After Saxia had left, Roth took another look at the destruction, which had been wrought around him, all the while shrinking to his human form. His eyes were bored and tired. His left hand twitched slightly while he contemplated the fantastic ruin.
He kneeled down to observe the destroyed earth closer. He dug his fingers deep into the earth and lifted a handful into the air. Black was his hand now, and he let the earth trickle slowly from his grasp. The earth was dead. Before it had been ash, burning and lifeless to the layman, but in fact rich in what constituted live.
Ragnaros phrase "By fire be purged" was not just an idle threat, but in fact the most basic truth about the element he controlled. With fire one can destroy and devastate, but cleanse corruption at the same time and make way for new life. But there was none left here now and there would not be until the arcane powers that tainted this land finally stopped to linger. An immense power had turned hundreds of mortal champions into dust, extinguished their lives in the time one needs to take a breath.
And he smiled, his body twisted and shivered until finally he gave way. His eyes filled with glee and he threw his head back and laughed to his black hearts content. „Wonderful! This is how it should be, how it must be! Just when I got bored plowing through their vermin." He exclaimed ecstatically.
His outburst ended as sudden as it had started. Soon he was composed again.
His eyes and stare cold, no dead.
Betrayed his eyes defeat? Shock and contempt for his failure to save those who had come to protect their World from a Power so great as to be immeasurable?
Something caught his attention. The presence of arcane had left; the leylines had been completely destroyed in the explosion. But he could still feel something. It was faint even fainter than the tiniest spell, but still he could feel a trace of arcane waving through the air.
And so he gave chase.
Sometime three years ago
Summer in Elwynn meant rushing waterfalls, lush bushes and tranquil glades.
Framed was the great human Forest by a mighty river to the south, and the northern mountains. Perched between those mountains sat Stormwind proudly.
Rain was normal during the summer, providing the farmers with fertile land for months to come. The sun stood high, drying the leaves from the latest rain shower. Under one of the countless trees two figures started peering from underneath the tent of leaves. Together they had searched shelter underneath, when the sky had suddenly started pouring down on them.
"I think sacrifices are sometimes unavoidable" Lavina asserted firmly.
Roy was taken aback how blunt she had answered his inquiry.
Only recently had he met this young girl, when they had been partnered together by orphan Matron Nightingale to organize the children's week for the young.
It was custom for all those who had once been in the care of the Orphanage to participate during the event for guidance.
Roy had warmed up to her immediately during the days they worked as a team and had hoped to see her more often afterwards.
For weeks thereafter he had been too indecisive to casually follow up on his juvenile feelings.
But to him it seemed as though fortune was his, seeing how coincidentally they had met.
"That's awfully cold, don't you think a King should be focused on saving everyone?" He responded faking shock.
"You really like to think like that don't you? But a World where you can keep everyone from harm does not exist, only in your mind maybe. And that there is something wrong with your mind, we established a while ago didn't we? Remember how you put Richelle on one of the Sabers in Darnassus to show her they are nothing to be afraid of?
Not at all convinced, Roy just crossed his arms and nodded for her to continue.
Truly a tribute to your wisdom concering children. And an example of extraordinary diplomacy, we're lucky if the guards let us take the children to Darnassus next year again. She grinned, enjoying to call him out on his foolishness.
"The Elves just need to get rid of that giant stick up their ass, talking about the "sacred bond" between Rider and Saber." He said, opening his arms, as though he had just addressed the true problem.
"Maybe the World really is strange, for allowing you to act like this without even the slightest hint of shame on your face." Lavina said, with disappointment, mocking him further.
"What good did shame do anybody ever?" He deflected, teasing her.
"I think if you had any you would see a little clearer and were a bit more… modest, it would do you a World of good."
"And how would that be fun?" He smiled devilishly.
Lavina, finally losing interest in their little spat, turned on her feet and left in direction of Stormwind.
In the weeks following Roy created one "chance meeting" after another with Lavina.
Meeting her out in the forest had given him the push he needed, the incentive to follow through with what he had in mind.
Lucky for him Lavina did not seem immune to his more obvious advances.
Now
Roth followed the trail of arcane out of the Firelands.
It was child's play for him to leave unnoticed by the increasing number of Nightelves investigating what had transpired here.
It took him however several hours to track the magic to its place of origin.
While he had been roaming the sky's above Kalimdor as a ominous black haze, he had picked up on something new.
Where he was headed something else dwelled, something eerily familiar, yet unknown to his mind.
A tinge of orange started to stain the heavy hung clouds of the night.
The first rays of a new day warmed the air.
But it did not warm him.
His eyes were still clouded, shrouded in darkness.
Once more he saw the last moment in his life.
And he heard the whispers, the whispers that told him what was painfully obvious.
"You have changed nothing!"
As long as the wings of death ran rampant none of this little side play of his would have born any fruit.
His abominable fathers had also started to take him seriously.
He needed to win. There was no meaning in doing anything if he started to waver now.
Whatever little toy they had conjured up that was powerful enough to destroy the Firelands and ravage the Leylines, it was not enough to kill him.
If anything he felt alive again for the first time in the better part of a year.
How long had been, since last he had trembled with excitement?
Reminded of the chaotic years which had left him wanting death, he could not stop himself from feeling glee at the way things were turning out.
Just picturing how he would slaughter their pathetic servants and thwart their demented horrific dreams made him giggle inside his mind. As long as he kept on laughing it was easy to block out their mad whispers.
How they gloated over his schemes.
Once Deathwing was dealt with, Roth would delight in whispering to them "I'm impressed how close you came this time, but now it is time for you to go back to sleep" he would make them grovel in defeat before him, just as they made him choke on his own blood.
His godly senses soon drove him to a spire of evil, within the deserted sands of Desolace.
Maraudon - the contemptible birthplace of the Centaur race.
The immense rock formation had an opening, which lead into the very heart of its cavernous deeps. Roth could see a stone platform within, surrounded by water. Atop an enormous construct was erected. It looked as though a delicate conglomeration of star systems. Blue rings and loose shards of arcane moved on seemingly random, invisible pathways. At its very center it was just a haze of evaporating magic, given no distinct form. A dozen of robed mortals scurried around the apparatus. Roth stretched out his arm, summoning the arcane within the device to move at his will. A sting in his left stopped his spell. He took a look at his left hand, still a mass of flayed flesh, and realized the arcane explosion had not just crippled him, but impaired his ability to use arcane magic. Immediately he chose another course of action. If he could not control it directly, he would destroy it at once.
He was only delayed for a second by the failure of casting arcane magic. Yet below one of the robed figures had taken notice to the small flash of arcane.
The others turned their heads upward and panicked.
Roths hand brimmed with shadow magic, he did not care for casualties, in fact he welcomed the collateral damage. A ray of gleaming shadow rushed from his hand to shatter the construct. Midway through its journey the shadow magic was halted however and then dispersed into thin air. Roth's eyes narrowed when he detected the one responsible. A figure cloaked from head to toe in black had emerged from the crowd of mortals underneath.
Instead of losing the initiative again, Roth decided to attack in a more tangible manner. He bore forth a tentacle of immense size with spikes all along its surface. The tentacle reached below at amazing speed and shattered the platform altogether. Those who had dwelled upon, were flung around violently and either met their end at one of the caverns walls or were lucky enough to land in the water to then be skewered by Krokolisks. Roth had failed however. The one who had stopped his dark spell earlier had teleported himself with the entirety of the arcane device before he had reached it. A feat impossible for a mere mortal.
There should not be a mortal capable of countering his magic, nor capable of teleporting so much mass at short notice.
Roth levitated downward until his feet touched the surface of the disturbed waters below. A surviving cultist nearby tried to stay above water, while fending of a Krokolisk with a spell. Roth reached for him and effortlessly pulled him to within an inch of his face.
"You will tell me everything" He stated while his eyes turned red.