Chapter 30

Master Plan


X Jihad X

Sin, are you available to speak?

The voice was only one amongst many. Sin de Rath received it with humor, nudging Narelle Blackmoon with an elbow as he replied, "Lady Freya, you are in audience."

The life goddess' message came from a sapling, grown through the snow beneath their attention. Though the vegetation could not speak with words, some communication resonated with the Freya's gift, nestled beneath Sin's breast, and he heard it clear and unmistakably. Some arcane wonder unique to rangers and druids, yet to Sin it was just another link to an already plentiful host.

I see qiraji around you. Is that the way in which you speak? Freya's message continued, clearly reading the situation with whatever supernatural power the goddess had. Sin quietly devised several ways to imitate her trick with arcane spells, to prove himself not outdone.

"The very same," Sin said, while Narelle added more reverently, "We will be honored by your presence, Great Goddess." Of course, while Narelle did not have Freya's gift, her years as a Sentinel would have certainly taught her to read the words of trees and emotions of forests.

Only a few seconds later, the sapling withered and fell, finishing the cycle of life. Then a new, incredibly powerful something challenged Sekara as the dominant force in the qiraji All-Mind. Feeling the addition, Sin closed his eyes, shutting out the baleful world of cold and bleak for the World of Forms that was qiraji communication.

Sin de Rath was not a god. Not yet, at least. He was probably an eternal, so he assumed, but the last few feet in the path to divinity were still untrodden. What awaited him and them once he closed his eyes again could have made a convincing case otherwise.

The realm's current form was that of an elven silk house, complete with marble pillars, erotic sculptures, valorous paintings done in thick, heavenly colors, delicately hung silk walls, dyed and arrayed, and of course the heavy peppering of what was Sin's host, the qiraji Battleguards, in dress that exaggerated their harem themes. The reception was done as a theater, layered upwards in tiers, circular in shape but for the wide entry. Seated as Madame and Prince upon the center pillows were Sin and Narelle. Lynona's image drifted in and out, in a courtesan's racy uniform, as the succubus alternated focus between watching the real world and following Sin's powerful lead in his head. Her place was draped over Sin's shoulder, watching with a smoldering gaze that better fit silk house than the usual elven companions could.

Then there was Sekara, dressed in blinding sunlight, and Freya the Life-Warden, scaled appropriately and shimmering with unnatural power. The goddess carried her living staff, a compliment to Sin's Shed'lahk, and she left it planted against the polished sandstone floor while she peered around, nodding as she did.

"I can speak to any creature that crawls upon this planet," Freya mentioned in her observations. "Though I do not recall the silithid psychic tongue being this... earthy."

Sin's mind did not house the communication as it had the many times prior. Rather, the bond had formed within Sekara's mind – more accurately the All-Mind which was her mind – and Sin and Narelle were the sojourns. A human brain would have cracked like an egg under the weight of a few qiraji minds. Under a near hundred and a being like Freya's? Sin didn't even have a comparison that could present it. A glass vial getting hit by a moon. Kaboom.

"It's not," Narelle replied. She sounded strained. "This is an illusion. An intermission."

"And who might you be, star child?" Freya asked.

"This is Narelle Blackmoon, my warden and my friend," Sin introduced.

Freya's response was a languid blink. "You are not the same Narelle Blackmoon I encountered in the basin."

"No, I am not," Narelle answered simply. "What worry has interrupted our arguments, Great Goddess? Are the pillars in peril?"

"I have come with the eagerness of opportunity, to be discussed with Sin de Rath. Before that, I must ask what separates the loyalty of the aqir from their master?"

MY LOYALTY IN NOT IN QUESTION. The fanciful walls of the world shook with those powerful words, threatening the wake from the dream they resided in. Sin and Narelle endured it with equal looks of unconcern, while Freya raised an eyebrow, slow as trees.

Sin followed it with a polite smile. "It's a simple domestic dispute. Sekara wants me to seize the Hive-Mind from her, to take that final step away from my humanity and become the Master the qiraji naturally crave by their very nature. I am somehow reluctant."

HETEROGENEITY IS UNACCEPTABLE. This time, the floor and walls only trembled with small vibrations – her regular tone. Good ole conversational Sekara.

"It's gotten us pretty far already," Sin replied in the tone that suggested it was a tired argument.

THROUGH FIRE BECOME WHOLE.

"And that's the scary part," he sighed. "Alas, this matter has some ways to go, Lady Freya, which I will not force upon you. Now, I see you have sent message to me, rather than summon me directly. Your decision is telling in itself, and I am eager to listen."

Freya made a powerful image in this false world. Gathering herself now, she said, "Our enemy fights a three-front war: against the basin, against the moon goddess, and against the mortals on its doorstep. Most recently, it has redoubled on all fronts. I am pleased at your success against the Worldslayers, but now the basin is threatened by a host more terrifying than any before.

"These forces wear upon us, yes, but we are not yet in danger of falling. The basin will hold. However, I see in this misfortune an opportunity. We may yet turn this excessive push into an over-extension, and with sufficient force, we can lay waste to this impressive body of the old god's minions. I request unto you, Sin de Rath, that you come to the basin, only momentarily, and together with Har'koa, turn our defensive into an offensive that will cripple the oppressive pressure that has been laid upon us."

Sin exhaled slowly, letting the request sink in and turn about in his head. At its most simple, it would mean abandoning this war front, which may prove unacceptable to King Malthon whom currently held the deed to his name. Sin did not want to kill himself to escape that contract just yet. He'd just died the other day, after all.

"Har'koa is sure we two could break your siege?" he asked.

"She is sure," Freya affirmed. There was a short pause, then she added, "What I am not sure of is that after doing so, Ghat'Nothos will not spew forth an equivalent force soon after from the ley lines. Many times, the numbers I have sensed from this enemy has been proven false in an eye blink."

A potentially worthless endeavor, that was the concern. Sin knew that fear. "How coincidental," he said. "I am soon to depart to the Nexus, to force out our enemy from the ley lines and keep them out. If I am to traverse half this continent, it would be best that the two tasks overlap, to save on travel time."

"You will claim the Seat of Magic and become its Aspect?" There was no discernible emotion in Freya's voice to betray her thoughts on the matter.

Even so, Sin was quick to shake away the idea. "No, no. Light and Shadow, no. I do not need another collar around this neck, thank you. I have a much more impudent plan for it, one very mortal and presumptuous."

Freya's inhuman head tilted at his answer. "Without the authority and power of that mantle, I fear for your chance of success. Still, I will hope. I am glad to see you have not grown idle in these perilous days, Sin de Rath. Your bold schemes will shape the outcome of our future."

Then the life goddess laughed softly to herself, though the sound was like church bells. "It seems as though each time I blink, you are upon a new and daring course. I am not used to being so displaced from mortal plotting. Next you may tell me you will soon have a hand in Lady Elune's valiant last stand against Ghat'Nothos."

Narelle and Sin glanced at each other, but they refrained from saying. It was Narelle who finally replied, "We will answer your call for aid. I cannot say when, for we must first finish our dealings with the qiraji and make the final preparations for the ley lines, but as soon as he can, Sin will join you through his summoning circle trinket."

"Answering for me, Lady Blackmoon?" Sin asked. They both knew it to be rhetorical. "So it shall be, then. I cannot long allow Lady Har'koa to be free of debts to me. With Lord Tyr already heading the campaign here, I am sure they can endure my lack for some time, especially if we can manage these critical blows against our enemy."

"I speak for our world when I say thank you, Sin de Rath," Freya announced, and the giant woman bent in a slight bow with it, using her staff for support. After righting herself, she said, "No matter her lamentations, my loa sister is eager to fight with you once more. Are you able to send word when I should activate your trinket, or should I activate it in intervals and allow you to come when you are ready?"

"I'll send word," was Sin's hasty answer. "The last thing I need is my soul being regularly tugged all around in these trials. I built it to be aggravatingly insistent while its on, to remind me of the urgency."

"Then we eagerly await your hail. I will leave you now to your affairs." Freya's image and her immense psychic presence vanished from the assembly.

The dreamy imagery of the qiraji communication persisted for several moments after the departure, as both Sin and Narelle breathed out lengthy sighs, almost mirror images of each other. After, the scenery began to waver and shake, then vanished entirely as the illusion of the bond was torn aside to submerge them back into blackness. The intermission was over.

Sin's eyes opened again and returned their Northrend stronghold to his sight, though it was only a gesture of habit as his sojourning mental presence remained apart of the qiraji bond regardless. He found it unnerving, the way his psyche clung to the foreign presence no matter how he moved or thought. This sensation was the breeder of gibbering madness and paranoia, and so it might have been had he not had a very explicit, logical understanding of the current situation.

He saw Narelle's hand offered to him, and he took it up gladly, squeezing once. Her eyes must have opened when his did, still reflecting his actions, and now she nodded to him with reassurance. Elves and humans might be separate races, but they were both social creatures that took strength in unity with their fellows, their friends.

Strange, Sin thought to himself. Isn't the All-Mind the evolutionary pinnacle of that bond between fellows? Don't we strive to recreate that in our professions, in our armies, in our relationships? Discipline. Unity. Perfect collaboration.

YOU UNDERSTAND, Sekara noticed. Human words, not qiraji speak. She blended both tongues at times, and her followup was purely qiraji: THE FLAW MUST BE UNDONE.

Sin knew of what she spoke without needing to break it down into parts. The weakness, the loophole, the backdoor of the qiraji All-Mind, it needed to be fixed, sealed, completed. The things that Alissa of the cult had warned Sin of, the fears had become especially prominent in recent days. The qiraji were old god minions through-and-through; they were not designed to ever fight against them, without the explicit heading of a different god.

The qiraji All-Mind, strong as it was, had three weaknesses. The first was the most obvious, suspected but only confirmed by Alissa: The All-Mind was only as strong as the quantity it was composed of. Right now, ninety-four qiraji Battleguards composed that All-Mind, and thus the combined might of them could easily hold off command from enemies like qiraji Prophets or even Ghat'Nothos himself. As they began to die, however, the strength of the All-Mind would similarly wane. An All-Mind of only five qiraji would break before something like an old god.

The second weakness was its very nature. The All-Mind collective worked like a single individual, which was part of why losing qiraji wasn't an issue until it was too weak to withstand psychic threats. However, C'Thun's design was that it was the individual in question, the Master – as much as Sin could be called the "master" of his own hand. Qiraji biology and psychology simply didn't wire them to be the rulers of that embodied force, so while Sekara was its current master, it was limited by her own nature, her own ingrained will to serve rather than to lead and speak. Thus her main argument here was for Sin to actually take her place, to assume dominance from within, not externally.

The last, however, was the chief fear taken from Alissa's interrogation: the Flaw, the backdoor. The All-Mind was functionally an individual, and individuals, not matter how mighty, could be corrupted. Worse, qiraji communication, the psychic silithid tongue as Freya had named it, was a part of the old gods. In radiology terms, the qiraji operated on the same frequency as Ghat'Nothos, its every word right into their ears, and the old god was a more worthy master than Sin himself. If at any time Sekara's devotion to Sin wavered, she could pledge the entire All-Mind to Ghat'Nothos and every qiraji Battleguard would enter its service. Lose one, lose them all.

Sekara knew this flaw. It was her other argument for why Sin must take control from her. Qiraji were hardwired to be unshakably loyal, but they were not flawless. If Sin took control from within, they could never break from his service – not until he was killed or passed ownership to another. The rather fluid state of death (for Sin) was another hesitation, which Sekara resolved by wishing to imprint, merge, weld – something of that nature – her mind with Sin's, to act like two hemispheres of a brain so that he could come and go – as it was – without shaking up the All-Mind.

And apparently Master Surgeon and long-time neurologist Sekara here already had a plan ready to see it done. All Sin needed was to "make Fire" with her, and she'd take care of the biological and mental parts of it. Join with her in the ritual older than either of their races, become one with her physically, mentally, spiritually, and it would be complete. In the crassest terms: fuck the bug, be the bug.

Frustratingly, there was no middle-ground to meet her at, no compromise that could settle this issue like politics. He couldn't take partial ownership, nor "only kind of" join the All-Mind. Sekara had no "foreplay" ritual to make that bond.

On top of all this, Sin still had plans for the qiraji, which he couldn't decide how to factor into this equation. The link to the old god could be exploited, so he hoped. Perhaps Sekara could mount her own offensive against it, like an annoying gnat buzzing around in Ghat's skull, or maybe he could combine it with the dagger of its blood for his decisive curse. Another hotly debated hope was to use a qiraji as a "filter" in the ley lines. The malevolent slush that soiled the rivers of mana burned each of those that tried to touch it, but if a qiraji were to try to soak it all up, she would theoretically be unharmed by the old god magic. She was made of such magic.

However, Sin feared what all that power might do to one of his already precious few Battleguards. Would she absorb it? If so, then what? What if it worked like nothonium or saronite and began to influence the mind? Could the All-Mind be at risk? A demon being flooded with fel magic was usually better for it, but could such comparisons be made?

Behold the mad world of Sin de Rath. Watch as he dances to its lunatical tune.

"We need a qiraji queen – a Mother," Sin said aloud, looked at the many faces of the Battleguards. He settled on Sekara's, speaking directly to her.

SEKARA DOES NOT KNOW THE WAY. THE SISTERS DO NOT KNOW THE WAY, was her firm rebuttal. WE NEED A GOD.

"And a god we have," Narelle mentioned, similarly addressing Sekara. Her hand was tight in his. "Which begs an alternative. What if Sin was to change the nature of the qiraji, to rewrite your biology, rewire how you think. He could close the loophole."

The gold-dressed "queen" immediately answered, THE SISTERS APPROVE OF THIS ACTION.

"I don't!" Sin complained, turning to the night elf. "I'm an engineer, not a biologist. I might have the power, but I have none of the knowledge needed to make such a correction to their very nature. You saw me with the mind-fire when I lost control, I welded the bloody pieces back together."

Narelle's eyes met his, and there was a shine to them that went beyond a mere look. Sin picked up qiraji elements to it, but he wasn't skilled enough to read the words. Sekara, however, suddenly sent a pleasure over the bond that bordered on "Fire." YES, she boomed, YES. NOTSIN IS WISE. THE SISTERS AGREE. MASTER SHOULD LISTEN TO NOTMASTER.

"If this keeps up, I feel like you are just going to take my place, Lady Blackmoon," Sin murmured, acting moody but clearly pleased. "Let's hear it then."

QIRAJI ARE SILITHID DERIVED, Sekara explained, EXPERIMENT ON THE SILITHID. LEARN FROM THE SILITHID. MAKE FROM THE SILITHID. BE OUR GOD.

"And the basin to which you are bound has its hives of specimens," Narelle finished, smiling. "Goddess as my witness, I'd never have said this yesterday, but this is the time for desperate actions."

"So what, ascend from sun-cooked madman to mad scientist?" Sin demanded, but he was thinking. Light and Shadow, he was thinking. It was a new field, unfamiliar, but Freya's gift towards nature would be a surprising boon. Not only that... "The aqir were silithid derived, the Skinless are, for the most part, demon derived. I have bonds between both. By the Six Flames of Azmoth, I just might be able to do something."

"Something still human, Sin," Narelle praised, and he squeezed her hand, recognizing her thoughts behind it. Her smile turned up one side as she added, "Not to already influence whatever your great mind may conjure for the task, but remember how a few weeks ago, you considered damning me to a path of shadow and demonhood, so that you could contract me as your pet?"

Despite the situation, Sin suddenly paled. He'd nearly forgotten that day, frustrated with his obstinate kaldorei warden and toying with ideas on how to permanently shut her up. And now she had those concealed thoughts nestled fresh in her head. Coughing weakly, he said, "Those were... jokes. Remember that part too. Please."

"Don't worry. I was considering worse for you, even on the same day," she excused, still smiling. "But there is a very "warlock" part of me that appreciates its cunning, and I think it has its applications in this dilemma."

Sin allowed the tension in his spine to relax, at least slightly, despite the oppressive presence of her hand over his. "Now you're just telling me things I already know. If you want to do this yourself, I have a hundred other things I could be focusing on."

"No, that's alright. I'm just a consultant in these affairs," Narelle played off. "You're the one holding the big stick."

Banter aside, Sin's comment sent other ideas turning in his head. He mentioned, "Actually, on general principle, I try not to do work that another could be doing for me. That's the whole point of demonic servants. And frankly, if the plan is contracting the qiraji, the Nether is caulk full of beings eager to corrupt anything mortal into demons."

In his head, a sultry voice wreathed in waves of mirth announced, I love it!

Sin agreed with Lynona; it was like poetry. "Ghat'Nothos corrupts demons with old god magicks, and I shall corrupt old god minions with demonic magicks. This could be beautiful." Or it could be a penultimate mistake. A gambit I'm willing to make. "But that means a jaunt through the Nether, since I have neither the resources nor the time to summon blind."

"Our timetable is getting full," Narelle realized, about the same time Sin did. "And not cleanly. You would almost have to send a qiraji into the ley lines after contracting them."

Sin nodded, unhappy with the constraints. Not that he had planned to try that first anyways, but he was fond of improvising with the situation. "Sekara, what happens if Ghat juices you up times a thousand with his magic?"

Silence returned his question, which meant that the All-Mind she commanded was hesitating, uncertain. Light and Shadow, couldn't any one thing here be done with confidence?

A GREAT MISTAKE, she settled finally. Sin raised an eyebrow, asking, "On Ghat's part?"

A GREAT MISTAKE.

Narelle's sigh and squeeze of his hand complimented Sin's response. He intoned, "No, you don't get to play the vague card. We don't need three of me in this bloody moot. Speak clearly, a mistake for whom?"

IF THE ENEMY CONTROLS THE MAGIC, CHANGES CAN BE MADE WITHIN. MAKE FROM THE SILITHID, MAKE FROM THE QIRAJI. LOYALTY MAY BE LOST. GREAT MISTAKE. She paused, then added deliberately, IF I CONTROL THE MAGIC, CHANGES CAN BE MADE WITHIN. GREAT MISTAKE – FOR THE ENEMY.

"I'm sold," Narelle said, right as Sin thought it. "Especially if we get that contract first."

"The timing will be tricky. I'm confident that I can keep loyalty, but I want Ghat thoroughly distracted regardless, so Sekara can do her thing. That means she goes in with me, right when King Malthon- Light and Shadow, I forgot the bloody contract. I need someone to kill me real quick, then we can get our act together."

"Don't worry about the king, finish your thought," Narelle encouraged.

Sin sighed. "Basically, I want us all to hit at the same time. Breaking the siege, the ground campaign, my invasion – all of it. Goddess Elune, if you can hear me, that's when you roll up your sleeves and put on your game face. We will blind a beast that can see everything. Light as my witness, everything has to happen at once. I'll teach my anathema to every magic user, and we will purge the bloody planet."

Narelle frowned. "We would be putting every card on the table, just so a single qiraji can become... what, a queen?"

"A goddess," Sin purred. "My consort. We're going to use that "Fire.""

"Gross," Narelle said dryly. "So your demon-qiraji-goddess of a consort might start producing more qiraji. That will help, but I hardly see-"

DEMON SOUL.

Narelle's eyes bulged, while Sin nodded. "Perfect unison. The complete bond. I don't need Claxius for that kind of power anymore."

"Great Goddess," Narelle gasped breathlessly. "Sin- Sin, does that mean- Shadows and Moons, Sin, is this a game ender? Can we win with this?"

"Game ender?" Sin repeated. His head slowly shook to the side. "Dear Narelle, this is barely a game starter. In one stroke, we will give Azeroth two more gods to hold the lines. Our chances improve, that is all."

"Gods... If we are revealing every blade we have, does that mean that Elune's host...?" She let it hang, while Sin nodded fiercely.

"All cards."

"Are we ready for that? Your memories suggest the work is still in its infancy."

"Look forwards, not backwards. To where am I bound? And with whom?"

It dawned on her. "Freya."

"Freya indeed. The only being more suiting is Cenarious himself, and that will come soon enough. With that, we have ourselves a full schedule. Now it is time we transition from theorizing to acting. Our first step must be into the Twisting Nether. Sekara, the Sisters have asked to serve, and so they shall. You will join Miss Blackmoon and I at the Gardens."

Lynona sent a question over their bond. Sin couldn't put together the precise words, but he knew she was asking what manner of demon he was going to search for. He ignored it, gesturing to Narelle. "Let us make haste, back to my tent before my king can impress my bonds against us."

"So much for that learned humility," Narelle half-sighed, half-laughed. She found her hand still clasped in his and squeezed. With a tone better suited to Sin's own mouth, she taunted, "But then, gods aren't meant to serve men. Lead on, Lord de'Rath."

"Sekara, you too," he commanded, but the lead qiraji had no intention of hiding any longer. Sin lead the way out of that qiraji den, from the snow pit against the stronghold walls. Their hands remained locked until they had passed the threshold, and Lynona quickly took Narelle's place, bundling close to Sin in the quiet flight from the qiraji back to Sin's tent.

XxX

Less experienced mages often wondered why warlocks or demonologists never used the Twisting Nether to travel across the world. After all, a portal could be opened between anywhere on Azeroth (or even Draenor) and the Gardens of the Twisting Nether – or any specific place in the Nether, for that matter. So what stopped the user from opening a portal to the Nether, stepping through, and then opening another portal back to some place across the world?

What stopped the demons from doing the same?

The last question had two answers, but ignoring the need for some demons to have physical bodies conjured for them on this side of reality, the answer was much the same. Certainly, Azerothian sorcerers did not have some skill or hidden talent that made them superior to eredar spell-weavers.

Rather, the mortal plane of existence had a very strange set of laws and physics which governed it, wholly alien to the emotional and fluid Nether. Contrary to plebeian opinion, the eredar were not ignorant of these laws – most of their race remembered living in this universe, and their spell-weavers were long-used to working in between. However, one of the peculiarities of this stable, unchanging universe is that it did not like outside universes coming in and ripping holes in its reality.

The matter was deeply more complex than that, and it was a sin to phrase it as the universe liking something, but the fact was that Azeroth did not allow probing warlocks to anchor-in on this universe. It was like shooting grappling hooks at a flat wall, versus the pillowed-softness of the Nether which welcomed and secured every hook it could with greedy little fingers. This was similar to how mages could enter the ley lines from anywhere they wished, but could only exit at a few specific nodes.

So how did someone like Grand Warlock Margaret de Rath ex Dalaran spend several years touring the Nether, then peacefully return to her home on her own terms, rather than psychically badger a few failed sorcerers into a cobbled cult to summon her back to this plane? So, so, so many questions, so, so, so little time.

The answer was that opening a portal to the Nether in the first place left a scar on this plane, a chip in its defenses. Shortly after ripping open that access between the two planes of existence, there is still a pliable source to hone upon and make a return portal to. There were demons that scoured Azeroth at all hours, searching for such scars to make their entrance from, though it was agreed that coercing simpleton cultists into making a proper portal was much more time efficient. This is also how Sin returned Narelle and himself to Sholazar Basin after losing control, when the portal had closed behind them.

To someone like Sin's own mother, extending the lifespan of such a scar was literal child's play – she'd first done it at nine years old, Sin was told – and with a nifty little trinket, Margaret had secured a permanent scar right inside their household, to always give the de'Rath family a way home. It was protected and hidden, of course, but what all these thoughts led to was the next step in Sin's personal Master Plan.

The title was still in the works.

With time, effort, and a bit of luck, Sin formed his portal to the Nether, and he anchored the scar within his tent so that it would remain until the newly made trinket was destroyed. It was his first time casting that spell, but he was his mother's son, and it came together exactly as he hoped. This way, after they were finished in the Nether and he was whisked across Northrend to the goddesses and later the Nexus, all he needed was a quick step back into the Nether and he'd return to the war front.

So with the brunt of the work out of the way, Sin took the first step through his shimmery portal, proud as a peacock – and was promptly chastened by a globular spell of liquid chaos aimed for his handsome face.

"Son of a-!" Sin roared, diving aside. There was no sound as the spell narrowly passed by with its sickening terror.

Explosions, shrieks, and a hundred rallying voices of little creatures filled the soot and charcoal air of the Gardens, all of which served as gentle reminders that Sin had just walked right into a war zone. He'd just left a flaming war zone. Scrambling back to his feet, Sin threw a Shadow Ward around himself and rubbernecked, trying to make sense of what was going on.

By then, Narelle had followed him through the portal, radiant in her pearled Unbelkhat armor, only to realize what he did. Two blades fell into her hands, and she Blinked away, engaging an enemy without a single shred of hesitation. Next were Lynona and Sekara, the former already tensed and furious, the latter calm and expressionless.

In the two seconds since Sin arrived, his mind came to terms with the fact that the Gardens were under full-scale invasion, that the family of Grandmother Shuzlo was desperately fighting back to moderate success – considering the warning and defense systems remained silent – and he moved to respond. He was the Warden of the Gardens.

"DE'RATHI," a voice called, and despite its loudness it still managed to sound utterly bored. The awkwardness of an Other, certainly.

Shed'lahk hit the torn up soil of the Gardens, and the area responded. Life blossomed anew, refreshing its scenery, while each of the invaders were pulled abruptly from their battles to a constricted huddle in the very center of the Gardens, bound in shadow and fel chains. One being resisted Sin's authority, some two-bit spell-weaver with a mug worthy of a pitlord but the body of a magniwalker.

With more confidence than he felt, Sin willed himself directly in front of that creature, and the Nether took him there like he belonged. Shed'lahk was on fire, burning black, and the ugly magniwalker looked down with unbridled distaste. Sin returned the look dispassionately.

"You're trespassing on my property," Sin drawled, perfectly imitating his goblin neighbor from growing up. "That's a paddlin'."

"Bin'da hlukh x juxadare rekkish GUULDAH!" it roared, and a Nether-unique weapon called a Sa'luul whip snapped for Sin's neck. From a purely academic standpoint, all Sa'luul weapons were fantastic tools; they relied upon the rules of the Nether to pretend "sentience." The whip, for example, was a cordless handle with a separate, two-foot long flaming wire that must remain within ten feet of the handle. The floating wire moved and attacked by the thought and will of its skilled master – the one who held the handle.

Unfortunately for this female magniwalker – Sin recognized the red shoulders of its gender – Sin was the sole authority of this realm, and with a thought of his own, the whip came full stop a good foot from his neck. Shaking his head, he lifted Shed'lahk one more time, preparing a spell that would obliterate this demon for a good century.

A massive scythe – like Freya-sized, at least forty feet of blade – shot past Sin and cleaved off one of the magniwalker's muscle-bulging arms. Sin bit down on his spell as his eyebrow rose. A similar scythe whipped past him on the left now, clearly aiming for the demon's right arm but taking a massive chunk from neck to hip on that side. Flaming fel blood gushed out as the magniwalker screamed and roared, hopping around.

Leaving her to her throes, Sin turned around, curious. The lesser demons remained bound to the center of the Gardens, helpless. Shuzlo and her imps were battered and worn but inactive. Narelle stood like a night elf warden beside the demonic prisoners, clutching her moon crescent in both hands before her thighs. Lynona was sauntering over, cool as a a cucumber – weird expression, that one – but Sin knew she wasn't the one either. That left Sekara, still hovering next to the portal of their entry, a good fifty yards from Sin's position.

One of her gold-sleeved hands wound back, and then she snapped it forward like a whip of her own. A trick of his eyes and the depth fooled Sin for a second, until he realized that yes, Sekara's scythe-arm was growing as it swung, extending her upper arm like pulling taffy, and the black metal slid out from the tree-like red arm with qiraji-deadliness, striking the demon behind Sin for a third time. Turning back, he saw the magniwalker collapse in a pool of green, flaming blood, then whisk off across the Nether to recover from its wounds.

"I like her," a raspy little voice squeaked out. "Sin, you can keep her."

Quztal, Sin's contracted brother. He smiled slightly at the remark, then turned his attention to the rabble still trapped beside Narelle. Sin considered setting an example, teaching them a lesson, perhaps tagging them or bending them to loyalty. Proverbially discarding all those ideas, he finally raised Shed'lahk and disintegrated them without preamble. There were more important things they needed to worry about.

"She fights like an Other," a voice more gravel than wind mused aloud, from beside Sin, and he knew Grandmother Shuzlo had willed herself there.

He nodded, watching Sekara with her. "I can't say I foresaw it, but I'm not surprised. She is Azeroth's equivalent of one."

As if called, four... creatures appeared close by, each of them watching Sin. Actual Others, the four guardians Sin's mother had somehow seduced into defending the Gardens for her.

"Long." "Long." "Long." They all said the word, in a variety of tones and emotions. Unsure of the meaning, Sin said, "Um, thanks?"

"You were gone for long," Shuzlo clarified. A snap of her fingers lit her pipe end, and she began to puff at it.

"I apologize. My world is going madder by the day. So am I, it feels, but I digress."

The approaching Lynona had a sneer on her pretty face, Sin found, complimented by her snide remark: "I'm surprised you're still alive, twerp." He already felt a headache starting. There were good reasons why most warlocks restricted themselves to one demon at a time.

"By the three warts on Magga's nose, what is she doing here, Sin?" Quztal groaned. "Don't you have some more contracts to break, harlot?"

Lynona's blue eyes flashed, and her whip uncoiled to the grass in reminder. "You dare speak on which you know nothing? Learn your place, cur."

"My place is at Sin's side, boobs-for-brains. In case you forgot, when his mind shattered, I was the only who who stuck around to help out. You fled the second he stumbled, worried about your power-whoring and- Hatcha!" Quztal darted aside as her whip struck, and both hands began to gather flames.

"Lynona," Sin ordered, "higher standards. Right now."

Her eyes didn't leave Quztal for a second. Haughty, she shot back, "I have the highest standards. I chose you." One cloven foot stepped towards the imp. "I saw what this slimeball did to your beautiful mind. I saw, Master. He cauterized it. I owe him for that."

"I'll cauterize the ugly off your face too if you take another step, bubbles," Quztal warned. He was a brave lesser demon; Sin gave him that.

"B-Bubbles?" Lynona repeated. Shadow blades formed around her left hand, her hate growing.

"I will throw you both under trees if I have to," Sin announced, firm. "I was thinking Shed'Beshal needed some decorations anyways."

Both demons paled at once and shut up. They knew from the bond that he was serious, and even a temporary hold with The Beast was too much. His stern attention held for several moments, waiting, then he nodded once, just as Narelle finished her approach.

"The Gardens are under attack," she said. Sin half-debated giving a remark about saying the obvious, just for old time's sake, but he could see the deeper meaning on her face. He said instead, "Whatever I contract is going to have to help defend it in my absence. We're going to have to aim big."

"Eredar?"

"Eredar." The confirmation had Narelle ball her hands, and there was a suppressed fear. Sin watched her.

Narelle remained tense, as if waiting for Sin to comfort her, to beat back the demons lingering in her heart and memory. Then, realizing Sin had nothing more to say for her, Narelle suddenly began to relax. She had armor on her back, weapons in her hands, support within her mind. Sin knew that if she couldn't stand alone with all that he'd already given her, she would never be able to stand alone at all.

Also realizing this, Narelle nodded at him, telling him it was okay. Just like that, it was okay. Sin did not – could not – know what it was like to live under an unbearable wound for a timespan longer than twice his current years. He could not know the fear or the hate that such an experience would birth, the scars that would etch all the way down to his soul. Neither could he know what it took to experience that, then tell someone to bring another, bigger, badder one of those demons from his nightmares before him again, to say that it was okay.

Sin couldn't know what that took, but he suspected it meant Narelle was stronger than he. Not in muscle or magic, but stronger nevertheless.

"Sin, there are things about which we must speak," Shuzlo interrupted in a solemn tone.

"I'd assume there are," he said, still watching Narelle Blackmoon. "The question is if that comes before or after I finish this contract."

"It is about Margaret de Rath, your mother."

Sin's eyes slid to the imp matron, steely. "I'll it hear first then."

Over the next few minutes, Shuzlo relayed all that she knew about the current situation of her mistress. Sin already knew that his mother hadn't succeeded in breaking free of the mantid Paragons, but following her captivity, some force had taken hold of her, and the woman they both knew was "lost," in the words of Shuzlo. The imp could feel it, the dark will that governed her friend's body, the decayed and foreign mind that often sought Shuzlo in mimicry of Margaret's old communications.

Margaret, what was left of her, served Ghat'Nothos now.

"Where is she?" Sin asked after, cold.

It was some show, the spell Shuzlo cast in reply. Dust and air molded through invisible winds, slowly forming a spherical shape that grew more solid by the second. It quickly became apparent that the dusty orb was an image of Azeroth, done more accurately than any cartographer's map. The globe spun and turned, until the northern continent faced them, and a small ember of red joined the murky depths. Along the rough detail that marked land versus sea, on the western fringes of Northrend, the ember settled finally, center of a detached island.

Coldarra. The Seat of Magic and Nexus of the Ley Lines. Sin's final destination.

Sin stared at the glowing speck without words, still as the air around them. He felt a presence step close to him, then a hand around his, lacing fingers. It squeezed, and the gesture had been done so often today already that he knew the owner without looking. Narelle, offering her support.

"Ghat knows where I'm going," was his hollow report. "Not a Singing Blade. She's waiting for me."

"We already expected that it would know," Narelle reminded softly. "We are ready for this."

Still transfixed by that softly glowing dot, Sin said, "Ghat captured her, probably others too, at the turning of this world. The choice was deliberate. Whatever it has done to my mother, it will not have diminished her skill. I am not ready to face my mother on equal grounds, Narelle. I'm good; she's better."

From beside, Lynona piped, "I don't fancy a fight between us and Mistress Margaret either." Even brave Quztal made a sound like a croak at the possibility.

Narelle was unmoved by the complaints. "You forget she is my mother as much as yours now, Sin. I know just how good our mother is. You are ready for this."

Sin sighed, and he recalled his recent thoughts about Narelle's strength. "I'm going to have to be, aren't I? The world moves with me. I cannot stop here."

"That was not a pep talk," Narelle chastised coolly. "I know you from within and without, Sin de Rath. You have grown as a warlock, specifically – and nearly exclusively – in the areas of combat expertise. Mother, our mother, is intricate, subtle, and knowledgeable beyond our current understanding, but she is also delicate, fragile even, against the things that go bump. She made the Gardens to hide her threats, where you have made Oblivion to remove them. Between Freyja, Har'koa, the qiraji, and the Beast Which Sleeps, the young man who beat Azeroth with his little cloth boots has been vaulted across his path, so far as to say each step now bombards the planet with echoes of divinity, power, and contained madness.

"The Mad God, you will be called, and I am witness, and I am priestess!"

The fluid Nether responded to the strong emotions of Narelle's speech, changed her look with each word, until she concluded it in the heavenly uniform of a kaldorei priestess – flowing robes of sheer white and starlight, somehow appearing both scandalous and pure. The Halo of Elune hovered where her hawk mask had set, though it burned with fel greens, and Narelle, breathing harder in the wake, truly looked the part she claimed herself as. It was cheating, Sin felt, to use such impressive theatrics.

His reply was outwardly calm. "You probably can't tell because of my skin, but I'm blushing up to my ears right now." His cheeks ached.

"Priestess," Sekara's raspy voice agreed, and Sin turned to see her – and Lynona – changed to the same starlit robes as Narelle, halo and all. The mischievous emotions felt within Lynona said they merely imitated Narelle's uniform. He returned it with disapproval, while Lynona's bright eyes sparkled back. "Priestess of the Mad God. I like it," the succubus said.

Narelle finally seemed to realize her current appearance, with some start, and a thought later she was back in the Unbelkhat. The fel halo remained above her. Perhaps she hadn't noticed it, perhaps she kept it for dramatic effect. Either way, Sin had trouble meeting the gaze of any of his retainers who bore its mark.

Rubbing his shaven cheek, he remarked bashfully, "That's enough, all of you. Seriously, you're going to make me look like a poof." The loyalty, however, was inspiring, and for a moment, Sin felt himself believing Narelle. He'd done the same thing many times for her before, and now the favor was returned in full.

"Grandmother Shuzlo," he continued, forgetting until too late her regard for the title. Godling or not, Sin danced aside from the imp's pipe embers with a surprised yelp. "Shuzlo," he tried again, after, "I need a new contract. Eredar, powerful. A corrupter."

"Prisoner or new?" the imp asked mildly, still with her squinting glare.

"Whatever gets the job done. But since I want it to defend the Gardens in my absence, perhaps a prisoner would be a poor choice."

"I'll prepare a Circle of Deep Summoning." She left and her children with her.

Taking a deep breath, Sin faced the Others and nodded to them. Each bowed back to him, muttering, "De'Rathi," then did the same for Narelle, "De'Rathi," and vanished back to their corners.

Alone now but for his companions, Sin was surprised by Lynona's sudden embrace, still in her lavish regalia, and she purred into his ear, "Beloved, this priestess is in a mood to worship." Her warm tongue wet his earlobe, then her teeth followed, nibbling softly.

"About the only use you're good for," Quztal droned behind her, bored. Sin flicked his staff and sent the imp flying away. He had bloody warned the bugger.

Sin could the feel the smile on Lynona's face as she kissed his cheek, a silent thanks that did not risk similar antagonizing. Then she stepped back, showing him the smile, and took his hand between both of hers and just held it, replacing Narelle's touch.

Reminded of the embarrassing warden, Sin found her silver eyes and said, "Thank you. Sincerely." A reserved smile and nod were her reply. And because he couldn't help himself, Sin followed it with, "My "priestess" though? That's what you've settled on?"

The robes flickered back then away again as Narelle grinned a half-smile. She rolled with his banter. "I'm aiming for High Priestess, but the competition is fierce."

"You aren't nearly as equipped to speak for this god," Lynona purred defiantly. "Nor to worship him." The emphasis she put on the word gave it the same suggestive meaning as her prior whisper.

"And you would speak to a kaldorei on how to be a priestess?"

"And so the Cult of Sin has arisen. Woe is Azeroth," Sin intoned. He smirked and shook his head. "Light and Shadow, let's not go there. Rather, let's go check on that summoning circle."

Still with her brave face, Narelle joked, "Whatever poor demon we rip from his or her home certainly won't be prepared for the catastrophe that is our retinue. I already pity it."

Turns out, it was the other way around.

XxX

Every breath was held as Sin chanted the final lines of the ritual. Their assembly was only a few – his two guardians, Sekara, Shuzlo, Quztal. The rest of the family was elsewhere, doing... imp things, Sin presumed. Demons scratched at the back of his mind, seeking access to the Gardens. They were refused without taking any of his attention.

Green runes were a marked difference from the usual warlock summoning, written in floating rings that circled the empty gap center of the summoning circle. Each word breathed a new rune into the air, sending it onto its spiraling path, until six rings formed six axises. One hundred and eleven runes precisely would be written upon each ring – textbook for a Nether ritual, but Sin was not opposed to a little demonic luck here.

The ritual finished. The rings tightened upon a point, condensed into a ball so dense with the runes it appeared almost solid green. It hovered in place for a full second, long enough that Sin worried the intended demon was fighting off its pull. No Name had been tied to the spell, so it was a contest of strength here. Considering the power Sin had aimed for, it could be some fight.

Electing to cheat his side of it, Sin raised Shed'lahk, and he tapped the green orb with its knotted end. There was a dark pulse, similar to Sin's theatrical thrum when he was being intimidating. In the next instant, the demon appeared in a shower of green. Sin yanked Shed'lahk back, readying himself. As he hoped, it was eredar – seven feet tall, shredded with exposed muscle, and a handlebar mustache mixed with it facial tentacles. Wrathguard variant, Sin recognized.

"You better eat your vitamins and say your prayers, brother! Because if you step in this ring, the Hulkster is gonna run wild on you!" boomed the gruffest eredar voice Sin ever had the pleasure of hearing.

Eyebrow raised, he replied, "Run as wild as you like. I have summoned you to make a contract, and a contract I will have. Your services are required." He crossed the threshold of the Circle of Deep Summoning.

Nostrils flaring, the wrathguard roared, "I serve no one but the creator! God created the Heavens; He created the Nether; He created all the Hulkaminions! Then, He created a set of thirty-four inch pythons, brother! If you wanna tussle, I'm just gonna have to show you what wrestling is all about!"

The demon took one step towards him. Immediately, Sin beckoned with Shed'lahk and drew his strength, sending fel fires and shadow to reprimand it. He'd played the game of submission before. Each of his demons-

A single swipe of its axe smacked Sin's spell out of the air, dissipating it. His stomach bottomed out. That spell hadn't been his most powerful, but...

"I fear no man, no beast or evil, brother!" it shouted, and it swung again, this time for Sin. A void shield rose and fell in the same instant, breaking under that glowing axe, but its momentum was lost.

"I can see why," Sin remarked neutrally. Just summon an eredar, he said. It will be fine, he said.

"Master!" Lynona cried out, panicking in voice and thought, and Sin saw the other axe mid-swing.

It was time to get tricky. Sin triggered the mechanism in his boots, and nearly instantly the rockets shot him forward quickly enough that he wished he had Drek'thac's braces for his joints. As was the way of goblin tech, Sin had no control of the rocket boots, and he collided right into the oiled muscles of the eredar, slid off, and found his feet again near the edges of the circle. The axe had been dodged.

Turning on his toes, Sin went straight for the big guns. While he didn't have a set of whatever inch pythons, chaos magicks would fit the book nicely. There was no flash, no show, no theatrics to do Sin proud. Only a word and a hammer, then the eredar was shouting defiantly against a wave of pure, liquid Chaos. Living up to his prestige, Sin didn't let up on the spell, drawing upon Shed'lahk like a war staff, Freya's gift, the Nether itself...

"I'll give you the fact that you are a cut above the rest!" huffed the demon. It didn't even sound worried. Sin cut off the spell, conserving mana. Seeing it end, the eredar clashed its double axes together and rolled its bulging shoulders, like it was just a warmup. "You're not exactly a flavor of the month sorcerer," it continued. "But you know something, mean gene? You-"

Sin resumed his assault, cutting off the next tirade early. Light, eredar usually had their proud quirks, but this one...!

Slashing through the quick bolt of shadow, the eredar charged, looking furious at being interrupted. Sin swept Shed'lahk in a quick gesture, cutting it back while muttering a quick phrase, and a bludgeoning, purple wave lashed at the back of the demon's knee. It stumbled, momentum its own downfall, while Sin slammed the butt end of his staff into the ground like he was planting a spear against a cavalry charge, then thrust it forward with both hands.

A fel green ball launched from the tip, and it smacked the wavering eredar right under its chin like an uppercut. The demon made a big show of arcing backwards, as if the hit had truly hurt, then turned the momentum of its turn to spin all the way around with a surprise swing at the ready. Sin dodged the axe, just barely, but a backhand caught him in the jaw and sent him to the ground.

"Oh yeah, right hand of justice!" it taunted. Sin had the presence of mind not to glare at it, but he noticed the demon still looked pumped and ready, hardly winded. Still oiled up, too. "You call me out of my house, man. You call me into this ring, and you tell me, you come tell me I'm gonna tap out. Well, I've got news for you, brother. I ain't never gonna tap out! I'm a real man'ari! So let me ask you something, brother! Let me ask you the one question I always ask each opponent that turns into a victim before the wrestling is over. I'd like to ask you that question right now.

"Whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do, warlock, when the biggest icon the man'ari have ever seen puts you in your place in wrestle-mania? Whatcha gonna do when Hulkamania runs wild on you?"

Sin had several ideas on just what he'd do. But while he was still dragging himself back to his feet, the Loa song beating so loud in his ears he thought he'd be deaf to everything else, he heard Narelle urged from the side, "Sin."

Shut him up, he finished for her. Yeah. Got that. All of the allusions to wrestling were reminding Sin of his younger days. The sport wasn't big among the goblins, not when they had an actual gladiatorial arena center of his town, but he and Quztal used to wrestle regularly in lieu of never actually having a submission bond. He wondered if there was a way to incorporate that here.

"A haymaker! Give him a haymaker, Sin!" the imp in question was shouting presently. He must have remembered too.

With a snort that shook his mustache, the eredar said, "Looks like you've got a little Hulkaminion of your own."

Sin took a deep breath, then began to gather his magic again. All this talking was giving him time. He knew how to use time.

This Hulka-whatever demon was a wrathguard. That meant it was near the peak of physical and martial prowess, like an elf with centuries of real experience beneath its belt. It would use demonic energies to strengthen itself, mixing muscle and magic into some unholy abomination of real, physical power. But unlike most wrathguards, this one hadn't shied from traditional magicks, keeping true to its eredar roots. Might as well consider it a spell-weaver. Sin was outclassed on both fronts.

Not far from this place – however one considered "distance" in the Nether – little trees wiggled and shook inside the Gardens of the Nether. Sin had sought one as strong as the prisoners buried there, demons that his magnificent mother could only seal away, not defeat.

Idly, Sin realized that this was the type of demon that Ghat'Nothos must have made his Singing Blades out of.

His first spell left his mouth, immediately flowing into a second, a third, a forth, a fifth. A sixth. The eredar found itself lifted from the ground, carried by arcane forces a good ten feet up. It was obvious when the demon severed the spell, yet rather than fall it remained hovering, pushed upwards by another spell tied to the ground and wind currents that spiraled within the summoning circle ring. Chains appeared, pushing through the ground to wrap around the many limbs of the demon. Six fel-green strands, as was only proper.

Sin had gone about this all wrong. He had treated this like they were on Azeroth, dealing with a demon in a conjured body. This was the Nether. Rules were different here. Sometimes pushing couldn't become shove. Sometimes whispering could.

While the eredar struggled against six separate binding spells, each as subtle and powerful as Sin could manage on short notice, he waited none. A shadow blade hardened over the tip of Shed'lahk, and the staff purred at the notion of the coming bloodshed. In one step, Sin had his now spear drawn back, and he thrust it with no preamble into the demon's chest. It pierced, only slightly, before the shadow blade broke. That left the tangled knot of black wood inside the wound. Shed'lahk was inside its body.

In his duel with Lynona, almost a month before, simply touching Shed'lahk against her skin caused it to blacken and char, so vile was its touch. Sin could only imagine what it would do when inside the body. The pained roar that suddenly ripped apart the air made it a little clearer. He twisted the staff.

In a proper domination summon, the bottom line was destroying the demon the warlock sought to subdue. In some cases, like a succubus, the warlock must also overcome their mind games, the temptations, but the end result was the same. Destroy that body, and the soul was yours. Such was the contract.

Here, in the Nether, the ritual was different. Submission was a state of mind. All Sin had to do was help that idea along.

One chain broke, freeing the eredar's arm enough to grab Sin at the throat. Air vanished instantly, and his windpipe nearly followed. In reply, Sin let Shed'lahk swallow his right arm, morphing it into that hulking, bloated limb of blackened flesh and fiery veins splitting it up and down. With measured patience – the image of control – he grab the demon's arm with it, uncurled its fingers, and pulled it away. His left hand held Shed'lahk firm against the wound.

Sin waited a few seconds before attempting to breathe again. He first used Freya's gift to cast a rejuvenation over himself, then chained several together so that its healing aura would remain for several minutes at least. He called forth another six fel chains, until that oiled up, muscled body was strung up like something out of Lynona's fantasies.

Perhaps he was too patient in his image. The pained sounds the eredar made had changed tone, but Sin didn't realize it had become harshly spoken magic until he was rocketed back, airborne and completely stunned. He couldn't tell where he landed, but he was helpless to watch his opponent rip apart the chains and the rest of the restraints. It approached, death in its eyes. The black hole in its chest did not heal.

Presently, the rejuvenation had allowed Sin to scramble back to his feet, and the crushed healthstone made it like he was never hit. The eredar wasn't done with its spells yet. Chaos magics gathered before it, and Sin quickly did the same. His rocket boots were a one time use, so he did the next best thing in his anticipation to dodge.

Demonic wings of black on purple formed along Sin's back. One powerful flap joined the leap of his legs, and Sin carried himself a good fifteen yards away, considering himself safe. A flash of green in his peripheral raised a dozen warning flags, and he spun a void shield too late – and too useless – to matter. The chaos bolt tore through the shield unflinchingly, as was its nature, and took Sin in the middle.

Not long ago, Narelle had explained her experiences lived under a chaos shadowflame brand, cast by an eredar. She hadn't misspoken. It was pain, plain and simple.

Round One went to "Hulk" Hul'gan.

XxX

Memories stirred, and Sin knew one was to be shaken out. He waited for it with no small intrigue. It would be telling of himself, what memory his mind retreated to when faced with unbearable pain. Would he be reminded of the eve when he first heard his father had been murdered, pain begetting pain? Perhaps his first conjuring of shadowflame and the burden of knowledge that came with it, realizing he may one day be on the receiving end.

But no, Sin found it disappointingly typical when the whiteness gave to memory of this morning, when Narelle Blackmoon sat in his arms and explained, "It was pain, plain and simple." He almost laughed, and the futility of it urged him to banish the thoughts and focus himself back to the present.

Perhaps it was telling of himself after all. And Narelle had been on his thoughts quite often lately, even more now that he'd given her all of his memories.

Some of his senses began to return. It started with his heatbeat, loud and strong as the Loa Pantheon. Then there was Freya's gift, patient as trees, sturdy as oaks. Sin could be the same. Just barely held together in the darkness of a shadow-wrapped mind, Sin fought past the blinding pain, found himself still standing – staggering, really – and he caught a faint glimpse of his adversary. The damned eredar was unharmed by Sin's own chaos bolt.

With the chaos magicks still searing into his skin, Sin debated his options. Skipping the drama of his current sensations, despite all his mental buffers, he was very sympathetic to Narelle's reveal that she had sought to kill herself. It was at once and immediately unbearable, yet she had endured this for years. But unlike Narelle, who had tried three times unsuccessfully, Sin was fully equipped to kill himself.

He felt sure he could even play it off as all according to plan, knowing he needed to escape his oath to Malthon some time.

Although, he did have other, less traumatizing options. Here in the Nether, such wounds could be healed in ways that they couldn't on Azeroth. More so, while the Gardens were often described as the "backyard" of Grandmother Shuzlo's home, they were borderline enough that Sin still fought upon his home turf, where he was Warden and his word was law.

The pain bore at him, and Sin came very close to killing himself. The plan was sound – call together all of his power, every last bit, and take a page out of Ghat's book by turning his death into a mana bomb. Then he would use his soulstone to pull himself together again and mop up the remains of his soon-to-be eredar pet. The shadowflame brand wouldn't persist to his new, reconstructed body.

No matter his choice, Sin felt sorry for Narelle, that he was cheating his way out of a wound that had done her so much damage. But guilt didn't give him the fifty years needed to deal with it her way, so Sin used the rules of the Nether and his authority over the Gardens to dismiss all the afflicted tissue from himself and bend back a fresh coat of human flesh.

It was trickier than it sounded and used more magic than most sorcerers ever knew they could handle, and it accounted for the fact that chaos magicks were immune to Nether manipulations, but so it was done.

Sin didn't look at the night elf as he prepared for his second round against the eredar. Instead, he threw his attention back into the fight. Knowing that defensive spells were useless against chaos and that he didn't have an Unbelkhat to ignore it, Sin decided he needed a more preemptive approach against chaos magicks. Interruptions and silencing, the tried and true way.

Green eredar eyes watched Sin with a buried cunning, and its alien head nodded respect as he found himself again. There was a league for things which walked off direct chaos attacks, and Sin had finally proven they both belonged in it. More importantly, however, the demon made the mistake of giving Sin time once again, which confirmed that no matter its skill, it was no warlock.

Thick, thorny entangling roots joined fel iron chains and psychic stalling assault as separate modes of bondage for the demon. Sin was weary of the the lucky demon six. Three was Azeroth's magic number, and it was sounding just as good. He Conflagrated an Immolation, then threw in an Incinerate to complete the generic flame-bound attacks. He Cursed Agony and Baned it too, because he didn't yet believe in deciding which was better, and if his quick Soul Fire caused some agony of its own, then all the better for a trio.

Three sets of three. Then he sharpened the tip of Shed'lahk with a chaos shadow blade – the "chaos" made it sound cool – and this time it inserted that glistening chest without breaking. Sin kept himself ruthlessly methodical during it; his lips moved in a ceaseless string of spells, casting restraints, silences, and unkindly havocs upon the eredar body.

During this, Sin side-stepped, deflected, or otherwise circumvented a menagerie of spells and attacks from the wrathguard – not because he was suddenly better but because he'd gained control of the fight. Control: the first rule of being warlock, not that this Hulkamaniac would know it. Its body was stronger, so Sin cut the physical out of their fight. Its magic was harder, so Sin didn't let it speak. It may even have been smarter, but Sin beat it with experience.

Shed'lahk wasted the inside of that magnificent eredar body, to the point that Sin was certain he could consume this foe in the Void and be done. But then it would mean years before its body returned for service, if it could return at all, and that was not Sin's objective here.

Sin gave Shed'lahk his right arm once more, finding the monstrous corruption oddly useful, and with the strengthened limb, he seized the haggard eredar and threw its body to the ground – center of the Circle of Domination. As was only fitting, he caught its arms in his fist, twisted them to a pin, and threw his weight over its legs, rendering it immobile.

"One."

There was a groan, and a twitch along its muscles.

"Two."

An intake of breath. Tension. A very active but patient disdain was Sin's response, waiting for even the inevitable struggle. It didn't come in time.

"Three," he hissed. "Round over."

The eredar tried to heave itself up, defying the verdict, but the Shed'lahk-taken arm was too strong. Sin jabbed the end of his staff against its cheek, letting it bleed black against its face. A pained wheeze let him know the demon felt it.

"Tell me your Name, or I will extract it." He was all control now. This was no different from when he'd mastered the Void, embodied by Jhazrath, nor bested the cunning mage-hunter Drooshon, or beat the temptations of immortal pleasures when he'd dominated Lynona. Calm, controlled. Sin was the master, and it the demon. The lesser. The servant. The fact was out there now. The eredar just had to catch up to the situation.

"I- I never..." his pet gasped futilely.

"You never faced me before," Sin filled in, apathetic from tongue to toe. "Now speak your Name."

It did so. Sin committed it to memory.

The eredar, long ago, thought themselves better for giving into the demonic call of Sargeras. The decision had given them power, immortality, and an army beyond mortal comprehension. They ascended from kings of arcane to rulers of a twisted universe. But few considered, at least openly, what they had lost in the processes. Demons submitted to the stronger. It was in their blood, in their magic. Few boasted themselves as greater than the eredar, but when men like Sin de Rath came, this princely people had no choice but to submit.

To protect his new servant from others who may exploit its Name, Sin agreed to its chosen common name, Terentius Hul'gan, short for... well, that's a secret. When asked about its alias ("Stage name!") "Hulk," Terentius said it had earned it making a hulk out of an upstart pitlord. A desert man like Sin took a moment to recall a hulk being a massive, gutted ship. His mind filled in the details with some fascination.

"You know, mean gene," Terentius started. Terentius. Terry. Hulk? Sin settled on Hul'gan. "I didn't think your kind had it in you. I've met plenty that had moves as good as yours, brother, but none that could keep it up so long. I kept waiting for you to lose momentum, to strain, to tremble like when the giant hit the ground, but, man, you kept coming like a tiger after prey. What's that staff made out of?"

Sin wasn't up for his usual haughty smirks yet, but he kept his answer cryptic: "Shed'lahk is carved from the body of a sleeping god."

"Izmuth'el?" Hul'gan asked.

His head shook while breaking apart the summoning and domination circle. "You have heard of the Mount Bela'gus Disaster?" Most demons hadn't. Rare were those that felt the creation of the Beast Which Dwells Below, and Sin's mother had sealed it away moments after, but it was the work of the eredar, in eredar territory.

Hul'gan knew it. The silence which followed was telling enough.

Sin could feel the attention of the others as he led Hul'gan away. Lynona, Quztal, Shuzlo. Narelle. He didn't look to any of them. For his other dominations, Sin had merely formed the contract and did away with the pet, a page marker to be opened only when needed. It was different for Hul'gan. Sin had needed of it now, which meant explanations and a leveled playing field. Sin wasn't sure if Hul'gan would soon plot against him in its servitude, as most eredar would. The eccentric demon couldn't yet be predicted.

"This is the Gardens of the Nether," Sin announced, as they entered the scenic center of the prison complex. "It is here the product of that disaster sleeps, amongst others. Each tree, each shrubbery, is the cell of a powerful entity, not unlike yourself. Brothers and sisters restlessly wait beneath your feet. Notice the life within the flora, how they shake and writhe, blooming full and lively. There is but one tree which does not live. Shed'Beshal, the Bane Tree, has failed to hold its charge and been made host of the Beast.

"My mother, Warden before me, put to sleep the tree and the god. In my hand is the Heart of Shed'Beshal, the key to which can reawaken that great evil. I'm going to trust I need not explain to an eredar why the Sleeping God must not be returned. Thus I give you your first task in my service. Protect the Gardens with every skill, power, and cunning you possess. The lesser demons that surround you have held for decades under combined might. I now task a minor lord of the Nether to fortify their defense."

A gruff, nasally sound returned the charge. "A worthy challenge." Sin saw it affixing a conjured bandana to its head, green in color. There was something about that bandana and mustache that struck him, but he mentally shrugged it away.

Sin did not stop walking until Shed'Beshal was in sight. There could be no mistaking that terrifying tree. He turned around, found his other companions gathered behind the eredar, and said, "Second, I have a with me one who seeks demonhood. It is my understanding that you can show her the way."

"Seeks it? That's good, brother. The Hulkster doesn't do subtle."

"So I've learned. Sekara, come forward. It's time." The qiraji woman floated along, still in her crass "priestess" uniform. Hul'gan noticed her. Sin surprised himself by finding his nerves acting up, more than the even the earlier fight had. He took a breath, then wrapped his mind in shadows. The cool haze blinded him to the human sensation. "I've only seen this process twice before. I will not explain to you the importance of this one woman, Hul'gan. You will leave her mind pristinely intact."

"Don't you worry, brother. I've got a big set of Hulkaminions I've shown the way to before."

Sin didn't worry. He nodded to Sekara, took a glance at Lynona and Narelle, then nodded to Hul'gan. The demon began its work.

XxX

Catching her once more, Sin urged, "Quit fiddling with them." For all he knew, the puncture was still fresh, and infection could be a possibility. Maybe. He honestly didn't know.

"Sin, horns," Sekara reported excitedly. Her hands were feeling the appendages in question, testing the black and purple points with her fingertips. Ever since she'd gotten them, she had been touching everything she could (ready for it?) get her hands on.

Two hours had passed since Sin had contracted Hul'gan. The eredar was still back at the Gardens, collaborating with Shuzlo over the defenses. It had taken it some time to finish Sekara's conversion. Apparently, the typical "What do you desire?" shtick had been involved in the process, and Sekara used the opportunity to find a dainty set of human arms to grow over her red nubs. The black line outside her pale forearms, looking like an odd tattoo, were reminders that her scythes remained untouched.

Other changes in the demon-qiraji included a faint glow to her teal, multifaceted eyes, along with actual tattoos on her shoulders and thighs. Sin knew she had chosen the designs by the obvious scarab imprints in the inkings. The qiraji had a fascination for their parent species that often appeared in their art. He had touched the markings though, and he knew them to be the same fel conduits Lynona had on her own arms. Albeit, the succubi red markings near where sexy leg became goat was just a cultural ink, not magical at all.

Ultimately, Sekara appeared much the same as herself. Insect wings, chitinous talons for feet, the unblinking, dry eyes. Even her skin was the same desert copper color she'd been before the transformation. Her exposed mouth was the seamless, black mold of chitin – iconically a woman's mouth, yet still deviously old god designed. He presumed she'd have kept the other expressions of molded chitin. A disappointment, but at least it was a faithful casting.

Sin got his sandals off and settled onto his bed. Lynona reached him first, worming her way into a comfortable embrace, while Sekara stood at the tent center, practically buzzing with emotion. Sin had excused Narelle elsewhere. She may have his thoughts and desires, but he didn't want her present for this.

And me, beloved? his lover asked within his head. Would you have me away?

Despite being wrapped up together in a coil of limbs, Lynona wasn't look at him. He bade his fingers to move while he considered the question, creating an idle slide over her soft thighs. I don't know, he thought back. Truth and helplessness layered the thought, and it led his succubus to glance upwards with her gentle blue eyes.

Contracting was a private affair, with vague rules that barred the aid or influence from other contracts. Today, Lynona and Quztal both had sat aside his challenge against Hul'gan. The same vague rules said she must sit aside now, as he bound Sekara to his will and soul. Sin felt very firmly that such was Lynona's place – not to stand apart and watch, but to participate and fulfill. Like Narelle, he did not want her watching.

Sekara, that innocent girl he once affectionately called Bugsy, had a slyness without moral compass. She patiently but enduringly wanted Fire, ever since that taste all the way back in Silithus. Her demonhood created conditions that allowed it within her grasp, as she formed her terms of contract. Perhaps Sin could barter out a compromise, compel her loyalty to dismiss the idea. Would he be right in doing so? Had loyal Sekara, patient Sekara, not earned her right to Fire? Did Sin want it done any other way?

Lynona, who had been listening to every considering thought, nodded to herself, settled deeper into their embrace. "I see. Thank you, Master, for reserving that place for me." Her right hand relinquished its twisted, possessive hold over his robes to slide down and over his, where it still paced over her leg. She caught his fingers between hers, laced them tight, and held it.

Sin felt something in Lynona's thoughts, too hazy to decipher despite the resolve that fastened it in place. She called attention to herself in the very deliberate way she looked up, then announced to Sekara, "My Name... is Sa'eedrin Tardik Balish'nak Lae'Parnona."

She spoke carefully and true, pronouncing each sound and inflection with the accuracy needed to command her soul. Sin lost his breath at it, knowing not her plan but the courage and the trust needed to reveal it aloud. Sekara's reaction was less impressed, nodding back and rasping, "I know."

Lae'Parnona's tail, draped away from their duo so it would not prick, coiled up and whipped once. "Oh?" she asked, and the question in her thoughts was for him. Sin began to recall the event where Sekara had stolen it, but the qiraji was quicker, saying, "My Name is Sa'eedrin Tardik Balish'nak el'Sekarna."

Surprise settled over Lynona's mind like a cloud, overtaking Sin's reply. He could feel doubt threading confusion, so he injected his support: "It's true. She chose it herself, after yours. Believe it or not, she really likes you."

As if made shy by the reveal, Sekara's wings fluttered briefly, and her hands began to feel her horns again. Sin wondered if Lynona had noticed that those were sayaadi horns, to appear even closer to Lynona. Perhaps now she did.

Shaking her head finally, the succubus turned and asked, "First Narelle, now Sekara. Master, am I stealing your harem from you?"

Sin laughed and kissed her lips. He meant the gesture only as a response, but Lynona latched on, drinking from his lips like this kiss might be their last. He cradled her curvacious body, lowered it to their bed, and continued with her pinned under him. While he did, he turned his attention inward, to the part that was her, and he questioned her.

Lust and pleasure colored her thoughts, toyed with the loa gift, but she answered, Beloved, perhaps you have forgotten that our new bond is without domination. I am your woman, but I am not your pet. At least, not in ink. That was your gift to me, remember?

Sin's own cleverness was validated by a suspicion of what she alluded to. Lynona heard his realization, rewarded his insight by sucking on his tongue. She finished speaking with her blue, blue eyes sparkling up at him, I have given my Name to Sekara. I have no power over her. Ooh! That felt nice, do it again. He complied. Mmmm, because I cannot interfere, I need not sit aside. I can participate on neutral grounds.

"Sin. Lynona," Sekara inquired from the side.

Sin began to draw back, so Lynona bit his lower lip and pulled him back down, smiling as she did. Her tail wrapped and hooked him in, always the possessive one. A mental urging from her had his lips – slightly swollen, thank you – descend her cheek, then neck to claim the first hickey. As he did, Lynona stretched out her left hand towards the qiraji and crooked her finger. "Come, Sekara. Let me show you how fire is made."

XxX

It was late in the morning when Sin de Rath met with Narelle. They made no mention of the previous night as he called her back to their shared tent. Sin gave a courtesy glance to their stronghold, knowing there had been some disturbance along the elven quarters last night, but no details reached his ears yet. It was unlike Sin to be a step outside the nuances of the forces around him, but he'd been distracted – or rather, very focused elsewhere.

Shrugging the matter away, he returned to his tent and threw up some privacy spells. He'd been about to follow through with some lighting as well, but between the nocturnal woman and his keen, loa-gifted nightvision, he realized there wasn't a need. They were equally comfortable in the shadows.

It struck him too how they were also equally comfortable with each other now, after so long of their friction.

Once the spells were raised, Narelle finally asked, "How was it?"

"Which part?" he asked. He spread his palms in a vague gesture. "The contract, the new bond, or...?"

"Or," she confirmed. Sin felt the stir of a blush, and his tongue lost its usual confidence. Narelle saw his hesitation and shrugged. "Thanks to you, I want to make a lover of her too. Or a daughter. I'm still stuck at the path of indecision, which means you must have been undecided even as you agreed to it. And then Lynona... Well, you know that too. So how was it?"

With a breath, Sin decided to just push past his unease and say. "It was good. Great. That is, Lynona gave her Name to Sekara, so she could partake. And, well, she's Lynona. She partook. And she took." Sin gave an embarrassed smile and a little chuckle. "She made a point that if there was going to be another body present, she'd be getting better sex for it."

Narelle nodded. "That sounds like her."

There was something melancholic in her voice. Sin asked, "Does it bother you? I mean, does it feel like you've lost her and now someone else is...?"

"Yes. No." She spread her hands in a little shrug. "Sometimes. It's difficult."

"You aren't me, Narelle Blackmoon," Sin said, troubled.

"I know, Sin." Her hands returned inside the warden's cloak, so all that showed was its silent drape and her head resting atop it. "But I lived it, feel it, respond through it. I tried convincing myself that I know it all from beside you, as a lifelong companion, but then new desires are spurred and I..." She clicked her mouth shut, flexed her jaw, and said, "The elven mind wasn't meant for this. I don't know that anyone's was."

Lynona's was. Sekara too, for another reason. Sin reminded her of neither and held out his hand. "Will you sit with me?"

"It won't help." But there were two clicks, and the shoulders and cloak slid from the elf. In just her pale Unbelkhat, Narelle accepted his hand and let herself be pulled to him. In a very deliberate decision, Sin brought them to her cot, rather than his bed.

Narelle sat in Sin's lap. He took a small pleasure in how the position remained comfortable despite her heavy armor (metaphorically speaking, as mithril was a supernaturally light metal). That trait was not his doing, but it was a product of another decision of his. Her hawk helmet was off, so Sin began to undo the ties of her topknot. They were thin leather strips, four of them total.

Presently, his fingers were playing with her loosed silver hair, clawing through, messaging her scalp, and ultimately acting like he might with Lynona's much shorter mane. It was another, very precisely calculated decision.

"What are you doing?" Narelle asked finally, sounding amused but not stopping him.

"Putting you on the receiving end of one of my mannerisms," he mentioned absently.

She made a sound. "Except that Lynona isn't long satisfied with just her hair being stroked."

"All in due time." His tone let her know he was joking. Narelle still barked a disbelieving laugh.

After, there was some silence between them, then, "Alright, what are we thinking about right now?"

Sin hummed. "You are being patiently cautious, meaning that you are expecting me to deviously sucker-punch your mind in an attempt to aid in the separation of my memories and yours. You don't believe the effort will work, but you're willing to indulge me because my hands are working literal succubi magic right now."

A breathy exhale marked her restrained laugh. "And what are you thinking?"

"I like your hair." Her elbow in his ribs suggested he try another answer. After his oomph, Sin still put on a smirk and said, "See, you're acting like Narelle already."

Her head shook, then quickly stilled so as to not disturb his work. Sin noticed it with a pleased smile. Another silence came and passed as Narelle said, "I saw you walk off an attack of pure chaos."

Still no questions about his new bond with Sekara? Very well. Into the grit, it seemed. "Not pure. It was chaos shadowflame. The very same."

She nodded, but not too much. "It was very impressive."

"I'm sorry."

Narelle said nothing else for a long while this time. Finally, she admitted, "If you had known me sooner, you would have helped me sooner."

"Yes," he lied. Sin hadn't had the ability to do so before. She knew that. "I thought about you when it happened, you know. I realized you lived through that. I couldn't see how it was possible." He stared at the small of her back. He only saw the pale metal plate, but his attention was beneath it. Softly, he added, "I was going to kill myself. I made a very clever plan about doing so, but I don't think my reasons were any less or more than yours."

She took in a deep breath. She let it out. "You made the right choice. I'm glad you didn't kill yourself."

"And, if I may inflect, I'm glad you didn't kill yourself, Miss Blackmoon."

Now the silence was uncomfortable. Sin acknowledged that, and he tried to decide if he should keep on with his hands or stop. He stopped, to which Narelle made a retort that had him immediately start again. At least she could comfortably endure the uncomfortableness, burn her.

Yet again Narelle ended the silence on her own terms. Yet again Sin was made to react. "Sin, what are your plans for me? Where do you see us in a week, a month, five years? Assuming... Assuming assumptions."

A question Sin hadn't considered before. It was no slight to her, but he wasn't ready to consider it now either. "Well, eventually you and I are going to be lovers. I don't think it's possible for us to avoid it anymore." He sniffed. "Then again, we're both very stubborn."

Her armored back leaned and thumped against his chest, disturbing his massage. Narelle rested like that, her hair tickling his chin, and she asked quite seriously, "You really think so?"

Sin didn't know. He supposed he did. So close, he noticed – not for the first time – that Narelle smelled nice. Some flowery scent that couldn't be perfume but probably also wasn't natural. He tried not to think about it, but like his eyes, his nose had become quite sensitive.

Having nothing else to do with his hands, Sin wrapped them around her, resting on her plated thighs. She's armored, even against my touch- He stopped the thought with a curt command. Inappropriate.

She must have noticed his lack of reply, reaching some conclusion about it to herself. Well, at least one of them found an answer. "You're not the reflective type, Sin. But things are in a state of rapid metamorphosis right now. I can't help but feel it may be best if I finished mine at the same time, so we can move forward together."

Her ears were on either shoulder in this position, like two knives. That was curious. Then again, maybe not. An elf was more natural to this world than a succubus. He proverbially shook the thought out of his head. See, that was why he didn't do reflective. "We are moving forward together. Today we're going to the Basin, and then we're going to the Nexus. You proved to me, quite soundly, that you can stand by my side, Miss Blackmoon. Now I want you there, and I have given you the tools to see you through our gauntlet."

"I'm not going."

"Like hell you're not."

"I'm not." Slowly, she pushed herself forward, off his lap, then outside of his reach. Slender Narelle stood and walked near her cloak. She turned just her head back his way. Sin could see something lurking in her eyes, and his stomach turned despite himself. "I decided this yesterday, when you were... Yesterday. I'm going with King Malthon in your stead."

"Narelle?"

Her head shook once more. "I trust you now, Sin. Perhaps more than I should, but you deserve every bit. I'm not needed to hang over your every action and every decision. My Watch, I think, is over." She smiled, but it slipped away quickly. "You have support between Sekara and Lynona, so I, at least, can protect your interests while you go. You have obligations to the King. I will fulfill them for you, so you need not kill yourself to escape them. The distance will do us both some good."

A frown had set in, but Sin couldn't dispel it from his face. "Narelle, I'm serious-"

"So am I."

"I would sooner kill myself than have you go. I mean that."

"I know." She smiled again.

"I don't want you to go, Narelle – despite all that we were. Maybe its my possessiveness, or perhaps its something deeper, but I- Agh. Narelle, I don't know how to say it. I want you with me. Please. I'll beg if you want."

"I don't want to see you beg."

"Then-"

"I'm staying. With King Malthon."

He closed his mouth and thought quickly. A dozen arguments came to his tongue and left. He considered compulsions and dismissed them too. Narelle waited. Only when he nearly said, "I cured your back, so the least you can do is..." did Sin finally stop and think. He took a breath, wrapped his mind in shadows, and waited until the beast left his thoughts. There may be a way convince her to stay, but there were more ways to create terrible, permanent rifts between them.

Narelle waited.

Finally, Sin spread his hands to either side, helpless. "I don't want you to go. That's all I can say."

Narelle bent to pick up her cloak. As she fastened it, she said, "When I see you again, I'm going to ask for your forgiveness, and your answer, whatever it is, is going to mean a lot to me."

Sin also stood. He wanted to say that wasn't necessary, but shadow-wrapped or not, he couldn't find a way to say it honestly. He held his tongue.

Narelle finished dressing herself, including her helmet. She rolled her neck and shoulders, and said with a smile, "I feel ready to take on the world now. Thank you."

His returning smile was a weak flicker. For a little longer, she looked at him, nodded, and began to turn to leave. There was a burst of panic, and Sin rushed, "Before you go, can I say one last thing?"

She looked back. "Of course." Once more, she waited.

Was she waiting for something? Did she expect him to have an answer? There was too much in that patient look, and for the first time, Sin's heart was beating faster than the loa song. But Sin found he couldn't lie to her, nor would he manipulate her, and he knew, somewhere inside him, that he had no grounds for controlling her decisions.

If she was expecting something from Sin, he just wasn't clever enough to discover it himself. He resigned himself to her choice, but, deciding he could at least have the last word, he smiled and said, "If you leave, Lynona is most certainly going to take the place of High Priestess."

Narelle laughed. She followed it with a smile, a wink, and, "We'll see about that." Then, though it felt wrong to him, she gave him a little kaldorei bow, and she left.

She left.

Sin stood in place, watching the tent flap wobble to a stop, and he stood some more. The room was very dark, he noticed. The thought came, and it, too, left. Gradually, his heartbeat began to slow, until once again it synched with the loa song. He wondered about the separation briefly; that had never happened before. Also, Narelle had never left before.

There was a loud crack inside the tent. Shed'lahk violently broke the bonds and wards to return to his hand. Sin felt numb to the burning sensation that accompanied his grip. He let the end rest against his rug, and he called to the demonic bonds in his head, Return to me.

Two voices acknowledged him. Soon after, Lynona and Sekara entered the tent. He ignored their questions, blocked Lynona's probe for his mind, and he began to levy his commands. They had work to do.


AN: Alright, so I'm trying to decide how to go about this next chapter. It's finished. It's ready. Everything is all set unless I get the sudden and crazy urge to add another scene to it or something. Additionally, this next chapter is a direct continuation of one of the scenes from this chapter. That makes me want to post it soon, like today or tomorrow. However, I always get this paranoid feeling that if I post chapters back to back like that, then people end up skipping the first one posted and jumping to the latest, which in this case would cause many-a "wtf?" moments.

I unno. I might just wait a week, two at the most, and then post it then. The good news is, I tried reading this in chronological order (starting here, jumping to next for the scene, then resuming here) and it fit surprisingly well despite next chapter being written after the fact. Solid tone preservation, sets the right mood. I think you're all in for a treat.