Author's Note:
Apologies for the long wait. Some pretty major things happened out of the blue and I've had to deal with them for the past month or so. Will try to get back to updating regularly, but I can't make any promises just yet. As always, thanks for reading, faving and reviewing. Love you guys!
Also in the news, demons are tricky to write, and demon hunter lore is even trickier even with all the Wowpedia references. Dammit, Blizz! (Re-written as of 5/1)
1.
Vaala took a few hurried steps back, then crouched against a wall and closed her eyes. Her heart thundered in her chest. This was no test... this was nothing short of a death sentence! She'd seen this kind of demon before and she knew full well what it could do. How could Illidan even think she'd stand a chance against a dreadlord of all things? Had he truly gone mad?
The unseen demon was still laughing. The sound chilled to the bone. There was no telling where the voice was coming from. It seemed to vibrate all around her.
"You fear me, do you not?" the dreadlord taunted. "If you throw down your weapons, I might kill you quickly. Then again, I might not. Who knows...?"
Vaala opened her eyes. She peered around, using what little light spilled from the tunnels that adjoined the chamber to try and see by and relying on her magical senses - such as they were - for added clarity. For a few moments, everything around her was utterly still...
Then, in the darkness, something stirred.
Vaala moved quickly, but the silhouette she'd barely caught a glimpse of a mere moment before was no longer there. She spun around, swords raised, eyes searching frantically for what she knew was lurking not too far away. And sure enough, there he stood, a shadow darker than black, wings outstretched and looking as though he were ready to strike... yet oddly motionless for one who undoubtedly commanded a kind of power far surpassing her own.
Vaala narrowed her eyes. This wasn't right. A dreadlord, she knew, would hardly ever favor brute force. Their kind fought with other means, and mind games were highly favor among those. Surely, this was just an illusion, nothing more than a hallucination meant to coax her into spending her strength.
"What's the matter?" mocked a hoarse whisper from somewhere nearby. "Aren't you going to strike me down?"
Vaala felt a chill down her spine, but she didn't turn. Instead, she cast a spell. Green flames rose around her, then spread in all four directions, some reaching all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. The darkness melted before them, but the dreadlord wasn't revealed even though Vaala could still sense his presence nearby, in the same way that she felt Illidan's own aura when he was close. He was watching... waiting... biding his time...
Something else was moving now. Vaala stood her ground, watching in horror as one by one, the dead warlocks that Vaala had all but forgotten about began to twitch, and then they rose to their feet with unnatural, jerky movements. Their empty eyes focused on her slowly and with terrible purpose. Their lips were moving, but no sounds escaped them.
The first warlock fell before he ever had the chance to finish whatever spell he was casting, his head loped clean off his shoulders by a quick strike. Vaala felt her stomach turn even as she realized that the man couldn't have possibly been alive to feel the pain anymore. She kicked the crumpling body towards several other reanimated casters, then barely had time to dive out of the way as a long, thin ribbon of energy seared overhead and exploded in a flurry of sparks and dislodged masonry against one of the farther walls.
More spells failed to reach their target as Vaala danced around the casters, hacking and slashing as she went with a speed they could never hope to match. As she did away with the last one of them, she felt a grim sense of satisfaction. The benefits of the past weeks of harsh training were only just beginning to show. She felt tired, but only slightly so. The motions came naturally, and her concentration had improved to the point where she hardly had to envision where she would move to next.
Vaala let out a deep breath, and then she looked around once more. The flames she'd conjured earlier were all but spent. The bodies of her former enemies littered the floor, crippled enough that any other attempt to reanimate them would hardly produce anything capable to stand and fight. The dreadlord was nowhere to be seen, and briefly she thought to simply walk away. After all, there was no way she could fight something that wasn't there. Surely, Illidan would understand that-
As though sensing her distraction, the dreadlord chose that moment to strike. Vaala felt his claws rake across her back, shredding through the toughened leather of her armor as though it were lace or silk. She gritted her teeth against the sudden onslaught of pain and managed to bring one of her swords around, only to have her wrist caught in a vice-like grip.
Time slowed down to a trickle. Vaala saw the dreadlord's other hand move with impossible slowness, caught the reflection of the dying flames on his impossibly long and wicked-sharp claws, and knew that if they reached her, this fight would be over before it had even begun. Her free hand thrust up, blade poised and ready. A moment passed...
The dreadlord hardly winced as Vaala's sword embedded itself deep into his forearm. Vaala managed to wrench herself free of his grip and staggered back a few steps. She glanced down at her wrist. Her skin was charred where the dreadlord had touched it.
The dreadlord glared at her, then plucked the sword free and tossed it aside with a sneer. "You cannot hurt me, mortal," he drawled. "Succumb to your fate-"
"Like hell I will."
Vaala charged. As she came face to face with her opponent, she side-stepped and passed him, then turned around and struck. For all his toted power, the dreadlord was too slow to follow the movement this time. His armor covered most of his upper body, but it appeared to have been made for show more than anything and the protection it offered was by no means absolute. By the time he turned fully, Vaala had already managed to land a blow and withdraw. His claws ripped through nothing but empty air.
Vaala didn't waste any time on pointless bragging. She held out her free hand, and the sword she'd lost earlier spun through the air and landed in her grip. Fully armed now, she attacked once more. Even with the injury the dreadlord had inflicted, she still the advantage of her uncanny agility and speed for a time still. However, the dreadlord vanished in a swirl of shadows and reappeared farther away, glowering at her as if he dared her to follow. She swore under her breath. The gashes along her back burned with each move she made, sending wave after wave of mind-numbing pain through her body. She tried to ignore it. There would be time for that later... if there was any 'later' to be had, at all.
As Vaala readied her next attack, the dreadlord clenched his fists and uttered something in his own demonic tongue. Suddenly, the air grew thick and heavy. Vaala felt something tighten around her throat, but when she tried to pry it away, she found that there was nothing there. The grip tightened slowly, as though the dreadlord was enjoying seeing his prey squirm. Vaala sank to her knees as she gasped for breath. The swords dropped from her limp fingers and clattered to the ground.
2.
No one could have foreseen the Aldor arriving on the field of battle moments before the Sunfury would claim absolute victory. And no one, not even Gathios himself, could have ever imagined that they'd be forced to lay down their weapons lest they would all be struck down where they stood. The tables had been turned so quickly that, for a few agonizing moments, it looked as though the massacre would be absolute. Gathios had found himself surrounded and disarmed before he'd ever had a chance to call out for retreat. Those closest to him were already dead. Others had fled in terror. A few had made a desperate last stand and been slain there and then. But most of the Sunfury had simply lowered their weapons and flung themselves at the mercy of the Aldor.
The Sunfury had been rounded up immediately after. Those who had yet to relinquish their weapons had been disarmed with little ceremony. There were a fair few wounded, and only one remaining cleric to tend to them all. She went about her business with a sort of single-mindedness born out of desperation even after it became obvious that she was all but spent herself. None of the Aldor anchorites moved to relieve her burden.
Gathios stood a small distance from his men, avoiding to look any of them in the eye for fear of what he may find there. It had all happened too damn fast. There was nothing, nothing he could have done to save them - and yet, the guilt of what had happened was almost too much to bear.
After a while, the circle of draenei surrounding the captive Sunfury parted to let several Scryers through. One of them in particular stood out from the rest, a tall, well-built man clad in dark plate armor. Gathios knew the man, and now he glared at him with unbridled hatred. Commander Hobb held his gaze levelly and he made small a gesture. As one, the Aldor backed away, until they were close enough to intervene should the circumstances demand it yet far enough to allow for some semblance of privacy.
"There has been some debate as to what to do with you and your men," Hobb said without preamble. "Many of my soldiers are eager to show you the same kind of mercy you had in store for us."
There were angry mutters among the Sunfury. Several of the wounded got to their feet, some having to lean heavily on their comrades for support. The Aldor shuffled imperceptibly closer, some reaching for their weapons. Gathios felt his heart skip a beat. If they thought to charge the draenei with nothing but fists and harsh words, it was pathetically obvious that they were all going to die. "Slaughtering unarmed prisoners?" he said icily despite the sudden dread he felt. "How very fitting for a band of traitors!"
"We have decided to allow you will to reclaim your weapons and leave," Hobb went on, letting the interruption slide. "If it is your wish, then we will also see to your dead and those too wounded to return, and I can assure you that they will be treated with consideration and respect. However, if you think to double back and attack us again, then we will stop you before you ever have the chance."
Gathios received the news with barely a twitch of his long eyebrows. "You will allow us freedom, just like that? Forgive me if I don't believe in your supposed 'kindness'. Lest you forget, you were the ones who attacked our master in the first place, long before this day."
"This is neither the place nor the time to discuss such things. As I said before, we are prepared to let you go... on one condition. Upon your return, you will deliver a message to Illidan Stormrage. That is all we ask."
Gathios narrowed his eyes. "And what would that message be?"
"You will tell him that the Sha'tar are prepared to offer him amnesty if he agrees to leave the temple - and this world - and never return."
The words hung in the air for several moments. "Lord Illidan will never agree to that," Gathios said finally.
"Be that as it may," Hobb replied with a hint of impatience, "but there is no need for more lives to be lost on this day. Wouldn't you agree, general?"
Gathios struggled to swallow past a suddenly dry throat. He saw reason in that, but he also knew what would happen to anyone who brought such a preposterous message to Illidan. "Your demands will be passed along, commander," he said quietly, even though he scarcely believed it.
Hobb nodded his head gravely. "Very well."
"One more thing," another Scryer, a magister in blood-stained robes, said suddenly. He gestured to the Sunfury and continued, "If any of you are tired of this... this senseless slaughter between our people... then we will offer you sanctuary and a safe return to Shattrath. You only need ask. With your permission, commander," he added as an afterthought.
Gathios didn't miss the way Hobb flinched at the offer, but he didn't waste any time wondering what had happened between the two. Part of him knew that, had he been a simple soldier and not a general, he would have probably accepted such an offer, and readily at that. As it were, he still had a duty to his men... and to Illidan, who would track him down to the Nether and beyond if he so much as dared to express such a thought. He was glad, at least – in a twisted, perverse sort of way – that none of his remaining soldiers took the offer. "My men are loyal," he said simply. 'Come what may,' he added to himself with a bitter smile.
The Scryer magister bowed his head and said nothing more.
3.
Vaala forced herself to think even as the edges of her vision began to blur. This was a different kind of spell than she was used to facing... a curse. Illidan had shown her how to contain such an attack during one of their first training sessions. She fought back the mind-numbing fear that threatened to overcome her and struggled to remember. He hadn't been the most patient of mentors, and Vaala herself had never truly managed to excel at anything but swordsmanship. What was it that he'd told her back then? It had something to do with magic... that it could be turned and bent if one was strong enough. If not, then there was one other thing that one could do to ward themselves...
A ward... Yes, that was it. A barrier made not of magic, but of the utter lack of magic, a void that could absorb any other harmful spells for a time... With agonizing slowness, the words of power began to form in Vaala's mind. The pressure lessened somewhat, enough for her to take a few quick, shallow breaths. The ward was hardly strong enough to do anything more, but for now, that was enough.
If anything, the dreadlord seemed amused by this new turn of events. He watched with a nonchalant expression as Vaala retrieved her swords and shakily climbed to her feet, grimacing as the gashes he'd inflicted previously tore open once again with the motion. She turned her thoughts away from the pain and willed her mind into a state of calmness. Let him underestimate her for now. Soon enough, the tables would turn. She could feel the gem she wore underneath her armor grow warmer and throb almost as if in anticipation, and she opened herself to it, channeling power from the great beyond as she had been taught. The ward around her grew stronger, absorbing the last remnants of the curse. Liberated, Vaala took a deep breath and forced a confident smirk to her lips. She could see her surroundings with much more clarity now, and she knew it to be part of what the demonic empowerment offered.
The dreadlord cast another curse, but this time, the ward not only held, but abated the magical onslaught altogether. For the first time, the demon appeared uncertain at such a turn of events. Taking advantage of that, Vaala went at him again, moving even faster than before. She landed a few blows in quick succession and pressed on even as the wounds she inflicted began to mend. The dreadlord swung at her, but his movements appeared slow and clumsy to her eyes. She was always one heartbeat ahead of him, striking and dodging only to whirl around and strike again. It wasn't long before the dreadlord was forced to take a step back, then another, and finally leap high in the air and remain there, his wings beating furiously to keep him aloft. He glowered at her, hands glowing as he began a chant.
Vaala smirked. This was the moment she'd been waiting for. The dreadlord thought himself safely out of her reach, for now, but the distance was hardly an impediment for what she had in mind. In one quick motion, she pulled a slim dagger out of its concealed sheath, took aim and let it fly. A split second later, the dreadlord shrieked in pain, a piercing, otherworldly cry that made Vaala's hairs stand on their ends. The dagger had pierced his throat, just as she'd intended it to. There was only one other thing left to do now. Vaala tensed, then leaped, using a protruding stone in the wall to boost her jump. She arched in the air and brought her swords down...
...but once again, she sliced through nothing but shadow.
Vaala landed in a crouch. Her enhanced vision found a trace of magic where the dreadlord had been and followed it to the farthest corner of the chamber. She saw him outlined in a halo of purple magic, dagger in hand, eyes filled with murderous intent. He spoke, not in the loud, arrogant voice he'd used before, but in a hate-filled whisper. "You will pay for this insolence..."
Vaala began to close the distance between them, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until she broke into a run. She ducked as the dreadlord's claws swept overhead, then straightened up, swords ready, and sliced with all her might.
The dreadlord stumbled backward, one hand flying to his throat, his face a mask of utter disbelief. A second later, his head rolled off his shoulders and his body crumpled forward and gradually disappeared into a shadowy mist until only the giant armor remained.
Vaala sank to her knees, panting heavily. The rush of adrenaline was slowly seeping away. Her body ached and she felt a fresh trickle of blood down her back. She felt cold, so cold that her body shook and her teeth clattered. She reached up with trembling fingers and grasped the medallion. Even nearly depleted as it was, it still responded to her touch. "My lord..." she whispered hoarsely. "It is done."
Very well, came the answer a moment later. You may rest now. I will ensure that you are properly rewarded.
True to Illidan's words, Vaala began to feel a pleasant numbness creeping into her body. Part of her welcomed it after such a trying ordeal. The pain became a faint, distant sensation at the back of her mind, but there was also a small, nagging voice that warned her the day was far from over and something else, something dreadful was about to happen. "What..." was all she could whisper before the numbness overcame her and she knew no more.
4.
In the aftermath of the battle, Reevan had been quick to excuse himself and take refuge in his small study while the Aldor and Scryers busied themselves tending to the wounded and clearing out the bodies of the dead. There was plenty of work to be done after such an ordeal, but somehow he could hardly bring himself to it. Things had been clear to him a mere few hours before. But now, caught between his duties and a deeper, far more demanding loyalty not only to his one surviving kin, but also to his people – all of his people, Scryer and Sunfury alike – Reevan could only wonder how the sheer absurdity of this war had eluded him for so long. The sin'dorei should have never been forced to take up arms against each other. That much, he knew with all his heart.
The memories of the earlier carnage were still fresh in his mind, and one thought in particular kept coming back with such intensity that it almost physically hurt.
It could have been her...
Reevan looked up in surprise when he heard someone call his name. Whoever the visitor was, he hadn't noticed them entering his study. He realized he'd been crumpling a piece of parchment in one hand and he tossed it aside with a frown, but then his expression softened when he saw Andurien. The smile that usually greeted the sight of his old friend didn't come so easily this time. "I take it the wounded have all been taken care of, then?" he asked, weariness creeping into his voice despite his efforts to contain it.
Andurien nodded his head wearily. "Those that we could save, yes. We are arranging for the others to be given an appropriate resting place... but, as you know, that may prove to be difficult out here. There are more bodies than we can bury without overtaxing our magisters, and we have nothing to cover the graves with other than dirt. A grim business if I ever saw one, I must say."
A few moments passed in silence as both men contemplated what that meant.
"You seem troubled by something," Andurien said eventually.
Reevan somehow found the strength to give a weary shrug. "Had there not been for the Aldor, we would all be dead. Is that not enough?"
"Not for one such as you," Andurien replied, folding his arms. "What is it that truly pains you, old friend?"
Reevan looked up, all traces of pretense gone from one moment to the next. "I... can't do this anymore," he said, and his voice was pained. "All this... this..." He took a deep breath, struggling to compose himself. "Some of those Sunfury were people I knew... people I stood and fought beside in many battles long before Shattrath. This shouldn't have happened. They needn't have died like this!"
"Indeed, many lives were lost today," Andurien agreed solemnly. "I, for one, take solace in the thought that everything will be over soon. In the meantime, however, it falls to us to do what we must."
"What we must?" Reevan yelled suddenly, bringing his fist down on the desk before him. "What we must? What if my sister will be leading their next attack? What am I do to then?"
Andurien chose his next words carefully. "Isn't it pointless to dwell on it when you know nothing of her fate?" he asked.
"Oh, I know her... fate." Reevan lowered his voice to a whisper, "I saw her. She is alive and well - in fact, she's better off than I would have thought possible under the circumstances."
"You saw her?" Andurien asked, obviously finding such a notion hard to believe. "How did it happen? When?"
"After our return from Shattrath," Reevan said quietly.
Andurien gave a small start, "Ah. I was wondering where you'd gone off to. She called you out somewhere, then?"
"No, I... I went into the Black Temple." Suddenly, he flared. "It was a foolish thing to do, but I needed to know! It was obvious to me that she couldn't leave on her own accord, that she is clearly a captive in spite of her claims! Illidan is training her... changing her into something he can use against us when the time comes. And... there is nothing I can do for her... nothing..."
"There is." A pause, then, "You can fight."
Reevan looked up in anger. "Haven't I just said I didn't want to do this anymore? What comfort could I gain from-"
"Must I spell it out for you, Reevan?" Andurien cut in, impatience finally getting the best of him. "The sooner we end this war, the sooner you can save her! Without Illidan to hold her under his sway, she will have no choice but to return to us! Isn't that what you want?"
"And what if I must fight her before that? What then?"
Andurien took a deep breath. He didn't want to say it, but he had no other choice. "If it comes to that... then you will do as your loyalties demand."
Reevan closed his eyes. He knew what Andurien meant, and his mind could only recoil in horror at the thought. "I will not," he said fiercely. "I will find another way."
"Then I pray that you find it soon," Andurien said darkly, "for otherwise, you put not only her life at risk, but yours as well."
Reevan stood up slowly, feeling the fatigue that had been dogging him since before the battle begin to take its toll anew. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly even as he began to glimpse another truth, one that he had flat-out refused to consider until now.
"What you did was foolish, as you said yourself, but I can understand it. Others, however, may see it as consorting with the enemy and nothing more."
"The enemy? She isn't-"
"Not to you, perhaps."
These were Andurien's parting words, and Reevan did nothing to stop him as he turned and left. Alone once more, the magister began to pace, wondering for a moment if he was indeed foolish to have taken on such a risky endeavor. Yet even as he did so, he felt hope stir anew. He would find a way to save his sister and damn the Scryers if they stood in his way. There was still time. There had to be.
5.
The pain was gone.
Vaala realized this even before she became fully aware that she was awake. She could hardly remember whatever dreams had visited her this time. She kept her eyes closed as memories began to trickle back into her awareness. The dead warlocks... the dreadlord... Illidan's test... Had all that truly happened? The pain, at least, had almost felt too real...
You needn't worry about your wounds. They have been taken care of while you slept.
Vaala opened her eyes and sat upright as she heard the voice. A moment later, she closed them again with a groan as the world struck her in a cacophony of mismatched colors and slithering tendrils of raw magic. It was the sort of vision that a brief demonic empowerment would offer, only it was stronger and more viral than ever before. She touched her eyelids gingerly, finding no trace of any alteration. That, at least, was a relief.
Your sight will return to the way it used to be soon, given time, Illidan said, as though sensing her distress.
Vaala opened her eyes again and kept them trained firmly ahead, having to fight down a sudden wave of sickness. 'The sooner, the better, she thought sullenly.
I was most pleased to see you succeed, Illidan went on. In doing so, you have furthered your training far more than I had ever hoped you would. I'm certain you've heard that of the other sin'dorei who've done this before, only one was strong enough to walk away with his body and his sanity intact-
"Varedis," Vaala breathed out, remembering the blood elf demon hunter whom she'd encountered in what felt like another lifetime. She tried to remember him, but the images she could summon were vague and distorted, as were the memories of that day.
Precisely. Three others were slain by their demons, and one had to be sent away after he lost his sanity. You are stronger and far more resilient than they ever were, of course. I trust you will be able to fully wield the power of the demon you have vanquished on this day.
It took a few moments for the true meaning of the words to sink in."What do you mean?"
You will learn it when the time is right.
Vaala clenched her fists. "No more secrets!" she shouted with a vehemency that surprised her. "I almost died back there, and I want to know what for!"
There was no reply. Seething, Vaala leaned back and closed her eyes. "Damn you," she whispered, and for once she didn't care if Illidan heard her or not.
