Chapter 10: Gone Baby Gone
"…Once there was a man whose prison was a chair." Zackel said, once again turning a Thrust stone over in his fingers. "The man had a monkey, they made the strangest pair. The monkey ruled the man, it climbed inside his head. And now as fate would have it, one of them is dead."
"……what?" Rielle said. "When I talked about bad poetry, I didn't meant for you to spout some off in mid-story."
"Oh it's not random. It's just something that's come to my mind, since that night." Zackel said. "His name, as I found out, was Vialin Snarljaw."
"Who?"
"Precisely. He was the warlock whose actions caused the Voidwalker to invade my room. He was born with some sort of bone deformity, made him unpleasant to look at and very painful for him to walk. I suspect the problems of such a life were why he tried to become a warlock." Zackel said. "I suspect your species doesn't have much to do with warlocks, for obvious reasons, and I don't know about your personal experience."
"Mostly, I killed them."
"Not surprised." Zackel said, still turning the stone in his hand. "There are two kinds of warlocks, Rielle. There are the one who wish to turn fel magic into a force for something resembling good, even if it's just in their head…they're not all fools. Exceptional wills can twist any kind of power to their desire. Even the dark magics of the Burning Legion. As an old saying goes, it is not the hunter's rifle that does the killing. And considering it wasn't warlock magics that sundered the world all those eons ago…"
"Yeah yeah. Get to the point."
"Right. Then there's the other kind of warlock. They fill the ranks of all you killed. They seek dominance and power, believe light is weak, that only the dark gives true strength. They are puppets and fools." Zackel said. "Power is like a monkey on your back, Rielle. You can either tame it, let it ride on your shoulder, and feed it to keep it happy and content, and by extension yourself…or you let it control you."
"Ah." Rielle said, in a tone that she now understood his poem.
Then she flicked Zackel in the forehead again. At least she used a light touch this time.
"The point. Get to it."
"Right…" Zackel said. "Vialin was the latter. If I'd led his life, spending so much time in pain and being shunned for something I had no control over…I might have been drawn to the warlock arts myself. But even though Vialin had 'the gift' for such things, it didn't help his deformities. Nor did they help him: from what I've learned, it slowed down his studies, made him a mockery all over again. His teacher tried to channel his rage into 'the art'…either he didn't do a good enough job or Vialin was simply a lost cause. Instead of seeking revenge, though, Vialin decided to do something else. He decided he'd show what a talent he really was by doing something a warlock had never done before."
Zackel stopped twisting the stone in his grip, and after a few seconds' pause finally put it down.
"It got him killed. And he wasn't the last."
Zackel, back then, didn't know as much about warlocks. There was some basic information about them in certain magical books, and human and gnomes who practiced such dark magic could occasionally be seen skulking about towns and cities (though the smart ones kept their demon minions sealed away and tried to pass as something more accepted). He did have an inkling, acquired via osmosis in some place or another, that a in-training warlock would often be seen with a Voidwalker, though Zackel didn't know why.
He learned when he went for his staff again. The voidwalker was faster, its hand of shadows surging out and seizing Zackel. Its ice-cold body seared Zackel's skin, but that was nothing compared to the agonizing lance that went drilling into the mage's heart, mind, and soul.
YOUR MOTHER SHOULD BE DEAD! YOU WANTED TO SCREW AROUND INSTEAD OF HELPING IN THE TOWN'S DEFENSE! YOUR FATHER COULDN'T WALK FOR WEEKS! IF YOUR RESCUE PARTY HAD BEEN A MINUTE LATE AND LACKING THOSE TWO DWARVES YOU WOULD HAVE FOUND YOUR MOTHER ROASTING OVER THAT GNOLL COOKING FIRE! SHE STILL BLAMES YOU! YOUR MOTHER HATES YOU! YOUR FATHER HATES YOU! YOUR BROTHER HATES YOU! YOUR LOVE WILL SOON HATE YOU! WEAK, DESPISED LITTLE RAT!
"-CKYOU!" Zackel half-slurred and half-screamed. If he'd had anything resembling tactical sense left, he would have set off an arcane detonation from his body, both to release himself from the Voidwalker's grip and drive the demon back. But anything resembling sense had been destroyed under the Voidwalker's violating grasp, and instead all Zackel could do was manifest a dagger of ice and begin stabbing it repeatedly into the demon's head.
A poor choice. While the Voidwalker didn't shrug it off, it expressed its displeasure by throwing Zackel across the room.
To add to the misfortune, Zackel managed to find the lone window.
Frost armor, summoned by instinct, turned what should have been Zackel ripping himself to shreds on the glass and then breaking several bones on the landing on the grassy route in front of the Recluse into a mere several (albeit nasty) cuts and a deep chest bruise. Spitting said grass and dirt out of his mouth, Zackel began scrambling up, his mind clearing from the Voidwalker's despair miasma and filling with a brand new despair that managed to spike even higher when he heard Jasciona scream once more in the room above.
"JAZZ!" Zackel shouted, running for the door of the tavern.
He made it two steps before the whip lashed around his neck and jerked him backwards, the scorching length burning itself into his throat even as it began to cut off his air. Before he could even get back up, a clawed hand reached down and seized him by the hair, pulling him up to look into a pair of blazing fel eyes.
"Fresh meat." The succubus said, licking the blood off Zackel's face. "Delicious."
"You see, Rielle, as warlocks grow in power, they make pacts with stronger demons. Vialin's problems had kept him from doing this quickly, or rather as quickly as any of his fellow 'students' had. So he decided he would show all his peers, and jump ahead of them in one fell swoop. He would summon a voidwalker and a succubus at the same time, and turn them both into his minions at the same time."
Zackel fell silent. Rielle waited, having placed her stone down as he'd finished speaking.
"Vialin was 'smart' enough to realize he could have some trouble doing this. He hired two cheap mercenaries to serve as his backup if needed. He was NOT smart enough to realize that if you hire people on the cheap…you get what you pay for." Zackel said. "He was also not smart enough to realize why warlocks are supposed to perform these summons one at a time. I forget the exact details…but the nature of the transfer from the Twisting Nether or the Fel Abyss or the Bad Things Box or wherever the fel these things are summoned from is weird. In the process of stabilizing the creature as they're called from one realm to the next, the transfer process can imbue them with extra power. If they're summoned one at a time, this boost is negligible. However, if you say, SUMMON TWO AT ONCE, HENCE MAKING THE TRANSFER PROCESS LONGER…"
"I get it."
"I don't know if Vialin didn't know that, didn't learn it, didn't BOTHER to learn it, or knew what he was doing and was arrogant enough to assume he could handle it." Zackel said. "He couldn't. The demonic minions ripped him to pieces. Same with his two mercenaries. And then, since said demons were empowered to a higher degree than the norm, they didn't immediately get dragged back to their place of origin. And since they had no master to give them orders, they proceeded to rampage through the Mage Quarter looking for victims. And before the guards and magicians could properly wake up and mobilize, they found me. And Jasciona."
"…if you don't want to give details…"
"Ah, that's the rub, Rielle." Zackel said, picking up another Thrust stone. "What happened next was not what you think."
"Precious little toy…" The succubus cooed, even as she dug her claws into the side of Zackel's head. Zackel hated himself for it later, but the action aroused him as much as the claws hurt him. However, he had not lost enough sense to completely stop fighting, his free hand erupting in destructive power.
The succubus caught him by the wrist in mid-strike, a vicious twist stopping his attack cold. Even as she stopped him, she transferred her other hand from his hair to his throat, holding Zackel up by the still-wrapped around his neck whip.
"Now now, let's not play rough…yet." The succubus purred, licking her lips. "Come with me to the shadows. I'll show you joys you'll scream your lungs out for."
"Go…back…" Zackel rasped, and that was as far as he got. His will was being sapped, all his sense and decency being sucked into the demon's eyes, promising events of such hedonistic atrocity that it would be to die for. And he'd die happy.
The true agony would come after…
"Seal it…with a kiss…" The succubus whispered, drawing Zackel in.
The entire upper floor of the Blue Recluse exploded, throwing the succubus backwards with a yell of surprise, breaking the hypnotizing gaze the demon had on Zackel. He shook his head, his mind flooding back to him, but before he could do anything the succubus let out a growl of irritation and briefly let go of Zackel's throat to backhand him across the face. Stars exploded in Zackel's eyes, his head feeling for a moment like it was about to break right off at the neck, and he went limp, slumping to the ground as the succubus watched the smoke erupting from the upper tavern floors with narrowed eyes.
Jasciona sprang from the smoke, drifting down to the ground with far more grace than Zackel had shown. The sheet she'd wrapped and semi-tied around her was hardly flattering or properly covering, but the burning intensity in her gaze was what drew all the attention, as she stood up from her slowed fall and looked at the demon she'd found. With a laugh, the succubus hauled Zackel up and turned him around, wrapping an arm around his neck as she dug her claws into his cheek.
"Your property? Mine now." The Succubus laughed. "Finders keepers, and you clearly can't keep a man."
"Let him go." Jasciona said.
"Oh you don't give the orders red. Oh, how interesting: the carpet mat-"
That was as far as the succubus got, as Jasciona snapped up her arm with a speed a hunter would have done a double-take at and sent a blast of purifying fire out that smashed right into the succubus' face and reduced everything above her chin to charred bits and wet ash.
The whip vanished into smoke, Zackel falling once again to his knees as the demonic creature tumbled backwards and fell to the grass with a barely-audible thud, already dissolving into foul ichor and mephitis. Jasciona ran to catch her boyfriend before he completely fell to the ground.
"Zackel…oh damn, Zackel…"
"Jazz………..?" Zackel choked, his throat and his head fighting a war over who got to hurt the most.
Jasciona's reply was cut off by the soul-chilling bellow that sounded behind her. Turning to face in the direction of the Recluse, Jasciona watched as the Voidwalker pulled itself from the same smoking room she'd come from.
"HURRRTTTT ME!" The Voidwalker shrieked, surging down to the ground, seemingly even bigger than before. "HURRTT YOUUUUU!"
Sparks of energy shot from Jasciona's eyes, surging down into her hand as arcane magics exploded to life with a speed and intensity that brought Zackel back to full alert.
"No." Jasciona said, opening her hand and then crashing the fingers shut.
The bolt of fire streaked down from the heavens and impaled through the Voidwalker like a spear from the Titans themselves. It shrieked, throwing its arms wide in the sudden torment…as the several other pillars of fire tore down and found their mark on it as well. The Voidwalker did not so much disintegrate as it was literally flash-fried right off the face of Azeroth, the heat setting the grass and the front of the Blue Recluse on fire.
With every bit of it directed away from Zackel and Jasciona. If that had been normal fire, they would have both been cooked to a crisp.
Fire manifested and control by a hand that bordered on divine did not do such things.
"…Zackel?" Jasciona said, turning her head back to her boyfriend. Zackel could only stare at where the Voidwalker had been. "Are you all right? Zackel?!"
"…gone." Zackel murmured. He was vaguely aware of distant yelling and footsteps, as Jasciona hugged him close.
At the very least, he served as a half-decent cover for Jasciona's indecent form until the arriving help brought her a blanket.
"Man. You just get whipped from all over, don't you? Even the Burning Legion's lining up to do it." Rielle said.
"…you might say that." Zackel replied. "The kick to the teeth my ego may have or may not have taken is secondary though. I always knew Jazz was strong. When the chips were down, the worst she did was act startled when danger abruptly came calling. She recovered and took it down swiftly thereafter. All by herself. With no help from me, but again, that's secondary. What mattered…in the end…was that a pair of empowered demons was set loose inside Stormwind. And Jasciona, while essentially stark naked, took both of them out inside a minute. No staff for focus or additional power. No magical accoutrement to give an extra boost. No time spent channeling spells, or distractions to make sure her hits counted. Hell, she even managed to do a Slow Fall spell WITHOUT A REAGENT, which is not unheard of I'll admit, but she did it like it was par for the course. She saw, and she conquered." Zackel said, Rielle fully expected Zackel to comment on the nature of when she had come, but a look at the depressed retrospection on his face quickly answered the question why she didn't.
"Well…it's not like you ran away or threw her to the wolves, Zackel. Hell, if I got attacked while naked I'd probably be in trouble too…"
"That wasn't what mattered in the end. Maybe." Zackel said. "What mattered was what she did. It got notice. It was one thing to be a gifted student. It was quite another to be exposed to such an unexpected, dangerous trial by fire and come out of it making fire your literal bitch."
Zackel placed another Thrust stone down.
"I did my best that night. I know I did. It wasn't enough. Hell…all of it was for naught in regards to what happened next anyway. I was irrelevant."
"Teacher?" Zackel said, standing with some surprise in the open door of his dorm room. He had not expected to find the Maginor sitting in his study chair. He thought he'd said all he needed to say the previous day, when he and Jasciona had been interviewed over what had happened three nights previous. It had been the last time he'd seen his girlfriend, and he'd been heading to his room to get the special charm they'd worked on together, so he could try and track her down.
"Hello Zackel. Sit down." Dumas said.
"Is something wrong?" Zackel said, worry tingeing his heart.
"No, nothing wrong…nothing serious anyway." Dumas said. Zackel really didn't like his master's tone, despite his words, and crossed over to sit on his bed with notable trepidation.
"I wish to discuss you and Miss Core." Dumas said. Zackel wasn't really surprised at the Maginor's words. It still made him wince.
"Teacher, if I may speak first…" Zackel said, pausing to see if his master was going to cut him off. When he didn't, Zackel continued. "I never recalled you mentioning anything about relationships being forbidden between your students. If they are and I somehow completely missed it…I love the woman, master. I want to be the best I can be, but I'm not going to…"
"No Zackel. This is not about that." Dumas said. "If I'd had issue with your relationship, I would have raised it long ago, as you surmised."
"Then what's wrong?"
"I'm afraid Miss Core has left us."
"What? She…what, ran away?!"
"No. Far from it." Dumas said. "She has been taken by the Kirin Tor."
"The Kirin Tor?! I thought they were on our…"
"She's not been taken against her will, young man." Dumas said, a trace of dry humor in his tone. "They heard about the demon incident. Rather, one of their own in town for supplies witnessed it, and got in touch with his superiors in Dalaran. They came to visit, to see Miss Core for themselves. They concluded that what happened several days ago was no fluke. That she had so much magical potential that they decided my training was not enough. They requested for her to come with them to Dalaran for specialized, elite training. And she has accepted."
"…she did? They did?" Zackel said. "When is she leaving?"
"She already has."
Zackel stared.
"She asked for me to pass her farewells onto you. She said that she was sure you'd understand."
"…I'm not stopping. For you, or anyone…"
"Do not take this personally, young man." Dumas said. "I am aware you are aware of your love's ambitions. She wanted to seize them. If you truly have something worth keeping, then you two will find a way to keep it."
Zackel said nothing, staring at his clenching hands.
"I'll give you some more time to recover from these events, but I cannot go easy on you Zackel. What I said on the first day I began teaching you has not changed. You, Miss Core, your brother, Gliven, all of you have possibilities to go far. I know that you always wanted to embrace those possibilities. Before Jasciona, and with her." Dumas said, standing up. "If you throw it away because of this…I cannot stop you. But my disappointment with you will likely only be outweighed with your own disappointment in yourself, down the line."
"…I…" Zackel whispered. "…yeah…I understand."
"…good." Dumas said. "I believed you would."
"Can I have an address or…"
"I'll have Ethybaen come straight up with all necessary information to keep in contact with Miss Core." Dumas said, leaving the room. "I look forward to both your progresses'."
"…right." Zackel said, standing up and looking at the mirror before feeling at his neck. The burn marks had been healed by local priests, but sometimes Zackel could swear he still saw them.
Saw what the Voidwalker had brought barreling through his mind.
Saw himself completely failing as a protector and as a man, even if there were considerable extenuating circumstances and the fact that those involved didn't care about such things, or really need them.
"Progress." Zackel said.
He did not get much sleep that night.
"Let me guess." Rielle said. "You never got a letter back."
Zackel was silent.
"You think what happened in the inn that night made her think you were pathetic, unmanly, not worthy, a boy, a…"
"I think your point was well put across with the first three theoretical assessments, thank you." Zackel said curtly, before lapsing into silence. "I wrote her the next day. A few days after that. A few more days after that. And more than a few times after that. As far as I know, she was getting my letters. My teacher swore up and down that he saw to it. Maybe he was lying…maybe they were lying to HIM, I don't know. But I never got a response. It was like she'd just disappeared out of my life. Like all we'd built and enjoyed together was swept away."
"……I'm sorry."
"Not yet." Zackel said. "It hurt, but I had an escape. My training. So I trained and learned, and I justified the lack of response, theorized maybe they weren't sending HER letters, or maybe the training was just that intense. The Kirin Tor have always had a bit of a chip on their shoulder, and even more so after Aegwynn, Medivh, and the mess Arthas made of them during the Third War. They probably wanted a success, and I had no doubt Jasciona could be just that. So I tried not to let my feelings get in the way of the 'greater good'. I was sure Jasciona would do the same."
Regarding a Thrust stone once again, like the playing pieces held all the secrets of the universe, Zackel slowly placed it down, keeping his eyes on the board.
"I thought the knife being in my heart was how bad it was going to get." Zackel said. "I was wrong. Seven months later, the twist happened."
"Well…" Zackel said, his feet up on the table in the Guilded Rose. "I have had just about enough doing my part for Duskwood's never-ending worgen problem. I think it's time to move on."
"Hear hear." Daldion said, drinking from a mug and slapping away a gnome rogue's hand when she tried to snatch it when Daldion put it down. "Knock it off Silonna."
"Awwwww." Silonna Slightedge grumped, sitting back down on the large book she'd placed on her seat. "So where to next then, boys?"
"Boys? I'm here too." Iberama Greatshine, a female priest, complained.
"Yes you're here too. What happened the last time you chose a direction…oh yes we wandered into Deadwind Pass and ended up being chased by ogres for ten minutes before we discovered they have a hard time avoiding trees when they run through forests." Daldion said.
"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"
"Not planning to." Daldion said, and dodged the remains of a bread roll Iberama threw at him.
"We could go to Stranglethorn!" Silonna said, eyes shining with the eternal energy all gnomes possessed.
"Ugh." Zackel said, dunking his own bread roll in the remains of the sauce of the dish he'd finished. "I don't like Stranglethorn."
"You've been in Stranglethorn ten minutes at most!" Iberama said.
"Yes, and those ten minutes showed me just how pleasant wandering through it for ten hours, days, or weeks will be." Zackel said. "It's like a giant, sweaty hand is always clutching you when you're walking around Stranglethorn. Maybe I could get used to it, but ugh."
"Why don't you just mix up some chemical to make yourself stop perspiring Kel?" Daldion asked.
"One, I'm not that good yet. Two, that would create more problems than it solved. Three, we do have other options." Zackel said. "Maybe we should go up to Menethil, take a boat across the sea. See if Jaina needs any help over on her little colony."
"Have you heard the latest rumors about Jaina and Thrall?" The last person at the table, a human hunter named Astaukon Gleanlance, finally spoke up to ask, having been busy cleaning his gun beforehand.
"Yes. Several versions. With varying degrees of smut." Zackel said. "I don't need to hear any more and I hold no opinion one way or the other."
"Speaking of rumors-!" Silonna began, as Zackel, Daldion, and Iberama groaned, knowing what was coming. "The latest news about King Wrynn is that the Horde trolls have long reclaimed Echo Isles and are keeping the story that they were kicked off it as a cover for holding him captive!"
"Best hope not. They'd probably grind up the king for a special spice to add to their dishes." Zackel said.
"Hey. Trolls aren't THAT bad. Darkspear trolls anyway…" Iberama said.
"You just haven't met the right one yet Iberama. Or the wrong one. The right wrong one. Trust me, they're…"
"Hey! Zackel!" Came a call, and Zackel turned around as one of his fellow mage students (though that was mostly a glorified concept now, as his lessons with the Maginor were all but done, and Zackel's interactions with him primarily consisted of being sent on tests of skill), a skilled polymorpher named Crierin Twineshift, ran in and nearly tripped over Astaukon's napping lynx pet, Sickle, in the process. The lynx regarded the mage with a cool look of annoyed rage, and Crierin quickly regained his balance to more quickly scramble around the table.
"What is it Crierin?"
"Are you still with Jasciona?"
"….yesssssssss…?" Zackel said, his eyes narrowing.
"Well I just saw a big bunch of Kirin Tor wizards heading through the Trade District, and I'm pretty sure I…!"
Zackel didn't bother hearing the rest of Crierin's sentence, able to guess its context. Instead, he jumped out of his chair, leapt over Sickle (who gave Zackel's disappearing back another cool look), and ran out of the Guilded Rose without a second look.
"You'd best hope you're not playing a prank on him, Crierin." Daldion said. "Or he's going to be pissed off when he gets back."
"Why would he get pissed off?" Crierin said. "I never said I saw her for sure. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"
Daldion felt the sudden urge to draw a sigil in the air and spit, as if he was trying to ward off a curse.
Later, he realized it wouldn't have done much good.
Kirin Tor wizards were hardly difficult to spot: they wore purple robes, clustered together, and were able to make commoners, merchants, and just about anyone else get out of their way without the need for giant, armed guards. They also could move surprisingly fast for being on foot, as Zackel struggled to first catch up to them, and then try and get around and ahead of them so he could see who was there.
"Pardon ME."
Zackel wasn't sure where the Kirin Tor mage came from. He must have snuck it from outside of Zackel's field of vision as Zackel was trying to look at the other Kirin Tor mages. Said out-of-nowhere mage took advantage by grabbing Zackel by the shoulder and starting to push him aside.
"Hey, wait! Wait a second!"
"The Kirin Tor has no interest in second-rate conjurers, stranger. There are no positions for you to acquire, and you will not waste the arch-mages' time in trying." The Kirin Tor said. His eyes had a strange milky tint to them, though as far as Zackel could tell he didn't seem to be blind. Arcane tattoos traced on his face managed to make its semi-ratty nature go from weak to intimidating. He was also fairly wide, in a way that suggested girth and not fatty bulk. Despite having nearly a head of height on him, Zackel didn't think he'd win in a physical struggle.
"I don't want a position! I want to see if…"
"You can join gawkers another time. Be silent, and gone."
"You don't understand! I think I…JASCIONA!" Zackel yelled at the departing Kirin Tor. "JAZZ! JAZZ!"
Zackel had hoped that one of the mages would stop. He did not expect then ALL to stop.
"…Now you've done it. The light help you." The milky-eyed mage said, stepping away. The Kirin Tor member who turned to face Zackel was most definitely NOT Jasciona: for one, it was an old man, and an old man who looked like someone had taken a branding iron to his face a few times. Zackel doubted he could have told when the man was happy, but the damage to his features didn't disguise the air of waspish annoyance surrounding him.
"State your name, fledgling." The burned-face mage said.
"I am Kel Wintersoul, grand master." Zackel said. He didn't know if that was actually the mage's position, but he had no doubt that he knew more than Zackel. Zackel, however, knew a thing or two as well.
The problem was, he didn't know them well enough for Burned-Face to not catch it.
"…you have the gall to give me a false name?"
"With all due respect, grand master, I don't know you well enough to know whether or not that is the best option." Zackel replied, as the concept that he perhaps should have substituted more respect in place of his caution began to occur to him.
"You impious little speck…!"
"That's enough Zygmunt." Another Kirin Tor wizard said, stepping forward and holding arm out between Burned-Face/Zygmunt. He wasn't as old or as battered, but the aura of being annoyed at Zackel was not completely absent with him either. "What do you want, Wintersoul? We have far graver business…"
Zackel was about to speak when one of the other mages moved. He saw the slight motion, the touch of red hair…
And for the first time in a while, he felt like a weight had been lifted off him.
"I…believe I know that woman." Zackel said, pointing. "I just wanted to see if I was correct. Just…say hello, and leave you be."
"…Jasciona? Do you know this man?" Second Kirin Tor Mage asked, turning towards the figure.
Jasciona Core turned to look at Zackel.
The smile forming on his face died before it could begin. The weight came crashing back down on him a second later, heavier than ever before, as the two looked at each other from where they stood, Jasciona's face as lovely as ever…
And her gaze as blank as if she was looking at a sign.
For a second, Zackel thought that somehow, her memories had been wiped. The next second tore even that possible comfort apart. There was still a glimmer of recognition in Jasciona's eyes…and nothing else.
The chill that ran through Zackel was colder than any ice he'd ever manifested.
"…no sir." Jasciona said, turning away. "I'm not…who he thinks I am."
"Very well then. Be on your way, mage." The unnamed Kirin Tor mage said, turning and heading off, the rest of the clustered wizards following in his wake. The tattooed one spared Zackel another glance as he passed him, but even he could tell Zackel didn't even realize he was there.
"…………..no." Zackel said. It was the one, and only thing.
A brief time later, his companions found him, and as anyone could expect, many inquiries were made.
Zackel didn't answer any of them. He didn't answer anything at all. He held his silence, and the second he could, he withdrew himself from their presence and went elsewhere.
He had no time for words. All his efforts were devoted to thought.
It was a long, long cruel road.
"So she just…"
Zackel held up a hand. Rielle uncharacteristically fell silent herself.
Without any further commentary, Zackel picked up another Thrust stone, and began the final part of his story.
The silence had not fallen from him, those several hours later. Zackel sat in the table at the back of the Blue Recluse, stretching out the one drink he'd purchased by constantly paying for new ones he told the waitress to not bother drawing up. It seemed like the cracks of the table held some immutable, magnificent pattern, the way his gaze never lifted from it.
Not until the shadow crossed it. Zackel looked up at the lone person who had approached him after so long alone. He was not surprised who it was.
"Zackel." Jasciona said, drawing her hood back. She'd grown her hair out, and her ears were now pieced and decorated with earrings that Zackel recognized as power focus charms. His assessment earlier had not been wrong: she was as lovely as ever. This time, her face was kinder, more familiar, as she leaned her staff against the wall and sat down.
"I'm so sorry." Jasciona said, reaching out and taking Zackel's hand. "You don't know what I've been through since we last were together. I knew the Kirin Tor would be hard, but I never dreamed…I haven't slept in three weeks, Zackel. They have spells for it, and I've adapted…they have no time for dalliance. I've had to really put my nose to the grindstone to make my way through it. It's changed me, I know…but Zackel, I got your letters. You expected this. Expecting things to change. They haven't changed that much! I mean, when you just showed up on the street, I couldn't just run and hug you, it's just not DONE…but you didn't deserve that lie, and I'm so sorry."
Zackel didn't say anything, as he lowered his head again.
"It's all right Zackel. I've gotten out of their clutches for now. I still have to go back, but Zackel…the things I've learned…I never thought…you won't BELIEVE the knowledge, the power of those men and women! They're merciless, but they're even greater than their legends. The things I could do, we could do…I can leave them eventually, maybe even soon, I can teach you…we can make our mark on history…"
"Jasciona…" Zackel said, stopping the redhead's semi-torrent of emotion.
When Zackel looked up, he took his hand away from hers.
"You once told me I had exceptional eyes." Zackel said, pointing to one of them. "Maybe. They've seen a lot. They saw someone I loved, who I knew was better than me, and they accepted that sight. They saw the ambition in her, the desire to be the best…and they accepted that sight. They saw the possibilities about how hard your training could be, how it could change you, how it had to accept that sight is not the same as mastery, and that sometimes things happen that you may not like…and as hard as that was, they tried to accept that sight. Then today, they saw you."
"Zackel…?"
"They saw a look that went right through me. Not a woman who had greater responsibilities that had to go before happy times. Not a woman who had been wandering the dark for so long that the sudden return of the light shocked and blinded her. Not even a woman who can say she was changed more by outside factors than by own self, in all its glory and lack thereof." Zackel said. "I thought I might see something like that, Jazz, if we met in the presence of your teachers. And I expected that is how we'd see each other again. But…I knew I'd see something else. A wink, a hint, the slightest twinkle of the woman I knew, down in the basement until she could finish her work in there…and instead…I saw nothing. I've sat here and pondered it all, and weighed if it was possibly my failure. Maybe it is. It hasn't changed the decision I've come to."
"…You…what…?"
"I will always love you, Jazz." Zackel said. "But I see something else now. I'm not seeing the true self I sought, and believed was in, 'All That' Jazz.. I'm seeing what Jasciona Core has become…after several hours of thinking over the glimpse of what she was, in me. I know you feel regret. But it's too little, and too late. More than the lack of letter response, more than our distance between us in power and potential, more than every single possible reason I thought of for why our relationship might be over…I never realized that circumstances might just take us apart. But when I saw you, I knew."
Zackel looked, one last time, in his former love's face. At the pain and shock there…and the coolness that was coming up to take control of it. Who she was now.
Not the same. And that was all that mattered in the bitter end.
"I guess it's fitting that the blessed eyes become a curse in the end. It's how so many stories reach their conclusion." Zackel said. "I think it's time for you to go."
"…you're…breaking up with me?" Jasciona said. "Because I didn't answer your…because I didn't stay how…because you think you ever had a right to…!"
"No Jasciona. I'm not breaking up with you. I'm letting you go." Zackel said. "I wish we could pick up the pieces and start over…but you're not the same. Me…I am, and that's why I decided this. And the words that you just spoke…tell me I'm not wrong in doing so. And you know it too."
In the end, Jasciona's eyes never ceased their calmness, as she looked at Zackel for several more seconds before standing up. With a gesture, she called her staff to her hand.
"Stay alive, Zackel." Jasciona said. "Goodbye."
With a swirl of regal purple robes, Arch-Mage Jasciona Core turned and walked out of the Blue Recluse, and out of Zackel's life. The hired help didn't bother Zackel any more, as he left some more coins on the table and headed up to the room he'd rented for the night.
It wasn't the same room he'd had, they'd had, that fateful night. Despite that fact, Zackel found himself sitting at the desk in the room, staring at the mirror in front of him for seemingly an eternity.
Finally, he raised his hand and began calling shivering blue power up into his hand, crafting it with his mind. After about fifteen seconds, an ice ballerina once again spun on his palm.
"Dah dee…dah-de-dah…dah-de…" Zackel whispered. "De dah…dah…dah dah…"
The ballerina shattered as Zackel closed his hand on it, and with a sudden scream he stood and began pounding on the desk before him, hitting it until the pain of his bloody, twisted knuckles finally overtook the brief, overwhelming rage at everything. He sank back into his chair, holding his head over his aching fists, taking long, slow, gasping breaths.
The lone tear that fell crystallized from the residual frost power. The rest of them slid down Zackel's face, as he looked up at his reflection, and all that lay within.
It held no answers. In that, it was a fitting embodiment.
Zackel, in the end, just had a word instead.
"…………………Goodbye."
"And I never saw her again." Zackel said, putting the Thrust stone down. Silence settled over the room, the fire having burned low during the long conversation.
Rielle said nothing, merely cocking her head.
"To this day, I don't know if I made the right choice." Zackel said. "I don't know if I was projecting my own fears and whatnot onto her, if she really hadn't changed and I couldn't just see it, if I was the one who ruined everything, if I was the bad guy…maybe. All I know is what I saw. And what I saw was a different person. Not hardened, not cold, not pitying…just different. And I knew what we had was gone. I spent all that time after our eyes locked thinking it all through, before Jasciona approached me wondering if we could ever get it back, in some form or another…"
"And you couldn't."
"No. It was gone. As far as these eyes, flawed or not they may be, could see." Zackel said. "Just another young pair of lovers who grew apart. So I ended it before we could bring more pain into each other's lives. Better to cut the infected finger off, sometimes, then wish for it to heal and have the whole arm become infested with rot, and beyond. And if I did it…not because I assessed that it was no longer going to work, but because of my own failing…then I didn't deserve her."
Rielle again said nothing, briefly looking down at the Thrust board and then back up at Zackel, who was holding his chin, the way it lowered his face casting his eyes in shadow.
"You ask why I was looking around here, Rielle, when you feel I could be at Northrend. You're right. I could be. But after that night, I made a decision. About my power, and myself." Zackel said. "Power is not innately corruptive, I feel, despite all the arguments I am sure many could make about fel magic, Queen Azshara, and all that. If it was, then Jasciona would have never been the girl who I fell in love with, and who loved me in turn. But it changes you, Rielle. No matter what, it changes you. In her own pursuit of it, it changed Jasciona. Not into something bad, not into something lesser…but into something else, regardless. And in that, what we had was lost. After that, I decided I would approach my studies as I saw fit. I would advance at my own pace, and on my own path. If Azeroth so desperately needs me to barrel headlong down the road to strength and destiny so I can properly answer some call, well, Medivh is free to fly in my window and get his propheting on. If not, then I'll decide what I'll become, and when. Without it changing who I am. I don't want to bring that pain back. Or onto anyone else. It's as cruel as any wound or poison you could think of."
Zackel raised his hands, coiling his fingers into semi-fists. Rielle realized, when viewed up close, that faint bands of scar tissue could be seen all along the knuckles.
"Healers can repair damage to a great degree, erase wounds and the disfigurements that remain after like they never happened. It's why I suspect you're not a great big mass of scar tissue despite all the combat you've seen. I had a druid fix my hands, but I asked them to leave the scars there. That I wanted a natural reminder of my decisions. So he did. And so I have it." Zackel said. "I still have dreams, ambitions, and I know how dangerous the world is. How I could play a role in its defense, in some way. My decision stands, regardless. I will keep my monkey on my shoulder. It will stay there, and nowhere else. Until the time comes when I feel that's not enough."
Zackel placed his last Thrust stone down, studying the board.
"…I resign. You win." Zackel said, taking a drink of water as Rielle's eyes widened slightly.
"…wait what? Hold it, I just…we shouldn't just…!"
"I'm not throwing you a pity win, Rielle. Check the board." Zackel said, shifting slightly as he began gathering up his bedding. "I've had enough for the night. Time to sleep."
Rielle didn't protest, intent on counting the stones as Zackel rolled over to rest. She put a finger to her lips as she finished up: from her rudimentary knowledge, she had won by three points, and there was no real way for Zackel to make a comeback.
"…son of a bitch." Rielle said quietly.
"Please don't talk about my mother that way." Zackel murmured. Rielle glanced at the wizard, and then a ghost of a smile crossed her face, as she moved back over to her bedding and began preparing to sleep herself.
If she had any further opinion about Zackel and Jasciona Core, she did not give it that night.
--------
She did, however, give an opinion when the sound of a clatter and someone falling with a curse woke her out of a light doze some time later.
"And perhaps someone should have cleaned up their game board instead of just rolling over and forgetting about it."
"Thank you Rielle." Zackel said, his grouchy tone drifting out from the dark. "I'll keep that in mind."
"So far away we wait for the day…
For the light source so wasted and gone…
We feel the pain of a lifetime lost in a thousand days…
Through the fire and the flames we carry on…"