Chapter 22
Walking the Garden of Gods
X ProphetX
Sin de Rath the Mad stopped himself suddenly, and he lowered his staff from its raised position to turn back a glance. "I really wish you wouldn't stand there and watch this."
Warden Narelle Blackmoon remained stationed at the mouth of the cave, Watching with gleaming silver eyes that would not blink. Her moon crescent was held before her thighs – nonthreatening, but that could change in the blink of an eye. At least her warden cloak remained entirely draped about her except where the hand holding the blade peaked through. Perhaps that would be enough.
In reply to him, the night elf said, "You seek to breech the Twisting Nether. My Watch is needed now more than ever before. Care naught, for my Watch held the last time too... Distasteful though your display was."
Shaking his head, Sin remarked bitterly, "Knowing you watched that doesn't make me any more comfortable."
"Your mind and will should prevail this time, so we hope. Get this over with."
Taking a breath, Sin faced forward and raised Shed'lahk again. He paused to say, "She's closer to me than you know."
He could hear her soft, annoyed sigh. "Considering that the last time you two were fucking in the waters of a qiraji pool, I think I have a fair idea, Sin de Rath."
Sin lowered the staff again and turned. She knew already that he had been compelled under Seduction then, essentially raped, but her blatant disregard peeved him for how personal this meeting would be that she was being allowed to witness.
"I am being serious, Narelle Blackmoon. I am allowing you to be privy to a moment more intimate than simple sex. At least pretend to recognize that, else wise I will throw you out right now." He let the butt end of Shed'lahk touched the stone ground of the cave, and an intangible wave of dark power pressed against the Watcher.
She proved unmoved by the intimidation. The warden's narrowed eyes of silver did not even flinch within the hawk helmet. "'Closer than a mother or sister,' you said. 'More intimate than a soulmate.' You will hold no more secrets from me, and I will hold you to that for every moment we spend together."
"You don't need to be physically present to know I am returning my succubus to my control." His words were bitter, but he turned back into place again, and once again he raised his staff. This time, he began the incantation, blossoming the dark cave in sudden color.
Lynona, Lynona – how he missed his dearest friend in the days past. Sekara supplied female companionship, but her incomplete transition from the alien qiraji mind to a more human one left her much like a child in many manners. The trust he had for the qiraji was not the same as the one he had for Lynona, nor could it ever be. Tools were not friends. Narelle behind him, too, was nothing but a tool to him.
He was given no rest at the conclusion of the summoning spell. He called upon the true name of the succubus Lynona, and she answered it in violence. Before the purple light of summoning had even vanished, a barbed whip snapped for his throat, and Sin caught it around Shed'lahk.
"I warned you," spat a vicious, feminine voice, much like a harpy. "Now you will die!"
Despite himself, Sin could not keep from smiling. Light and Shadow, he missed her, and seeing her now before him brought that up in a burst of joy at the reunion.
Straining against her pull on the whip, Sin noticed the change in her stance, the cloven feet bracing, and he was prepared for the sudden lung forward against him, assisted by a flap of her bat-stylized wings. Shadow-laced claws batted against the enchanted cloth of her robes as he blocked with his arm, and a quickly barked spell sent her staggering back with wispy-black smoke dissolving off of her leather corset and bodice.
With a grace suiting her looks but not her nature, Lynona snapped her recovered whip twice, managing to lash his cheek with one. The fierce sting was accented by a warm movement down his cheek, and he knew blood had been drawn. He gripped Shed'lahk in two hands, then spun its top end in a spiral while muttering a new spell. A weave of shadow spilled forth and attempted to snare the succubus.
His friend had grown strong in her time with him. The spell was snipped even as it came, and her whip sought his throat again – a thorny lash this time, rather than a noose. A small nick could kill him as easy as a dagger through the heart. Instead, a blue shield of mana blocked for him, and he smarted her outstretched whip-hand with his staff.
Recovering from the strike, his feet braced, and Sin commanded forward power from deep within him. Lynona recognized it too, as black and green mana seeped from the ground and began to spiral around his body, building up in concentration, and she too moved to the magical side, gathering black magic in her hands in a familiar spell.
Hers came first, as Sin wanted. The Seduction snapped around his mind like a bear-trap, enclosing hard and fast, but rather than seep through the many cracks of a broken mind, Sin withheld it for an aching moment. At the contact between her astral hand and his mind, however, Lynona froze in place, and her face grew pale. Despite her sure fury, she gasped in question, "Sin?"
He did not know what she saw or felt there, but he knew it would not be pretty. A cauterized mind, seared with mind-fire – spell-work normally used to wipe and burnout the minds of enemies. What memories, what actions and characteristics, would be lost in that bastardly scarred mess? That night, Sin had worked like a goblin welder, burning broken pieces together until they made a shoddy whole – patchwork and hideous, but whole.
Sin had come a long way in a very short time. The roughly sealed rifts remained only surface deep, to prevent true damage to his self and allow him to recover the rest naturally. If Lynona pressed hard, she could rip apart the weak sutures. But in the long trials of recent days, he learned to do more than survive. He forced himself to function with his broken mind, on a level separate from straight human thinking.
In the moment of hesitation from her, he bucked off her mind-snare, and like oiled parts he slipped free without problem, where a fierce attempt to cling only accelerated her slipping. His spell finished then, and all at once the succubus was suspended into the air, bound in shadows by hands and feet, with her wings tied together, and a finishing collared around her naked neck – all of it connected by restricting fel-green chains. He figured she'd appreciate the bondage touch of it.
An alternative banishment spell for demons, done in a mix of incantation and instinct magic. He skirted the danger of raw magic now, trusting it to run its course more than he could guide it. To keep the flow, he often personified magic itself as something with a will and intents, even characteristics. Foolish, childish – and mad, he was sure a professional would add – but it kept his expectations and conjurations perfectly aligned.
"I'm afraid I'll need to stop things here," he told Lynona, beginning to walk towards her.
"These bonds are weak," she snapped, and in proof to her words, a tendril of shadow snapped through one of her black cuffs, loosening its hold over her. She could break in out a matter of seconds, he expected.
"I didn't summon you to renew the game of domination," he admitted then. Blue demon eyes narrowed at him in suspicion and wonder. "I summoned you because I need advice."
The succubus spat on his face, and another tendril broke through the bonds of her other hand. A smaller spike snapped through the bottom. He could feel the integrity of his spell-work dissolving quickly. The bound demon hissed, "You get nothing from me!"
A single swipe of his clothed arm took away the spittle, also taking a huge smear of blood from his cheek. He'd forgotten that, and now he felt the sting return with vengeance. He mentioned, "I fear it's time I made the barters for power, Lynona. I may need to call in my contacts."
Lynona froze in place, halting her struggles against his spell. The fae blue eyes were wide now. For only a moment did they keep still, and then all at once she ripped through the last of the binding spell like it was cloth, swiping for his throat with claws of shadow in the same instant.
Faster than even her, Sin jolted back and struck with Shed'lahk. He took her in the chest as she fell, and with a heave shifted her course to falling back against the stone of the cave floor. He withheld a wince at the harsh impact against her fragile wings, but then the tip of Shed'lahk was thrust against the center of her bodice, and shadow and flames began to spill from the staff and encircle her with wispy tendrils of mana.
He'd kill her in a single instant. Lynona was pinned and defeated, and she knew it. Looking up at him with her sultry eyes and snarling mouth, she demanded, "Finish it!" He did not. "Finish it, Sin de Rath! Obliterate my body and char my bones! Prove you-!"
The staff dragged up to thrust against her naked throat. He hadn't seen it uncollared since the day he first subdued her to his will. The touch silenced her, and he could see the brutal elation from her. This was the warlock game of control. He was the master here, not her. And he would kill her for this defiance.
How he wished the bond between them remained, to feel what she felt and hear what she thought.
"No," he told her then.
Immaculate, artistocratic eyebrows pinched inward in confusion. "No?" she asked. Though he could not feel it, he could see the sudden surge of rage flood through her. "Weak!" she shrieked, and a hand slapped away the staff from her neck, leaving behind the charred marks of its touch.
Lynona shoved herself back up, attempting to come for his blood again, but he stopped her with a raised knee, and with his weight he carried her back down, landing hard against the stone. Gently, he pressed the tip of Shed'lahk against her throat again. Softly, he repeated, "No."
In the hanging moment, he noticed the escape of a tear from her eye. The snarl did not leave her lips, but she asked in an emotion-choked voice of hate, "What happened to you, Sin? What did they do to your beautiful mind?"
"It will heal."
Thrusting her head up, even against the staff, she hissed, "Will it?!" He sensed it before he felt it, the sudden thrust of a psychic spike for his wounded brain. He could not prevent that wicked needle from sliding deep, deep into the recesses of his being, and it came with an explosion of pain. Blood began to trickle from his nose, though he did not flinch.
Realizing what she'd done, Lynona blinked up at him with a new look of horror. He did not respond to it, asking instead, "Are you quite done, Lynona?"
"S... Sin," she started, but she didn't finish.
"Try it again," he told her. "Try to claim my mind." Obediently, Lynona cast her Seduction again.
Control. It was the cornerstone to everything warlock. If a book were to be written, it would be the very first law. The world liked to think mages who gave themselves over to the shadow were warlocks, but those were nothing more than enthralled trash. Slaves to demonic desires, to the nature of the magic, and eventually they would be chained by the will of a stronger master. Those were not warlocks.
A sorcerer who could not keep control of the magicks he worked with did not deserve the title. Sin had fallen; he had lost everything and even watched his control crumble. He had lost his class and title. From the ashes, he began to recover. The qiraji communication attempted to rewire how his brain worked, bending the steel shell he had formed around it, and in time, the protection had shattered. That was true, but he had begun to recover.
Sin de Rath was not the same as he was. He was a warlock, even one fallen. No part of what was truly him would change from this, but he could not build himself to the same image as he was before in the time he had. Instead, he did what was natural to the species he was not – he adapted like the qiraji.
Lynona's Seduction came again, no less powerful and consuming. He let it close around him, but before it could seize advantage of the newly opened hole from her spike, he ripped away the perceived defense and forced Lynona deeper within him. In that moment, the physical world was lost to him, as the one both mental and spiritual became his reality.
Like trying to light fire underwater, the succubus spell dissolved at the immersion within him. Lynona was given witness to his true self, to everything that he is and was. In this state, she could pursue the time he spent with her in the War of the Shifting Sands, or she could delve to the times he lost his control to the corruptive nature of the shadow after the bond broke his control.
She could watch him lust after Sekara at the qiraji hive, or she could watch him face death at the hands of Miko in northern Silithus. She would know his exact thoughts and feelings for her in the time she raped him under the Seduction, the time after, and now when he summoned her.
Unlike the mortal races, demons were familiar with this psychic world. Thanks to Sekara and the qiraji communication, Sin himself didn't feel so displaced as he showed it to her.
So, my precious Lynona, what are your thoughts of the man beneath the mask of master? Of the man called Sin de Rath?
The succubus did not hesitate as long as he thought she might, given the unexpectedness of taking her into his self. Her reply came entirely different than that of the qiraji communication, as she appeared within his mind in a physical shape and said, "I much prefer this end of you."
The mental nudge was towards Sin's character, not his memories. The parts of him that were dominant; where he needed each portion of his life under direct and deliberate control, and the self-entitled arrogance to expect it done. It was also the part of him that was the perfectionist, for he could only be master if all was done better under his control. That strive for perfection, in spell work, turn of conversation, in actions, in war... Those were the parts of him born of being a warlock, or perhaps what led him to that path.
In particular, Lynona prompted a memory, and he could feel from her the burning satisfaction and desire at feeling his end of it. Their first encounter and battle for dominance, when she attempted to charm him with her Seduction. His line of thought: how could he fall under control of a demon, when he was to be master of everything? And the sheer arrogance of it turned her spell into nothing more than aged paper, torn through without a thought.
Lynona turned to him now in the astral image of his psyche. What she saw of him, of his presence, he did not know, but he commented through thought, You're naked.
The purple skinned demoness smiled broadly at that. "So are you. This isn't the Twisting Nether, where form, shape, and dress is derived of imagination. This is your very soul, Sin de Rath, and an image of mine."
Then why the collar around your neck? You do not even have one outside of here.
The succubus touched her throat, where the black band resided. He could feel fondness from her, and a deep sadness. "Because my soul still belongs to someone else."
Oh Light and Shadow, he could feel it from her. She was his succubus: his tool, his demon, his servant. He was her master. Paramount of importance were only those facts to her, even at the breaking of their bonds. Though it was his mind they resided in, he could feel echoes of hers: the standing love, and the roiling hurt and confusion that he would not dominate her in the physical world. She would sooner be dominated by him with the broken mind than left apart.
Wear the collar, Lynona. I am not trying to deny you that, he told her. He guided her to a different memory, to the thoughts and feelings of him as he summoned her to the cave. She quivered at the realization he was showing to her. I want you, Lynona. I won't go on without you, but this time, there will be no domination, no master and slave. Regardless of our relationship, I will have you there as my friend and companion. That is my gift to you.
"Sin..." she started, and new emotion flooded her voice. She was a rather temperamental girl – and at the thought, a flash of indignation told him she heard it. Then she laughed, before stuttering, "Sin, you- you oaf!"
You can see I really haven't changed, my precious Lynona. That arrogant, controlling part of me remains strong, and I will not stand for being alienated from MY succubus any longer. If you won't come back to me as a friend, then I will splatter your body against the walls of this cave and subjugate your will, and perhaps that dainty body, until the only fight you have left is "More, please!"
Her lips turned up in a wicked smile, and Lynona ran her hands along the sides of her curves enticingly. "You're tempting me, Sin de Rath. But you must realize that now that you've led me here, I can ruin you from the inside. Demons hold the superior hand in this realm."
Quick as thought, chains snapped around her hands and legs, and they pulled from all ends, leaving her suspended and helpless. With mirth and confidence, Sin told her, You did once, but as you know, I am not wholesomely human inside anymore. The qiraji broke me down, but I learned from it, and I've rebuilt myself stronger.
Sin was glad the fight had turned inward, where Narelle could no longer see. This privacy was needed between the mingled souls of master and servant. Picking up the thought, and now in her position, Lynona purred audibly. "This... This is what I was hoping to see again, Master."
A force not at all physical reverberated from her words and through his core. It felt... like a contract, if he needed to put it into definition, as her words sealed her place at his side again. With it, the chains around her arms and legs broke and vanished, yet another appeared, hooking to the collar she wore. Lynona touched it, elation clear within her – the bond was restored, and he could feel what she felt once again.
And, as he soon discovered, she could feel what he did too.
"So you do have a libido!" she declared triumphantly, and she fanned the flames of the area in question. The sudden rush of lust for the naked succubus within his mental vision was entirely unnatural, like the Seduction charm, yet far less foreign, feeling real and natural.
LYNONA. The growl that escaped him was far more encompassing than the passing of thought-words. It shook the astral realm they were present in, and Lynona nearly cowered at the overwhelming command to stop. She pouted, "Later then."
The world is in motion, and more lives than ours are in danger. The Beast beneath Shed'Beshal stirs, Azeroth lays in her death throes, and the goddesses themselves have blessed me with their power to continue the fight, even as they lose ground in their own. If ever there was a time to bargain my freedom for power, this is it, Lynona, and I need you with me every step of the way.
I am not alone any longer, but I can trust no one as completely as I trust you.
He could feel fingers brushing strands of memory and past. It was terribly invasion, a more intimate penetration of self than anything that could happen in the physical world, but since it was she, with his consent, he did not mind. A fierce burn of happiness returned from her at his trust.
"I see," she commented after her inspection of what exactly had transpired in her absence. "The Watcher, she is your closest confident, and her only purpose is to kill you. Well, that will not happen on my watch, Master. Nothing but a tool, and a weak fail-safe at that. The qiraji, mindless sheep. The cultists, and this Darnin, more tools. I see this Sekara lacks the "tool" label, Master. Have something to say over the affection I see?"
It came with the sharp whip of jealousy, but Sin was callus to it. It is what it is, and I will not stand for issues from you over it, Lynona.
"She sleeps in your tent, in your bed. You never did that for me, not unless we were freezing to death."
Enough, Lynona. I have already removed the domination from you, to give you your chance, and you can feel the difference between my regard for her and you.
"I want your eyes on me alone, Sin. I want to be your sin. Your dirty, naughty sin."
By the Shadow, that genuine lust from her. Certainly, the temptress could feel the way it affected him, and she preyed upon that lightly. "That qiraji hatchling is not worthy of you, Master. I can show you the pleasure you deserve."
Most damning was that rather than simple demon lust, her words carried the strong ring of love. Mingling souls like this, Sin suspected, deepened the bond in unprecedented ways, and he could feel the exact nature of her feelings for him.
He retreated to arrogance, before the softer sides of him could lock him into a set path. Master of everything, succubus. You would be my own pleasure, my only treat? That is all I "deserve?"
Words caught in her throat, and a flood of heat reached her cheeks as she felt his mirth. Before she could shout, he continued over her, Focus on the moment, Lynona. We're discussing bedmates while half the world burns and the other half drifts to the executioner's block. Before season's end, I might be shackled to the will of a dark god – if that's what it took to save the planet, then I will go willfully. You can feel my need for you, but that does not entitle you, or Sekara, getting my rocks off.
Still naked in image before him, so excessively feminine but not presently flaunting it, Lynona remained in a state of jaw-clenching pension until she finally conceded, "I want what's best for you, Master, but she is not it. And that's not jealousy; that's just the history of your time with her."
Sin de Rath the Mad, I'm called now, but I'm starting to see Light in places previously buried. No use crying over spilled milk, as they say, nor arguing how it might have spilled differently. Now, let's get out of... whatever this is, so I can kiss your lips and stop Narelle from putting a bolt through my heart while I'm distracted.
To further demonstrate the new control he had over the psychic world, Sin ejected the both of them in a violent tempest, one incapable of being fought by any simple being. He wondered if it would be enough to battle the claws of an old god, when it came for him. Perhaps the mastery would better buffer him against the Whispers, at least.
Sin opened his eyes again feeling as if dunked in an icy stream, as of the last thought. Tight tension and sudden goosebumps assailed him as he recalled the Whispers of old gods, that of C'Thun as they traversed the Temple of Ahn'Qiraj, and that of Yogg'Saron as he descended upon the realm of- No, Sin had masked himself then, in identity, appearance, and mind. The claws of Yogg'Saron, the mark for mad death, could not touch his real self.
Shadow-wrapped mind and exclusively closed-bond with his succubus. What a team they had made, when rejoining the heroes to vanquish the Beast of a Thousand Maws. Lynona had wanted to keep the bondage-esque uniform she had been made to wear then, meant to block each of her senses before facing the Beast, to fight solely by his will and command and none of her mind's own. She had been kept safe from Yogg'Saron, but Sin quickly burned the uniform, for the memories it evoked within him.
Shed'lahk fell away from Lynona's throat in the waking moment. Odd, nearly ironic, were the black marks of burned-corruption left behind in the wake, leaving a mark like a new collar around her. A finely manicured hand grasped a handful of his robes near the collar, and her lips quirked as she admonished, "You should know better than to give me permission."
And she yanked him down for a kiss. Sin gladly fell into it, hotly and insistently kissing her back, and he felt her barbed tail wrap around his waist possessively – the barbs faced backward, to keep in place what prey tried escaping, though she was careful not to prick him.
With the restored bond between them, he nearly flinched at Lynona's pain. What awful poison leached and burned at her throat – the Touch of Beshalahk – and her wings were indeed snapped in several places from the rough handling beforehand. Devotion carried her despite the calamities, and Sin knew – just knew – golden love blocked it all from her mind. Light, he had no words for this.
A deliberate, sarcastic sigh reached them from the cave entrance. "Just like last time."
Sin kindly freed one hand to offer a rude gesture without looking, but a dirt-stained, purple-skinned hand took his and guided it towards where she thought his fingers better used. Sin caught one of her plush lips between his and nipped it with his teeth before breaking the kiss.
"None of that now," he breathed, transfixed by the sparkling, smoldering expression on her face as she beamed back at him. The thought reached him that if he allowed himself to give into her advances, he might not ever leave his tent again – world be damned. Blue eyes flickered downward suggestively, before returning directly to his own, and she agreed, "And you wouldn't complain once."
"Succubus," he accused, and she took it as a compliment.
The next few moments passed quickly, as Sin summoned Lynona a new body, and they left, with Narelle following like a hunting hawk, to return to the camp. Though dark had fallen some time ago, few had already retired for bed, and he was greeted by many curious qiraji and concerned bandits.
It was a new world that Sin de Rath lived in, Lynona would see. One of monsters and men, of friends and foes. Gods and mortals. And he was the theatrical show at the center of it all.
The time came when he broke free of the crowds and departed for his tent, but he stopped at the persistence of Narelle. "The night is not over," she said by explanation.
"For you it is," he dismissed. "You have my word already; if anything noteworthy happens, you'll be the first to know, Lady Blackmoon, but for now, I am going to catch up with one of my dearest, oldest friends, and then retire before another grueling day of marching in this hellish snow. I suggest you do the same, warden. You look tired."
"Sin-"
"I know my promise, Lady Blackmoon," was the curt rejection. "But until we start sharing baths and sharing tents, you do not need to bear witness to every single portion of my life."
"Fine." The reply carried every trace of her singular determination.
Sin paused, nearly mouth agape. Lynona had a hot flash of jealousy and dissent. "Well... too bad," he returned lamely.
With an iron-clad finger and bladed nail, Narelle pointed at the succubus. "She is of the Twisting Nether, the realm of your Watch, Sin de Rath. She will have words over the state and conditions of it, along with perhaps a warning. Does that not constitute information I should be made fully aware of?"
"Probably. I'll let you know in the morning. Good night, Narelle."
Sin had nearly forgotten how present and consuming the bond shared with his demons could be, as he felt Lynona's satisfaction at the dismissal. He turned from the warden and opened the flap for his tent, letting his succubus in before following. Once the flap closed behind him, Sin threw up a magical veil as an afterthought, to block sound or spell from penetrating inside.
Lynona had a little grin for him as she stared. Light and Shadow, he really did not have a plan here. Menacing Shed'lahk remained clenched in his fist, always present, and he bought himself time by beginning the process of sealing and locking it in wards and shields, to free him from the constant burden of carrying it.
His attention remained captivated by Lynona's blue eyes as he worked, not able to look away. When the final barrier formed around the key, Lynona took his dark skinned hand in her own, and she pulled him to her. All arguments dispelled when their lips came in contact again.
Sin did not feel mad. Sometimes he did, but usually he did not. He must have been though, for here was a man trusted to keep safe one of the darkest entities in the universe, yet he threw himself into work with treacherous cultists-turned-bandits and monsters spawned by dark gods and given feminine shape. What sane man kissed a demon, even one as deceptively gorgeous as a succubus?
She had goat legs up to her knees, for Light's sake, complete with cloven feet and massive, leathery wings sprouting from her back like a bat – not to mention the curved horns at her forehead. Even the inside of her mouth, as he explored it with his tongue, contained a set of unnatural fangs, while her own returning tongue stretched much further than a tongue really ought, he noticed with a tingle to his spine.
He deepened the kiss, tilting her back with an arm around her slender waist and the other supporting her back between the wings. He found he couldn't stop this, not with the sweet taste of her mouth and the sweet scent he wasn't sure was a perfume. It was intoxicating, fueled further by feeling both his mind's desires and her own bright flames of lust, love, and want. He could feel her hands grabbing at his robes, loosening them, and his heart lurched into a frantic beat, not knowing if he should stop them or rip that flimsy corset from her frame.
The tent flap opened, interrupting them. Sin felt ready to kill Narelle, and his anger at the intrusion was matched by Lynona's. Turning with his face already contorting to shout, Sin's words died a cold death when he saw it was not Narelle Blackmoon who had entered. It was Sekara.
"Sin?" the qiraji Battleguard said.
Lynona's disdain persisted though his wilted. Clearly, Sekara recognized the succubus, and she recalled the reason for the severing between he and his demon. Sekara proved especially shy now, rubbing her red arms together and hardly past the threshold of the tent.
Since they had left the silithid hive in Sholazar, Sekara had changed her uniform once again, this time returning her veil. She now wore it, a flimsy pink vest without ties, and the harem pants. Sin suspected she was striving for the human ideals for beauty, as the inhuman parts of her remained covered, while the feminine showed in new light, like the suggest valley of her breasts, which were held precariously hidden beneath the sides of the vest.
Sin had to wonder again at the programming C'Thun had done for the Battleguards. The sisterhood mentality, the needlessly feminine shape, and their peculiar garb, like harem girls – yet the Battleguards were the elite defenders and assassins of the aqir. For what purpose had the bizarre mind of the old god shaped them?
"Come in, Sekara," he invited, and Lynona crossed her arms before her with a huff. To the succubus, he admitted, "It's for the best."
"Liar."
Sin took Lynona under an arm and guided her back towards the bed. She remained displeased, but her feet moved. Once seated with her on the cot, he leaned towards her pointed ear and whispered, "With you, I won't be able to help myself, Sa'eedrin Tardik Balish'nak Lae'Parnona... "Distraction" doesn't begin to describe what would happen."
The full saying of her name, with each inflection, flick of tongue, and harsh clipping of the Demonic syllables, done exact as she had been Named, imposed a tremor through the succubus. Much like him taking her into his soul, it was the most intimate and personal thing to her, and its saying demonstrated his great power over her. A demon was nothing more than its Name.
Sin noticed through his peripheral the open attention Sekara was giving Shed'lahk, but his focus was on Lynona.
"What did I say," she breathed back, voice tight, "about saying my Name, Sin de Rath?"
"That was no flippant saying, Lae'Parnona. I'm serious as a cone-tail rattler in a rainstorm."
"Idiot," Lynona laughed. The moment did not last long, as she followed it with a sigh. "The hells are in an uproar presently, you know. The Legion knows as well as you the state of this world. It seems as if every being with a lick of power in the Twisting Nether is clamoring at the opportunity."
Her horned head fell to his shoulder, and Sin kept his arm around her, turning his eyes towards Sekara. "That is what I feared. Grandmother Shuzlo has mobilized her family for damage control, but there's little they can do outside the Gardens."
"Are you afraid, Master? I see you've taken up the Bane-Heart."
"I'd be a fool not to be, but I'm not petrified. Two goddesses have given me power untold, and Shed'lahk's power is mine to use. I just don't know if it will be enough. Titans have fallen to old gods before, when not unified, and I don't believe I match their power. I am considering using Demon Soul."
"The spell?" Lynona lifted her head, turning intent. "Do so, Master. I will gladly-"
"With Claxius," he finished, and the words died in her mouth. "Or someone of equivalent power, like the Emperor of the Abyssal Depths or Moxius. The Sand Prince of Storms would grant me his boon, if I would but promise my body to the works of ordering the Elemental Plane in his name. Then there is the bargain of Little-Tooth, which I have inherited, or worst yet, to contract a prisoner of the Gardens."
"Each is worse than the last!" Lynona cried out, and her hand tightened its hold over the sleeve of his robe. "Would you add Therezane to that list, whom would grant you the strength of the earth in exchange for a century of torment and death at her hands?
"If it would grant me victory, I may," he replied quietly.
"No, Sin. There are other ways."
"So I hope, my precious Lynona, and I'd like you to help me find them."
A tense silence fell between them, and Sin called the looming Sekara to them. Not even that could break the strong currents of urgent fear within Lynona. As Sekara knelt on the cot, facing Sin, the succubus mentioned, "To be considering these options... there is more you are not saying. Master, Sin, you are delving the world of beyond? You would touch Death for this power?"
The guilt and shame she felt within him answered before he could, and Lynona shook her head in a desperate fit. Throwing herself against his chest and into his lap, Lynona began to cry. There was no sobbing, but he saw the tears and felt the sorrow, while she mumbled, "Master, what happened while I was away? Shadows, it's too much!"
Sin stroked her full, black hair, whispering empty comforts.
"You aren't alone, Master," she argued. It was something Sin had already considered, knowing the combined strength needed to remove C'Thun and Yogg'Saron. He began to open his mouth, only to be spoken over:
"No, Sin is not." It came from beside him, in the rasp of the qiraji verbal communication. Sekara agreed with Lynona – it was the first time Sin had seen her take the initiative in an interaction that was not with him or another qiraji. He looked to her, into the bright teal eyes – as unnatural as Lynona's own blue – and it was as if she read his mind, for she insisted, "The All-Mind shall not be broken. The sisters are one, for Sin."
Lynona's head lifted from his robes, and she wiped the streaks of tears with her wrist. She said, "I did not check when we were within your soul, Master, but... more than Sekara, did you make a harem of the qiraji?"
"No," Sin choked out at the same time Sekara answered, "Yes."
They looked at each other, Sin's eyes wide and Sekara's calm. "I don't think you understand what exactly the word "harem" means, Sekara."
With her two scythe-bladed arms, Sekara gestured to him and herself. "Family." The arm towards him lowered. "And Fire."
Dry, Lynona commented, "I think she has it down pretty well."
There was, perhaps, no moment as appropriate as this to risk his mind in the formation of the qiraji bond to wrestle a straight answer out of Sekara, but since he still had not finished a safe method to form the bond between them, he abstained.
Light and Shadow, that song of the loa that beat in his heart and his loins grew louder and louder at each suggestion. Lynona's raised eyebrow showed she could feel it too.
Cutting off his worries, Sin argued, "Hardly so. Ressact, for example, would sooner avoid me, after all the mouth-work she performed on my behalf- Speaking, Lynona. She spoke for me."
"Keep talking, mister. This hole is only getting deeper," the succubus threatened.
"Ressact is traditional," Sekara explained. "She cannot into self-thought much. She waits on Sin de Rath's command."
Turning pensive, Sin pursued, "And Sekara is different?"
"Sekara is queen. The All-Mind forms to my will, which is Sin de Rath's will, for Sekara is your servant."
Servant. The word was simple, but her meaning encompassed far more. Sekara was his total servant, he recalled. Total loyalty, total obedience, total willfulness for everything he wanted. He placed extra emphasis on the reminder, to clue in Lynona. The succubus narrowed her eyes, and she returned thoughts mentioning the same from her – plus one-hundred percent, all-natural succubus sass.
Biting back a laugh, Sin asked, "Queen?" and looked into Sekara's eyes, hoping it would help her glean his intent by the question. Qiraji queens, he remembered, were grotesque, silithid-bodied egg-layers oozing slime and unmentionables from more orifices than he wanted to recall.
She managed. "Sekara is no mother. Yet."
"Yet," Sin repeated.
"Yet," Sekara confirmed.
Now that was a buzz kill. "But you will be? Is that true for... any Battleguard?"
Attention-seeking Lynona began to fidget at his side, so Sin scooped her in his arms and set her in his lap, then crossed his arms over her stomach. She purred like a cat, content for the moment.
"Sekara does not know. Fathers and mothers speak, while sisters and brothers listen. I speak, but I am no mother. This is not how it works."
Sin felt like he had the gist of her explanation. "Speak" meant free thought. Battleguards could think on their own, he knew that from Sekara when he still called her Bugsy, but they could not think independently from the All-Mind. They were designed to follow orders, to always have a master.
He desperately wanted to bond with her mind again, to get the history and explanation of the qiraji as she knew it rather than struggled to say it. "So how is it supposed to work?"
The unblinking teal eyes were unyielding. "Sekara should be mother. Perhaps Sekara will be mother. Sekara does not know, but I do not care. Sekara is loyal to Sin de Rath, so Sekara and all sisters will follow Sin de Rath. Let's make Fire."
The ending part was thrown on so casually, Sin almost missed the implications. He didn't, of course, thanks to the loa beat that still pulsed stronger and stronger within him, driving his thoughts linearly towards one end – and perhaps that is what Sekara had noticed from him, maybe even taking influence from it.
As Lynona began squirming over his lap, he realized the loa song wasn't the only stirring in his loins. The succubus mentioned haughtily, "If any "fire making" is going on here, it's going to be with me. Shadows, Master, what is that?"
"Har'koa's Blessing," he explained, frustrated. Frustrated for sure! "I knew the loa were about primal forces, but Light, shouldn't there be more to it than this?"
An amused, formal air came to Lynona, as her squirming became a very deliberate grinding. "Sin, my Master, the gods have blessed you with a great gift. It would not be well to squander it through inaction."
The ministrations sent an abrupt surge of blood and emotion, so much that when his hands came to her hips and stopped her, Lynona obeyed without complaint. "I think," he gasped tersely, "that one body would not be enough to quell this."
With another breath, he concluded, "There is a reason troll orgies are commonplace and the average troll has more wives than I have fingers, and now we know why."
Lynona turned in place to straddle him, her legs stretching out on either side and hands on his shoulders. Her fingers gripped his robes in fistfuls, but her wide, mischievous grin was all he saw. She purred, "I want to see that faced with the Mistress of Pleasure on the sayaad planet. For science."
"Well, between the qiraji harem and the loa song, we now know that I'd be the happiest guy alive if only the world weren't on the verge of total damnation and myself set on course for saving it."
With a shove, Lynona had Sin flat on his back and leaned herself low over him, keeping her mischievous face inches from his. "Lord de'Rath," she addressed. Her breath touched his face, and his lips turned up to catch hers. When exactly did he fall into this lustful trap?
"Lynona," a struggling voice attempted. Sin noticed the drop of Lynona's eyebrows as Sekara addressed her, and she turned a narrow-eyed look the qiraji's way. "Can you teach Sekara to spread Fire?"
There was not a shred of reluctance from her. "Succubi don't share, little qiraji."
"Untrue," Sin argued, not without mirth against her flash of indignation. He recalled the demonic harems they had burst into, over the course of their travels together.
Turning that dangerous look his way, she explained, "Power-whoring leaches do. Shivarra do too, if they are the sole matron of a harem and the master is worthwhile. I am neither, so pluck that little teasing thought from your mind, Sin de Rath, and realize there is nothing in this universe or mine more jealous and scornful than a succubus in love."
She flaunted both her notion of love and jealousy as if they were badges of honor. Sin laughed, realizing there was nothing new there. "Light, I missed you, Lynona."
Rather than returning joy, there was a lance of pain within her, and her eyes seemed to dim in their regard. "Don't slip up again, Sin. Please. I'll beg if I have to; on my hands and knees before you, and I'll beg with my mouth, and with my tongue."
She flicked the serpentine organ over her lips suggestively, but despite her joke, he knew her request was sincere. Their bond had broken. Though they repaired it, there would always be scars over the wound. "I'm trying." It was the best he could offer her, and she felt that, nodding once.
"Now, I had several plans to get you inside me before the night is through," Lynona continued, seemingly oblivious to the rush of heat to his cheeks, "but the little tart staring at us is making me uncomfortable. Can we send her out?"
"No, but you can move over and make room for her while I blow out the candles and ready for bed."
"Master!" Lynona whined.
XxX
The butt of Shed'lahk touched the ground, sending the telling thrum of power through the land beneath them, with its head still smoking and smoldering. Narelle eased tension off her bow, letting the poisoned arrow aim downward. Beside them, Darin tossed aside the bubbling remains of his hooked dagger, and Handon grunted at the blood splashed over his bones.
"Acidic blood," Sin mentioned quietly. "Bodies that combust upon defeat. Shape-shifting. Skin spelled for visual distortion. Psychically aggressive and protected. Power more dark and corrupted than the Shadow. That is what we face from even the lowest of the enemy. The highers amplify the danger of each of those."
"I prefer the qiraji to these." The gruffness of the voice was telling for Jern, who walked behind them. "Barely."
"The spawn of C'Thun or the spawn of another old god," Darnin put into comparison. With a gesture towards the blood-splattered Sekara, he mentioned, "It seems as though the qiraji were tailored to fight them, or perhaps with them."
All noticed how the acid blood of the enemy did no harm to the skin of the Battleguard. Even Handon, with bones protected by dark magics, felt the leaching of the blood against the spell work of his body.
"With the old gods, one can never know," Sin mentioned. "We are close though. Past that mountain is an icy canyon, the end of which is the forest we seek."
"Lo, Specter," Darnin called, now kneeling beside the corpse of one of the minions they had slayed. Sin noticed a dark dagger in his hand, and the man was coating its blade in the blood of the fiend. "What do you make of this blade? The blood is sliding right off, with no mar."
Sin approached. "I don't trust the glow of it. Opals and emeralds don't give light." He accepted the blade cautiously. The piece appeared hand-crafted, smoothed and shaped like a baker does dough, with the bladed end blotchy as if done by an inexperienced palm rather than a forge. It was metal, clearly, though colored like pitch and speckled without pattern with the two types of stones, uncut and unshaped.
Resting Shed'lahk over his lap, he brought his right hand over the knife and muttered an incantation. Sin dragged the hand aside, and with it, a latticework of spells blossomed in the air between the hand and dagger, spread as if something connected the two.
Sin read the spell work woven into the blade with a curious eye. It was certainly alien, carrying none of the patterns of mortal spell-weaving, but the design lacked alien complexity. He said, "Now that is interesting... How do you feel about vampires, Darnin?"
"Feasting on blood for power? It sounds useful in war."
"That it does," Sin remarked, still sounding fascinated. "But this is no simple sangromancy... Yes, this area here is the secret, but..."
For the first time, Sin felt it. Astral, psychic tendrils as transparent and intangible as ghosts approached his mind, and like fingers they wrapped around it without a real, detectible touch. Then one, oh so delicately and innocently, gently probed itself inward, into his mind, with a touch too light for the protective walls to keep away. Light and Shadow, the psychic touch was a work of mastery unseen by mortal hands. No one could perform a feat so skillfully yet so delicately, nigh impossible to detect.
Darnin wants this dagger. He will try to take it, kill me in my sleep if he has too.
The thought felt so naturally bidden, so seamless with his normal patterns of thought. If it had not been for Sekara and the qiraji bond, he would never have noticed any of this. The Whispers of the Old Gods – the qiraji bond had clued him into its workings, and he could feel it!
"Master?" Lynona questioned, not understanding what she was reading from him.
Even Shed'lahk in his lap began to burn along their contact, also sensing the intrusion, and it had a disturbing satisfaction at its keeper's awareness. Sin could nearly feel its thoughts: if Shed'lahk would not control him, no one would.
"Nothonium," he announced, unbidden. This metal alloy carried within it the essence of the old god, and from it, he knew its name – and its substance. "Made from the blood of a dark god, like Yogg'Saron's, yes."
"Like saronite?" Lynona pressed, a touch of panic entering her voice. "Do away with it, Master. Quickly."
"No, even better, I will study it," Sin declared triumphantly. "That fool, it's given me a key to its destruction... Light and Shadow, only a madman would try this against an old god."
"I don't understand," Narelle put in, sounding as though a demand, while Lynona exclaimed, "Madman indeed! Hold onto it for long, and you won't want to use it against it any longer. Master, you know better!"
"No, no. You don't understand," he returned, only for Narelle to interject coolly, "Exactly."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Sekara, you wonderful darling, you've shown me the way to old god Whispers. They won't work on me any longer, and certainly not with Shed'lahk's burning hate. Most importantly, the blood pact within the blade – the blood it feeds upon grants the old god's strength to the wielder, which is a clue into its power. Ghat'Nothos has handed me its blood and power to experiment upon without danger. Does no one realize what that means?"
"By the goddess, you are mad," Narelle said, but she was nodding with Lynona.
"Warden, they teach you to never leave behind blood for demons to recover, do they not?" She nodded, the cogs clearly whirling within her mind. "And you know why, but for the rest of you: it grants a new weakness, capable of being exploited by the... right hand. Troll voodoo is a magic solely built around the concept, firing hexes and jinxes to the victim with but a drop of blood or a hair – no matter the distance, no matter the protection, you cannot escape your own blood."
"So you want to hex an old god?" Jern's question was dry, clearly unimpressed. "Can't it just trace the spell back to you and obliterate you in the same method?"
"Oh, it will do far worse than that," Sin agreed, and he wrapped the blade of the dagger in a cloth sheath before throwing it into his pack. "But I am no troll. I'm going to find ways to detect, protect from, and extinguish its exact brand of magic. I can trace it through its blood, to know its exact position and movements, and when the time is right, I can throw against it a multitude of weakeners and curses."
He could feel Lynona's worry. She knew he mastered the ways of Destruction, that his codex boosted only that field of warlock spell-weaving. For the other schools, of Affliction and Demonology, he was an arduous student, but he lacked real power in either field. His curses remained mediocre.
But she was forgetting that his mother trained him in ways not restricted to what he learned from textbooks and specialists. Magic was an open tool; he had been given the tools to create spells as he wished, not just those written in his spell book. That was the importance of theory. Sin was a sorcerer first.
"There is nothing, friends, more dangerous than a warlock given time to prepare," Sin de Rath announced, standing again and adjusting his enchantedly light pack. He had a grin that belied his excitement. Miko knew the truth of his statement; Narelle and the Watchers did too. "This old god will learn the truth of that soon enough. Now, tend your wounds if you have them, and let's push forward."
Those involved in the brief skirmish looked to each other. Handon used snow to scrub off the last of the blood from his bones, and then they began to move forward again.
XxX
"You move well, demon."
Lynona turned, whip coiled in her hands, but she saw no one there. Realizing, she exhaled and made out the shape melded into the shadows. Deciding Sin would not mind her fraternizing, she returned, "A compliment, from a warden. Lesser invisibility is nothing but a trick to you, no?"
Turning her nearly invisible head towards the direction of Sin's tent, Narelle Blackmoon said, "Sentinel, actually, but on a warden's mission. Your shroud is a neater trick than the others I've encountered, and you see me without hesitation. A bodyguard appropriate for Sin de Rath."
"Not to be curt, but you do realize you are my enemy, don't you?"
The night elf smiled, and silver eyes flicked back to her. "For my purpose? Yes, and you are mine in turn, for race alone and then the obstacle you present to my duties. But I have swallowed much of my opinions and pride in recent weeks, and I compromise justice for right all to often."
"I have seen who you are, Narelle Blackmoon, and I have seen what my master has not. You seek to use me, for a link into my master's mind. You have not changed in the slightest. How many bandits have you killed from the shadows without his knowledge?"
A soft laughter from the elf sent Lynona's blood boiling, but she did not lash out. "I see our trust is mutual, and I hear the lash of jealousy in your voice. To your question, see where I am now, and what I watch. I have killed one man. On the first night since Sin revealed the truth of the old god, he came carrying a dagger for the tent your master slept in, and I removed his threat without issue."
"You want me to believe you're his protector?" Lynona said sarcastically. "Shall I simper at your help?"
"You believe I am unchanged since my journey with Sin has begun, but you are mistaken. Tell me, if you can see so, what do you believe my purpose and goal is? What would I have done, should my idea of "right" be realized?"
Lynona drawled, "Each and every one here dead."
Another laugh, but not mocking. "I will not argue that would be simplest, but what does that do against the threat of this old god? We Watchers know better than anyone how outclassed we are against one of their ilk. The entire force of Sentinels, druids, and dragons was not enough to overcome the qiraji in the Qiraji War, one thousand years ago, and that was while C'Thun still slept. The options for this world are very slim, and I cannot deny Sin is one of them."
"You don't look to your goddess Elune?"
An odd chord was struck in the night elf. Her head flickered entirely into view, and Lynona could see the raw sadness on Narelle's face. Rather than look up, to the moon, her gaze turned downward, and her quiet voice became a whisper, "You cannot feel it? Elune battles the old god as we speak."
Lynona blinked, and she looked upward herself. The moon showed brightly, a radiant orb in the brilliantly lit sky of Ghost Lights. Stared though she did, she felt and saw nothing unusual. Remembering the expression, she asked, "Does that not inspire hope, that the great goddess fights with us?"
"Perhaps it would, child, if she was making progress. Elune is losing her battle."
Once again, surprise overtook the succubus, and she stared at the warden again. "But her host..." Her host was dead, Lynona recalled sharply. Sin's encounter with the goddesses had told him that.
Narelle shook her head. "I am no priestess, able to read the signs of the goddess, but even I can feel the waning strength of the moon. I assume her efforts are why the old god has not yet finished ordering this world in its image. Be grateful for the time she has bought us, and mourn for the day she falls."
Despite herself, Lynona stepped closer to the lone Watcher, and she asked with a compassionate voice, "Are you alright?"
"All things in this world will pass. If Elune dies, then so does the light within my people, but there are worse horrors lurking in the shadows of the present. I have born witness to Sin's charge, that he calls Beshalahk, and so my duty carries me forward through even the worst atrocities."
Lynona chewed her lip in thought for a long moment, during which her lesser invisibility dropped. She said finally, "I love my master more than I can explain. I won't see him hurt, enslaved, or killed, by any hand. I won't see him fall or be torn from me again. You threaten that, Watcher. Sin thinks he can trust you, but I know better."
"He trusts me to do my job," Narelle clarified. Opening her warden's cloak and revealing a body more scandalously dressed than Lynona was, Narelle gestured to a dagger with a clear coating of poison. Lynona felt her throat tightening at the suggestion. "He says he'll treat me as someone closer and more intimate than a soulmate-" A bitter laugh. "-but we both know the truth of that. You know how much he keeps from me, and there is little else I can do but Watch and wait for the moment my hand is called to action."
"My master is kind, you know. Sometimes he hesitates on hard decisions, wondering if there might be better ways, and he trusts those he has little reason to, even if he keeps them in proportionate suspicion. I would work with you, if I didn't feel as if you would exploit each word against him."
"Trust me for what you think you can. I recognize that Sin is needed for the success of the world; the goddesses would not have returned him if he wasn't. If he falls completely, my hand will not hesitate, but I would rather he not reach that point. I know of no one else with even a chance of success, but I do not know if I can trust him. He is mad."
"He's stranger, certainly, but not mad," Lynona admitted. "I will tell you that you can trust him. His interactions with you are sincere."
"I can trust him for how long? He's lost control before," Narelle pressed. Lynona remained silent. "That is why I sought you today. You can see his mind, so you will know. More important than demon or Watcher, we can work together to protect Sin de Rath. Killing is not the only art form that wardens learn. Our priority is to detain, to bring our marks back for trial."
As Lynona still mulled it over, they noticed a slender figure hovering towards Sin's tent. Lynona scowled. "Say, you think you can put a poisoned bolt through that tart's back without my Master noticing?"
Revealing her bow from beneath her cloak, Narelle mentioned, "I think I can manage that. You will have to sooth his fury when he discovers Sekara missing though."
Lynona laughed, shaking her head. "Another day, burn him. Alright, I will try to trust you, Narelle Blackmoon. For now, know that his mind is a Shadow-stricken mess – no surprise for a male, really – but he remains himself, and he's getting better each day. Our present issue is that he's been blessed and cursed with so much power, but it won't be enough for the old god, and certainly not if Elune herself is struggling with its power. He is seeking the safest bargain he can make among a host of unspeakable horrors, to be given the edge he needs to win. We need to stop him from making any."
Narelle slowly smiled at the revelation. This was information she could use, Lynona knew. "He won't punish you for acting behind his back?"
"It was his choice to demand my return as a friend rather than a servant. I will use that freedom for his sake." Lynona then brought her hands to her breasts and adjusted them within the corset, giving them extra emphasis and even more impressive cleavage – nearly bursting free from the confines now. "And if he has any complaint, a woman has ways of reeling her man in."
The elf laughed again, eyes sparkling in the night. "Yes. You, I can work with."
Tomorrow they would be entering that forest. Lynona certainly hoped her master knew what he was doing. Shadows, she hoped she did too.
XxX
These woods were cursed. Anyone with a morsel of brain power would recognize that. Even on just the threshold, Sin could feel its oppression and hostility, mixed with dark magics and curses unspoken. Narelle said nothing, but her grim expression for the woods agreed to much the same.
"Listen up!" Sin shouted, for each person behind him to hear. "If any of you wander from me, you will die. If any of you stare at something that looks back, you will die. If you listen to a voice that isn't mine from up front, you will die. This forest is not here to provide you song and tranquility; it is here to kill you in the most gruesome manner possible, and I am the only option any of you have if you want to stay alive in there."
In a low voice, Narelle beside him questioned, "What do you know of nature magic?"
"Nothing, but I know plenty about curses," Sin admitted gladly. "More importantly, it's time to rely on Freya's power. Lo!"
Shed'lahk was raised, and in an angry fit of smoke and flame, it was made to channel the powerful energy of the forest. From the tip sprang forth a green light, shining with all the authority of the nature goddess, and Sin could feel the oppression shrink back, meek before this authority.
He took the first step, marking the beginning of their travels in Crystalsong Forest.
XxX
By the second day of walking the forest, Sin began to make odd parallels between it and the Gardens within the Twisting Nether. Clearly, this was no woods to be traveled by mortals. It was a Garden of Gods, hostile and uncaring as the sea to those unworthy. Of course, Sin knew that he was worthy. With the dark might of Shed'lahk in his right hand and the authority of nature in his left, the forest bowed to his steps.
They had done well for the first day. Only two had been claimed by the forest. The first had stepped out for a piss, to not return, while the other had been enthralled by a Will o' the Wisp. After he scolded the forest, the subtle threats stopped coming for them in the night.
Still, he felt a certain fondness for both the power and presence of the forest. It was dominated by hostility, backed by untamed arcane, and each tree he could almost picture marked the prison of the monsters within the Gardens. He began to look for one worthy of Beshalahk.
"How can you be so confident?" Narelle asked him one day. "The entire forest is like a choking miasma."
He had replied, "I hadn't realized such places existed on Azeroth. The forest isn't cruel, Narelle... it's merely powerful. Even benevolent gods won't protect mortals upon the realms they live, within their private sanctums where the air is so thick with power that even the strongest man cannot breath. Can you not see it, Narelle? Can you not feel it?"
"You are mad, Sin de Rath."
A rich chuckle. "I am home."
On the fourth day, Sin realized the secret behind the woods. He hesitated on making the truth known, but the notion fascinated him. He wished to study it and the effects further if they hadn't been barreling forward each day in their march. The distant corruption of the cult had begun roiling, stirred by something, and he knew they needed to hurry to quell it. The arcane-stricken half of the forest could not be touched by Freya's power.
Some time during the resulting conflux that had ripped this forest apart and unleashed so much free-form mana, an Other had been summoned into this world. Sin knew it had to be so, though there was no body or form to recognize it in. Others could not manifest in bodies like demons. They came as forces, as madness, and though Sin had never encountered one (not even Little-Tooth), he recognized all the signs.
They were not dealing with the malevolent, embodied will of Crystalsong Forest. They trespassed the inescapable domain of an Other, which enforced its incomprehensible will through the mana of the forest.
Neat.
True to his promises, he told Narelle once he was certain of it, though not even the warden had heard of Others outside kal'dorei mythos. Sin answered her questions as best he could, though not even he was entirely certain of what the Others were or their purpose.
"So then do you believe this Other is responsible for the destruction of the cult?" Narelle asked him on the fifth day in the forest.
The fayest moment had been realizing the abrupt disappearance of the cult, still four days from their position. That too Sin had clued Narelle on. For whatever reason, Narelle's outward hostility had dropped in recent days, making their interactions far more comfortable – stranger still was the lack of jealousy from Lynona as he approached Narelle. Using the bond as a guide, he knew something had happened between his succubus and the Watcher.
Sin shook his head. "No, though I do not doubt it tried. There are other forces in motion here. I could feel them as we moved, as the forest... rejoiced, is the word I'd say. The Other's efforts towards them were repeatedly thwarted, though I cannot say why. You know my suspicions though, do you not, elf?"
"A forest that rejoices at occupants and cannot harm them?" If she hadn't been Narelle, she would snort in derision at the question. "An elven army, it must be. The question remains on its type. You said the cult had been dismantled at night, so we can hope it is Lady Whisperwind and the Sentinels."
"If it is, will you leave us for them?"
Narelle's silver eyes remained fixed on the forest around them as she hesitated in answering. Eventually, she gave a small shake of her head. "It is my hope that you would work together... but I have obligations to you, Sin de Rath, and you take priority to my people. Do not consider it any fondness that I choose you."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Lady Blackmoon," he returned, and he smiled. "What is the word on the disparate degenerates that follow us?"
A cool, collected voice said behind them, "Us disparate degenerates wish to remain in your loops of command and information, Specter. That is the word on us."
Sin smiled at Darnin's reprimand. With a shrug as he still walked, he said, "Narelle's prettier. Can't help you there."
From his right side, there was finally that flash of indignation, and Sin winked at Lynona, to her ire. He continued for the bandit leader: "It is not negligence that I have excluded you, Darnin, Jern. My machinations that do not pertain to our efforts do not need common sharing for any but my right and left hands. Should your curiosities beseech you, then I suppose you can know that this forest is guided by a will too alien to be labeled malevolent, and it implores its will through the forest itself."
"And knowing we are beholden to and resisting an entity is not information that is needed? Five of us have been claimed by this forest."
"I say not, for there is no resistance for those under my explicit protection. You are a clever man, Storm, but there are no preparations or actions you can take against this foe beside those I have already recommended to you. The killing won't continue until we meet more minions, which mind has been delayed further by the night's assault and I have kept you aware of, no?"
The lean, veiled man persisted. "You can use me, Specter. Have I not made my loyalties and ability clear?"
"I can suspect you too," Sin commented. A gold-leafed tree began to reach with its branches, and a touch of the nature-infused Shed'lahk petrified it into passivity again. The uplifting roots returned to the soil. "Should this be an army, I just might issue a task for you men, to keep us functioning like a well-oiled machine, but my friend, this is not an army. It is a Sin de Rath and his widely accessible arsenal, and I want each of my resources kept in careful reserve until its exact calling, which is to say my exact command."
"A wise man might mention that your resources are very numerous and yourself quite singular – a master with only a human mind, it might be said."
Sin grinned, even as he raised his staff to move the blockade of saplings and fortifying ancients barring their way. "Then that man would be questioning my ability to micromanage, in which case he'd prove himself not so wise. Think not of personal wants, Storm of the South, instead of what you know."
Darnin smoldered. "Your plotting carried us from the desert in a spectacular manner, Specter, even ensuring that the qiraji renegades remained halted by the Watchers, but it was not performed flawlessly."
"Wasn't it?" Sin mumbled to himself, still grinning. There was a beauty to its execution, even if the pieces that fell favorably were not always in his control. "See, my friend, the greater the responsibility that is entrusted to those with me, the greater the loss if that part is removed. Miko was given no value, and so nothing of value was lost."
"Is that then how you see each of us?"
It was Jern's deep rumble that answered, "Do not fall into pettiness, Darnin. He has demonstrated the full desire to use his "resources," not waste or sacrifice them. Do not forget for what and who he fought for in the war."
"And do not forget his actions in that war, nor how he earned his name," Darnin returned shrewdly.
"And do not forget who volunteered and insisted he follow me the entire way," Sin added. "Now, to be clear, I mean that I am ready to continue moving if the Thief of Nights takes you or Jern or even Sekara without notice, because this is war and each man knows that people will die when the fighting begins in earnest, but that does not mean that I will assign Miss Blackmoon to be that thief because one of you is proving less useful or daresay an obstacle to my authority."
"I only mean to be aware, Specter."
"And I am trying, but you are not my student to learn all that I can share. There are horrors outside the understanding of even the Twilight's Hammer – as it should be, mind – but until one is crossed and needs understanding to triumph, I do not need to share their details with everyone with me."
"...So be it."
And their dysfunctional family continued on its merry way.
XxX
"Archers in the trees!" Narelle shouted, nocking an arrow for her bow even as she vanished from sight.
The Storm of the South whistled, and most of the bandits immediately jumped behind trees, hiding themselves from easy targets, while Lynona uncoiled her whip and stood before Sin, her teal eyes flashing. "Five... six... I count ten of them!"
Sin remained calm, but his spells were coming quick. Freya's power was used to calm the nearby trees, stilling the ones that might slay the bandits whom have forgetfully used them for hiding. But for those holding these archers, he began whispering commands. To Sin's surprise, the trees resisted his orders, and he realized that these intruders were elves – rangers.
It was then Sin also realized the disdain of the gods for the proud, ambitious elves. With their great longevity and power, those mortals sought to mingle in powers that were not theirs to command. The forest, they thought, was theirs. Sin decided to teach them an unforgettable lesson.
With all the authority of Freya herself, Sin commanded those trees to ACT – and act they did. The sharp, jagged branches turned upon their occupants, grabbing and writhing until each archer was yelping in confusion. Jumping, some escaped to the ground, only to find entangling roots rip up and grab their legs, knotting them inescapably. One persisted in its defiance, compelled by a single man, and Sin raised the nature-infused Shed'lahk against the tree which the ranger stood upon.
The single tree shivered and cried at the opposing forces within it. Sin gave it relief, allowing it to grow new, unbound branches to enforce his will, and from its trunk they snapped like tentacles to ensnare the last of the rangers. Eleven blood elves struggled fitfully and futilely against their confines.
Letting the end of his staff touch the ground, a thrum of power – of life – reverberated through the soil, sprouting saplings and new life in its wake. Sin could feel the approach of a small army, lingering just out of sight, with five bi-pedal figures approaching cautiously. With a command to Lynona and the lurking Narelle, he began marching forward, past the rangers.
Through the shade and motes of light, Sin saw the five. Four carried bows, the last a sword and shield. Standing beside the tree of the last resister – a blond man, whom Sin would not recognize as a blood elf with his beard if not for the green eyes – Sin stationed himself and waited.
The encroaching gang noticed him immediately, turning wary and muttering in quiet tones. The forest betrayed them, whispering their secrets to Sin, and he picked out the one human as a man called both Thomas and Shadow. For he with the blindfold, danger was mentioned in each whisper.
"I have a shot," Narelle whispered.
"Wait," he ordered calmly.
"Don't trust sin'dorei," she hissed, and he replied, "Don't either be guided by hate."
Rather than the blood elves, the threat was realized in the human. The one man, Thomas, vanished as he stepped into the shadow of a wide tree, and Narelle hissed loudly as she spun in place and flickered into visibility with her bow aimed at the man now standing behind Thomas.
"A dark skinned god," the man started, interrupted by the loosing of Narelle's bow. Sin clucked his tongue, but he felt the presence change again, now standing in the shade of a tree over. Thomas added, "But not of kal'dorei shape, like your protector."
"A de'Rath of the desert. Call me Sin."
The human smiled and nodded once. His hand dragged his mask from the top of his head to cover his face, and he vanished into the shadows again, returning to his cohorts. Calling loudly, Thomas said, "Intriguing! A god who reeks with the stench of a demon, whom is from the desert but holds authority within the forest. And Sin is his name!"
A rogue-trick, Sin recalled, labeled "Shadow-Stepping." Shouting back, he asked, "Thomas, also called the Shadow, are you he whom has broken the operations of the cult over yonder?"
"You know me, Lord of the Forest?"
Beside him, Lynon chided, "Master, don't play."
"Thomas, the men you sent against me are captured but unharmed! I seek a word with you, on peaceful terms, though the very forest buzzes with your thrill for a fight! I insist only this once that we meet as friends, but come if you feel you must!"
The elves spoke again, their words carried in the rustle of leaves, but it remained in the Thalassian tongue. Sin's hold on the language was iffy, but he thought it was a question over the capture of one called Jerath. Glancing at the man dangling far above his head, the battle of control to take this one bearded elf, he could understand their shock.
The whispers continued, this one in Common: "Light knows you take pleasure in inciting every supernatural being you come across, Jack, but for once, use your head. Ignore his shape, focus on power."
The blindfolded one, the one whom breathed danger. Sin felt his lips quirk into a smile.
"One of them is using reason," Narelle mentioned dryly, and he realized she was using one of her tricks to carry sound too. He told her, "So I can hear."
"The mix of nature and fel worries me, friend," Thomas returned. "We cannot trust his words of "peace.""
"If you were using your head, you would notice the heavy musk of the loa too," the blind one insisted. "This man is a champion of forces beyond our ability. Do not condemn us."
Touching the wind with his ability, Sin carry a soft phrase back to them, "Have no worries of arousing my fury. The action of one in ignorance will not upturn my hand against all of those who follow you. Let him come, and he will learn."
"Master..." Lynona groaned.
There was an excitement in Thomas' voice: "Good." Sin saw Thomas' shape vanish in the shadows again, and in the same instant, he thrust Shed'lahk into the air, calling upon it all the mana and spells he could muster in a single moment, and he slammed the end into the soil in a burst of bright light.
Around his trio, walls of shadow and flame rose up in a physical shell, protecting them from the sudden appearance of the human – daggers drawn – and then came the torrent of nature mana directly where he appeared. It came like a whirlwind, but mixed with reaching roots and bright motes as hot and intense as the summer sun, carried by a searing wind.
The tidal wave of nature fell upon the human rogue, swallowing him in a single instant. Such an assault would slay any man foolish enough to entangle himself in the forces, but Sin grinned as the one called the Shadow insisted not only despite it but through it. A purple-wrapped shape leapt through his wall of flame and magic without harm, still pinning with his daggers.
The Cloak of Shadows, if Sin recalled rightly. It had been some time since he had worked with a rogue-by-class, and longer since he battled one. But what the human did not realize is that while such a shroud protected him from nearly any mana-centered spell work, it was futile against the works of the physical.
Proportionate to his great strength, Lynona acted and reacted with supernatural reflexes, catching the humanoid purple shape with her whip and yanking back on it. Shadow-wrapped hands grabbed at the barbed whip at its throat, dropping their daggers, yet before its purpose seemed lost, the shadow vanished again into the shadows at its feet, disappearing into air without perceivable trace. It sprang up again from the same place, free of the whip and catching the daggers in seamless motions.
Sin had a wide grin a the approach of the human, seeing the shroud drop finally to reveal the masked man. Leather and leather and leather were his body, without a hint of skin showing and a mask that covered all but the eye holes. Two daggers flickering brightly with their enchantments hungered for Sin's blood, and he braced his feet while commanding forward great webs of shadow.
Narelle flickered into sight, her warden's cloak still whirling in the air, and she caught the man by the throat again, dispassionate. Her crescent moon blade slid against his throat, stilling him but not cutting yet. Still that color-shifting cloak twirled, not yet settling, when the man's legs gave out and he dropped with his momentum, then shifted into a sweep that would take Narelle's legs from her. The move also removed the blade from his neck, the momentum just right – clearly a practiced trick – but the night elf was hardly phased, stepping over the sweep and insisting with her blade, now plunging towards his gut.
Thomas' form blurred, distorting strangely with the shadows, and the blade missed his side by inches. Soft-soled leather boots snapped up and kicked Narelle back, and he flipped to his feet, determination singular as the shadow walls around them fell, revealing the forest again. The normal response would be to shadowburn the fight out of his opponent, but watching the physical show at such breakneck speeds had excited the loa song within Sin.
Guided by old training, Sin snapped Shed'lahk like a staff and caught the unprepared human in the head. No one, oddly, ever expected a warlock to master physical combat too. Their mistake. Excited, hunger matched only by the human before him, Sin twirled the Bane-Heart and struck end after end, leading the rogue to deflect the strikes with easy slights of hand as he reassessed his foe.
"Tick," Sin said in their fight.
"Tick." Thomas Shadow-Stepped behind Sin, only to find the staff jabbed into his protected chest again, sending him stumbling.
Sin turned, still smiling, and he finished, "Boom." A renewed tidal wave of shadow mixed with chaotic fel flames erupted from Shed'lahk, consuming all before it in its path for the unbalanced rogue. Hardly waiting for the resulting destruction, Sin yanked aside Shed'lahk aside in his left hand, opening his cloak for his right to dip inside and pry free his father's revolver.
Click.
Thomas stopped in place, frozen abruptly, from where he emerged in a returned Cloak of Shadows as he found the gun trained precisely upon his face, too close to dodge. Sin winked at him. "You have your tricks, friend, but not nearly as many as myself." He kicked the deactivated trap from his feet towards the rogue. In the midst of their fight, Thomas had been laying them upon the area, hoping to take Sin by surprise.
The flames and roiling shadow still evident behind Thomas as the Cloak flickered and fell, revealing a battered and seared, yet mostly unharmed, rogue once again. Though them two had frozen, Lynona and Narelle quickly ganged on either side of the rogue – away from the demonic blight behind him and boxing Thomas in.
He did not remain trapped for long, as he slid back through the shadows and rejoined his cohorts. There was silence in the forest, apart from the still struggling Jerath above them. Sin lowered his hood and quelled the blight he had made from his last attack, then smirked at the fivesome.
"He's good," the whispered words of Thomas carried to Sin.
"Idiot," the short blond woman replied, her words sweet in sound but disapproving in tone.
"Kindred spirits," the blindfolded one mentioned absently, staring without open eyes back at Sin. "That one wanted the duel as much as Jack."
"He held back," Thomas put in, now walking forward. He removed his mask and tied it to his waist, revealing a bedraggled head with messed brown hair and a swelling cheek from the clean strike Sin had scored.
"So did you!" Sin returned, laughing. With a gesture, Sin commanded the trees to release their prisoners, and quickly the Blades retreated at full sprint to Thomas. Sin noticed the way they would not meet the eyes of their leader, though Thomas nodded to each of them. A woman with silver hair, one of the five before the Blades' return, spoke to them softly, detailing what had happened.
"We will have words later, Sin de Rath," Narelle intoned, and she was supported by a fiercely nodding Lynona.
"Yes, darling," Sin replied off-hand. He could not shake the excitement of the fight, and he wanted to comment on how exhilarating it had been, but between both women, he knew he would be in a world of scorn for it – and from the sharp look from Lynona, he realize she had picked up the thought anyways.
"We will have many words, Master," was the cool comment.
Sin laughed and shook his head. Whistling, he called the bandits out of hiding, then said, "Let us meet with friend Thomas. Don't forget to express your thanks for his work in destroying the cult for us."
"Madman," Narelle grumbled, just as the scores of qiraji began to fly overhead, consuming all sound in the thunder of their wings.
AN: Well, I'm finally at Sin's part in Stage Three, and I realized I can't progress there until I finish everything in this and next chapter. This one was quicker to fix, so y'all get to have it quickly. Next chapter's whole second half gets a reworking – or perhaps an extending. Either way, it's going to be the insertion of whole scenes that haven't otherwise happened yet, which is infinitely better than simple rewriting. If next chapter breeches the upper limit of "5k to 15k words," I apologize ahead of time – but hey, it's the final chapter of Stage Two, so it's allowed special treatment.
Also, I would like to hear feedback on the reader's take of Sin and Lynona's interactions. Her return is the one thing I'm hesitant on if I put in proper prospective.
