*BEGIN: CHAPTER 23*

//SET LOCATION: SOUTHERN EVERSONG FOREST

The transition from Eversong Forest to the Ghostlands was very subtle at first. A thick, plagued haze seeped out of the south, smelling of sickness and old death, but was so similar to Tirisfal Glades that it almost went unnoticed by Lisys or Negate until they were nearly to the Elrendar River, where the path crossed the Dead Scar for the second time.

Scar was a fitting name for the grisly blemish running north out of the Scourge capital in the Ghostlands and straight through Silvermoon City. Stupid stragglers from the Third War mingled with scouts and agents of Deathholme in the form of gory, bloody ghouls and translucent shades of violent emotion. The path was broken and rough where it crossed the hideous disfiguration, prompting Lisys to walk unnaturally close to Negate, something to hold onto should she lose her footing.

These were once people. The thought squirmed slickly into her consciousness, despite her best efforts to ignore it. These were once people—they are like you. You are one and the same.

To the left, behind a dead bouquet of sticks, a rotting marauder had pinned another such undead to the dry earth, feeding from a crack in its skull as it struggled. It shrieked once, and not again.

More than anything, she wished to feel repulsed by the Dead Scar in the same way that Negate did—because it was a dark mark on a beautiful land, and because it was a reminder of a senseless battle where many lost their lives. Instead, she was repulsed because it felt so familiar, because of a filthy sense of belonging, and because it brought her to the brink of memories she was better off without.

"…Negate…" Lisys whimpered, craving the voice of the living more than anything. Her eyes had pulled shut, but snapped open again as his warm fingers closed around her wrist.

"Come on, up you go," he ordered, tugging on her. "First time I've made it across the damn thing without using Jublop. Can you believe it? He's honestly as useless as I had always suspected."

Lisys climbed out of the scorched dip, nodding numbly. "Y- yeah… H- hey, why don't we toss him back in?" She smiled for a short-lived moment, relief flooding her insides.

Jublop cackled eerily, eyeing the bare back of her right leg. Before the night was through, he'd sink his teeth in that very spot.

"Perhaps if it would actually kill him, it would seem worth the effort," Negate smirked. "Remember, I'm only a short errand away from a quieter servant."

"Mhm…" Lisys nodded quietly, walking slightly behind the warlock instead of beside, as if she too were a minion. "I'm glad, but… may I ask why you need more than one?"

"Different demons are better suited to differing tasks," Negate explained simply.

Lisys looked down at the wiry creature that appeared to be examining her hungrily. Besides cannon fodder, she couldn't imagine a real use for such a bizarre, obnoxious little monster, but perhaps the voidwalker, as her companion called it, would be more to her liking.

Negate extended his index finger suddenly, pointing ahead a short distance. "I'll be damned! Lisys, that's our Courier," he informed, gesturing toward an unfortunate elf lying on the stone path. He was blonde, and did not resemble his redheaded aunt who had asked the travelers to keep an eye out for him. Nonetheless, the elf recognized the design and materials in his red and gold getup as one common to rangers, hunters, outrunners and the like.

The undead pressed a hand to the side of her face with a whimper as they approached the pale body of a blood elf. The last trip she wanted to make was back to Fairbreeze Village to tell the Magistrix that her nephew was dead. "Is… he…?"

Negate leaned over the messenger to examine him more closely. He let out a sigh of relief that Lisys copied as the man shifted. "No. Not yet."

The strange elf took a deep breath and squirmed awkwardly until Negate helped roll him onto his back, allowing his chest to fully expand with a gasp. "Help me, stranger. I must… reach Tranquillien… I cannot fail," he rasped before losing consciousness again.

"What are you standing around for!?" a sharp voice cut through the mismatched trio, that of another female undead. "Can't you see this boy needs immediate attention? By the looks of it, the plague is beginning to take over his body. Within minutes not even a master apothecary like me will be able to save him!"

With the exception of her bones, which every Forsaken displayed proudly and mandatorily, only the apothecary's yellow eyes were visible beneath thick robes and a hood. Despite her limited experience with the Royal Apothecary Society, Lisys recognized the position immediately and straightened her back.

"Yes, ma'am!" she answered urgently.

Negate, however, was skeptical. "And just where did you come from?"

The stranger ignored him, appealing urgently to Lisys instead. "Listen, the animals to the south of the river all carry the plague in their blood. Go across the bridge and hunt the plagued beasts there. Bring me enough plagued blood samples and I'll distill a serum capable of saving this man's life."

Wrinkles streaked Lisys's forehead as she gazed into the spooky lantern-yellow of the other woman's eyes. Apothecaries weren't known for saving lives or curing the sick; in fact, good deeds ran perpendicular to the greater part of Forsaken mentality. Even Lisys herself, on the lighter end of the spectrum, could have difficulty finding sympathy for a random victim encountered in the street. This elf was special. She and the apothecary had an immediate understanding.

The chemist returned her stare only long enough to let her know the feeling was mutual before stepping forward to seize her shoulders and spin her around bodily with a light shove. "Hurry, or the pretty blood elf boy is a goner!"

Lisys broke into an obedient run that Negate copied, albeit with one last suspicious glance at the strange undead. The aforementioned river was very close, and across it laid the courier's only salvation.

"Did you know her?" Negate asked as soon as he was certain the woman was out of earshot, mid-way across the quaint bridge.

"It seemed that way, didn't it?" Lisys answered his question with another in a voice he couldn't read, stopping suddenly as soon as her feet hit stone on the other side of the river.

What was previously a gradual shift in the atmosphere—mild darkening of the sky, a sick thickening of the air—became a total metamorphosis over the space of a skinny river. The sun was nearly overcast completely by the brewing illness from the stronger bordering plaguelands, trees with no foliage stood only with their last forces of life, and even native creatures such as the lynx were mutated until they became as hostile as the mistbats and spiders that had moved in with the Scourge.

Negate was unaffected and hardly even paused to allow Lisys time to gawk. "I noticed she covered her entire face as well… Do you think that she is as horribly disfigured as you are? I wonder if it would be too impolite to ask."

"Ugly as that thing?" Jublop cackled, gesturing to Lisys with his foot before resuming somersaults around his master. "I don't think so!"

The warlock snickered, connecting the bottom of his boot with the creature's chest mid rotation, sending it rolling instead off the path and into an emaciated ghostclaw lynx. "Shut up and get to work."

"Is this really necessary!?" He screeched, lifting his hands to summon a small bolt of fire, despite arresting claw swipes from the very annoyed, and likely very hungry, large feline.

"I'll let them eat you," Negate threatened, a black light bursting from the nether around his hands as he corrupted his target from the inside, an ailment the dumb beast wouldn't notice until it was too late.

Lisys watched him idly for a moment, finding herself thinking only of the apothecary and the courier, and wishing them the best of luck; that the elf would live but his recovery would be slow, allowing her a few days more the company of a gorgeous living man, and he a rare glimpse in the ways the Forsaken are still human, until no excuse for their partnership remained and they were forced to separate.

She wondered also when Negate's sense of adventure would fizzle, or he'd find a more attractive traveling partner, or even several, and she'd have to embark on her quest to serve the Deathguard on her own. Their goals were so different—his to study the unstable and mysterious natures of fel magic and hers to find a place in the everlasting vigil against all who should bother the Forsaken—that dissolution seemed imminent, if not very near. In fact, his quest to tame another demon meant a brief return to Silvermoon City, and it wouldn't surprise her if he decided then he never wanted to leave again.

"Negate," she called from the path, watching him approach the dead animal to collect a small sample of blood. "I'm going to go this way…" she pointed behind her, to the east.

He turned his head briefly, still kneeling. "What for? I thought—" he was interrupted as another animal, this time an angry plagued bat, swooped low to swipe at the back of his head with its sharp talons. He barely dodged them and decided not to protest, but to ask later. "All right, don't go far!"

Jublop, with no choice but to protect his warlock as always, raised his hands to begin casting disdainfully while Negate stood, dropping a heavy curse and corruption on the poor dim creature while it struggled, shrieked, and cut both master and pet in alternating confusion before meeting its end.

"This is too much work!" Jublop complained, dancing from foot to foot within his ghastly green aura. He was as eager for a permanent dismissal as Negate. "We should just let the messenger die."

"Your spells are slow. You're lucky to get one off before the animal dies," Negate scowled, hiking up a small mound to gaze at the field beyond—just a short strip of land before a particularly sharp drop off back into the Dead Scar—occupied by both another starving ghostclaw and a large bat.

The elf focused on the large cat, deftly conjuring fire out nothing that jumped the air with no more than a push of his hand, engulfing his victim in an eruption of flame that would wane but continue to burn him slowly. The ghostclaw snarled and charged.

Negate nudged Jublop forward with his foot. "Go! And remember, we're in a hurry," he ordered in a hiss, then left Jublop to deal with the lynx while he subdued the mistbat. Except for the emphasis on speed, this task was not particularly unique, and he had every confidence that the courier would live, assuming that was the apothecary's honest intention, and he sincerely hoped it was.

The creature died on the banks of a small split in the Elrendar, a thin branch that ran through the Dead Scar a short distance before snaking around to rejoin the ocean. Rather carelessly he knelt, thinking to collect its blood like he would all the others, but was instead surprised by the swipe of a large cat still partially aflame. With a short, angry cry, he lost his balance and tumbled easily down the scorched overhang, rolled a short distance, and ended face-down in the water.

Flipping over quickly he faced his attacker, agitated to find the ghostclaw he had charged Jublop with nearly mad with the slipping away of its life. Either his little nuisance of a servant had attracted the attention of other dangers with his grating voice, or he was simply too incompetent to handle even one dumb beast—both scenarios were equally likely.

Negate swiped mud out of his face as he stood with a growl, easily overpowering the creature's mind to send it on a terrified run down the scar and away from the warlock while he recovered himself angrily. His robes, heavy under normal conditions, were soaked, and there was even mud in his hair, he could feel it.

He removed the thick blue and gold porcelain piece that directed his hair a short distance from his scalp, allowing his hair to fall around his shoulders. Removing a glove, he wiped miserably at his crown with a whimper, and ran his fingers through his hair section-by-section. Every cloud of dirt he brushed away served to lower his spirits that much further, and the ends of his ears drooped until they could be folded in half.

"This is the price to save a man's life?" he asked himself, wincing as he dropped a clod of mud only to watch it break open, releasing a collection of varied insect life. "Oh, forget this!"

Lisys peeked her head over the edge of the drop off, holding a pair of small water flasks, emptied and used instead to hold animal blood, between boney fingers. She was startled to see Negate in such a disarray and felt prompted to watch him quietly, certain she had never seen so much hair—and definitely not on a male—in her entire life. The undead never paid much mind before, tied back as it always was, but his locks were a sight. Her own hair was considered black, but of the human variety—in reality, a mingling of very dark steel and blue hues—while his long, thick tresses were indeed black in the truest sense of the word: a rich void of no color whatsoever. She'd never wanted to touch any part of anybody so badly, and yet she wouldn't dare attempt it.

"N- … Negate?"

"What!?" he glowered at her, tossing matted strands behind his shoulder.

"I… i-… it looks fine…" she muttered shyly, backing up a step. She wasn't so keen on the idea of falling in herself.

Negate crossed his arms stiffly, ears regaining her rigidity as he took out his frustration on the undead, a common habit she'd almost forgotten about in Silvermoon City. "Can't you see it's caked with dirt?" he hissed. "Augh, Jublop, that little whoreson! … I don't suppose an ugly thing like you would carry a brush? Of course not! And oh, my robes…" he groaned, uncrossing his arms to dust off his body.

Again, Lisys was confronted with the urge to help, which she resisted—both because he would throttle her, and because she would not enter the scar without valid reason. Then, he gave her one.

As he was wringing his sleeves of muddy water and frantically beating dust off of his boots, a small, unearthly blue rock caught his eyes, glowing dimly in the filth. A voidstone; the original purpose of their journey—finally, a lucky break. Smoothing his hair behind elongated ears, he bent to retrieve it, unable to take his eyes off of the object as he lifted it to his face.

"…What is it?" asked his companion, but he didn't hear her. The object easily hijacked his thoughts, and his vision began to swirl. Negate's eyes rolled back into his head and he swayed lightly, gazing at an old, multi-floored tower haunted by ghostly figures. Sharpening and blurring of the image showed him other buildings, likewise unkempt, and likewise guarded by unhappy spirits of dead elves.

Suddenly, rooftops and tree canopies flashed by, revealing the path to Goldenmist Village, so quickly he almost felt sick, before awareness returned to his body in a jolt that nearly sent him back into the water.

Lisys dashed down the embankment with a squeal, catching his arm. "Negate!"

"Mmm… hm." The blue stone fell out of his hand with a heavy thump. "Are those flasks in your hands filled with blood?"

"What? … Oh, yeah," she released his arm and took a quick step back, confusion highlighting her forehead. "Are you all right? What happened to you just now?"

He waved her off reassuringly and replaced his glove. "Nothing that wasn't supposed to. Let's hasten the blood back to the apothecary, then we need to hurry back to the Ghostlands for a minute, and the sooner the better, lest I overexert myself with hatred for my worthless imp."

Reasonably assured he would be all right, Lisys scrambled back out of the scar—just in time, for a skeletal warrior was in the process of investigating their racket—and helped pull Negate up as well. The pair broke into a jog immediately, heading back toward the path.

"And then… And then we return to Silvermoon, right?" she asked sheepishly.

"Briefly, correct."

Lisys was squirming inside with nervous energy, even as she ran alongside him. "What if your sister, ah, isn't doing well… after all?"

"I don't anticipate that will be the case this time," he replied in an over-simplified tone before changing the subject quickly; in reality, it was difficult to let go, and he'd almost prefer not to at whatever cost. "I thought you couldn't kill animals?"

"It's different if they attack me first…" she answered, narrowing her eyes as an unexpected burst of sunlight assaulted the pair out of the west. Even then, the elf's hair was too dark to notice any impurities with unaided eyes. "You know… you really do look just fine."

"Compared to you, maybe."

//SET LOCATION: STORMWIND CITY

For a girl as young as Angel, the white pillars supporting the Cathedral of Light seemed infinite, as big around as ten of her and stretching up to the ceiling, an unknown stone sky that the simple candlelight could not quite reach. And yet, as impressive as they were, the great columns were only the least interesting feature of the massive church.

The eight-year-old's attention bounced from their stony visages to the stained glass windows to the candleholders, and then down to her feet. Beneath her worn boots, the stones were so interesting in their simplicity, a repetitive, mesmerizing pattern of green, and gray, and darker gray. She decided that the dark gray ones were somehow dangerous, and she reached her little hands up to take Leland's, so that she could pull and use her arm strength to help hop over the offensive squares.

Her tiny-fraction-of-his-weight was not an inconvenience, exactly, but did not go unnoticed either. "The fuck are you doing?"

"The dark ones are lava," Angel replied, eyebrows furrowed with concentration. "I gotta jump over them or I'll dieeee."

Leland snorted, lifting a dark bottle to his mouth. "Glad I could be of service."

She recognized the swishing without looking up. "It's too early to drink that stuff. Besides, you can't afford it anymore," she reminded matter-of-factly. "You have to spend all of your money on me."

"You're awfully fucking spoiled for an orphan. My finances are not an issue, don't worry about it." The warrior snorted and spit rudely on the plush blue carpet lining the entry on the way out, and Angel returned to walking normally.

"Ew!" she squealed, running behind his legs to the other side of him, like she expected the mucus to chase her. "If you don't like this place, then why'd we come here? Huuuh?"

Her care taker held his arm up, partially blocking the sunlight, so intense compared to the subtle candles and solemnity within the church. "I was hoping to catch Jibreel before she head out again."

"The red head? I like her. Is she your giiirlfriiieend?" she asked, skipping along beside him instead of walking.

"No. On the contrary, don't become attached. I believe she'll die soon."

She hit his hand with hers, puffing her cheeks out briefly. "Mean!"

"It's true. If you learn anything from me, learn this: Scarlet Crusaders have a high mortality rate, even worse than your average idiot paladin. Whatever you do with your life, don't join a cult."

Angel had stopped listening mid-sentence, halting to watch a high elf pass on her way to the gorgeous structure they'd just left. "Cool…"

By the time Leland noticed Angel was no longer by his side, she was out of sight, and with a growl he turned and marched back into the church, a place he never visited twice in one year, much less the same hour.

"Angel!" he snarled impatiently, his chain boots rattling noisily as they pounded the pavement, skipping two or three steps at once. "Damnit, child, the orphanage is right-fucking-over-there, I'll gladly drop your ass back off if--… small fucking world," Leland grumbled, leaning on a white pillar within the structure to take another drink.

The odds of meeting a high elf huntress in this area were slim; stranger still to see a high elf anything that would give Angel the time of day. But this woman went above and beyond the call of even cold politeness, holding her bow, unstrung, to the tiny, wandering fingers and allowing her inquiring eyes a peek inside her quiver. He was quick to decipher her identity.

Even kneeling he could see that she was tall for her race, with long, smooth legs on display thanks to a skirt no longer than Leland's shirt. She had more hair than he'd ever seen on anyone, thick silver, in large, braided pigtails on either side of her head. They were so long they touched the floor when she bent, partially obscuring mostly-bare shoulders. Her breasts, round for a lithe race but nothing to win a contest, were squeezed into an off-the-shoulder forest green top. Leland didn't really want to look, but somehow had the impression that he was supposed to.

Angel pointed without looking, heaving a sigh. "And that's Leland. He's taking care of me, well, sorta."

"Guilty as charged," Leland smiled as sincerely as he could, which wasn't at all, stepping forward to seize the child's hand. "Who's your new friend, Angel?"

Angel transferred her weight to the balls of her feet with a smile. "Her name's Adel. She's a ranger!"

"Ahh…" Leland bent, whispering harshly through grit teeth," I could have sworn I told you not to talk to these fucking people," he hissed.

"Excuse me," the ranger spoke coldly and belligerently. "This little girl is half these fucking people," she reminded, placing a hand over her heart, fingers partially obscuring her cleavage, if only for a moment.

The human straightened quickly, giving her body a quick once-over before refocusing on her face. Her Common carried a thick accent, and it annoyed him so much he'd just as soon she speak Thalassian. He made the switch for her so as to drop a mighty hint. "You're excused. Look, I don't really have anyone to watch the mutt; otherwise I'd take you to an inn. I pay well if you want to meet up later, but really, should you be working in a church?" he bent to pick up the confused half-elf, lest he lose track of her again, and held her on his hip, stalking away.

Adel's mouth fell open as she followed him, fists clenched so hard she could feel her wrist flexing against her leather bracers. If he could speak her language so well, he definitely wasn't broke, but at the same time he struck her as such a low life. "I am not a prostitute!"

"What are you talking 'bout?" Angel squirmed, tugging Leland's hair.

He ignored it, drinking with his free hand. "In that case, sweetheart, your skirt is too short."

The huntress strode quickly alongside him with an ugly sneer. "It has to be short so I can run, dick."

"It looks like your tits are waving hello. Is that also tactical?"

"What are you talking aboooout?" Angel howled, tilting her head back and kicking her legs futilely.

Adel ground her teeth, close to her last nerve. "What are you, gay? If you don't like it, don't look, and listen to me for a second!"

"You're one of them Dauntlights, aren't you?" Leland asked without stopping.

"That's right," she heaved a sigh. "I believe you're holding my niece. I've been looking for her for years now."

Leland stopped in the middle of the street, turning to look down on the blonde high elf with surprise. "Are you trying to tell me you want to take her? Here!"

"What!?" Adel gasped, her eyes expanding to the size of saucers as she took a quick step back. "I have no idea what to do with a child!"

"Woman, look at me!" he ordered urgently, using his thumb to point to his chest with the bottle in his fingers, half-elf still occupying the other arm. "Do I look like I should even have a dog!?"

"Okay, fine!" She set her hands on her hips, leaning forward aggressively. "So what was your plan, then!?"

Leland sighed. Despite the enticing showcase of cleavage, his eyes were instead drawn to her thick, red lips every time she spoke. "I was going to look for her parents."

"You won't find them," she answered, her hands falling as she averted her eyes down to the stone street.

"…Failing that, she used to have a great aunt and uncle that should be better suited to this sort of thing. If they're dead, lucky me, it's a girl," he muttered, beginning to walk again.

Angel complained loudly, laying her face down on Leland's shoulder. "I wanna talk to her, too…"

"Sounds good so far," Adel agreed, pushing her heavy braids behind her head as she continued to follow him. "Where do you figure they might be?"

"Possibly Theramore," he grumbled.

"Sounds good! I'm going with you," announced Adel. "And I won't take no for an answer."

Leland laughed sarcastically. Of course she was. "May I ask why?"

"Because I want her to go somewhere she'll be happy. Holy light, you think that just because she's an ugly half-elf, I don't care about her? This last mission is… all I have left to live for."

"Wow, that is so fucking depressing." With a grunt, Leland shifted the little girl on his hip. "Cheer up, kiddo. No longer will you be lonely when I pass out at noon. Pigtails is coming with us."

*END: CHAPTER 23*

^BEGIN: DISCUSSION^

-Rhamana: AW SHUCKS. I hope you continue to enjoy it. You are still enjoying it, right?

-Escalus: I most certainly do not! :O I'll bet you're really flakey deep inside, aren't'cha? :3 Yes, last chapter was quiiiittteee explosive. Chord = one of Ariel's victims. You might have something there ;) Hopefully you can review this one o__O That's a strange error, but I have noticed that FFnet has been acting STRANGE lately. Tea concurs.

*hearts back* you're soooh smart. :3

-Jarnxsar: You did not confuse ages (: Vaschel is 20 years older than Dawnn is, plenty old enough to have fathered him. (: I mislead everyone on purpose. BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

-Sans: I… yes… you're welcome? I think that this is a good thing, but I'm not REALLY sure. xD Hopefully that character list will allow you to read on painlessly.

-Tea: Bahahaha leave it to you to be overdramatic! :3 Always full of praise you are ,33

You're right, I do this stuff JUST TO MESS WITH YOU. I always get excited to send you a chapter filled with big revelations because I know you'll freeeeeek.

Sensitive body p--.. You pervert! Where would you even pick up a phrase like that!?

Yes, she might think something like that… :O

Don't worry, answers are coming! Always. xDD

-Umbravita: So, with the character guide, everyone is up to speed? (: I tried to keep it as amusing as possible so it wouldn't be boring xD Hopefully all of this squealy excitement lasts :3

--------Added 4/22/2010 (Sorry, I missed a couple of things x3)

-EMiH: Have I replied to your comment yet? I don't think so xD Anyway THANK YOU. Saiynt and Sihner appear to have broken up, eh? XD Does it make you sad? It makes me sad. Hopefully, connections made in the future will be more meaningful now that it's easier to keep the past straight.

-(everyone) Yeeeeep. No idea how long the next chapter will take me. A while probably. As always, subscribe if you want to be in the know ;3

If you happened to be paging through old chapters and notice something missing, it's old author's notes. I also nixed the intermission. They took up too much space and distracted from the story unesecarily--plus they artificially inflated my word count :O I shaved off at least a couple thousand words getting rid of all A/N's except for those on like, the last five chapters. And I think I missed a chapter. Anyway, nothing in the story was edited (:

^PEACE^