Chapter 31 - Not alone

A terrible knot formed in Dalrus' throat. His eyes were so wide, he thought they'd bulge out of his face. His entire body felt as if it were made of stone; numb, cold, unable to move. He couldn't couldn't blink, could barely breathe. As his eyesight slowly returned, he beheld the corpse of Cenarius, guardian of the forest, surrounded by a growing pool of his own blood as Grommash Hellscream shook his bloodied axe in the air to show off his glorious kill.

I told you, little one. Even gods can fall.

Dalrus closed his eyes, hard.

'Shut up.'

There is only one thing in this universe that is eternal. Do you know what that is, little one?

'Stop calling me that. Shut up.'

Darkness is eternal. All things began with the Void. All things come from the Void. And in the end, all things shall return to the Void. Even this so-called demigod. Even your beloved brother.

Dalrus was grinding his teeth, his palms now covering his ears. "Shut... Up..." He grunted under his breath.

'You know you cannot run from it. Embrace the call, little one. Accept it. Open yourself to the darkness... And let all your fears fade into nothingness.'

The worst part now... Dalrus wasn't sure whose voice was saying that in his head. It really was getting worse, every day with these things. There is no hope. Only despair. The only way to run from it... Is to be the bringer of despair yourself. Let others burn before you do. Go there... And with my power, claim the orc's life. Bathe in his blood, and let his minions know true fear for once.

Dalrus opened his eyes.

Dalrus stood up.

Dalrus took a step forward as he reached out for his swords...

And then he froze again.

'I know this feeling...'

That sinister presence. The feeling that the very air was growing coarse and painful to inhale.

And those tremors every single time that beast took a step...

Looking to his side, Dalrus saw it once more. It was the same giant four-legged demon with the burning skull who had corrupted the fountain. It was approaching from between the trees while casually bringing them down as if they were nothing more than branches and twigs in its path. If it were possible, Dalrus could swear the demon had the most malicious smile he had ever seen on its face as it beheld the Warsong orcs and their triumphant leader. "Hello again, Grommash."

For the first time in his life, Dalrus saw Grom Hellscream flinch. The orc turned around to meet the demon... And he saw something in Hellscream's eyes he never thought he'd witness in an orc.

It was fear.

In a shaky voice, Grommash spoke: "Mannoroth! It... It can't be!"

The demon named Mannoroth let out a cruel chuckle and stopped just before Cenarius' corpse. It brought one of its clawed feet against the demigod's head and kicked him over before returning his attention to Grommash. "I've come to bring you and your brethren back into the fold. Though you orcs failed the Burning Legion before, you will now serve us once again!"

Grommash stepped back, his face now twisted in a mixture of pain and fear. "No! We... Are free!"

Mannoroth laughed. An evil, dark laugh that chilled Dalrus down to his core. "Stupid, pitiful creatures. I am the rage of your heart. I am the fury of your thoughts. I alone empowered you to bring chaos to this world, and by the endless void, you shall!"

Grommash fell to his knees, Gorehowl falling from his grasp as he clasped his head with both hands. "No... No! We... We cannot..."

"Orcs of the Warsong clan!" Mannoroth shouted over Grommash's pathetic whimpering. "Step forward, and salute your new master! Once more you are given the honor of fighting and dying for the Burning Legion, and for the great Archimonde who once more walks this wretched earth!" Raising his wicked, giant double-bladed weapon in the air, Mannoroth let out a heinous howl.

There was a moment of hesitation that seemed to stretch through infinity. Then, as one, the orcs raised their weapons and howled in turn.

Hellscream was still on his knees.

"Stand up, miserable whelp." Mannoroth spoke, his voice heavy with disgust. "For killing Cenarius, you have earned your place among our ranks. But continue to challenge me and your corpse shall serve as an example for all those foolish enough to do so as well."

Grommash's shoulders slumped. His arms fell to either side of his body. Then, slowly, he reached out for his axe and stood up. The orc tightened his grip on his mighty weapon and lifted his head to behold Mannoroth's burning green eyes.

"As you wish... Lord Mannoroth. We fight for the Legion."

The world began to spin under Dalrus. His vision went dark. The last thing he heard before darkness consumed him was Mannoroth's maniacal laughter echoing in his mind.

There is only despair.

There is only fear.

There is only death.

You know this.

You have felt this.

Why fight?

Why continue to struggle and suffer?

Why not keep your eyes closed... Let yourself fall into this dream.

Dream, little one... And know your nightmares too will come to haunt you.

Felrus...

Dalrus opened his eyes.

He was laying on his back, arms and legs sprawled around him. Lifting his head made his brain ache like it was being stabbed, so he kept it resting against the grassy ground under him. The night sky above was hidden behind thick, dark clouds. His surroundings were covered in darkness, but he could hear the sound of running water nearby, which made him certain that somehow he was in a different place from before.

Then, amidst the dark night sky, he saw a darker spot moving, like a shadow hidden within another shadow. It was getting bigger... No. It was getting closer, spiraling down towards him before it left his camp of view.

He heard something light landing on the ground not too far from him, along with the sound of beating wings. And then... A voice he had heard before. "Now do you understand?"

It still hurt to move... But, fortunately, not to speak. "Understand what? That there are demons out there trying to kill everyone?"

"No, boy." Dalrus heard footsteps approaching him, as well as that distinct noise of a cane hitting the ground. "I wanted to know if you understand that there are fates far worse than death. To become a slave to a dark power that is stronger than you. Stronger than your will. A power that can destroy your identity and fill you with... Something else."

Dalrus closed his eyes again. He remembered that moment when Grommash had drunk the blood of Mannoroth from the fountain... And the old shaman who had preferred to die a free orc than to submit himself to the demonic taint once more. "How can someone choose to do this to themselves? How can someone willingly and knowingly let things go that far?"

He heard a snicker. Dalrus opened his eyes once more. The old hooded man's face was staring down at him from above, an amused smile stretching his dry, thin lips. "I think you, better than anyone, would know the answer to that question. But if you don't, I'm certain that thing lurking inside your mind would be happy to provide an answer."

Dalrus' heart sank. "So... You can tell?"

"Anyone with a modicum of sensitivity can tell, boy. Although my perception is, shall we say... Higher than most. So I can tell exactly what is trying to drag you down the abyss every time you open the door to let it in." The man's smile was gone, replaced by a stern look of disapproval. "You think you're doing the right thing, sacrificing yourself to wield this double-edged sword. Much like the foolish orc chieftain, you don't realize you're only dooming yourself and everyone you care for."

Dalrus wanted to avert his gaze, to turn around and end this conversation. But his body felt like he was chained to the floor. "What am I supposed to do, then? If I don't use this power, what can I even do on my own?"

He heard the man slam his staff against the ground. "Nothing! And that is the point!" Maybe it was Dalrus' impression... But the man's eyes were no longer dark. It was like they had a faint blue glow deep within them now. "If you try to shoulder your burdens alone, you are doomed to failure and misery. Only by standing together... By relying on your allies, and making sure they can rely on you, can you accomplish something. Or are you so arrogant you think you can stop the threat of the Burning Legion on your own?"

Squinting, Dalrus peered deep into the man's eyes. "OK, for real now. Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?"

The man stood up straight, then peered up at the dark, starless sky. "I have already told you who I am. But you still haven't told me who you are, young Dalrus Plaguefang. You do not yet understand what your role in this story is. What destiny lies in wait for you. But I hope that at least, now you understand better what you are meant to do." The man peered back at Dalrus, then lowered his staff against the boy's head. The wooden raven's beak touched his forehead, and suddenly there was a bright, purple light, with a vast circular seal appearing above his face. "Oh, I see... So you are the one attempting to consume this boy. Isn't he far too small a meal for one such as you?"

It was pain unlike anything he had ever felt before, like a hedgehog rolling against his skull and reassembling his entire brain during the process. Dalrus arched his back and screamed at the top of his lungs...

And then, for the first time, Dalrus heard the voice not simply echoing within his mind, but also ringing in his ears. "You think you can seal me, wizard? Your magic is nothing before my power. You cannot banish me from the boy's mind with your meager spells."

The young rogue attempted to grip his head to try and relieve the searing hot pain shooting through his brain... But then it really felt like his limbs were chained to the ground, immobilizing him. "Oh, how mistaken you would be, Old one. But fortunately for you, I have neither the time nor the desire to expunge you completely. For now... It is sufficient that I weaken your grasp over him."

"This changes nothing! You merely delay the inevitable. He will call upon me again. He knows he is nothing without my power. And even if he doesn't, he cannot escape the call. He already belongs to the Void, wizard, and soon you too shall be devoured by it!"

"Yes, yes, a fascinating tale. But now, be silent!" Lifting his hand, the hooded man chanted some ancient words of power Dalrus did not understand. The glow above his head intensified to the point it was blindingly bright, and he was certain his head would split in two from the pain. And then... It was gone.

All of it.

His eyes opened up again. And then he sat up. There was no more pain. No more whispers. No more homicidal impulses.

Looking around, he spotted the wizard standing besides the corrupted fountain where the Warsong orcs had obtained their fel powers from. "What... Did you just do to me?" The rogue asked as he stood up fully.

Without looking back, the man said: "I have pushed the darkness inside you back for a bit. But be warned... It is but a temporary solution. And I can tell it wasn't the first time you had this done to you. I don't think you'd survive a third attempt." The wizard stroked his chin in deep thought, his eyes glued to the corrupt red waters of the pool. "Well, your body would. But I fear your mind would be left in shatters. A terrible waste."

Dalrus also looked at the pool. He saw those twisted, dark energies swirling deep within the crimson water, and felt a knot twist in his stomach. "So... Can you teach me how to use this power without killing myself?"

This time, the wizard turned to look at him with a condescendent smile on his face. "So you still don't know the answer? I wonder... Is it fear for yourself, or fear for others that keep you from reaching the truth on your own? No matter. It is already within your grasp. You'll understand soon enough." Turning himself fully, the man walked away from the fountain, then raised his staff in the air before him. "Alas... I do believe you have wasted enough time at this place, young Dalrus Plaguefang. It is a pity you were unable to reach all the answers you need... But perhaps it is too soon for you yet. For the time being, you must carry on with your destiny. I believe there are some people who could use your aid, no?"

Tha air before the wizard began to shimmer, taking the shape of a fuzzy magical cloud. In it's center was a more clear, circular area... And inside, Dalrus saw his brother side by side with a pair of other soldiers in what appeared to be a dark cave, fighting off skeletal warriors in rusty old armor.

"Felrus!" The rogue shouted, stepping forward with one hand outstretched as if he intended to jump in to help them, then stopping himself just before he actually touched the magical mirror cloud thing.

"Yes... Your brother and your young leader need you right now, rogue. The time has come for you to join them again." The wizard waved his staff. The magical cloud grew and became a swirling vortex of energy, through which he could see nothing but darkness on the other side. "Go. We shall meet again, young Dalrus."

His eyes shifted from the portal (?) to the wizard. "OK... Look, uhm, sir... I'm very grateful you finally let me be alone with my thoughts for a while and all, but..." He scratched his head. "Why are you helping me out like this? At least that much I think it's fair for you to tell me. And please, in a direct and metaphor-less manner."

The old wizard smiled again. "Indeed? 'Fair' is an interesting word for me to be hearing, here of all places. Very few things in this world are fair, young Dalrus... But I have already told you. I happen to be more perceptive than most... And I have perceived you have a grand role to play in the upcoming events. It is no coincidence that you are here today. Destiny has dealt its hand, my young Gilnean. It is time for you to deal yours."

It was a real struggle not to roll his eyes, but Dalrus did squint. "Wow, thank you so much. That is such a good and direct answer, I think I'm going to step through this portal now. Take care, uh... Mr. Prophet, sir." He turned to look at the chaotic, dark energies of the portal before him, and readied himself for the worst. 'Well, wherever I'm going, I'm pretty sure it can't be worse than having to deal with a bunch of demon-blood infused crazy orcs and their giant demon lord.' And with that cheerful thought in his mind, Dalrus stepped through the portal.

As far as magical portal rides went, this had to be the smoothest one Dalrus had ever gone through. One moment, he was in that dark meadow with the evil corrupted fountain and the cryptic magical old man, the next his sight was filled with a dark purple cloud while his ears began to fill up as if he were underwater. And right after that his foot landed on the ground, and he was in a dark cave surrounded by tall stone walls with dangerous-looking stalactites hanging from the ceiling above. The air felt very warm and moist there, and it disoriented him a little. The young rogue would have spared a short while to accustom himself to the lack of light and better take in his surroundings, but then he heard the sounds of battle. Men and women shouting, steel banging against steel, and a very ominous clattering that was definitely not human. 'Oh, well... At least I won't get bored.' He thought to himself, then moved forward towards the source of the noise.

The cave split into two paths ahead. To his left was a steep cliff, overseeing a large room within the cavern. To his right, there was a vast sea of fire that flowed into an underground opening. And to the left, the ground was made of sculpted stone, with two passageways leading further into the cave. Over the entrance of one of those passages, Dalrus spotted the members of the Human Expedition. There were quite a few of them; humans, dwarves, elves and gnomes, all clad in stained combat armor or tattered robes and fending off an army of skeletal soldiers wearing dusty, broken old armor and wielding weapons in the same state. The worst of all, however, was what appeared to be an enormous suit of armor the size of an ogre with wicked horns coming out of its helm slowly advancing on the defenders. He had to assume it was some golem of sorts, for he couldn't see any flesh under the gaps in the armor.

And at the front lines fighting that metallic golem along with other knights and soldiers, was his brother Felrus. His helmet was nowhere to be seen, so the fierce look in his eyes was unmistakable, even in that dark place.

Dalrus immediately knew what he had to do. 'Well, the hero is always fashionably late.' He thought to himself, pulling out his swords, stepping towards the edge of the cliff and...

He hesitated.

He will call upon me again. He knows he is nothing without my power. And even if he doesn't, he cannot escape the call. He already belongs to the Void, wizard, and soon you too shall be devoured by it!

His eyes closed, and he took in a deep breath.

He heard a scream.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the metal golem had slammed its fist down against the defending soldiers, sending two of them flying off in different directions while his brother fell on his back. When the golem lifted it's hand once more, it left behind a crater on the floor, under which Felrus' shield lay crumpled like an old parchment.

'Oh, bugger that!'

With a grunt, he called in the power of the Void. It flowed through his body, filling him with the refreshing sensation of a lighter body, the energy empowering his lungs and his legs. 'Answer this, you dry old coot. I'm not gonna let my brother die like that.' He then took a few steps back to gain some leverage, only to run forward once more, this time leaping off the edge of the cliff and down towards the golem.

With a well timed shadowstep, Dalrus twisted himself in the air and teleported behind the iron golem. Then, he brought both his weapons down against the creature's 'neck' with two successive slashes. His weapons sliced clean through the metal, and the helmet was completely detached from its body. Looking down, Dalrus realized the armor really was completely empty. His momentum made him fall over the hollow armor case, the rogue curling his body and performing a barrel roll against the ground to cushion his fall, after which he stood up straight with a little leap, right in front of the puzzled figure of his fallen brother. With a wide grin on his face, Dalrus sheathed one of his swords and extended his gloved hand towards Felrus. "Hey, Fel. Need a hand?"