I remember, once, long ago, when the Kirin Tor ruled from the Violet Citadel on Cross Island. I remember when the decree was passed; when we swore to never study the magics of flame, poison and necromancy, for they were demon-tainted, and we feared demonic corruption.

But the Violet Citadel fell. Cross Island fell before the invading legions of orcs.

The Kirin Tor relocated to the edge of Lordamere Lake. There, they continued their study of the arcane, and there they continued to study the elemental magics. And still, they avoided the study of flame.

But times change.

The Scourge came, and scoured our world. The demons themselves came to attack us…who fears to be corrupted by a demon when demons themselves march against your world?

The war is over, and the demons defeated, but we did not win. There are few humans left alive...many of whom now live in Kalimdor, and many of whom cannot put their pasts behind them.

The orcs saved us that day at Mount Hyjal, as did the night elves. But the marines of Kul Tiras stubbornly fight against them…

But none of that is important. The fact remains that our order died along with the rest of our plague-scarred world.

Once, we shunned fire magics. But necromancers now walk the land undisguised, adding any souls they can find to the legions of the damned. The decision to accept fire magics was never officially made…for there were no officials to make it. But there were a few – more now than ever – who realized that we would need every weapon at our disposal to reclaim our broken land.

I am a pyromancer. I say it freely. I take my magic not from the hands of demons, but from the land itself, much like the so-called shamans that walk among the tauren and troll races. Fire magic, I now see, was not something to fear, not a demonic gift, although the demons themselves wield it.

Fire magic is no longer feared…it seems trivial, in fact, to the demontouched who now walk our world.

The ancient orcish order of the Warlock has been revived, for both the Alliance and the Horde.

Once, we feared demonic power. Now we embrace it.

There are more warlocks among the humans than there ever were among the legions of the Horde. Gnomes, too, bend demons too their will. The orcs and undead – both of the Scourge and of the Forsaken – call upon the powers of the Legion and strive to maintain their souls.

In a war for survival, you make use of every available weapon…or you die.

There are those, of course, who cannot control the demons, who find themselves succumbing to the tantalizing whispers in their head. They serve the Legion, and only the Legion. They can be seen among the Scourge…but even the Scourge no longer trusts those demontouched who fall too far.

This is the story of one such man, tainted by demons and fallen into darkness...

"Tell me, Father. If demons are inherently evil, and wielding demon magic makes you evil...where does the power of the Light come from? If there are holy beings out there, granting this power, why do they not show themselves?"

"That is not their way. The Light does not interfere in the ways of mortals, but gives them the strength to change their own path."

"How can any being call itself "good" if it allows innocents to suffer without trying to help them? Even demons lend each other aid..."

"Demons, my son, help each other only because they all work towards the destruction of the universe. When all the world is consumed in ash, they will turn on each other in the end..." With that, Father Gregory stood and left the room, a little shaken, perhaps, but he too had faced a dwindling of faith, and the questions were ones he had asked before. One had to have faith. Faith in the Light, and faith that the young priest here would find his faith again before long.

And Nilas Arcanister sat brooding in his room. He had not missed the fact that the elder priest had avoided his question. He needed something more than faith...who knows what might have been, if only the clergy had taken his doubt more seriously...

He looked to the Light for answers, as he had been taught. He spent many hours alone in his room, praying for guidance. And salvation came, in the form of a whispered voice in his head...

The library was dark.

Northshire Abbey's library was famous throughout the Eastern Kingdoms; second only to the one in Stormwind Keep. Books from all around the world could be found here. The clergy kept books of revelations, books of magical power...and books of vile darkness.

He shouldn't be here, he knew. The library was kept locked after hours for a reason. But he had received a revelation of his own. A celestial being, Meliadoul, had spoken to him, and told him that the Light did indeed help out those in need of their assistance. The voice had convinced him that he was strong, strong enough to control some of the weaker demons, bend them to his will, and fight fire with fire. Who would know the secrets of demonslaying better than a demon?

The logic was sound, and Nilas contented himself with the knowledge that though he broke the rules of the clergy now, he would soon do great good with the forbidden knowledge he sought. He could see himself now, on a hilltop, with the broken bodies of demons laying all around him...demons fell from the sky, eager to challenge him, fearful of his might...

He could see it so clearly, in fact, he had to shake his head and remind himself of where he was before he could even see the bookshelves again. Even then, the image was a long time in fading...

Startled, Nilas decided to busy himself in his search.