A/N: It's been a long road, guys. But I present to you at long last, the final chapter of Betrayal. I want to give a thousand shoutouts to every single person who took the time to read and review this story. You all are the reason I kept on going, even when I was certain it was going to be impossible to make it through a certain scene or try to make sense of some of the ridiculous lore. A particular shout out to Blame the Priest, as always, for being my rock.
As we get ready to move into the sequel, Atonement, I would like to offer all of you a little giveaway, because I am all about giving back to the fans that have given me so much. Drop a comment in the review section telling me which pairing you ship the most. Illy/Tyra? Illy/Maiev? Tyra/Mal? Some other strange combo of characters?
Whichever ship gets the most votes, I'll do a special scene in book two for that pairing.
Upon posting of Atonement, this poll is now closed.
Anyway, I won't delay you anymore. Stay tuned for a special sneak preview chapter for Atonement. I'll be seeing you there, I hope! Love, always, Skye xx
twenty six
The world was falling apart.
The world was breaking and splintering right before her eyes, with a deafening sound that filled the air, and all Maiev could do was watch helplessly. She was frozen motionless and surrounded by a whirlwind of death and chaos, and all she could do was watch helplessly. She was vaguely aware of someone calling her name, calling out to her over the dull roar of the madness, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She couldn't do anything at all except watch as the ground tore open and the Well sucked everything around it down into the swirling portal.
Rough hands grabbing ahold of her shook Maiev from her trance-like state. She whirled around, ready to cut down whatever assailant awaited her, and instead found herself face to face with Jarod. Her brother had a frantic expression on his face, his gloved hands tugging at her arm. "Maiev, come on," he said hurriedly. "We have to get out of here before we're killed."
Maiev nodded numbly, glanced back over her shoulder as the world collapsed. Jarod was trying to pull her along, trying to get her to safety, and all she could do was let him, because she seemed to have completely forgotten how to function. So close. It was so close to being over, finally over, and all she had to do was hold on a little longer. But she was so tired, and everything was falling apart, quite literally, so she trailed obediently after Jarod as he dragged her away from it all.
It was a flash of motion in the corner of her vision that finally dragged Maiev out of her trance and back into the reality of it all. Suddenly, the sound seemed overwhelmingly deafening, roaring and cracking and crumbling into what was left of the Well of Eternity. Strange, how something that was supposed to be untouchable, something that was supposed to last forever, could be so easily destroyed, and could take so much with it.
The elf blinked rapidly, trying to stop her vision from blurring. She angled her head towards the movement just in time to make out the form of Illidan, dodging felled trees and sprinting away from the scene, a look of determination upon his face, those damned fel tattoos glowing brightly. Maiev sucked in a low breath, exhaled it in the form of his name. And before she knew what she was doing, she was shaking free from Jarod's hold, ignoring his protests, and taking off at full speed after him.
She wasn't even sure what had possessed her. She just knew that she had to catch him, had to stop him. Because even if she didn't know exactly what he was doing or why he was running away, she knew that Illidan couldn't be trusted. Ever since he had defected to Azshara and then so conveniently returned after the demons had slaughtered them, she had known.
No, she thought to herself. She had known long before that. Her thoughts drifted back, only for the most fleeting of moments, to a night that seemed painfully far away, nearly forgotten in all that had happened since. When she had been younger and much more innocent and Illidan had found her all alone in the training grounds. Maiev had always known that Illidan could not be trusted. And yet again and again, she had let him in. She had dropped her guard for him over and over. She had neglected to heed her own judgment. She had given him all that she had, her heart and her body, and he had betrayed her.
Maiev would never make that mistake again. She would never open her heart to anyone, just to let them crush it and throw it back at her. She would never trust anyone as long as she lived. And she would most certainly not let Illidan run off and get away with something else that would no doubt only bring pain to everyone he crossed.
And so she ran. She pushed herself harder. She moved faster in spite of the exhaustion that had taken over her limbs and the weight of her armor trying to drag her down. She chased him down with all that she had, with all the determination and desire in the world, and in that moment nothing else mattered. Not the sound of Jarod shouting out to her, not the great cracks that filled the air as the land itself split open, not the branches of trees that scraped against her dulled plate. Nothing else mattered but making sure that Illidan Stormrage would never hurt anyone again the way that he had hurt her.
She knew not how long she ran, nor how far. Her relentless pursuit of him led Maiev through the forests, leaping over gaps that had appeared instantaneously in the ground itself as the Well had ruined the earth. It seemed that the spell Malfurion had cast upon it knew no distance, was unaware of the space it had covered as it ripped the world to shreds. It took her over ledges and up hills that she had no idea how she actually managed to climb. But she never let up on her chase, just clung to the notion that if she caught him, if she stopped him, she would be freed from the pain he had wrought upon her heart.
And then, when she was quite sure that she was out of breath entire, the forest gave way to a large clearing. In the center, there was a pristine, radiant lake, and at the edge of it knelt Illidan. Maiev skidded to a halt, breathed a sigh of relief. At long last, her chase had ended. She staggered forward, a hand raised and his name on her lips, but before she could speak, another shrill voice interrupted.
"Illidan!"
Maiev snapped her jaw shut and whirled around to see Tyrande standing at the edge of the clearing, the breeze tugging at her long strands of dark hair and the hem of her tattered dress. The priestess was flanked by Malfurion and Jarod, all three of which were staring at Illidan with horrified expressions on their faces.
At the sound of his name, Illidan rose to his feet and spun around, his fel-green eyes narrowed as they tried to make out the shapes before him. Tyrande took a staggered step towards him, her hand outstretched, her own eyes widened with fear and pain. "Illidan," she repeated, this time softer. "What are you doing?"
That certainly seemed to be the constant question, he thought bitterly. And all he could do was laugh, a hollow and humorless sound, his fingers clutching one of the empty vials. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He snapped, waving his other hand towards the lake. "I am doing what must be done, for the preservation of our people! The Well is gone, but that doesn't mean we need to lose its power." Malfurion thought himself some sort of savior, delivering them from the clutches of the demons, but from where Illidan was standing the only person his brother seemed to be trying to help was himself. He alone had made the decision to take away their source of power and immortality, just as he had made the decision to take Tyrande as his own. And just as he had known would happen, Illidan was to be left empty-handed and alone. He wasn't about to let that happen.
Malfurion watched his brother for a long time, his expression caught somewhere between a scowl and a grimace, his hands clenched into fists at his side as all of pieces of Illidan's plan fell into place. Without even realizing it, he was shaking his head, like just by refusing to accept it he could undo what had been done here, he could stop his brother from creating a new Well. "You can't-" he sputtered, but he was cut off sharply.
"It's already done," Illidan growled out. "I've already poured the waters of the Well into the lake. You're too late, Malfurion. You're not going to take this away, as you have seen it fit to take everything else I ever wanted." In spite of himself, he couldn't stop his gaze from straying to Tyrande. He caught her gaze, caught the way her cheeks blazed with shame and she dropped her stare to the ground at her feet. He felt a spark of rage in his chest at this, at how she could dare to stand there so innocently and act like she had played no part in this at all, like she hadn't known exactly what she was doing when she kissed him and then turned around and ripped his own heart out and threw it right back at him.
Malfurion was not oblivious to what was transpiring in those few silent seconds. He had known for a long time, he supposed, even if he hadn't exactly realized it. But it mattered not, in the end. Tyrande was not some prize to be won; she was, and had always been, quite capable of making her own choices. He hardly thought that he should be faulted for the path she had decided to walk, the one that had led her to his side. And certainly she didn't deserve any blame, and if Illidan couldn't see that for himself, then maybe it was a lost cause.
Instead, he tried to bring the focus back to the actual problem at hand. "Don't you understand?" He snapped, shaking his head, struggling to keep his composure. "Have you paid attention to nothing but yourself for the past months? It was the Well of Eternity that brought this whole disaster upon us in the first place. It was what lured the demons to us! Source of power or not, what you have done here is selfish-"
"Selfish?" Illidan repeated. "I have given everything to put an end to this. I have done nothing but fight the demons since the moment they arrived here."
"And now you have given them a chance to do it all over again!" Malfurion retorted. His hands were clenched into fists at his side, his frustration bleeding through as he tried to make his brother see his reasoning. But it was beginning to seem hopeless.
Illidan glowered at the emerald green glow that was his brother, unwavering and strong before him. "What would you have us do, Malfurion? You would disarm us, leave us powerless to fight back the next time the Burning Legion attacks? I've done this to protect us against them!" Malfurion had been deemed a hero, the savior of the Kaldorei, the one that had guided them through the war and brought them to salvation from Azshara's reign. But in the end, Illidan was the one that would guarantee their survival. In the end, he would be seen as the hero.
Malfurion was silent for a long time, and as he stood there with his mouth hanging open he found that he just didn't know what more he could possibly say. Illidan would not understand because he did not want to understand, because all he could see was his own desires, because his judgment was being clouded by greed, and Malfurion had never felt so incredibly far away from him before. This was his brother, his twin, half of one whole, and yet here they were with this great divide now separating them, and neither willing to step down.
"Illidan," Malfurion spoke at last. His brother's name had never sounded so broken upon his lips. But then, the man before him wasn't his brother, not really. It had never been so clear as it was in that moment, standing in the wake of all his madness. "What has happened to you?"
Now it seemed it was Illidan that had nothing to say. No retort or remark or effort to defend himself. Just this desperate expression on his face as he willed his brother, his best friend, his other half, to at least to understand his choices and see that he was doing what must be done for the sake of every night elf that still breathed.
Ultimately, it was Maiev that stepped forward, reminding everyone of her seemingly forgotten presence, a deep scowl etched into her face and her bright eyes never once leaving Illidan. "He cannot be trusted," she said, each word slow and deliberate and dripping with malice. "He has betrayed us before, and now he has done it again. We cannot just allow him to get away with this."
Tyrande threw a sharp look over her shoulder at the younger elf. Once, she had been a shy and soft spoken priestess, but this war had changed them all, and so now Maiev was left as a hardened fighter instead. It showed in the way she squared her shoulders and clutched her weapon, in the way she looked ready to lunge at Illidan any second. It took all of her self control just to hold her tongue, to stop herself from lashing out, to turn her attention back to Malfurion and rest her hand lightly on his arm. She didn't realize how badly it was trembling until she felt the way it shook against his constant steadiness. "Maybe I can talk to him," she murmured. Off to the side, she swore she heard Maiev give a sharp, muffled laugh.
Ignoring her, as well as the careful look Malfurion was giving her, Tyrande took a deep, steadying breath, and moved a few steps closer. "Illidan," she said softly as she approached, wishing to alert him of her presence, unaware that he could never have mistaken the blinding bright glow of her aura for anyone else. When there was only a short distance left between them, she took a chance, reached out to take his hand in her own. "Illy," she mumbled quietly, a voice meant only for him to hear. With their fingers laced together, she thought back to all the times she had done the exact same thing before, all the times they had stood side by side, defended each other, promised each other that nothing could ever keep them apart. Giving his hand a tight squeeze, she willed him to remember as well.
And remember he did, far better than he wished. His chest constricted with pain as he clung to her hold, wanting nothing more than to pull her in closer, to hold her in his arms always, to keep her as his own. But that wasn't what she wanted, was it? No, she had made that clear. He had gone over this in his mind a thousand and one times, and it never made any difference. It never changed the outcome, never eased the hurt, never made it any easier for him. Losing her love was the hardest thing he had ever endured, excepting maybe the way that it felt to have her to stand before him now and try to offer him any sense of peace after she had torn his world apart in the first place.
All at once, he shook free of her hold. "No," he hissed. "No more, Tyrande. Don't act like I matter to you, not after what you did to me that night."
There it was. In spite of the fact that this was probably supposed to be a painful scene unfolding before her, Maiev had to bite down at the insides of her cheeks to stop the corners from turning up in a smirk. Her gaze flickered to where Malfurion stood off to her side, saw the way his face fell in defeat at the words spoken and how Tyrande recoiled like she had been slapped. It didn't matter what had happened between her and Illidan, Maiev knew, only that something had happened, and she could use that to her advantage.
"Malfurion," she murmured lowly, leaning in, gripping her weapon, watching him intently. And as soon as he gave the slightest dip of his chin, closing his eyes for a moment too long, long enough not to see the way she threw herself forward with all the passion in the world.
Illidan almost didn't see her coming. Maybe he wouldn't have seen it at all if not for the way Tyrande sucked in a breath, letting it back out in a shrill cry, lunging out of the way just in time for Illidan to raise one of his demonic glaives to meet the umbra crescent. His force was enough to knock Maiev back, but she was instantly coming at him again, the echo of their weapons filling the clearing.
They fought relentlessly. Any time Illidan gained the upper hand, Maiev would switch her approach, and he was left trying to gauge the way her outline moved, watching the shades of fiery red rage flicker and dance around him, trying to feel the shift of the air as it blew past her curved blade. "You ruined everything," Maiev grunted between great, arcing swings, lunging in close and then pulling back before he had a chance to retaliate. "You cost half the rebellion their lives. You led Azshara right to the Dragon Soul. You broke my heart."
Anger seared at Illidan's veins with each word that left her lips, each of his crimes laid out before him, one by one. With an animalistic snarl, he gripped his glaives tighter and charged her down, landing a blow against her armor, the impact enough to send her sprawling against the grass once more.
"Maiev!" The frantic cry of her brother shattered the moment, dragged Illidan out of the trance of the fight and back into reality, reminded him of where they were. A flash of movement to his side caught his eye, just in time for him to spin around and release a surge of emerald flames that collided right with Jarod's chest. He was thrown back, a howl of pain on his lips as his head hit the ground hard, the scene fading from view, his vision clouded with darkness.
The sight was enough to drag Maiev from her own frenzied rampage, abandoning her weapon as she cried out for Jarod, staggering to her feet and rushing to his side. She dropped to her knees, her hands moving over him, pushing his hair away from his face, terror streaked across her face. His eyes were closed, and he wasn't moving, and he wasn't answering her, and all over again she was frozen and powerless as the world fell apart. "Jarod," she whimpered. "Jarod, please." She ripped off her gauntlets and threw them aside, squeezing her eyes shut to stop the flow of tears, a rushed prayer upon her lips as she tried to call upon Elune to grant her just enough strength to heal him.
Illidan stood breathless, panting, his chest rising and falling. In the absence of the battle, the clearing felt painfully silent, broken only by the occasional audible sob from Maiev as she clutched to her unconscious brother. Across the glade, Tyrande stared at him like she had never seen him in all her life, and although he wasn't able to see her face, he was able to feel the tension that flowed from her, from all of them, until it made the air so thick he swore he was going to choke on it.
He felt his mouth open, perhaps some sort of apology ready to spill forward. But whatever he was about to say never made it past his lips, for a moment later a shadow descended upon him, and before he had time to react to it at all, Maiev had knocked him across the back of the head with the handle of the umbra crescent. Her maliciously scornful expression, so utterly full of hatred, all for him, was the last thing he saw before he collapsed into the darkness.
...
The first thing he felt was the pain taking over his body. His head was spinning and everything was dark, which he should have been used to anyway, but this was a different kind of darkness. It took a few minutes for him to gather the strength to push himself up off the cold, hard ground. He didn't know where he was or where he was going, if there was even anywhere to go. He didn't know anything except the pounding in his head and the hot, coppery taste of blood in his mouth.
Managing to push himself to his feet, stumbling in the shadows for something to support him, Illidan finally felt his body collide with the damp stone wall. His legs were threatening to give out beneath him, but still he took a few steps, wiping the blood away from his lips. Fading in and out of consciousness, drifting somewhere between pitch black and something even darker, a thousand memories flashed across his mind.
Somewhere, he could hear voices, and he wasn't sure if they were real or in his head, because everything was sort of blurring together. The sound of his name reached his ears, then, spoken in a sweetly soft and tragically broken voice. Like a dagger tearing into his flesh. Of all the times he had heard his name fall from her lips, it had never hurt him as much as it did then. Nothing else existed except that sound.
Illidan opened his mouth to call out to that familiar voice, but only ended up coughing up a mouthful of blood, spitting it against the ground. He took a few more hesitant steps, and was met instantly with a sharp, shooting pain from his shoulders. Only then did he become aware of the chains that bound him, the cool metal he hadn't noticed before encircling his wrists and making it impossible for him to move more than a few feet.
With this realization came the panic, settling in heavily upon his chest until he couldn't breathe, rushing rapidly through his veins as he gave a hard tug at the chains. All they did was rattle against themselves and cause a fresh wave of pain to descend upon him. A low grunt passed through his lips, his knees giving out at last; they hit the ground hard, the chains allowing him to slump forward, dangling in agonizing defeat.
When he finally managed to find his voice, he found that it was impossibly hoarse, his throat impossibly dry. He swallowed hard, tried again, finally managed to croak something out past his chapped lips. "T-Tyrande?" He called out. Her name had never sounded as frantic as it did in that moment, and it seemed to ricochet around in the pitch black, bouncing off of walls he couldn't see, reminding him with each echo of his own pathetic desperation. "Tyrande," he whimpered again, so soft he doubted it was even audible.
But no reply came, and Illidan was left to wonder if she had ever been there at all, or if he was only imagining the sound of her voice.
It was impossible to tell how much time passed by him. Without even the faintest hint of light for him to cling onto and no indication of anything that was happening, it all seemed to slip away until it didn't exist at all. Illidan thought that he could still hear the voices talking, low and distance, and he devoted all of his energy into straining to hear them. Tyrande, he swore, he would have recognized the sound of her voice anywhere, and another, deeper one…
"It is settled, then. Illidan will remain here, where he cannot endanger anyone more than he already has."
A muffled sob. The shifting of heavy armor.
"I will not fail you, Malfurion," came another voice. Feminine, but not Tyrande. Illidan frowned deeply, trying hard to concentrate in spite of the pain that still stemmed from the base of his skull and swam around his head, making it so hard for him to remember anything. "Believe me when I say that nobody sees the importance of this task as much as I do."
Another long pause. Then Illidan made out the sound of soft, hurried footsteps, saw the faintest outline of a glow moving in closer.
"Illidan." Tyrande spoke in a hushed whisper, her slender fingers wrapping around the bars of his prison.
"Tyrande," he said again, with the same sense of urgency. He tried to move closer to her, to her light that was somehow strong enough to shatter through this darkness. But the chains would not allow him to come any further than he had, and Illidan felt painfully aware of the distance that remained. "What's going on? Where am I?"
A delicate sigh fell from her lips, her hold on the bars so tight that her knuckles stood out white against her soft lavender flesh. "I'm sorry, Illy," she murmured. "I tried to change his mind. I tried, but he wouldn't-"
"What are you talking about?" Illidan growled, much harsher than he meant to, but he couldn't handle all the pain in the way that she spoke.
She never got the chance to answer, though, to offer any sort of explanation or any more of an apology. Not that it would have mattered anyway. Tyrande knew all too well that her words could offer him little comfort, especially now. Instead, it was Malfurion's deep voice that broke the silence, calling out to her, beckoning her back to his side.
And Tyrande, dropping her hands from the bars, squeezing her eyes shut to stop the tears that stung her eyes from breaking free, turned away from Illidan once and for all. Not a single word, not so much as a muffled goodbye. She just left him there, and she made sure to take his heart right along with her.
Illidan watched as her white light disappeared, swallowed up into the blackness, swore his heart stopped beating when it had gone. Her name ripped free from his lungs in a terrible cry that echoed in the crepuscule. He ripped and the chains that gel him back, and he screamed for her again and again, ignoring the pain in his throat and shoulders as he did.
At last, he gave up altogether, for he knew she couldn't hear him anymore. Or at the very least, she wasn't listening. He gave up, and he let her go, let everything go, let himself go numb because it was all he could do to stop the stabbing ache of betrayal in his chest.
And then it was easy to succumb to the darkness, which he should have been used to anyway.
You want to believe that there's one relationship in life that's beyond betrayal
A relationship that's beyond that kind of hurt
And there isn't.
-Caleb Carr-