nine

In the morning, another small band of scouts was sent out to continue on trying to pick up Illidan's trail, made up of Sentinels, Druids and a pair of Blood Elves that would be able to offer at least some semblance of familiarity with the area. Exhausted from their own endeavors the previous day, the leaders of each group opted to stay behind at the base, knowing they would need their energy in case the time would come in which they would have to face the half-demon once and for all.

Maiev had made herself comfortable in a quiet place a ways up the shore, isolated from the others in the hopes that she might draw and the silence and use it to shut out her own ceaseless thoughts. Tyrande was dead. Tyrande was dead, and she hadn't even tried to save her. And then, as if that wasn't enough, she had lied about it to Malfurion, after he had trusted in her and come to her side when she'd called on him. Tyrande was dead, just like Naisha was dead, because they'd been trying to help her.

Shaking her head in a feeble attempt to rid herself of the welling sense of guilt in her chest, she refocused her attention on the small pile of sticks before her, from which she'd been trying to spark a flame for what seemed like hours. Just when she thought she might be getting somewhere, a sudden spark sent the entire pile up in flames, and before she had time to react Kael was plopping down beside her.

Maiev was quick to flash him a scowl, dropping her own twig and drawing her knees up to her chest. "What do you want?" She asked icily. Perhaps it was a rash reaction; surely he had done nothing wrong, merely a poor victim of unfortunate circumstance. But his very presence irritated her, his confidence that bordered on arrogance and reminded her far too much of the boy she had once loved, the one that had become the very monster she now hunted.

If Kael was bothered in the slightest by her cool demeanor, he didn't let it show. "I wanted to offer my thanks," he replied easily, his own blue eyes fixed on the rolling waves off in the distance. They seemed faded now, a pale imitation of something she thought might have been bright, once upon a time. "And my condolences for your loss."

Snorting a little at that, Maiev gave a short shrug, turning her gaze on the crackling of the small fire he had started before them. "It is the Kaldorei people's loss," she retorted. "In case you didn't notice, we weren't exactly friends. She only came to help me find Illidan." And even that was likely for her own selfish reasons, the Warden thought idly, but it hardly seemed necessary to add aloud.

"Why is this so important to you?" Kael asked, absently flicking stray pieces of dirt off his robes, daring not glance in her direction, knowing the anger and distrust he would find there.

Maiev let out a small huff of a breath, leaning in closer to the small fire, thankful for its warmth even as she longed to resent it on the mere principle that it had be conjured from his magic. She had no interest in baring her soul to this petulant child of an elf, but at the same time, it had been so long since she had been able to open up to anyone, and even longer since anyone had seemed interested enough to bother asking. "It's personal, mostly," she admitted quietly. "It used to be about duty, about completing the task that was given to me, but...in time, it became something greater."

"Ah," Kael murmured, his tone pensive as he gave a knowing nod. "So you love him."

All but choking on the breath she had been taking, Maiev's brows rose as she gaped at him with widened eyes and a startled expression. Looking around quickly to ensure none of the others were close enough to overhear, she swallowed hard, hating the heat that had risen in her cheeks, knowing it gave her away entirely. "No," she stammered, quick and shaky, but even to her own ears it sounded like a lie.

The way Kael was smirking assured her that he could tell. "You're painfully obvious, you know," he pointed out.

"No...not anymore," she amended with a sigh, refocusing her gaze on the flickering flames. "Once, perhaps, but he is no longer that boy, and I am no longer that girl."

The blonde prince gave a slight shrug at that. "People change, when they have no choice but to do so," he said quietly, and had she bothered to glance over at him she might have seen the wistful look in his eyes. "But love...that is not quite so easily altered. Love tends to linger regardless of circumstance."

To that, she said nothing, just allowed the words to linger in the air around them for some time. Eventually, their solitude was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, and a shadow fell over them as Rommath appeared before the unlikely pair. "Kael," he murmured, and greeted Maiev as well with a short nod. "The scouting party has returned."

In an instant, Maiev was pushing herself to her feet, tugging at her armor to adjust its positioning. "And?" She demanded quickly. "What news?"

In spite of the fact that it was the Warden he addressed, it was the prince upon whom his gaze lingered. "They found him," he said slowly, some slight hint of strain in his voice that Maiev was far too absorbed to notice. "He is in Dalaran."

Now Kael rose as well, a frown tugging his brows together as he fell into place beside his oldest friend. "Dalaran?" He repeated.

Rommath gave a short nod. "Yes," he replied. "But...but it would seem that another enemy has beaten him there."

…

Once, Dalaran had been a great, sprawling city of rising towers and cobblestone streets. It had been a place of protection and learning, where the very air buzzed with magic. It was also where Kael'thas and Rommath had spent much of their life, where they had studied the arcane arts and trained as young mages. It was where Kael had served as a member of the elusive Council of Six. It was where they had grown up, met, developed the closeness they shared now. It had been their home.

Now, Dalaran had been reduced to little more than rubble and ashes. It had been the stage of an assault by Prince Arthas Menethil and his new army of the dead, where he had summoned the great demon lord Archimonde, who had been expelled once more by the efforts of the Kaldorei, along with their human and orc allies. Now, the familiar streets were littered with fallen pillars, and the towering buildings were nothing more than heaps of stone.

As they reached the city, or what remained, Kael had to suck in a steadying breath. In such a short time, he had seen not one, but two of his homes destroyed, and there was a raging flame within him dying to be released. For the time being, he knew he had to tame it, for there were far more pressing matters at hand. He stood beside Maiev and Malfurion, with an entourage of Blood Elves, Druids and Sentinels behind them. The Watchers were there in their entirety, for this had been their battle from the start, and each of them wished to see it through to the end.

The group made their way carefully through the wreckage, with Kael occasionally giving some mumbled direction. It was hard to tell if they'd been wandering for mere minutes or endless hours, and Maiev was beginning to think that Illidan had eluded her all over again. But then they rounded the corner, and there he was. His face was illuminated by the emerald glow that the artifact gave off he was surrounded by a small band of naga, each of which who was channeling a spell that seem to draw forth the very energies of the Eye of Sargeras. Entirely fixated on whatever task consumed him, Illidan was completely unaware of their approach.

With gritted teeth and a desperation in her glowing eyes, Maiev Took a step forward, only to be stopped by Malfurion's hand reaching out to wrap around her arm. "We need a plan," he urged in a hushed tone.

"I have one," she snapped in reply. "I'm going to kill him."

In a swift motion, she yanked her arm free of his hold and ripped her weapon from its place of rest across her back. And then she was charging forward, leaving the others with no choice but to follow behind. She was deadly fast, seemingly unbothered by the weight of her arm her as she longed fourth and, in a quick and clean sweep, drove her curved blade straight into one of the naga.

With their spell now shattered, the reptilian creatures redirected their attention to the assailants they grew numbers as more slithered from the shadows, rising up with jagged spears and flicking tails. The combined forces of the elves met them with crackling spells and steel blades and sharp claws, and within mere seconds a full on battle had erupted around the Warden.

But Maiev found herself frozen in place, motionless and trapped, for a moment later her gaze had locked with the verdant gleam of Illidan's own sightless eyes. Months and months had led to this very moment, this scene she had imagined more times than she cared to recall. After all her struggles, her searching and her losses, she found herself face to face with the Betrayer.

And suddenly, she had forgotten how to move, how to breathe, and all she could do was stare up at him as he stared right back, watching the twisting, flickering glow of her blood red aura, that light with which had had become so familiar, that burning passion and rage that shifted around her form with every rise and fall of her chest. Around them, bodies fell, staining the streets with blood, painting a violent backdrop to the intensity of their moment.

And after all the years, all the warring emotions, all the struggles that had led to this, the moment Maiev would finally reclaim Illidan, all that he could think to say was, "You're supposed to be dead."

Maiev tightened her hold on the umbra crescent, readied herself for the coming assault, bared her teeth at the twisted monstrosity pretending to be the boy she'd once loved. "Funny, I feel the same way about you."

Letting out a muffled snarl, he took up his glaives and took a step towards her, staggering under the weight of his wings and the awkwardness of his hooves. "I will not let you stand in my way," he hissed, lifting his demonic weapons, ready for the fight. Maiev didn't even realize how much she wanted it until it was before her, how desperately she longed for this moment of conflict, for this clashing of blades and the potential to spill his blood. She didn't realize until that moment, that any ounce of love she may have had left for him had been replaced entirely with her blind hatred. If she couldn't have him, then she would destroy him.

It mattered not, though. Her moment was stolen from her when a moment later the very stones of the street gave way to the earth beneath them, and a tangle of vines rose up to ensnare Illidan. Maiev spun around with a scowl on her face, one that was tinged with an unconcealed desperation as Malfurion came to stand beside her.

If he noticed at all, he gave no show of it. His gaze was entirely focused on the form of his brother, and in his own eyes was reflected all of his hurt, all of his pain, all of the years of carefully repressed resentment that had finally reached their breaking point. When he spoke, it was with a quiet loathing and sense of finality. "It's over, brother," he said, sneering out the term in the most derogatory manner possible. "Your vile schemes end here."

Illidan's burning gaze flickered between Malfurion and Maiev, his own emotions caught somewhere between rage and reluctance, as if the demonic part of his being was struggling to overcome what feelings remained within him, to crush them out until all he felt was this all consuming hate. The last time he had seen his brother, the elder twin had banished him, shamed him in spite of all that Illidan had done for their people. He had taken Tyrande away, turned her against him, and cast his own twin aside. It seemed only fitting that Malfurion stood now alongside Maiev, and together they would try to finish what had been started between them all so many years before.

Shouldering past the Druid, Maiev lifted the umbra crescent and held it out menacingly towards the half-demon. "Illidan Stormrage," she bellowed. "For recklessly endangering countless lives and threatening the very balance of the world, you are hereby sentenced to death." A shiver ran down her spine as she spoke the words aloud. For so long, this notion of ending him, really truly ending him, had only ever existed in her head. Now that it was tangible and real and right in front of her, there was a creeping chill of vacancy. For ten thousand years, her life had revolved around Illidan, whether that was loving him or guarding him or chasing him down. She wondered idly, almost fearfully, what her purpose for existing might become in his absence.

Illidan glared back at her, lip curled back in a sneer, seemingly unphased by the proximity of her blade or the threat of her words. No, it was clear that whatever had existed between them once upon a time was gone. This was all that remained. "You're all fools," he snapped, struggling against the plants that held him. "This spell is meant for the Undead. They are our common enemy-"

Malfurion gave a short wave of his hand that sent the vines tightening around Illidan's wrists and the warglaives falling from his grip. "Too much blood has been spilled on your account," he said, eyes narrowed and the words twinged with the traces of his own bitterness. "Imprisonment will not be enough this time."

"I will execute him myself," Maiev volunteered eagerly.

Letting out a feral snarl, Illidan gave a final, desperate jerk at the vines. "My fight is not with you," he tried. But it seemed that they were not looking for reason or answers, only validating their own self-righteousness. Their minds had been made up about him from the moment they had imprisoned him, or perhaps even before then, when he had been granted the so-called gifts of Sargeras himself. They had never seen Illidan as anything more than a monster, a black spot in their illuminated lives, a darkness that needed to be locked away or crushed out. They had never acknowledged his efforts or contributions, only his transgressions, and they had condemned him time and time again. This time would be no different.

Still, he thought, his words were all he had left to offer in his defense, some last hope that Malfurion, at least, might think with logic instead of blind feelings. "I meant only to target the leader of this Scourge and put an end to him."

"At what cost?" His brother demanded, shaking his head furiously. Almost against his will, certainly without any consideration for their impact, he blurted out abruptly, "Tyrande is dead because of you."

And just like that, time grinded to a halt around them and the very moment seemed to shatter. Malfurion's shoulders slumped under the weight of the words, and even Maiev felt herself lowering both her weapon and her chin, tilting her head away from the Druid. All traces of fight faded from Illidan's eyes, the corrupted presence within him seeming to subside, replaced with this overwhelming sense of dread, this welling panic in his chest. "N-No," he stammered out, shaking his head like maybe if he just kept denying it then he could prevent the words from being true. "She cant be- I didn't mean-"

Clearing his throat to reiterate his presence, Kael took a slow step forward, hesitant to intrude on what he could clearly gather was some very intimate moment. "Pardon, Lord Stormrage," he murmured, glancing up through his lashes. "But it may be...premature to assume that the High Priestess is dead. While it is true that we saw her thrown from the bridge, there is a possibility that she may have washed up somewhere along the shoreline-"

"Silence, Kael'thas!" Maiev roared, whirling on him with danger flashing in her eyes.

But it was too late; the damage was already done. The words had been spoken, and even if Kael had no idea the impact they bore, Maiev did, and Malfurion did. And so, a moment later, it was her at which his wrath had been directed, all barking words and blazing fires in his eyes. "You told me she was torn apart,Shadowsong," he growled. "You lied to me?"

Shaking her head, Maiev stumbled back a few steps, nearly tripping over the stones that had been torn free in her attempt to regain some distance between them. "Shan'do," she pleaded, eyes widening. Very few things still had the capacity to evoke and real fear in her, but Malfurion's anger, paired with his agony over losing his wife, was certainly one. Now, it would seem the only option that remained was coming clean from her lies. "Capturing the Betrayer was our primary focus. I knew that if there was even a chance Tyrande had lived, you would go after her, and our chances to stop him would be lost-"

In a swift blur of movement, the vines that had been untangled from around Illidan and whipped through the air to ensnare her instead, leaving her trapped under the weight of his loathing stare. "Just who is the betrayer now, Warden?" He snarled. Turning instantly, he stood face to face with his brother, some of his anger giving way to his renewed distress. "I must go to her immediately."

Illidan took a stumbling step forward, his own features arranged in a pleading look. "Brother," he begged, "believe me, despite all of our differences, you know that I would never lead Tyrande to harm." Malfurion's gaze travelled over him, spiraled tattoos and tattered wings and rising horns- but somewhere beyond the demon-corrupted creature he had become, he was still Illidan, still undeniably of his own flesh and blood. And he was standing before him now, asking for forgiveness, offering to help because Tyrande needed them, both of them, and for the brief moment, it was as if nothing had ever changed at all. "Please, let me help you."

From where she remained behind them, struggling to tear through the trap that kept her, Maiev let out an enraged snarl. "After all that he has done, you would trust this- this traitor?!"

Malfurion spared no more than a glance over his shoulder at the Warden. "At the moment, more than I trust you."