town, a squrirming boy in her arms. He couldn't have been older than five or six, but something was clearly wrong with him. He looked like he was clawing at his mother, his mouth open in a silent scream, his green eyes wide and glowing oddly bright.
Then Lor was there, not wearing nearly enough clothing, looking like he had just rolled out of bed. His hair was a mess and he only wore a pair of black silk pants, like the ones I had seen him in the previous night. "What's wrong?" he asked her in Thalassian, but the look in his eyes told me he already knew. What was going on here?
Then a blood elf got right in my line of view, of course. Which meant I had to leave the tent.
I crept out, relieved when no guards leapt on top of me. Everyone was too distracted.
"I need all healers," I heard Lor's voice call out over the crowd. There weren't many left in our group; most, if not all of the healers had gone ahead with Halduron. No one expected trouble here.
I pushed forward, dodging my way through the ten or so people in my way. They glared at me and gave me dirty looks, but no one was trying to kill me. Small blessings.
"Oh, Elune," the breath hissed out of me when I saw the boy up close.
He was sweating, his skin dirty and his short red hair matted to his head. Chunks of hair were falling out, and his face was contorted in a look of twisted rage that seemed unnatural on a child so young. He was trying to claw at his mother's face, and I saw from the blood underneath his small fingernails and the claw marks that marred the woman's cheek that he had landed a swipe. He was drooling, practically foaming at the mouth, and blood stained tears were streaming down his small, chubby cheeks.
My first instinct was to run over and try to help him, but I was impeded almost immediately by one of Lor's guards. "Let me go!" I struggled, furious. I couldn't even see the guy through his helm, and the big brute had a painful grip on my arms.
"Let her go."
Lor's command was sharp and the man let go instantly. I stormed past him, pausing next to Lor. The mother looked like she would kill me herself if I got too close to her child. "Is Ronae the only other healer left?" I asked, looking up at him. On the way to Tranquillien I had discovered Ronae was a priest as well— but of the shadow variety. He nodded gravely, crouching in front of the boy.
"You," he pointed to one of the Tranquillien guards, "hold the boy down before he hurts his mother. Be gentle."
She relinquished control of her son as the guard tried to pin the boy down without injuring him. Now he was starting to kick, his whole body convulsing. I nearly cried out myself with the look of agony on the child's face. Lor helped the boy's mother off the ground. "When did it start?"
"This morning," she sobbed, the pain clear in her voice. I closed my eyes to focus on the translation. "My lord, I've taken him… healer, nothing...helped."
I crouched down in front of the boy, waiting for permission. My hands itched with the need to touch him to find out what ailed the poor child. I looked up at Lor, impatient. The boy was suffering.
He exchanged more words with the mother, who was clearly upset by my presence. The town had made a circle around the bunch of us, and I noticed Ro shuffle in quietly to my right.
Finally, he turned to me and nodded.
I placed my palm against the boy's sweating forehead and concentrated.
"Oh," I inhaled sharply, abruptly pulling away. What was that? It was so repulsive I felt nauseous. If my magic was like clear water, this was more like thick, oily mud. It was dark and heavy and just feeling it had made me woozy.
"How does this even happen?" I gasped, the grief plain in my voice. This poor boy had that disgusting magic inside of him. No child deserved that, Horde or Alliance. How could I help him?
I heard Lor sigh with frustration beside me, but I couldn't take my eyes off the boy's face. He looked like he was in so much pain. "We have no idea. This is the third case this week. It's only been seriously affecting the very young and the very old, but all of us can feel it."
"What happened in the other two cases?"
"They became Wretched. We had to kill them." His voice was quiet, and I barely heard him over the wailing of the mother.
I shuddered at the thought. I knew what the Wretched were. I recalled learning about them in my youth—a clear warning to us about the dangers of magic. A blood elf that consumed too much tainted magic and fed their addiction to the point of madness became Wretched. They lost their sense of self, their lives revolving solely around getting their next fix. I'd never seen one, but I'd read that their appearance became equally frightening with bulging green eyes, hunched bodies and sunken faces. And this poor, writhing boy in front of me was about to become one.
Not today.
Time to focus. I went over a list of healing spells in my mind. "Has a paladin tried Cleansing him?" I asked the mother in Darnassian, knowing I couldn't just start speaking Thalassian; though that would certainly make this easier.
Lor translated and the mother nodded, stifling her sobs. She was still giving me chilling looks whenever she thought Lor wasn't watching.
"Has a priest looked at him as well? A druid? A shaman?"
She nodded again.
Okay then, that ruled out all normal, reasonable things to do. I brought my hand back over to the child's head and forced myself to touch him again.
Elune give me strength, I was going to gag. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to feel the nature of this foul magic. Every living creature has magic in them, even ones that don't use it. The best term I could use to describe it is life force, and normally it goes relatively untouched. Typically, when I use my Cure Disease, Dispel Magic and Purify spells, these only cure very superficial things, like a disease of the flesh or a simple magical curse. This was entirely different because it was part of him, intertwined with his life force so intricately that I couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. The tainted magic had become as much a part of him as an arm or a leg.
I withdrew my hand, the world spinning briefly. I took deep breaths, and my stomach settled. I only had one idea, and I knew the mother would never agree to it.
"I only have one idea, and there is a massive chance of failure," I said, looking at Lor. He watched me intently, and even through his stoic mask I could see how stressed he was.
"What is it?" He pressed his lips into a thin line.
"We need a trustworthy warlock with Soulstone abilities. Technically, this is something I can Purify, but I've never had to use it on magic that was so deeply imbedded inside someone. If I just try it now, I'm going to end up destroying both the bad and the good magic, and he will die in the process. But if we have his soul stored, after I use my Purify spell the warlock should be able to resurrect him, fel-free. Normally this wouldn't even be possible for me to do in this situation, but the boy is so young that his body doesn't have the defenses built up to guard against that sort of magical intrusion."
I had no experience with this. In Darnassus they never let me heal anything difficult because they never trusted me after my father's decisions. I used to practice on injured animals on my own, and the worst wounds I'd ever healed on a person were Lor's.
"So you're saying you have to kill him to save him?" I could tell he was as mortified as I was by the prospect.
"It's the only thing I can think of," I nodded. "The thing is, bodies aren't made to die and come back. Since he is so young, I feel like there is a chance he might be able to make it through the transition."
He turned to the mother, who was watching us with wide eyes. He told her my plan, and she instantly freaked out, just like I knew she would.
"I'm not letting that…lots of bad sounding words here…night elf…my child!" she screeched, pointing at me and giving me a potent glare. I bit my tongue, not allowing myself to respond because I wasn't supposed to understand any of it.
"What else can we do?" he replied to her. She shook her head and her face fell into her hands.
"Do it, just do it," I heard her sob desperately through her fingers. Her voice was resigned; she knew she had no other choices. The kid certainly didn't have more than an hour left.
A small commotion followed after this. Lor said "Get Summoner Fanorad," and the populus scrambled to do his bidding, nearly tripping over each other in the process. We were a show now, and I was partially aware of everyone in Tranquillien watching us.
But I couldn't take my eyes from the boy. The guard that held him down was starting to look tired. The boy hadn't stopped growling and drooling and fighting since he got here, and I couldn't imagine the stress his tiny body was under. What would I do if he didn't wake up? I'd cast a Renew spell immediately after the warlock's Soulstone took effect, but would that be enough?
And if I failed, what would become of me?
There was no time to worry about my own wellbeing now. A male blood elf I assume was Fanorad kneeled beside me, his green eyes narrowed in suspicion. He wore the typical blood red robes of a warlock, and had that demonic air about him that all warlocks seem to have. Warlocks make me nervous.
Lor spoke to him, explaining what had to be done.
"Impossible," Fanorad bit back, his eyes flashing towards me like I had lost my mind. "Forgive me my Lord, but—,"
"What's the boy's name?" I asked suddenly, interrupting the warlock before he continued his denial.
Lor asked the mother. "Anar'bel," she wept softly.
I nodded thoughtfully. Anar was typically used to mean by the, and bel was likely short for sun, belore.
By the Sun, I will try to save you, child.
"Tell me when you have his soul stored." I didn't spare the warlock a glance. I tried to avoid working with warlocks whenever possible, and I knew he would hate me by default no matter what I said or did.
I clenched my hands as I waited. I no longer registered anything going on beyond a five step radius of myself. I needed absolute concentration for this. Lor's solid presence beside me was both comforting and reassuring, and had we not been in public I would've reached over and taken his hand. I needed his strength, because I didn't feel very strong myself. I couldn't have stood up at that point even if I had wanted to.
"Don't let him die."
I met Lor's eyes briefly before fixating back on Anar'bel. His words had been soft, but heavy with meaning. He was trusting me right now, and if I failed to save this boy then he failed by association. It was even worse because I was a night elf, and the only reason I was being allowed near the boy in the first place was because of Lor. I not only had Anar'bel's life riding on this—I had Lor's reputation.
"It's ready," Fanorad hissed. He looked exhausted. I almost responded, but caught myself just in time.
"He's ready," Lor reiterated what I already knew. I wished I was ready.
I shifted forward and placed my shaking hands on the boy's chest. It was similar to my position on Lor that night when I had healed his chest wound, except this boy was far smaller than me and putting up a big fight. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
There it was. That mud that had soaked up all the water of his life force and turned it into a malignant, terrifying mass. I whispered the incantation for my Purify spell, a tear rolling down my cheek. I was killing him, and it made me physically ill to think about that fact. So I didn't.
Go away, mud. You don't belong here. I forced my mana out of me and my spell hit the foul magic. My spell swirled around it, encasing the mud, trying to disperse it and force it out.
Elune help me, Elune please! I begged. It wasn't working. There was too much of it. I sent another blast through, and this time the mud moved. It even screamed, if you'd believe it—though no one heard it but me. I resisted the urge to block my ears as this otherworldly magic screeched like a dying banshee before discharging like an explosive, blasting anyone within two meters of the boy backwards.
I fell flat on my back, landing painfully on top of some unfortunate blood elf. I leapt off of him, pushing through the sudden chaos to fall down beside the boy again, Fanorad joining me within moments. "Do it now!" I hissed at him in Darnassian, and he got the point. If he hadn't I would've blown my cover right then and there.
I placed my hands on the boy again, feeling for any remnants of the fel energy. I felt none. I also didn't feel his life force, which is what I knew would happen. Seconds were precious. His body wouldn't last very long without a life force inside it.
And then it was there again— Thank you oh great warlock you are fantastic.
But the battle wasn't over yet. I cast my Renew spell as fast as I could, seriously running low on mana. I was in trouble. "Ronae!" I yelled, and she was by my side in a matter of seconds. "Cast every healing spell you know," I told her desperately, trying to take stock of the boy's conditions.
"Damn it Anar'bel, don't you dare die on me!" I yelled, realizing his heart wasn't beating nearly as strongly as it should have been. Body parts were failing. He wasn't going to make it like this.
I don't know what came over me in that moment. Maybe it's because every time I see someone on the brink of death, I'm reminded of that moment I leaned over my mother, unable to help her. And now I couldn't watch this little boy die, because it would be like watching my mother die all over again.
There was one more spell I knew, and I had just enough mana for it.
It was called Void Shift. I'd never used it before, because it was extremely dangerous. Essentially, it meant we were swapping our… general wellbeing, I suppose. It wouldn't switch souls or magic or anything like that, but rather healthiness in a more basic sense of the word. It was highly unpredictable, but I had no time to worry about variables right now.
There was just me and the boy. No one else around us. I didn't hear them, I didn't see them. The world had narrowed down to him and I. Anar'bel wasn't going to die today, because I wasn't going to allow that to happen. He had too much of his life ahead of him.
I cast the spell.
The last thing I recall is watching the boy's eyes open. They had been open before, but now they were really open. I saw that spark of sentience and life. It had worked.
I might have smiled, I'm not sure. I couldn't really feel my body anymore.
"Chasidah!" A male voice bellowed. Lor?
The blackness swallowed me.
