Disclaimer: I do not own the World of Warcraft, which is the property of Blizzard Entertainment. I make no monetary profit from this story, which is exclusively for entertainment purposes.

Chapter 21: The Demon Within

Cold metal slammed into my body as I hit the floor of the Fel Hammer. Every muscle in my body ached. I had to fight just to breathe. I hated to admit it, but I knew that any power I had once wielded was all but gone.

"That pit lord took more out of you than expected, huh?" remarked Allari.

"Just…take the damned crystal," I muttered, throwing the soul shard at her.

"You need help," said Kalvia, in a tone that left no room for argument.

"I'm…fine," I coughed. "It was just…I can—"

"You can sit down and allow me to tend to you…as my original self once did."

Struggling to my feet, I glared at the Shade as it hobbled toward me. Though it led the Ashtongue with as much confidence and authority as Akama—if not more—I did not trust the thing. Physically, the apparition appeared to simply be Akama shrouded in darkness…but given the circumstances of its creation, I knew it was capable of so much more.

"You have need of my skills," it persisted.

"I have no need of—"

"Your aura is damaged."

"My what?"

The Shade of Akama was sinister enough on its own, but its stern frown now unnerved me more than anything else. For the expression wasn't so much a glare as it was the kind of look a concerned parent might give a stubborn child.

"Your soul is in conflict," it explained. "You forget that like Akama, I too walk the path of the shaman."

"Look," I said evenly. "I've recently felt…yes, a little weaker, but whatever the Legion's done to me—"

"If my suspicions prove true, the Burning Legion has done nothing to you," croaked the Shade. "You will let me examine you. Now."

"Or what?" I growled.

"Or you leave the future of the Illidari in uncertainty," it replied simply.

I ground my teeth in frustration. The unspoken threat was clear: by refusing the Shade's assistance, I was only dishonoring my brethren.

"Lord Illidan would not tax himself so."

On the contrary, I thought. That is exactly what Lord Illidan did.

In the days leading up to the fall of the Black Temple, rumors had circulated claiming that the master had ventured out to the forgotten necropolis of Auchindoun…with only a meager force of bodyguards for protection. As the most powerful demon in all of Outland, none of us doubted his ability to handle whatever evil awaited him in the dead city. But Lord Illidan had come back drained, almost a living corpse himself. The undead had gotten the best of him a second time, and his entire army had suffered for it.

"Fine," I muttered. "What do you suggest?"

Beckoning me to follow, the Shade strolled away, down the ramps leading to the lowest levels of our base, where the Ashtongue toiled away on various projects. There, it indicated a ragged carpet of sorts that had been laid out.

"Not the most comfortable bed, of sorts," I remarked. "You expect me to take a nap?"

"Yes," it replied, without any humor whatsoever.

"Then you know what's wrong with him?" asked Kalvia.

"I have my suspicions," replied the Shade.

"Then speak plainly," I ordered.

"Very well," it said. "If what I suspect proves true, 'commander,' your affliction is not the fault of the Legion, but your own. You cannot draw on your powers because you do not wish to. You have been suppressing your own demon."

It was clear that the Shade meant every word. Even so, my first instinct was to laugh at the absurdity of such a claim. But as I opened my mouth to do so, something gave me pause. Ever since the fight with Lena, I had been feeling…weaker. Was it even remotely possible, what Akama's Shade was suggesting?

"Explain," I finally said.

"Name," it replied.

"What?"

"Your name."

"Vel—"

I broke off mid-reply, and that scared me.

The Shade nodded, clearly satisfied.

"Velanath. Velscar. You do not even know your own name," it replied.

"What the fel does it matter what I call myself?" I snarled.

"You stupid, foolish elf," scolded the Shade. "You think that names do not have power? On my home world, the orcs first received the blood of Mannoroth at the Throne of Kil'jaeden. Shadowmoon Valley remains dominated by the fel volcano known as the Hand of Gul'dan. Both places are so named for a reason, for by such titles is the land permanently tainted by its ties to the Burning Legion."

"What does this have to do with Velscar?" asked Kalvia.

"My name is Vela—"

I quickly cut myself off. The sudden impulse to correct her…where had that come from?

"You see? He does not even know who he is," said the Shade.

"Well, what about Kalvia?" I asked. "She told me her birth name."

"I told you what my parents named me, you stupid taffer!" she shot back. "That doesn't mean I actually wanted to be that person again!"

"Oh, so you were just being kind," I snarled sarcastically.

"Of course I was! By the fel, you really took our little trip to heart, didn't you? What, did meeting your sister suddenly make you wish you were a normal elf again? You know how demons react to that kind of magic! You might as well have beaten yourself into a coma!"

"This is insane," I growled. "All of this. It's all based on nothing more than the ramblings of a senile old broken—"

"Lie down, 'commander,'" ordered the Shade, "or I shall have Kor'vas restrain you."

"And then what?" I demanded.

"I am going to perform a ritual similar to that which first drew me out of Akama…but in reverse. Rather than drawing your demon out, I am sending you in. You will enter a deep sleep, by which your mind will fold in on itself, allowing you to enter the darkest recesses of your own soul, where your inner demon dwells."

"And the risks?" I asked.

"Upon awakening, your other half may devour you whole, gain control of your body, and run amok through the Fel Hammer like a crazed initiate until it's put down," replied the Shade monotonously. "But such are the risks that come with our lot."

"This—all of this—is ridiculous," I muttered, lying down. "The Legion has you chasing some imaginary affliction—"

That was all I got out before the Shade began chanting in a bizarre, harsh tongue. The words were dark and savage, and I immediately recognized the language as that of the demons: Eredun.

The world went dark.

When the shadows finally melted away, multiple sensations bombarded me all at once. The feeling of grass and dirt beneath my feet. The calm wind against my skin. The sounds of birds in the trees. Green and brown everywhere. It all felt strangely familiar.

Glancing around at the gigantic, conical trees, I realized why.

And with that revelation came a sharp stab of terror as I also realized what would happen next.

Sure enough, the blue skies twisted and became the color of plague. Foul meteors rained down from the heavens, gathering into rocky, uneven forms that stood on two monstrous legs. The singing of the birds was immediately cut off by a shrill howling as several lupine forms raced through the woodlands in search of prey.

As the forest burned all around me, my field of vision immediately changed to a small village in the center of the mountains. The rocky hills were painted a sickly yellow-green. The grass burned away, becoming blackened before then giving way to a fel-blasted wasteland. Buildings burned or were smashed altogether as an army of vicious abominations wrought chaos everywhere. Man, woman, or child, it did not matter: every elf within the village was slaughtered, butchered, had his limbs cleaved off or her skull bashed in. Some were simply burned alive, their dying shrieks adding to the unending, relentless carnage as the demons carried out their Burning Crusade.

"No," I protested. "No…I can't watch this…not again…"

Why not? You've seen it once, twice…a thousand times already. You've seen countless worlds burned, an infinite amount of lives extinguished. Are you so pathetic, so weak-willed, that this one tiny village holds any meaning for you?

An insane fury washed over me from all sides. Out of instinct, my arms flew up to cover my eyes.

Eyes that were not there.

You saw this happen. You saw everything. And like all the others, it proved too much. Now you see so much more. And you wished to throw it all away…for them?

I forced myself to look at the mutilated forms strewn across the ground, not memorizing but rather recalling this scene.

"Show yourself," I spat. "Velscar."

Upon my command, the grass burned away. The buildings vanished. The entire forest evaporated, replaced by a rounded, metal arena not unlike the one in the Fel Hammer.

All just a trick of your—sorry, our—mind. Something to give us context while we sort out our little problem.

A great, fiery portal opened up before me, and out of it stepped my self.

It was like looking in a mirror: I knew the features intimately, even the demonic ones. The claws, the scales, the tattoos…all were as much a part of me as any other part of my body.

"No," growled Velscar, his words laced with fel energy. "These are my features, little Velanath. You are nothing more than a weak, pitiful, kaldorei."

Glowing with emerald flames, he charged straight at me, warglaives at the ready. Instinctively, I reached for a weapon at my belt…and came up with a dagger. Cursing my luck, I brought the tiny blade up in a defensive position and tried to hold my ground.

The smaller blade shattered as Velscar's blades crushed it in a pincer-like motion, before the demon hunter knocked me to the ground.

"Look at yourself," he ordered. "Look at what you wish you could be again."

And I did, for I had no choice as demonic claws dug into my skull, holding my head down in an iron grip. In the smooth, reflective surface of the floor, I saw an elf staring back at me.

His skin was a deeper shade of violet than Velscar's. His hair was a dark blue, rather than the sinister black mane of the demon hunter. And his eyes—for yes, he had eyes—shined like twin pools of silver moonlight.

Grabbing at my belt again, I found another dagger. Without questioning when it had appeared, I reached up and slashed at Velscar's wrist. A howl of outrage assaulted my ears as the claws retracted, and I leapt up to swing at him again.

"Good," he hissed. "Fight me. Fight me like the day your village burned!"

Again the scene shifted, and we were in the forest once more. Buildings and corpses alike burned all around us.

Screaming out in rage and fury, I drew another dagger from my belt and delivered strike after strike with the two blades. Each blow was expertly parried by the more powerful fighter, but I didn't care. Hatred drove my attacks, and as the demon hunter moved to counter attack, I quickly slipped into the shadows, reappearing behind him.

"Die, felspawn!" I spat.

As I drove both blades into his back, he vanished.

Such a capable fighter, even for a mortal. Even for a nightstalker. You held your own that day, even as Lenaria succumbed to the Legion.

Again the bodies piled up before me: men, women, and children. All of them night elves. All of them bloodied, burned, and mutilated.

This is the weakness you long for. This is who you wish to join: the weak, pitiful kaldorei. Those who shun our power and pay the price for it.

"Stop it," I snarled.

You travelled the world for three years, searching for the only elf left in Azeroth who could possibly understand…

The flames spread further, consuming everything. Putrid boils in the earth burst forth as the scenery changed to what I knew to be the corrupted forest of Felwood.

"Lord Illidan!" I called out, feeling as if I were reciting a script. "Lord Illidan, I seek your guidance! Show me the path! Teach me your ways!"

It felt as if I wandered for miles, my desperate shouting ringing out through the rotten trees and blasted hills.

And sure enough, they called the demons to me like a siren song.

"Looking for the Betrayer, are we?" sneered the satyr. "Don't worry, little elf…we'll make this nice and quick!"

The felhound at his side let out a shrill howl.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Just a roar of pure, unbridled hatred.

The satyr was first to die, his horned head leaving a trail of green as it rolled down the hill. I danced around the felhound's outstretched tentacles, slashing at them mid-dodge. Leaping atop the fiend, I drove both daggers into its mouth, ripping open the demonic flesh from above.

Yes…more…

"Yes…more…" I said.

It was if I had entered a trance. I travelled the entire length of Felwood, slaughtering demon after demon after demon. They would all meet the same fate as those in my village. Satyrs and felhounds and imps and felguard; it didn't matter. All had their limbs cleaved off, their heads removed, their chests impaled. Demon after demon after demon, slaughter after slaughter after slaughter. My mind must have shattered long ago, for something far beyond mere obsession drove my blades, kept me from collapsing. Something that carried me through the woods, purging every demonic encampment I could find, all the way up to the coastal region of Nendis.

I looked down: my entire body was covered in the demons' foul, green blood. It stuck to me like warpaint, burning away at my clothes, eating away at my very flesh. But the pain felt good; I welcomed it.

But I still wanted more.

Staring out at the horizon, at the vast, empty blue of the Great Sea, the overwhelming weight of reality now came crashing down around me. Three long years of hate, slaughter, and death.

And it was all for nothing.

You accomplished nothing.

The clatter of metal upon wood rang in my ears as the blades hit the docks. I had been scarred, mutilated, my flesh torn open. The daggers would not suffice here.

No, I needed to feel ultimate, everlasting agony.

And so I began striding toward the ocean, ready to feel as much as I possibly could.

"What other purpose is there?" I asked aloud.

Join me, and you will serve a purpose far greater than you can possibly imagine. Join me, and you shall slaughter demons by the millions.

The words cut through the memory, but they were also a part of it, for it was not Velscar who now spoke. A shimmering green portal opened before me, and on the other side I could make out a blackened landscape filled with demonic energies. Meteors flew through the air, and in the distance, a massive fortress dominated the corrupted skyline.

Join me, and you will have your…

The memory ended. The coastline dissolved, replaced by the arena once more.

"Now you see," said Velscar. "Velanath died long ago. Even before you burned out your eyes, you walked the path of the master."

"What do you want from me?" I demanded.

"When you consumed the wrathguard," he continued. "When you gave up your eyes. When you tainted your soul. You. me. US. We need each other. We are each other."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Answer a very simple question," replied the blind elf, grinning sadistically. "Why did you spend three, long years, fighting a battle that you could not win?"

"Shut up," I snarled.

I already knew what he was getting at.

"What drove your blades? What kept you alive? Why did you join Lord Illidan? Why did you create me?"

"Shut up!" I yelled.

I didn't want to answer him.

"Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?"

"To claim my VENGEANCE!" I roared.

Agony tore through my body, pain like I had never known. I felt my body breaking apart, erupting into hungry, green flames. Claws erupted from my fingers, and my throat burned as a demonic roar erupted from my fanged maw. White-hot pain continued to assault me as razor-sharp scales, spikes, and horns burst through the surface of my flesh.

Snarling with hatred, I reached down and grabbed the elf, crushing him between my claws. As I inhaled the bright, green mist, my forked tongue licked my lips at the hot tang that filled my nostrils.

"Yes," I said. "More. I must have MORE!"

And in response, thousands of demons swarmed me. With a shout of manic glee, I leapt forward, landing with a crash. The ground erupted into a shower of volcanic mayhem. I ripped felhounds in two and poured their burning green blood down my throat. I feasted on the wasted flesh of satyrs and scooped imps up by the handfuls to bite off their heads. I fractured entire infernals with a single swipe. Opening my mouth, I vomited up a mighty blast of putrid green breath to incinerate an entire squad of felguard as it charged me. Doomguard who attempted to dive-bomb me from the air were impaled on my spikes. My mighty claws crashed together, forming a massive orb of darkness. Flinging the spirit bomb into the air, I clapped once more. Tendrils shot out of the giant sphere, impaling each and every demon and extracting their corrupted souls. The wisp-like fragments flew into the orb, which exploded, sending a wave of shadowy soul fragments into my body.

I let out a blissful sigh as the transformation finally reached its end. My claws retracted into my fingertips. My horns and spikes also drew back as the flames were extinguished. But as I looked down at the reflective floor, a different figure now stared back. His hair was as black as his blindfold, behind which glared two smoldering orbs of demonic fire. Sharp, green lines were carved into his pale, pink flesh, which hosted many other scars, as well.

Looking up, I saw another figure standing a few feet away. His hair was a dark blue, his smooth, youthful skin a deep violet. As he gazed at me, his silver eyes widened with fear.

"W-what are you?" he stammered.

I felt extreme dislike for this pitiful creature, one that bordered on hatred. Yet there was also pity as I recognized what I had done to myself. Lena's deception had run deeper than I thought: she had planted the seeds of doubt and nostalgia, knowing my own longing would make them grow. The trap was all the more insidious simply because it had been one of my own making.

"My name is Velscar," I replied, walking over to him.

Stretching forth a hand, I summoned forth one of my warglaives. The deadly blade burst into reality in a furious blaze of emerald fire.

"I am a demon hunter," I replied, slashing downward.

And as the final remnant of my past crumpled to the ground, I knelt and whispered in his ear:

"And you are nothing."