Fire is fleeting. The heat, the frenzy… it dies eventually. There's no fuel that can sustain fire eternal, but the memory of that heat can never die. Chasing an echo of the fires that once came may bring truth to light, or it may allow the flame to rage once again. So the Highlands were chosen, where the greatest display of fire's fury had ever been seen. The place where the Colossus of War was born, a myth and legend that still permeated Azeroth's military to this day. Sint knew the myth well, for it was attributed to her. By no mistake, she knew that none particularly were willing to believe that Sint was the one who caused that great inferno to appear. Already did she carry an infamous legacy, already did she carry so many feats that drove many to fear her, leaving most to be truly unwilling to grant more terrors to her name. But she knew fully well what she had done.
Though the myth speaks of a golden hero falling from the heavens, a mighty man of molten gold and titanic height with a blazing axe and a horned helm, who cracked the earth with his colossal might and threw fire and flame into the heavens through the power of the Light; the truth was no less mythical, it was just that the Light had not given her chosen people an avatar of War to fight their war for them. The truth was terrifying. Shadowy forces had fallen once more upon the Highlands, and Sint was carrying a great rage with her when she fell upon the shadow's cohorts. Both Horde and Cult suffered setback after setback as this new marshal crushed their efforts, before they finally faced her in battle. This war had taken near everything from Sint Dagon, so in a fit of fury; she unleashed the full might of her family's blood. From within her came fire, a blaze that raced towards the heavens. It boiled the river, devoured the ground, scorched the clouds. It turned her foes to ash, her army lucky to have been retreating as she exploded.
It was a victory and a terrible reminder of the Dagon family's power. In the awakening of fire, Sint revealed to the world that there were more powers out there than the Light and Chaos. There were things within mankind, within other sentient beings, that could put fear into these cosmic forces. A fear she manipulated as she fought Void and Shadow, a power she allowed to be realized by many others. A power she refined later on, in battle against those who possessed similar yet fouler abilities. But where did this strength rise from? This is what she wanted to know.
Standing at the edge of a crater she had created, Sint looked down to find a single clue of what Dragonfire meant. An echo of the pure fury she unleashed that day. She slid down the slope leading down to where she collapsed, kicking up a great deal of ash. Holding her breath, Sint hoped to not breathe in the remains of the people she disintegrated that day. Her boot hit solid ground as she reached the middle, where the ash refused to pool. An invisible pressure denied anything purchase to the ground where Sint stood, the pillar of unleashed sorrow bursting from her body. She knelt down, all too familiar with this pressure. It was the same pressure her gaze carried, the same pressure she felt whenever she unleashed her power. Residual draconic rage, an undying echo of the inferno that once raged here.
She knelt down to study the ground, pulling one of her gloves off to feel the soil with bare skin. The ground felt strange. Where dirt was moist and easy to manipulate, it felt as if this dirt had been turned to brittle stone. It was hard, solid, yet easy to break through with her fingers. It broke in almost geometric forms, clumps of cubes and jagged prisms instead of clumps of mud. Rather peculiar, Sint decided to stand and take a look around herself, to see if anything similar had manifested nearby. That was, until she caught something at the corner of her vision. She drew her sword, pacing carefully into the center of the crater. There was a pattern, almost a symbol, stretching out from the center. A few deft swipes broke fallen debris out of the crevices of this pattern, leaving a fairly distinct marking in the ground. Unknown to Sint, she chose to mark this down in her mind, soon leaving the crater to study the rest of the destroyed forest.
"Didn't jot that symbol down?" Sint came alone, but with the company she carries, she was never truly alone. The voice's owner draped her arms over a crouching Sint, the scent of oranges filling her senses.
Sint put the piece of metal she was studying down, placing a hand on this person's metal arm. A smile crossed Sint's face, "Geneva, you came."
"Of course I'd come. This stuff's personal to you." Geneva pulled back, walking around to take a look at what Sint was studying. Geneva Dagon. Spymaster and assassin, she's been Sint's closest friend and ally ever since they were children. Once an Algol, she gladly gave up her name when Sint proposed to her a year prior. She and Sint made an odd couple; as where Sint appeared Dark and Intense, Geneva was bright and easygoing. Vibrant orange hair, pale freckled skin, and a pair of big and bright eyes made Geneva stand out in most crowds, in fact. That mane of frizzy hair was hard to miss, at the very least. Reaching out with a metal hand, Gene lifted up the hunk of scorched black metal that Sint put down. She gave it a perplexed look, "Hard to make out who this belonged to once. Even the Horde's metal can't survive the heat you throw around."
"Hm." Sint looked a little to the side.
"Sint? What's up?" Gene set the metal down, leaning forward to catch Sint's gaze.
A wayward look was thrown the way of a cave entrance nearby, revealed by her scorching flame a year ago. The place she was dragged by Geneva, the place where Geneva first expressed her true feelings to Sint. It left a bitter note in Sint's mouth, that day, for it was the day she also rejected Geneva's feelings. She looked back to Gene, "I'm not sure about this."
"About what? The gift?" Gene stood up sharply, "Because I'm pretty sure about it. Sure it's made you into a legend. Keeps food on our table because people keep asking around for your Blades."
"That's not what I'm worried about." Sint grumbled, "It's what I saw in my anger. All of my family drew their swords and stood by my side, all of them. Even my father. But I also saw a dragon, and I saw…"
"Don't keep me waiting." Geneva put her hands on her hips, peeking around the area while Sint spoke.
"I saw Death." Sint's words were almost too absolute. They dragged on through the air, javelins of black fear thrust into the rather upbeat mood that had now been forced away. Geneva stumbled backwards, tripping over a discarded weapon. Leaping to her feet, Sint caught Gene's hand before she hit the ground. Honest concern washed over Sint's features, "Geneva! Are you okay?!"
Gene blinked rapidly, taking a deep breath as she was now held in the strong arms of her wife, "Uh… Yeah. Sorry. That just… Hit me out of nowhere. Death? Death. DEATH!? What do you mean!?"
"I mean I saw Death. Among the armies I conjured, the destruction I wrought, I looked toward the distance and saw a black leviathan rise from the sea, washing over the land. I'm certain I was unconscious by then, but it destroyed the flames I left, leaving naught but the ghosts of perdition in my wake. It claimed them all, dragging them back to the depths it rose from. I cannot call it anything else but death, Geneva." Sint rested her chin on Gene's shoulder, "I might have come out here to look for it."
"Death... Sinny, okay. This sounds exactly insane. Sounds like every nuts dream you've had that's come true in the past, too." She bit her lip, "I don't want it to be true, but… The evidence says I'm wrong." Gene turned around, taking Sint's hands into her own, "But, you don't have to search alone. You have Koda, you have Dengarl. You have me."
Sint couldn't look her in the eyes. Looking to the ashen soil beneath them, the very soil she cast hundreds of strong men and women into… she shuddered. Shaking her head, she spoke anew, "So many… How many more must pledge themselves to me, to die."
"It doesn't matter! I don't care how many things you've seen, how many horrors we've fought because of what you see… It's your sight that lets us beat back these monsters before they can cause more harm." Geneva let go of Sint's hands, placing them around Sint's cheeks, pulling her face close, "You've done so much right. Let us keep doing that."
Sint looked into Gene's pleading eyes, having a hard time figuring out what to say. She opened her mouth a few times to only have nothing leave. Little time passed until she mustered some courage to speak again, "I don't know if I can do it. Lead them into Death."
"You don't have to do it alone." Geneva brought her forehead to Sint's, "We're here. I'm here. That weight doesn't need to be on your shoulders alone."
It would have been a touching moment. Sint and Geneva kissing on a field of destruction, vowing together to find an enemy anew. But Sint knew, deep down, that this new foe was something far more pernicious than the Lord or King. If only through so much death and devastation did such a being reveal itself to her, be it by accident or otherwise, it held a higher station within this world than a simple commander or cult-master. It hid in the veil of that which lay far beyond, clouded by black obscurity, high within the apathetic stars. Where it chose to persist, to remain, was beyond mortal comprehension. There was a real, palpable dread that Sint felt fill her being. Whatever it was, whatever "Death" was in her vision, it was more than anything she'd seen before.
That, or it knew exactly how to play her mind. For now, Sint knew that she'd have to fight alone. The kiss was not denied, but it wasn't sweet. It didn't bring joy to Sint. Her love for her wife was stronger than ever, but she knew that she was endangering her and everyone she loved once again because of a dream. The Echo of Fire had drawn her to find what came after the fire's radiance, a path of treacherous shadow leading to the things that shunned the fleeting light a flame gathered with it. Bittersweet. Love at this moment was bittersweet.
She held Geneva close, even as the kiss broke. Sint didn't want to let go, to leave the peace she had won. But it haunted her dreams, this Death. This thing, as if an oil slick of the night's sky had descended to the mundane, to devour the land. A black hole of life and light, of familiarity and comfort. An alien presence, all too similar to her greatest adversary. Sint looked to Geneva, to her smile, trying to find comfort. All she felt was the distance.
Geneva could see the pain in Sint's eyes. She placed her hand on her wife's cheek, stroking it. A single tear fell down Sint's face, "I'm sorry, Geneva. I-..."
"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Sint. I understand." She leaned back, pulling her hand from Sint's face, "Your war isn't over. The call to arms hasn't been rallied yet." She pushed away, patting off her burgandy pants for the ash that seemed to only be able to fall on her, not Sint. Looking away, Gene sighed, "But when you need us, and push us away, I'll come with the army. You won't get to fight like you fought the Lord. We lost you then, and I'm not about to lose you again, okay?"
"Geneva…" Sint trailed off before she said anything particularly meaningful.
"I'm leaving back to Dragonguard. I'll tell Dengarl that we probably won't be seeing you for a while, and to increase security. Is that fine with you?" She procured a stone from her pocket.
A curt nod from Sint and a similar statement came forth, "Yes. Tell him that I'm going to look for the dragon. I think he'll understand."
In a flash of blue light, Geneva was gone. Sint found herself alone again, almost happy for the isolation. Love's the feeling she felt for Geneva, but there were times that love didn't account for Sint's needs. The isolation was a sweet, dark thing. It left her in a familiar place, alone with her thoughts and with space to think alone. She knew she had hurt Geneva's feelings, and she knew that it was deeper than something that she'd get over in a day… But it was something that she felt was necessary for her to work. Her work was important to more than her, and if she was to stop the next calamity from arising, she had better begin working now.
She looked to the crater, pulling a notepad from her bag, tracing more than the pattern in the middle. She looked to the fallen ash, to the metal that seemed to be scattered about. The pattern itself seemed inconsequential by itself, being a set of evenly distributed and perfectly straight lines. But with the ash and scorched metal, she could better make out more than a box in a crater. It seemed to be a map, of sorts, but a fairly hard to read one. Jotting all of the details down, it did seem to be a somewhat familiar location, but where precisely was it? She chose to dwell on it later, or when her brain put two and two together. Putting the notepad in her bag, Sint looked toward the cave. Her golden eyes almost became slitted as she focused on the darkness, a mutation of her time spent combating the Void.
She ran to the cave, seeing that it ended fairly quickly due to a cave in. Crushed beneath the stones from the cave's ceiling was an orcish skeleton, holding the arm of a man. Cursing, she knew where she was brought must have been further within. Thus, she studied the body crushed beneath the rubble, even taking the skeletal arm from the orc's grip. Though the orc's clothing was impossible to see, she could see a few pieces of jewelry hanging from what remained of its tusks. She took everything she saw and took a deep breath. She steadied her heart and breathing, clenching her body. Her hair began to stand up as if a strong gust had kicked up within that collapsed shaft, a low hum filling the air. Warmth was the first thing that came next, as Sint extended her hand to the orc's skull. A golden glow wrapped around her hand now, as she sought the magics of the area to potentially perceive the orc's dying moments. She had done this once before, with a dying compatriot on a battlefield long since obliterated. King Rid'lis of Jedden, the King of the Jed'ul, slave to the Lord. She held his head, her power flowing through her as eagerly as her anger, and she was able to see what he saw once before. A memory as vivid as her own, she saw Rid'lis lose his people to the madness of the Lord, she saw him fall to the same chaos that the Lord promised never would consume his kin. She saw something necessary, that there was hope yet for the Jed'ul, that the Lord's death would free them from madness.
The cave darkened, falling away to black as the smell of smoke filled Sint's nose, her eyes closed now. She chose to wait, as new sounds and sensations other than the cold stone beneath her began to fill her senses. Opening her eyes, she saw through the orc's eyes, in the moments before he died. His panic was palpable, rushing to the back of the cave in search for something. He too found the ruined battlefield that Sint returned to, but he came for different reasons. As he scurried about, looking for something, she heard a voice rip through his mind.
"Pa'grul. Nak-kraal, dash guul caraduun Dagon." Pa'grul's hands began to shake more, as he soon came across the slab of stone that Sint's unconscious body must've been laid on. She saw fragments of her old armor on the stone, as well as a burn-mark where her body was set. Indeed, her entire small frame was outlined in black charred rock, the heat she unleashed still clearly with her when she was dropped there. The orc clapped his hands.
"This! This, master! This is it!" He scrambled, tripping over himself, pointing to Sint's outline.
"KAAL." The voice's roar shattered poor Pa'grul's brain, leaving the orc to screech and flee. Powerful enough to shatter a mind, the voice was also strong enough to shatter the cavern. It rumbled and shook until stones began to fall, crushing this hapless soul beneath them. Extinguished by an uncaring master.
The language spoken almost seemed orcish as Sint heard it, but unlike Pa'grul's words, she couldn't make out what the voice was saying. He spoke clearly, too, meaning there was something else to the word that this master used. Able to speak through minds, shatter consciousness with a single word, and bring down a cavern without even being present… Sint was right to investigate. She pulled her hand from the skull of Pa'grul, seeing that it had been shattered by the intensity of her power.
Standing, Sint turned to leave the cave, to head to the ocean. In her vision, this black mountain of terror had arisen from the sea, so perhaps she might get a sign from the sea. The waves of the sea around the Highlands were dark, as the water was cold and deep. There were days Sint wished she were a druid, so that she could transform into a seal and peruse the frigid depths of the abyss. But, alas, she was merely a warrior. Her search had taken her many places, but the sea had to be the end.
She left the sea be, casting it a wayward glance as she left. Though she felt the eyes of the colossal "Death" upon her, she knew that she had little to do about it for now. She needed to study that map, to test the jewelry of Pa'grul, and to consider the language of his disembodied master. And she had somewhat of a good idea who could help her, though this person might be hard to find now.
The Violet Panther of Suramar, Ludrasa Shieza. During the fight against the Twins trying to return their Kingly father to this world, she had a lucky break when a caravan lead by the Horde was attacked by the Unseen Army. If it were any other people, she'd never have managed to stop Vantel and Ord in time, but thankfully it was the Zandalari that spearheaded this caravan. An attack against their civilians was an attack to the Queen, so said the Prelate that lended her aid to Sint. With the Prelate came two others, independent sorts who had joined the caravan to go somewhere or for an easy paycheck. A mag'har, Ora-Ur, had joined to "search for her destiny". Ludrasa, however, was a mercenary. A damned good mercenary with strange affinities for the forgotten and forbidden things in Azeroth. Ko'hea hired Ludrasa to help them track down the perpetrators of the caravan raid. Sint hired Ludrasa to help her track the Unseen Army and to take their technology, so that they might be better understood.
At the end of that campaign, Sint paid Ludrasa and sent her on her way. The elf had left her a few details, however, if Sint ever needed to find her again. Of course, most of it was "A big bounty" and "a fun hunt", but the final detail was something that Sint felt like few could actually manage. "Find the Beacon of the Panther in Suramar." If she were to finish this task she had set herself upon, she needed to enter Horde territory and find this Beacon. Hopefully the Nightborne weren't fearful of an outsider who once lent her sword to liberating them.