After over a year, it has returned.
-Statyck
/*\
Feyly awoke the next morning much the same how she'd woken in the night, except for it being busy. People were milling about in the halls and the fountains of the upper levels gurgled pleasantly. Feyly couldn't help but think that things looked pleasant, normal. It wasn't until Rayne rolled over, snuggling into her, that she realized it was time for her to start her day.
The night was over. Rayne would just have to deal with it. She turned and poked at him.
"Rayne, I have to get up. The night has ended."
"And until someone requests your presence, I can keep you."
Feyly rolled her eyes. It was tempting to lay back down. Of all the men she slept with, she liked Rayne a little more than the rest. After all, he did use his privileges for her benefit. It was tempting to just remain there, cuddled in his arms in the nook away from everything else. Even if someone came for her, chances were that nobody would even be able to find her.
But then a wave of power flowed over the temple, something as intense as a tsunami yet lighter than a breeze. Thinly restrained rage echoed throughout the walls, wrath without a voice. It was so strong yet so controlled that Feyly had no idea what to make of it. She raced to the entrance of her room and stood there, confused, when arms wrapped around her and pulled her back as an enraged scream finally echoed throughout the halls. She could hear glass shatter with the noise and shards scattered the floor and dug into walls, and the wreckage stood right where she was standing.
"How did you know that was going to happen?" Feyly asked, staring up at Raynes face. He wore a blindfold, but she could tell he was looking away from her.
"He's angry." He muttered darkly. She felt him pull on her arm, more forcefully this time and that was when Feyly realized that she was not the only one who'd noticed. Alarmed voices rang out through the halls. Demons and demonesses hissed and shouted commands at each other in a foreign language, words that sounded like the crackling of flames. Feyly reluctantly let Rayne pull her back the second time that day.
He enjoys thinking of himself as a protector. She thought to herself. Let him have this for just a moment.
Though she was anxious to get out into the halls and find out just what had happened she allowed him to do as he pleased. Rayne pushed her back onto the bed and got between her and the door. Though she could hear panicked words and the stomping of hooves, people and demons trying to keep the den in order, she felt she would just have to wait and see.
Feyly thought she knew what was going on. She hadn't seen Lilythae since the funeral the day before, and there was only a handful of people in the temple that powerful.
All she had to do was figure out how to peacefully escape Rayne's protective grasp.
/*\
The Lord of Outland woke to find his bed empty.
He jolted up, swearing. He whirled to the door, inspecting the room. As he suspected her clothes were gone, no longer piled up on the floor. Her boots were neatly absent, and the blankets beside him had long since gone cold. It took all his inner strength not to rip a hole in his bedcovers. He had hoped for the opportunity to speak to her before she ran away.
Illidan turned to his desk. He wasn't sure what to do. He could go out and look for her, but that might strike the denizens of the temple as desperate behavior. In an equal mix of Illidari, naga, broken, and demons that was a very bad impression to give. As he cupped his head in his hands, he realized he felt tight feeling on the skin of his chest. The scab from the mark. It pulled on the flesh where it had healed just atop his breastbone.
His finger traced the edge, doing his best not to rip it back open. A spot of blood pooled beneath his claw. He didn't know much about the marks; it was never something he'd thought very hard about. There was a time when he'd wondered but he'd all but forgotten when Tyrande rejected him. What he did know was that he might be able to get a feel for Lilythae's emotions. Right now, that was all he needed.
He wasn't sure how to conduct the magic, if it required a complex ritual or if he simply needed to sit back and relax. His lack of knowledge sent a wave of frustration coursing through him, and as he slammed his fist into his desk a jolt of surprise struck him in the back of his mind.
But he didn't think it was his own surprise.
He got an image in his mind. The courtyard. The very same one where he kept the fel orcs. The one that their enemies continuously conquered and entered the temple from. He caught the faintest glimpse of demonic runes and glowing green candles but that was it. Now that he thought about it, he could also feel the slightest drain on his power. She had left him to summon something. To bolster the fortifications of the Black Temple? He couldn't exactly object, especially now that it gave him an excuse to go looking for her.
In a matter of moments, he was out in the courtyard. He watched as a massive blue infernal came crashing down from the sky. It slammed into the earth and stood, unfolding into a monstrosity that even he was impressed by. Lilythae finished her incantation and stationed it right at the front entrance of the temple.
When he turned back to examine her, he found the familiar fire of her eyes locked on him. She opened her mouth and spoke.
/*\
Lilythae remembered the moment she first saw him.
It had, after all, been the worst day of her life. Latha'lor had held the broken mage in his arms. The demon hunter had whispered reassuring words into Lilythae's ears, holding her close and stroking her hair. She would have never expected that one such as him would be capable of such warmth, such kindness. Yet it was a small comfort. In retrospect, had it not been for her debilitating grief Latha'lor would have quite likely been her lover.
Latha'lor had set her down in front of an altar. She was one of several in line. Latha'lor sat down on the ground with her and explained what was going to happen.
"Lilythae," he whispered, "This is it. Are you ready? If you feel spooked, or not up to your full strength, we can find you other accommodations for the next week or two." The demon hunter almost seemed concerned with his furrowed brows, his fanged mouth curving into a small frown.
The Den. Latha'lor had already told her what the alternative would be if she chose not to go through with the ceremony. The night elf might have had a point though. Lilythae could still feel the bruises on her skin, the stinging of the gashes in her flesh. She knew she had expended too much magic. She had hurt herself near beyond repair. At the time she hadn't cared. She wondered if she should let Latha'lor scoop her up into his arms and take her to one of the many cushioned beds, but she could feel her face contorting just thinking about it. Her decision had been made though, and she wasn't one to turn back on her decisions.
When she looked up to the pedestal, the ring, she spied five small stairs. It led up to an altar, and that was when she saw him.
She had heard so many stories about this man from her deceased husband. She'd heard how he'd betrayed his people, made use of dark magic, and pushed every boundary there was in the arcane. He stood there weaving magic and fel together like it was nothing, knitting it into one with his dark talons. He turned to stare down at another newcomer, a sin'dorei man, who stood in the miniature arena.
He was tall, the leader. His horns made for a dramatic silhouette, and his wings had been folded neatly into his back. His arms had crossed, and though a bandage obscured his eyes she knew he could still see. When he opened his mouth, she saw that every one of his teeth had been pointed. The canines peeked out just below his upper lip. The sharp angles of his face in the light gave the impression that he was almost pretty. Over-long locks of hair hung down his stature, well-groomed and tidy. His voice rang in her ears, deep and smooth and laced with enchantment. She recognized the magic, knew it was on purpose, but she still could have sat there and listened to him for hours. He was demonic in nature, that much was obvious, but he was so well-spoken. He stood with such dignity and elegance.
She could see why the Den was such an active place, every woman hoping for a chance to spend a few hours with their leader. He was attractive in almost every conceivable way. Though she could not see the exact point in which his sight shifted, she saw his jaw tilt. It was such a slight, sudden movement. It could have merely been a trick of the light, but she knew that wasn't true. That was the moment he first saw her. She was sure of it. When she didn't look away, when she stared at him with open awe and curiosity, she watched his lips twitch upward.
But he didn't smile at her now, just over a year later. Instead his hooves clopped down the pathway, his towering form standing next to her. He appraised her work and stared down at her. It almost reminded her of the first time he'd looked at her. Almost.
She was still displeased with him. She was sure he could feel it, drown in it. She would have liked to tell him off, ask for space, but she couldn't do that. There were too many people watching, and there was too much risk in voicing her wrath. Stability is key. She thought.
"My apologies for leaving this morning," Lilythae said, "A messenger came to the door. You did not awaken. He said that another raid party might be coming for us again. I wasn't interested in cleaning up any more messes as we have been the past several days." Near the end she might as well have been spitting.
Illidan said nothing. He only took her hand, and in front of the demon hunters, the naga, the orcs, everyone, teleported with her. Lilythae was momentarily disoriented, squeaking in surprise when the spell took hold. Once she got her bearings, she realized that he'd brought her back into his room. Before she had the chance to say anything or protest, Illidan grabbed her by the hips and maneuvered her onto his bed. Before she could push him away, tell him she was still angry with him, he spoke.
"Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?"
/*\
He knew it likely wouldn't be enough to make peace, not truly, but perhaps it would be a start. First and foremost, he pulled his memory to the forefront, and he let her see it.
That night one year ago had been a good one. It had been just before the boom, just before Kael'thas allied with him and gave him legions of sin'dorei to work with. It was a time when seven people in one day was a lot, and he remembered that one of those people had been terribly wounded.
He had heard her story, knew that he small cuts along her face and arms were too fine to be the work of any demon's blade. She'd done it to herself when she blew up the city, doing everything in her power to eradicate the creatures that slew her family. She'd held no more care for her own well-being, and every wound she bore was self-inflicted because of it.
Mana mixed with blood as it dripped down her face. Her hair had been singed and she seemed content to simply relax in Latha'lor's arms. He'd looked up at her only to see that she'd been staring. She'd seen him first. According to those in the den, women always saw the men first.
It had been the first time he'd ever seen someone so powerful. The only person he'd ever met who could rival her was likely Kalyne. He made sure to mention that, and to add that Lilythae was much, much stronger. He had wanted her from the moment he first saw her, but he understood grief. He understood pain. Though he hadn't waited long he'd waited, and though he could not have her as a part of the personal harem, he could still devise ways of keeping her close. She had been powerful enough to retain her sight.
He'd watched the man kill the demon on the pedestal. It hadn't been anything too interesting, just a felguard. The elf had dismembered the monster easily, expertly ripping the heart out before the body disintegrated back into the nether. The man had been so sure of himself, so very full of rage. He had been sure that his fury alone would have been enough to allow him to survive. And for a time, it did.
But that did not exempt him from the vision. It did not exempt him from the temporary madness. It did not exempt him from the pain. Illidan watched as the elf clawed at his own eyes, ripping them out as the fel worked its way through his body. It was nothing Illidan hadn't seen before, nor was it something that upset him. Not anymore.
The man had to be taken away on a stretcher as always. She had been next. He watched Latha'lor whispering to her, supporting her as she tried to stand herself. He could hear his Illidari's words, far away as he was.
"Please Lilythae, reconsider. You don't have to do this now. We can postpone the ceremony a few days so that you can be at you full strength. In fact, we'd prefer it. To increase your chances of surviving."
Indeed, it would, but she was having none of it. Instead she held onto Latha'lor's arm, practically dragging him up to the stage as she tried to keep her balance. She got to the edge of the ring, and the demon hunter had to let his arm drop. He watched after her as she stumbled and fell to her knees, coughing blood. When she looked back up, she was surprised. Though he already knew, he asked her name.
"What are you called?" He asked, allowing his voice to gentle.
"Lilythae," the woman answered.
"How severe are your wounds?" he asked, tilting his head at her just the slightest. Her determination was admirable, but it would help no one if her over eagerness got her killed. He couldn't see her eyes, but he caught the faintest twitch of her mana. He would have almost thought she'd smirked at him.
"They look worse than they are. I'm a mage. My power is not measured by a few scratches to the face." And with that she finally regained her balance. He saw her silhouette straighten. Though he could still see the mana leaking from her features, the blood, she seemed unbothered. Illidan couldn't help but study her a moment.
He had been at a genuine loss for what to do that day. She stood before him exuding such confidence, such raw power, that he entirely believed her. She could kill anything she wanted whenever she wanted, and he suspected that she'd quite easily be able to take on a very powerful demon. On the other side of that, she was wounded. She had hurt herself extensively, and if she tried to take on the demon he had in mind for her she might not make it.
It would be a shame to waste that kind of power.
So instead of carrying on with the ceremony, he made a very unusual decision. He'd only done it twice before, with this being the third time. Instead of returning to his book and reciting the spell, he spread his wings wide. He let himself glide down to the pedestal and he took a closer look at her. She was lying.
If he could smell the blood from ten feet away, then it completely swarmed him now. Her blood had smelled sweet, distraught, angry. Deathly. If she went through with this now, as she was, it wouldn't go as she thought. He said as much.
"You will take Latha'lor's counsel. Rest a few days. Get those wounds fixed up. Return here when you have healed."
/*\
Lilythae didn't know what his point was. What he meant to do by showing her all of this. She stared at the vision of herself, as her past self and Illidan glared at each other before they dissolved into fel sparks. She let her gaze flicker back to his face, the one that lurked just atop her. She could feel her eyes narrow. She prepared to speak when he interrupted her.
"I have always found you noticeable Lilythae. Bright and willing to do everything in your power to save our world. I have placed my trust in you, and now I must ask you to do the same for me."
He lifted himself off her, slowly backing up and giving her space. Lilythae sat up cautiously. She appraised him, gauging his body language. He seemed relaxed but she could tell from the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched, that he was braced for something. Was he waiting for her to attack him?
"What is it that I need to trust you with?" she asked slowly. She could feel her own muscles beginning to tense. She felt on the verge of entering fight or flight, and if there was one thing she knew it was that she wasn't about to run away from Illidan. If they got into conflict, it wouldn't end until one of them died.
"Your life," he said softly, "I am sorry for what happened last night. You gave me your trust and I violated it. I will get us separated as quickly as possible, if that is what you wish. However, I would ask that it waits until after Mardum."
"Why?" Lilythae felt her eyebrow quirk, "You and I both know that they'll try to launch an attack when we're gone and you're presumably vulnerable. Why wouldn't you want to be at full power?"
"Because I want you to survive." He answered simply. "It's crucial that you get the keystone, and with me here playing as a distraction, there will be no misguided adventurers following after you. We need to capture that keystone, that planet, and that ship."
But there was one thing Lilythae knew that Illidan didn't. She could feel him. Not quite in the same sense that she felt him last night, but she knew. The throbbing in her shoulder told her all she needed to know. There was a stony desperation within him, a clenching fear deep in his heart. He wasn't being entirely truthful with her and as she blinked at him, prodding at the emotions just that much more, she found what she was looking for. It wasn't just about the keystone. What he had been unwilling to verbalize was quite simple. He didn't want her to die.
That was all she needed. She stood up and approached him carefully. She placed a hand on his chest and closed her eyes.
"I trust you." She said.
It would have been a lie to say that she was no longer angry, no longer upset about what had transpired the night before but what was done was done. There was nothing they could do at present to fix it, but for now she was alright with that. Illidan had shown a certain level of understanding for their situation, and he realized that he was in just as a precarious position as she.
Vulnerability was a dangerous thing, especially now. Especially in a place filled with demons and moles and rage. If the wrong people in the temple found out this connection, they would be at an even further disadvantage. There was no telling what would happen when the next attack would be launched, and she knew that Illidan was not interested in watching any more of his men and women die. Yes, she was still very angry, but there were more important things to worry about now.
Very softly she kissed his cheek.
"We need to keep bolstering our defenses." She whispered. "We are obviously at a disadvantage right now. If they return and more people die, we might not be able to launch our attack. We need to be making plans."
"What do you suggest lieutenant?" he asked, staring down at her evenly. It would seem, for now, they had reached a truce. They discussed the issue for a time, and then Lilythae left for the Den.
/*\
Illidan had half a mind to follow her, but for now he needed to do as she said. She was correct in that he hadn't thought this through. He could sense the single thought emanating from her person.
He is such an idiot.
But he wasn't as foolish as she'd convinced herself. He realized that a certain level of communication was to be had between them, through magic or something else. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it might help them in the near future.
Lilythae had made an equally valid and infuriating point. Though he could technically still sleep with his harem, there was no way the bite mark would go unnoticed. He needed to tell them all what happened, and he needed to get them on his side. He knew there was one woman who wouldn't take the news well at all. He hoped the others would have his back on this. At the very least, if things went awry, Lilythae would know to come help.
He let his hooves slam against the stone as he stomped over to his desk. He would have to write out his summons, wait for them to arrive to his chambers one by one. It would cause too much of a scene to summon all at once. He sighed, letting his horns rest against the wall as he glared down at his lettering. He didn't want to do this for a multitude of reasons, but it had to be done. He couldn't have word of this reaching the rest of the temple, and more specifically Kalyne.
But then, that would be over with soon enough. She had run herself out of chances and was likely being driven mad. She was an obsessive creature, lazy and vain and too used to getting whatever she wanted when she wanted it. It was an attitude she'd never been able to remove from herself, not that she had ever wanted to.
Just as he finished his letter to Kor'lei the alarm sounded. For a split second he felt his stomach lurch. They couldn't handle another raid from Shattrath. There was no way they'd be able to stave them off a third time over the course of a week. When the imp came to him, he eagerly demanded the news. It was much, much worse.
Someone had led and attack on the Warden's Cage. They had done it. They had bested his guards and released Maiev before he was ready. There was no way he'd ever manage to recapture her, and now that she was roaming Shadowmoon Valley of her own free will there was no telling when she'd materialize out of thin air and ram her glaive through his neck. This couldn't be happening. Not now.
It was all falling apart. His plans, the Black Temple, everything. He was never going to accomplish what he had set out to do. They were all going to die, and he couldn't help but wonder for just a split second whether it was his fault.
/*\
The Den was as vibrant as ever, and for once Lilythae decided to make her bed on the top floor. There weren't very many spots up there, but it was likely she'd be able to find herself a seat today. Everyone was mulling about on the main floor, talking and eating and showing affections. She could feel the eyes on her as she walked through. She prayed to whoever would listen that she'd dressed herself well enough.
She had hidden the wound beneath a pauldron. She hoped that it would be enough. With every step forward the skin felt tight, like it would tear at any moment. She was sure she had started bleeding again, but it wasn't as though she could hide. She had made her decision that morning impulsively. It hadn't been wise to answer the door on Illidan's behalf, especially in her state of undress. Rumors were likely flying around the temple already, but if she continued being absent the rumors would only intensify. She had to make an appearance. She had to ensure her presence remained known.
As soon as she settled into her mattress, staring up at the stars and ready for a nap, one of the girls approached her. She looked almost shy, the girl, and she asked if Lilythae wanted anything. The demon hunter said no, and that was that. The girl went away under the watchful eyes of the shivarra, and just as Lilythae was drifting happily to sleep she felt it.
It was like an explosion, but nothing was broken. Nothing was burning. Nothing was physically wrong. That was when Lilythae realized, something was standing at the foot of her bed. Rather it was someone. She strongly suspected she knew who was there. She had never formally met the woman, but there were only a few people in the temple who could wield magic like that.
As Lilythae let her eyes slide open, she found she was correct. The alleged Queen Consort was staring down at her with a rage so palpable that the mana had encased them both in a sort of bubble. The few women who saw were quickly running away and downstairs, a precious view staying to watch. It seemed obvious, what Kalyne was going to do.
"Just who do you think you are," she whispered, "to take everything I ever wanted."
"What was it that you wanted Kalyne?" Lilythae asked. She didn't dare move, not yet. She had been caught sleeping, literally. She hadn't thought that pretending as though things were normal was going to be exactly safe, but if Kalyne was going to attack her in the broad daylight like this then she really didn't care anymore. Illidan would kill her for attacking one of the Illidari like this. She knew it. Kalyne knew it. They all knew it.
"I wanted to be happy," she whispered, "I thought that perhaps I could find that here, my happiness. Instead I got voices. Voices that never, ever shut up."
She conjured something in her hands, something that even Lilythae wanted to shrink away at. Kalyne saw her reaction, saw just how afraid she was. The consort offered a bitter smile.
"You think I don't feel guilty for the choice I made?" she inquired, "I should have become a demon hunter. I know that. But I wasn't useful that way. He wanted to know about the void. He wanted to study it, understand it, but he couldn't do it himself with the fel in him. It just wouldn't work. Now it's in me. It's infected me, and there is no way to get rid of it."
And just like that Kalyne vanished. The bubble of mana was gone, the girl vaporized. Lilythae stared at the spot she'd occupied in shock. It was like she'd ripped open a hole in reality itself, falling backwards into a dark hole. It was so fast, so surreal, that Lilythae had to wonder for a moment if she'd hallucinated the whole thing. But she hadn't. She knew she hadn't.
She sat there staring until one of the girls tapped her shoulder. She could feel it in her body, trying to infect her very soul. The girl called for help. It took but moments for Illidan to arrive, asking what had happened. She could faintly register the words as the girl explained how Kalyne had let herself fall into the void, effectively escaping the Black Temple and presumably never returning. The girl told him that Lilythae had gone almost catatonic, unresponsive in every way imaginable. She still couldn't move. She still couldn't rip her focus away from what had just happened, what she felt wriggling in her flesh.
Finally, Illidan knelt in front of her, taking her face in his hands. Finally, she could move. Her eyes flickered to him, and for a split second she could see herself as he saw her. She could see the horror written on her face, the small 'o' of her mouth as she struggled to speak.
"My ankle." She choked. "She's done something to me, and it's on my ankle."
Illidan called over a medic, and the woman followed procedure. She checked for a temperature. She checked for broken bones. Finally, when she lifted Lilythae's skirt to check her ankle, she let out a horrified gasp and jumped back. The other women present stared unabashedly. Even the demons recoiled at the sight of the wound.
Right there on Lilythae's ankle was a swirling blue mark. A blue mark that sparked unpleasantly outward with void energy.
/*\
I hope to start updating more regularly again. I'm sorry it took so long.
-Statyck