Chapter 40.5 - A Destiny of Flame and Sorrow
Illidan scoffed as he dodged the incoming attack from the satyr, the long, curved blade arcing beneath the demon hunter's feet as he leapt above the corrupted former elf and proceeded to slice him in half with a single strike from his Twin Blades of Azzinoth.
He still remembered that day, ten thousand years ago, when he slew the Doom Guard Azzinoth himself, and claimed the weapons he now wielded. To be sure, the warglaives were awkward to manipulate at first, but through consistent training and dedication, Illidan had fully mastered them, and now he could wield the weapons as if they were a part of his own body. His allied night elf forces were quickly dispatching the remaining satyr forces and putting the corrupted ancients and treants to the torch.
All this, Illidan could see, and at the same time, he could not. Ever since losing his eyes, he began perceiving the world in ways beyond his senses. All that surrounded him, be it below the ground, around it, or above him, Illidan was keenly aware of everything. He knew exactly how many of his warriors were still in the battlefield, and how many foes were left. He knew the exact size, shape and weight of the corrupted ancients, and knew exactly where to strike to dispatch them.
Most of all, he knew exactly where the Skull of Gul'dan was.
All that stood between him and his target was the satyr base, which was now eradicated. Since his little encounter with the human boy, Dalrus, Illidan had assembled a small elite group of his loyalists and led them in this attack. Now, all that was missing was for the night elf to accomplish his mission.
He led his group forward, and surely enough… There it was. A great demonic altar had been built around the skull, which laid upon a pedestal, surrounded by demonic flames. Guarding the pedestal was one final group of satyr defenders, this time backed up by demons. Illidan recognized the fel hounds and doom guards, and his lips curled into a mocking grin.
As he advanced, one of the satyrs raised his weapon. "Come no further, weakling! Lord Tichondrius commanded us to kill anyone attempting to enter this place, and we shall!" He warned, his hand glowing with dark magics as he readied a spell.
Illidan, however, ignored the petty taunts. His focus was on the skull itself.
Through his heightened senses, he could feel it… The incredible energies that flowed from the skull. It was like a beacon of dark energy, pouring into the land like an erupting volcano. To his blind eyes, the skull shone like a raging fire in the middle of a dark night.
"That is where the Skull of Gul'dan is kept!" He said, not a doubt in his mind. "These paltry demons will not prevent me from claiming it!" And with that, he raised one hand towards the satyr who was about to unleash his spell. A blue bolt of energy instantly shot from Illidan's fingertips, hitting the satyr square on the chest.
The creature stumbled, and stared dumbfounded at his own hand, the dark energies he was previously channeling completely gone as Illidan burned away the satyr's mana. "Impossible! My magic… It's gone!" And those were the confused creature's last words before Illidan swung his warglaives and beheaded him where he stood. "Your feeble magics mean nothing to me! I am Illidan! I am a hunter of demons!"
The other satyrs along with their demonic entourage howled in rage and tried to charge at him. Illidan took in a deep breath, and channeled the demonic powers he held deep within. Suddenly, his body was enveloped in the very same emerald flames the demons used and abused. As he dodged and weaved through their attacks, Illidan brought his blades down upon them, making use of his flaming armor both for offense, and defense. Whatever he failed to annihilate with his weapons, the flames consumed.
With the aid of his loyalists, Illidan quickly dispatched all enemies. The final demon let out a pathetic whimper as the night elf sliced its throat open, and left it to die on the ground behind him.
Finally, he slowly walked forward, his hand outstretched and starting to gather the necessary energy to destroy the Skull of Gul'dan. "Now at least the demons will no longer corrupt the forests."
And then, he stopped. He was reminded of the conversation with the human boy earlier. He remembered the other human, the one in the ornate armor carrying that strange runeblade, who set him off on this path in the first place.
Illidan had no doubt that Arthas was manipulating him. Although both had something to gain from Illidan's actions, it was obvious that destroying the skull was just what the death knight wanted. No doubt, he would come back for Illidan to destroy any loose ends. A new thought began forming in his mind.
"But, if I destroy the skull and claim its powers as my own, I will become stronger than any of Archimonde's lieutenants." Illidan reminisced about all the events of the War of the Ancients. How the demons first appeared on their realm, those strange people he had never seen before - the green man, and the mage, Rhonin, who aided in his learning of the ways of the arcane - the dragons who failed to aid them in the final battle, the betrayal at the hands of his own brother, and his decision to infiltrate the demonic forces to destroy them from within, even at the cost of their corruption coursing through his veins.
He would never forget what he felt that day. When his own brother turned his back on him. When his beloved Tyrande had chosen him over Illidan. When he was ousted by his own people, accused of treason and locked in a cage with no one but that damned warden and her lackeys to torment him for all that time.
Could this truly redeem himself? Could this act be the one to set him back on the path he once took? Could Tyrande and his brother finally start to see the greater picture, as he did?
Illidan's expression twisted in anger. No, of course not. Neither of them could. They were content in merely fighting the enemy before them. Neither of them knew what had to be done. Neither of them were willing to take the necessary steps to truly end that conflict, forever. They lacked the vision to see what was beyond the veil over their eyes.
Even the night elves, in all their wisdom, with all their countless years of life, were incapable of seeing what even a young human boy could. That in order to achieve the ultimate victory, sacrifice was necessary.
The only way to hunt a demon… Would be to use the power of a demon.
'So be it!' Illidan thought. 'If this is the price I must pay for the power to save my people, then pay it I shall! I reject my weakness! I reject my elven heritage!' And with that in mind, he spoke: "Yes... the power should be mine!"
And so, he reached out with both hands, and stepped forward, walking into the demonic pedestal. He could feel the fel flames devouring and searing his flesh, threatening to reduce him to ash… But that pain was nothing. That torment was nothing. Nothing compared to the thorny road he yet needed to walk on. Nothing compared to the pain he would yet feel. 'Tyrande… Forgive me.' Were the last thoughts upon Illidan Stormrage's mind as he crushed the Skull of Gul'dan between his fingers, and absorbed its powers into him.
It was far beyond his expectations. The sudden burst of demonic energy that poured into him felt like every cell in his body was exploding at the same time. Illidan wanted to scream, but he couldn't. The fel swirled around him like a tornado, and enveloped his whole body. He could feel the demonic energies demanding that he give him, that he surrender his will, that he submit to the power of fel…
'NEVER!' Illidan screamed in his mind. 'I SHALL NEVER AGAIN SURRENDER MY FATE TO THE WILLS OF OTHERS! MY DESTINY IS MY OWN!' And with an earsplitting cry, Illidan focused all his power, all his will… And pushed back against the darkness.
The demonic energies fought him. The darkness, the fel, the madness… It wanted him. It would not surrender, not give him up. But neither would he. Illidan fought back with all his might, pushing the energies into his body, forcing it to submit to his will, his strength, his power… His goals.
And finally… The emerald vortex was gone. Illidan's loyalists, the brave night elf man and women who had chosen to follow him in this mission, carefully walked forward. "Lord Illidan?" One tentatively asked. "What… Happened to you? Are you still… Yourself?"
Illidan did not respond at once. He was on his knees on the ground, and slowly, the pain, the agony, it began to subside. He began to rise to his feet… And realized two things. First, he was far taller than before. He towered above his allies, and could see each and everyone of them as clear as day. The second thing he noticed was he no longer had feet to stand on. Now, he had two great, thick hooves jutting out from his ankles. Illidan looked down at his own body.
His skin was far darker than before. From his fingertips, long, sharp claws were sticking out. As he moved his head, he could feel a new weight upon it… And he knew he had grown horns, much like the satyrs did. And on top of that, he could feel a new set of limbs on his body. Looking back, Illidan saw a pair of great bat wings sticking out from his shoulders.
'Yes… Yes! This is it! This is what I have always wanted… What I always lacked! Finally, there is no more hesitation! No more doubt! No more chains… Now… Now…!' He smiled. "Now I am complete!"
He understood now. Before, he lacked resolve. Before, he was still holding back. He was still afraid to give in. Afraid to go all the way. Afraid to make the ultimate sacrifice and dedicate all he had to accomplish his goals.
But no more. The price was paid. The power was his.
Illidan turned to face his loyalists. "Be not afraid. My mind is my own, as is this power." He was surprised to notice, his voice had grown far deeper than before, with a sinister reverberation within his throat. He'd have to work on that later. "And now, I shall use it to destroy Tichondrius, the demon responsible for corrupting our forests. Come, brothers and sisters! Tonight, we hunt demons!" With the war cries of his companions, Illidan marched east, where he knew Tichondrius was. He could feel it.
More satyrs attempted to bar his path… But as he was now, Illidan was unstoppable. From his palms, bolts of fel energy would be shot out, disintegrating his enemies one after another. He laughed like a maniac as he eliminated all who dared stand in his way, until he reached the base of the grand dreadlord himself.
He saw a great demonic gateway, from which demonic cultists and acolytes were attempting to summon more forces from the Legion. And not far from the gateway, Illidan saw the dreadlord himself. Tichondrius was just as tall as Illidan was now, clad in crimson armor, and sporting features much similar to Illidan himself; long claws, bat-like wings, great curvy horns, and hooves for feet.
The demon hunter raised his palm, and with a single blast of his new power, the demonic gateway was reduced to smoking rubble on the floor. Tichondrius turned around, shocked, and Illidan saw his eyes go wide with surprise as he beheld the demonic elf. "What? Who are… You?
Illidan chuckled, his glowing green eyes narrowing down in malicious anticipation as he smiled at the great demon. "Let's see how confident you are against one of your own kind, dreadlord!" And on that note, he spread his wings wide and beat them once. The force of his wingbeat was enough to send Illidan flying forward, his hands reaching forward towards Tichondrius.
Caught completely by surprise, the dreadlord could only lift his own hands to try and defend himself as Illidan fell on top of him. He could hear, and he could feel his loyalists engaging Tichondrius' demonic guards behind them as the two great demons fought on the floor. Illidan was laying atop the crimson dreadlord, and his fingers began to squeeze around his foe's neck, squeezing the life out of the demon.
Tichondrius was baring his teeth and clawing at Illidan's arms, to no avail. The demonic elf's grip was like a cage of steel, and he could feel the demon losing his strength as the lack of oxygen affected him. But suddenly, the dreadlord's entire body seemed to turn into smoke beneath Illidan. Where once stood a mighty demon, now was a great cloud of dark bats, and they all began to fly away into the sky.
"You will not escape me, demon!" Illidan shouted, raising his palms into the air. He laughed as green rays of energy shot forward like a net, encasing the bat cloud. The creatures were pushed back together into a single spot, where they coalesced together into Tichondrius' form ocne more. The dreadlord fell to the ground, but with a deafening roar, he broke free from Illidan's energy cage.
"How can this be!?" He gasped, staring at Illidan… And what he saw in the dreadlord's eyes made his own grin spread all the further. It was fear. Tichondrius was afraid of him. This ancient dreadlord, as old as the twisting nether itself, feared Illidan. "How can you wield such power? Do you not realize what you're up against? By challenging me, you challenge the Burning Legion itself! My masters will chain you and torment you until the end of time itself!"
To that, Illidan merely scoffed. "I know quite a lot about cages, dreadlord. And allow me to tell you this… Never again shall I be bound by any chains. This power is now mine, and I shall use it to rid our world from your wretched existence!" And with that, Illidan stretched both his arms to either side of his body. Emerald orbs of energy formed between his fingers as he charged and channeled the power, before pointing both his hands together at his foe.
A mighty beam of fel energy shot forward, directly at Tichondrius. Unable to dodge, the dreadlord had no choice but to raise his hands and counter attack with a fel beam of his own.
The two rays of energy clashed into the air between them. Illidan laughed. "Is that all? Hardly a challenge!" And he pushed forward, his beam forcing Tichondrius' back as the demon struggled and growled, trying to remain on his feet while unleashing his energy.
"No… No! Impossible! This power… How!? How can you wield it like this? Who are you!?" Illidan didn't answer. Instead, he only kept pushing forward. Unable to match Illidan's power, Tichondrius could only howl in pain as the fel blast reached his body, and he was completely consumed by the volatile energies. Illidan lowered his hands, and where the dreadlord once stood, all there was left was a smoking crater.
Tichondrius was no more.
Illidan looked down at his own hands, marveled at his own capabilities. 'Yes… Yes! With this power, I can do it. It is possible! It is possible to master and control the power of demons, and use it against them! With this, finally, there is hope! I can do it… I have what it takes! With this power, I shall end the Burning Legion once and for all!'
His moment of glory was cut short as he heard a familiar voice speaking from behind. "Foul demon! What have you done with my brother?"
Illidan turned around. And surely enough, there he was.
It was a face Illidan was very familiar with. After all, he'd see that very same face every time he looked into a mirror, in the past. But now, his twin brother was very different from him, and not just because of the demonic influence on his body.
While Illidan studied to be a mage, and later a demon hunter, Malfurion Stormrage had chosen the path of the druids. His brother carried massive antlers, like that of a stag over his head. Feathers like those of a bird adorned his brother's arms, and his beard looked as if it was made of vines and leaves rather than hair. But it was not him whom Illidan stared at.
She was as beautiful as the last day his eyes had ever seen her, before his vision was stolen by Sargeras. Tyrande Whisperwind rode her albino nightsaber, clad in the shining silver armor of her beloved goddess. Illidan felt a painful grip in his heart at the way she was looking at him, full of shock and horror.
But there was no turning back now. He had made his choice. And he would not regret it now. Illidan turned to face his brother. "It is I, Furion. This is what I've become."
"No! Illidan, how could you?" Tyrande asked, and once more, he felt that painful grip in his heart squeeze all the more. And yet, still, he did not falter as he spoke.
"The leader of the undead has been destroyed, and the forests will heal in time." He stoically said, careful not to allow his face to betray his feelings as he looked at Tyrande.
"At the cost of your soul?" Malfurion said, his voice heavy with ire. "You are no brother of mine! Begone from this place, and never set foot in our lands again!"
Illidan expected this. He was ready for it. Or so he thought. It still hurt. It still hurt like a blade running through his chest. It pained him oh so greatly that his own brother would oust him like that, yet again. That his beloved Tyrande, who had freed him from his cage only a day ago, would look at him with such sad, fearful eyes…
And despite all that pain, despite all that sorrow that filled his heart… Illidan refused to feel any regret or remorse over his actions. His fingers curled into fists as he coldly stared back at Malfurion. "So be it... brother."
And with that, Illidan turned around, and took his leave.
There was much work to be done.