Chapter 21: A Puzzle of Flesh

"Entry Whatever, I can't remember and I don't have my journal to write in, anyway." Zackel said, sitting in the room he'd selected as the best of the bad lot he now had. Sleeping that night hadn't been much fun, but it had forced Zackel to shore up an aspect of his magic he was very rusty in: fire. While he'd told Rielle why he didn't like it very much, he had not forgotten its use as a tool. He'd just mostly forgotten, and hence had to work for nearly four hours the previous night to produce a small, constant flame for heat. It wasn't close to their fireplace, but it was better than nothing, and between it, his furs, and how much he'd exhausted himself in re-learning the basics of fire manifestation, he'd slept like the dead.

He'd half-hoped he'd wake up to Rielle kicking him, throwing insults his way and demanding that he make her another meal, or something in that vein. While he really wasn't in the mood to prostrate himself in front of her any more, it would indicate that she was back to the girl he thought he knew: prone to bullying and slave-driving, but mostly to a superficial degree that she was really only utilizing because it was Zackel's fault she was stuck there. Such actions didn't match her recent ones, where she'd become angry, spiteful, and close-mindedly judgmental, throwing punishments his way, telling him there was nothing he could do to stop them, and throwing him out of their sleeping quarters when they couldn't see eye to eye on a vital issue. Personally, if it meant that his initial assessment of the woman had been correct and she was just having some very bad days she'd come back from (as she'd seemed to be on the stairs the day before, before the ogres and the new wedge that was driven between them), he'd have even tolerated doing a little more prostrating.

Just a little. The last little bit.

Unfortunately, it seemed like this new/true mindset was still in play, as Zackel woke up on his own, and upon investigating the door upstairs, found it still locked up tight. Zackel had returned to his furs with a sigh, sitting on them and pondering where to start.

After a few supplementary issues had been addressed, like marking the end of the jewel in his staff with soot in case he needed to (properly) write on the wall, as well as opening the basement door and leaving the daily food supply for the ogres (who Zackel did not see, but could hear below, faintly, and who he had heard coming up the stairs once he'd closed, locked, and put his ear to the door), Zackel had sat down, crossing his legs and briefly reaching for his journal before he realized it wasn't there. Having realized that, he closed his eyes and began thinking.

For a long while, the only noise was his occasional rustles and the howl of the wind outside.

"…I am Rielle…" Zackel said after a time, quietly and to himself, raising a finger as he began writing on the air, as if recording the data and hypotheses he'd mentally gathered. "I am a warrior. I am probably prone to aggression by nature…and my training has likely done nothing but increase that, even as it refined it…would my training cause me to constantly subconsciously generate aggression…would it require a steady source of targets for said aggression…said source is provided by adventurer lifestyle…source is cut off due to being trapped here. Attempting to compensate with constant exercise, combat drills, sparring…compensation beginning to lose effectiveness? Was careful to not harm the 'squishy' wizard during said sparring…cause of loss of effect, maybe? Additional cause?"

It had been a long time since Rielle had done the one-handed handstand pushups. In truth, Rielle had always found them to be more trouble then they were worth. There were other exercises and techniques that were easier to do and had just as good results.

But easy wasn't doing it for her. Not any more. So Rielle balanced and pressed her own weight up and down, her body soaked with sweat and her arm feeling like she was holding it in a fire. Rielle kept going, preferring the physical ache in her muscle to the far more complicated sensations inside herself.

Unfortunately, it also kept her from realizing her arm was giving out. When it did, she nearly landed on her face, painfully wrenching her shoulder and banging her jaw in the process.

"Argh! SON OF A…!' Rielle cursed, rolling over and checking her arm, Unlike Zackel earlier, she hadn't dislocated it…

And for some reason, that just made her angrier. Pushing herself back up with her better arm, Rielle immediately launched into a series of crunches, something that was specifically difficult for her species to do due to the way their legs curved. Rielle did them anyway, even as her muscles protested and her bones ached.

But, like last time, eventually her legs simply couldn't keep up with her need, and Rielle collapsed on the furs around her, sweat running down her face.

"…damn it all." Rielle said, before reaching for her water bottle. The fact that it was empty nearly caused her to throw it into the fire.

"I am aware of my skills…I am driven to improve them." Zackel said, still sitting down and thinking out loud. "I like improving them…constant improvement requires constant new stimuli…lack of new stimuli a factor here? The mage, aka me attempted to provide her with whatever alterations in her routine I could…insufficient in amount? Misplaced blame due to frustration over perceived notion that skills will atrophy if not constantly give new feedback? Again the notion that the environment cannot provide me with what I want…environment is due to my, the mage's, actions…this 'diminishing returns' factor causing her initial sharp actions to become more constant and definite?"

Zackel took a bite out of his conjured bread roll, chewing the airy food until it had virtually vanished in his mouth like cotton candy, thinking all the while.

"Compare current environment to previous one. Where did I come from, from before…"

It took every bit of willpower Rielle had to not swing the axe into the wall. She knew that if she started doing that, she'd risk upsetting the carefully sealed heat-containment Zackel had tried to craft…

Yet part of her wanted to do it anyway. She didn't need the mage. She'd slept out in the field in Wintergrasp, and she hadn't died or gotten sick there. A little lost heat wouldn't matter…

And, as she swung at the air with her axe, going through her long-memorized combat routines, the lack of anything to actually STRIKE was really starting to get to her. Drills lost something after you went through them for the tenth time: you needed to actually hit something after a while. A sparring partner, a training dummy, a tree, anything would do. If all you did was shadowbox, then you might find that anything more firm than a shadow would throw you off guard.

Nothing was worse in life then being thrown off guard.

Guarding was something Rielle had learned well. Something people like Zackel could never appreciate. They always hid behind the likes of her, expected her to take the blows. Cowards and idiots, the lot of them…

Except, without Zackel there, she had no ice to strike, or no one to wrestle…

Just her own shadow. And it was as poor a companion as it always was.

Rielle wiped sweat from her eyes as these thoughts occurred to her, and then she buried them again and launched into the maneuvers once more. Life was hard. You had to be harder.

Screw Zackel and all his musing. She was the real one who knew the nature of ice. She had learned that, when the chips were down, you'd always be called on to be just like it.

"I was at the location called Wintergrasp before I came here…I was not assigned there, I went of my own free will…" Zackel said. "I do not like the Horde…but I did not initially show such intense dislike that that is the sole reason…I do not seem to be interested in money or glory…I am interested in skill…what else am I interested in…"

"Hey. Pigeon." Rielle said, a dozen feet away with axe in hand. "Forget the small fry. Real meat's over here."

"…I am willing to risk my life for others. I have a sense of duty." Zackel said. "I was betrayed by someone who did not share my honor…I was unable to not just seek revenge, but fulfill my duties…have I forgiven my companion the mage for being of the same 'calling' as the one who betrayed me, but subconsciously begun to direct new resentment towards him because he, and Sparse, kept me from fulfilling my duties…said resentment becomes funneled through the aspect that dislikes the Horde, and causes over-reactions to issues involving the Horde on the mage's side? Am I seeking an excuse to vent? Did said excuse become something worse when faced with a worse problem, like the discovery of the ogres and the divide on how they needed to be dealt with? Do I need something to release my darker impulses, as the better of two bad options?"

Meditation and self-reflection was not a big part of warrior training, but Rielle had learned a touch of it in her time, from her original teacher and some of her peers. It wasn't really in her nature to utilize it: she preferred to face her problems head on, or go out and enjoy herself instead of brooding on them. She did not have that option here, and all her extensive exercising and training was not helping. So, she sat, the fire flickering low, her breathing slow and adjusted.

Her mind, however, could not match her body. Every time she tried to drift away, something would make her recall Zackel. While she'd tolerated it at first, as the mage was the source of all of her irritation, the fact that she couldn't seem to get away from him gradually began to weigh onto her every thought.

"This is BULLSHIT." Rielle finally said, pulling herself up and storming towards the door.

Before stopping abruptly, realizing she had no idea what she was going to do, or what she wanted to do. What she wanted was peace of mind, but the mage was the root of the reason why she DIDN'T have it. Why else would he keep invading her thoughts…

"…WEERKUAY!" Rielle cursed, punching the wall before she stalked back over to her furs to try the meditation again.

"…I was angry and resentful towards the mage when we first met. I had just suffered several indignities, producing understandable anger. Time cooled the anger, and I befriended the mage…" Zackel said, before his eyes slowly opened.

He'd come to the part that he had slowly realized had been his biggest blind spot. Between flashbacks to that day in Stormwind, and the stress that the hiding ogres had inadvertently caused him, Zackel hadn't really paid much attention, or given much thought, to certain ways that Rielle had acted towards him. Now, though, he had to try and address it.

"I…might have had some…stronger feelings for the mage. Exactly what is the source of these feelings…could be numerous. General urges that did not require anything except a release, like the other men I have claimed to be with…the idea of enjoying someone's company, and wanting to attempt a new stage of the enjoyment with no strings attached, as I, the mage, have done a few times myself, like with Nekola…a false sense of closeness brought on by the confined quarters and the lack of anyone else to interact with…or perhaps a test of character for the mage to try something and be struck down, in several possible fashions, in order to establish a pecking order. The mage, for his own reasons, did not act on any of the offers or lures…frustration over a refusal to follow the plan? Frustration over obliviousness?…Possible deeper feelings that make me feel vulnerable, causing me to lash out? Possible…mental issues that the circumstances have brought to the forefront?"

Zackel paused to drink some water, turning the last train of thought he'd had over in his head.

"Possible biological issues like menstruation trouble also somewhat feasible, though they do not explain everything. Then again, nothing theorized explains everything." Zackel said. "I am Rielle…why have I become so angry and irrational…what has Zackel done to make me so angry and irrational…"

The mage went silent, sinking deep into thought.

"…there is nothing I did, within reason, to make her that angry. All reasons presented do not explain this sudden, repeated, snapback…especially with all previous interactions. I, the mage, may not be a mind reader, nor perfect in my ability to read people…but I do not think I could have misread her so badly that I am now pondering what is wrong with her when this is her supposed 'true self'. If I don't accept this is how she really is…then I need to find out not only why she's acted this way, but why now. There is an X-factor…"

Zackel's self-monologue was broken by an abrupt yawn. Zackel rubbed his eyes, wondering just how long he'd been engaged in his mental calisthenics and how deep he'd been in them to not notice his weariness sneaking up on him. Having hit a dead end, he decided he'd sleep on it.

"Will continue tomorrow." Zackel said, lying down and wrapping himself in his furs.

Rielle's eyes jerked open, and she stared at the dull remains of the fire for a few seconds before she began hammering at the side of her head.

"I-just-want-to-SLEEP! Is that SO WRONG?" Rielle said. "I don't care if he's wrong or I'm wrong any more! I want to SLEEP!"

The silence of the room settled back down onto the draenei, as she sat up and buried her face in one hand. Her sleep was not plagued by nightmares, not so much. Instead, her brain just seemed to refuse to shut down, filling her dreams with constant, chaotic streams of random data that didn't make any sense even in the bizarre tendency of dreams. What drove her completely nuts was that she couldn't tell if the strangeness were actual dreams or a sort of semi-lucid nonsense that was spilling over all her thoughts because her brain was stuck between a state where it couldn't fully settle into the lowered state sleep consisted of and had started to already do it despite that fact, causing her 'higher-conscious' mind to try and 'properly' interpret all the signals of the 'lowered-conscious' one brains entered when they slept. Worse was the fact she hadn't had this problem last night: she'd slept fitfully but dreamlessly.

A day stuck in the room all alone clearly wasn't what her mind cared for, but Rielle was not so worn down that she planned to give in. Maybe Zackel hadn't met her then, in regards to how he'd handled the Forsaken at Tarren Mills, but his forcing her (wait what) to not deal with the ogre problem was too much of a slap in her face for her to take. If she went to confront him, she might not be able to prevent herself from strangling him…

Besides he was a pathetic wretch, she could wait him out, he'd come crawling back to her…

Except she knew that for all the things she'd come to despise about him, she knew that there was a core of strength buried in the mage, and he'd just HAD to seize onto it when it came time for an issue that so bitterly divided them…

And why would she want him to crawl back anyway…

Yet they'd disagreed before, why did she have to be such a stickler for…

"…this isn't me." Rielle said. "The me I know would want sleep. So I am GETTING. SOME. SLEEP. DEAL WITH IT."

Rielle rolled over and closed her eyes, calmly but firmly trying to turn her brain off.

Eventually, she succeeded.

But as consciousness returned to her, Rielle found the issues waiting with it.

"Entry somethingorother, still stumped, yeah." Zackel muttered, before he experienced a deep shiver. He wasn't doing too badly in surviving down in the not-properly-heated lower levels of the Alterac fortress, but he was far from comfortable.

Whether his lack of comfort was due to the cold or from what he was currently facing, he couldn't say. In front of him, the hidden door loomed.

Well, in a sense. The bookcase was still propped up against it, which somewhat lessened the atmosphere caused by the concealed passage. But the possibilities of what lay within was enough for Zackel to feel a sense of menace. With all the other issues, the room and the writing on its walls had fallen down the list of Zackel's mental efforts. With the coming day, though, Zackel had returned to it.

"Going to re-investigate the concealed room with fresh perspective." Zackel said, walking up to the bookcase. "If there is an X-factor here…this seems like the most likely provider of it."

The bookcase, however, was heavier and more awkward than Zackel recalled it being. Without anyone to help him move it (Zackel doubted he could talk either Rielle or the ogres into lending their aid), Zackel struggled mightily to get the old piece of furniture out of the way…

And overestimated himself as his back suddenly shrieked with pain. Zackel released his grip on the bookcase, staggering back and putting a hand against his spine.

"This is why I hate hidden doors…" Zackel said, pausing to lean against the wall. For a few moments he debated just smashing or igniting the bookcase, but ultimately decided against it. Such short-sighted thinking never worked out well, no matter how it was applied.

"Okay then…" Zackel said, as he once again tried to move it. It had not gotten any easier. "This is why I hate mysteries…"

With one hard yank, Zackel finally got some traction on the bookcase… too much, as one corner of the furniture caught on the floor. This promptly unbalanced the bookcase's high center of gravity, causing the piece of furniture to begin to tip over.

"OH SHIT!" Zackel yelled, trying to get away.

Too slow.

Albeit in terms of escape. Zackel's ice armor kept the falling bookcase from doing worse than knocking the wind out of him as it landed on him, even as the crash of the falling furniture reverberated through the abandoned fortress. Zackel lay on the floor for a few seconds, pondering the question of whether he should just go back to sleep, maybe right then and there.

"…This is why I hate women…and life…and especially gravity…!" Zackel said, as he began crawling out from beneath the fallen bookcase. Well, at least he didn't have to pick it up: ice-manifestation would do that for him.

Despite its sudden loudness, no one came to investigate the noise.

Zackel wasn't sure if he was relieved or saddened by that fact.

Whether Rielle would have come was a moot point, as she hadn't heard the sound of the falling bookshelf. She was, much against her better judgment, out on the rooftop.

Said better judgment's complete inability to distract her from the isolation she was in, not to mention the constant reminders of why she was isolated, didn't really help. She also harbored no delusions that she could succeed in stopping the storm where Zackel had failed, nor that something would occur along the lines of finding a hidden passage to escape that had eluded both him and her (and in all honesty, despite her less than optimal state, Rielle WOULD have questioned such a thing appearing, especially now). But she needed a distraction, and going out on the roof would provide one.

She hasn't just spent her time in Wintergrasp trying to secure territory and fight the Horde. She'd tried to pick up from her differently-talented peers the ability to deduct the weather, current and future, which was vital not only in Wintergrasp but in all of Northrend. She was certain she'd learned a trick or two in that regard: she just hadn't had need to use it, due to the reason of the storm (that being, Zackel). But with him gone and said storm keeping her stuck here, Rielle had finally braved it to see if she could get her own read on it.

She swiftly regretted even trying. The wind was not only bitterly cold, she couldn't even begin to get a bead on it. It's nature went against every basic thing she'd learned. An artificial creation defying naturally-honed skills.

After a few minutes of trying to, even as the blowing snow and icy gales tried to tear the life from her, Rielle found herself once again cursing magic. Primarily, she cursed its crutch ability to prop up unworthy people, its tendency to completely scramble natural occurrences and prevent her from properly analyzing them, the fact that all her recent troubles were because of it…

And a tiny whisper, forged long before she'd even gone near Northrend and the path that had led here to her prison, opened up with its own bitter song. A song of anger, and regret, and seething jealousy…

Which abruptly shut up when Rielle found herself getting suddenly blown off her feet by the wind.

The words engraved on the wall were as inscrutable as before.

"What were you trying to tell the world, long-gone carver…" Zackel mused, peering at the dull etchings over the jewel of his staff.

"…Forever in our hands…burden of choice…star echoes…voice/voices…in that…"

"Forever in our hands…something that was passed down to whoever lived here…?" Zackel said. "Might not be an object or an inheritance…could be something bad, hence requiring a warning…said to be a burden…or something about choice is. Is the choice in picking up something? Or maybe the burden had something to do with it being forever in their hands? Star echoes…stars don't echo…maybe I'm mistranslating or the word has been messed up…start echoes? Echoes…and voice…voices…maybe…voices…?"

Zackel tapped a finger on the wall, re-calling the events of two days past, when he and Rielle had discovered the 'source' of their haunting. Except, given even more time to think…Zackel had begun to realize that child ogres creeping around didn't explain everything.

His traps had been avoided by the sneaking child going under its trigger lines…except he hadn't exactly measured how tall the child ogres were. Considering how big ogres could grow, it wouldn't make a huge amount of sense that an ogre with enough development to sneak effectively around a castle to be small enough to avoid setting off his traps by sheer blind luck. Then again, considering they'd nearly discovered them a few times before they actually did, it made sense that the hiding ogre child might have spied him laying down his traps and just taken alternate routes where he could and ducked under the others…

…except it didn't make enough sense that the ogre child could have figured out he'd needed to duck. And even if he had…how had the child both kept low enough to avoid the triggers, yet moved fast enough to outrun both Zackel and Rielle when they'd been chasing him?

Were there more hidden doors and passageways that the two of them hadn't discovered?

Did the ogre child have something left over from the old Alterac kingdom, or perhaps a recovered Dalaran artifact, that had let him avoid or negate his traps?

Or…had Zackel been too quick to dismiss the general concept of a haunting?

Zackel closed his eyes, returning to that possibility. His flip-flopping and mental circles before, back when he'd thought an evil spirit of some sort was the source of his and Rielle's troubles, had been whether outside interference was needed to cause the problems he and Rielle had had, and Rielle might still be having. But, considering the still-apparent holes, and the strange warning on the wall…

Was it possible he'd thrown out the baby with the bathwater? Maybe there wasn't an evil presence in this old fortress…but maybe there was SOMETHING.

Something that had helped the ogre.

Something that may have gotten the wrong idea about Rielle and him, and was reacting accordingly.

Something that…had tried to hide its presence, by obscuring the words written on a wall about it?

Zackel caught himself after his last question, realizing he'd end up in another round of ambagious navel gazing if he didn't watch himself. The issue, whatever it might have been, couldn't be picked apart any more.

"Well then." Zackel said, sitting down and closing his eyes. "Let's clarify."

The mage relaxed, and then attempted to open his mind to the immediate world around him, and anything unusual that might have lurked within it.

I am Zackel Wintersoul. If you are there, I am not your enemy. I am not the enemy of the ogres either, if you consider yourself with them. I am merely a lost adventurer trying to survive. If you can hear me, if you are there…please speak.

Silence was all Zackel got. He had expected that.

I do not know your story. I do not know what I may have done wrong. I am not a threat to you, nor do I wish to be. If you are interacting with us…if you are causing these unusual occurrences…then speak. Let us settle this face to face, instead of through all this misunderstanding.

Whether the fortress seemed too quiet now, or if it was always this quiet and Zackel had just become super-sensitive again, he couldn't say.

I can understand if our initial actions, if what we have lurking within us, has made you fearful. I have darkness within me…as does Rielle. But you have done me a favor, in making me face the darkness. Please…if you are there, speak. Let us solve all our problems. Together. If you're so used to solitude that you cannot trust us…I understand. But whether you wish to break or remain in said isolation here, in this fallen kingdom…it will go much swifter if you do not remain hidden. Please…I am not your enemy. I do not wish…to be anyone's enemy. I just want…things to go well…

Having run out of words, Zackel sat back and listened.

Hoping he'd hear more than the howl of the wind.

It wasn't just a howl. It was…laughter.

That was what Rielle would have sworn as she tried to pull herself up on the rooftop, even as she tried to keep her sense of direction and not get lost in the sweeping wall of white. The winds of the storm weren't just clawing at her ears, audibly and benumbingly. They were mocking her, laughing at her helplessness and powerlessness. Maybe it was all in her head, but Rielle would have insisted otherwise.

Especially as she remembered what Zackel had said, all that talk about conversing with the storm, like it was a living entity. Suddenly, that concept didn't seem so out there. And whatever the case might have been, Rielle wasn't going to continue pondering it out in the storm's grip.

She hadn't quite lost the door, and she staggered towards it…as another massive surge of wind blasted from her side, carrying her into one of the protruding blocks of stone that made up the roof-path's structure. Rielle cried out as her shoulder, the same one she'd landed on the previous day, was again painfully jolted. The storm snatched the sound away the moment it left her, the chilling mistral feeling like it was trying to reach into her mouth and pull the air from her lungs, the warm blood from her heart…

Rielle dash-lunged forward, getting back inside the fortress…

As the last hammer of wind caught her back, throwing her off balance. With a scream, Rielle found herself tumbling down the stairs, ending up at their base a sore, freezing heap.

It wasn't that that kept her there. Rielle had had far worse. She'd trained herself to endure far worse.

It was that thought, having surged up to join Rielle's constantly chattering brain.

The storm was alive.

It didn't like her.

And considering its relation to Zackel, it might not want to let her leave.

…Nothing.

Despite all of Zackel's efforts, no voice came to answer his plea. He was as alone in the castle as he was when he'd woken up that morning, and it was clear that whatever could be done to change that, Zackel apparently could not do.

Standing up, trying to keep his disappointment and the bitter irritation under it down, Zackel again perused the faded words on the wall. No epiphany came to him: the message remained a mystery. Much like the ogres had been…

"…unless…" Zackel said, recalling the creatures who lived here…and what they might have seen.

Zackel quickly realized it was a long shot: ogres were not all stupid, but there was a difference between not being stupid and not being stupid in a 'useful fashion' . Considering he didn't have anything else, Zackel went with it, leaving the hidden room and its enigma behind.

Zackel knocked loudly on the basement door before he opened it, slowly and carefully heading down the stairs, doing his best to make sure that he wasn't coming down in a threatening manner. The fact that he found all the ogres clustered up like when he'd initially found the hidden room as he reached the bottom of the stairs indicated he hadn't really succeeded.

Zackel put on his best calm, welcome expression (which was somewhat difficult with the basement's terrible smell) and put his staff aside, holding up his hands.

"Nothing…has…changed." Zackel said. "I just…want to ask…questions."

The ogres' own expressions didn't change, their eyes wary and mildly hostile. At least the females looked a bit more alert then two days ago: summoned mage food was hardly a feast, but it was worlds better then cannibalism when it came to basic nutrition.

"No matter…what answer…you give…nothing change." Zackel said. "No right…or wrong answer. Just…want to know."

The ogres remained silent.

"…You…live here…have you…seen…anything…strange…here?"

The ogres glanced at each other before looking back at the mage.

"By…strange…I mean….scary. Not normal. Anything. Anything at all."

"…we…no." One of the females finally said. "Live…good. Just…bad creatures…want harm us…that only not normal thing."

Zackel struggled not to frown, worried the ogres would misinterpret it.

"The…bad creatures. Humans?"

"Humans. Orcs. Walking dead." The ogre female said. Zackel was confused for a moment, before he recalled that the Forsaken had sent various Horde agents up into the area, for some reason Zackel couldn't recall. The humans must have been the nearby Syndicate.

"…did…you…take anything from them? Anything…strange?"

"…Men take. Food, weapons, armor…strongest get. Not see much." The ogre female said. Zackel considered pressing the issue, and then realized that by the nature of what the female had said, anything the ogres may have had that was unusual would have been on their person when Zackel's storm consumed them.

"…the men…in here." Zackel said. "Anything…strange…they have?"

"…no." The ogre female said. Zackel decided to drop the issue there. It would be cruel otherwise.

"…the boy. One who…looked around castle." Zackel said. After a few moments, the ogre child stepped forward, hard to tell apart from his peers when they were all bunched up. Zackel noted that he was no longer wearing the bandage and bore no evidence of a wound, which gave him a mild sense of satisfaction. "Boy…did you…know my traps?"

The child ogre stared for a second, dull confusion on its face.

"Traps…of ice. Put up…thought you were…danger…because of how…you hide." Zackel said. "How did you…miss traps?"

"…I see." The ogre child said. "Watch you…go under."

"…Go under…traps? How you know…to go under?"

"…I see…you…and trap…and go under." The child said. Zackel turned his gaze away from the young ogre, pondering just what he meant. He didn't think the child was repeating himself, ergo…had he been watching, and seen the trap activate when Zackel been testing them during his initial deployment? And by sheer luck managed to figure out a way to avoid them?

"…boy…are there other passages…in castle? You use?"

"No! I stay down here! Like say…!" The ogre child said, panic entering his tone.

"No, no. I mean…before. Before I find you."

"Oh…yes. Some. Use all. Want…show?"

"…no. That's…not…needed." Zackel said, picking up his staff. Knowing the routes wouldn't really help him: if something strange was in them, Zackel was sure they would have mentioned it based on how he'd stressed what he was looking for. The long shot had missed, and he didn't know what else to do or where else to go. "Thank you…"

Zackel made some more food and water for the ogres before he went back up the stairs, wanting to drive home that their inability to help him would not be held against them. He locked the door before leaning on it with his forehead, closing his eyes.

The hidden room did not give a clear X-factor. The ogres' minimal knowledge did not offer one either. Zackel's own analysis had also failed to turn one up.

Which left one option.

"…well then." Zackel said. "I guess it's back into the fire with a side order of the frying pan."

It didn't matter what Zackel did.

The small, irrational fear had clawed its way up into Rielle's gut over who knew how long she'd been sitting by the fire, and now perched on her mind like one of the Lich King's malevolent gargoyles. The concept that whatever role the mage had had in trapping her here, he no longer had any sway in how it would end.

He hadn't just created an out of control storm. His inexperience in using arcane magic to manipulate weather had created something WORSE, some sort of sadistic, squatting force that reveled in hammering away at this broken-down citadel and its unfortunate occupants. And while it might eventually show pity on the mage after he had groveled and humiliated himself in front of it enough, Rielle knew it would never show anything to her but a desire for her death. She'd defied it, and now it was letting her know that the price for her defiance would be a long, slow end. Nothing glorious, nothing worthy, nothing her parents could smile through their tears with. She might never be found at all, lost in one of the forgotten corners of this world…

Except that was all nonsense, wasn't it?

The storm didn't have a mind, just like the castle didn't have ghosts. Just ogres and misunderstandings. This was the latter. Her anger and her situation and all the other stuff had wound up inside her in a great big toxic mix, and the only reason she hadn't dealt with it yet was because it had become a giant, festering wart and the only solution was to lance it. She was a warrior. She had been taught that there were times to avoid pain and times to embrace it to serve a greater purpose. If she could endure having a tooth pulled without any type of pain relief and having an emergency battlefield cauterization on her leg to stop an arterial leg wound, she could…

No. That was what they wanted her to think. They knew the only way to get around her guard was to make her think she would be foolish to keep it up. Just like with Sparse, and Wirekoth, and Niraband. She'd tried to be reasonable and not suspect all mages, and they'd ended up conspiring against her in the end. This wasn't a matter of swallowing her pride, this was a matter of going with her gut, even as twisted as it seemed at the time. She'd always had to rely on it in the end anyway: everything else let her down. Her allies for not seeing the problem, her people and their damn whispers and judgments…

Just like Zackel's, no matter the source…

And of course, the mage. Who'd trapped them here. Who had made her feel like this. Who was forcing her to remember things.

She would find her own solution. She always had before. She was strong. She was powerful. She didn't need to admit flaws that weren't there…

She was always alone in the end…

Zackel stopped in front of the door.

"…okay then." Zackel said, reaching out to knock.

He stopped two thirds of the way there. He wasn't (too) ashamed to admit it was because of fear. Not fear for his life (though there was a touch of that), but fear of all that could go wrong if Zackel went through the door. And how much of it could be nothing more than what lay within himself and Rielle.

But he was in the right. He just wanted to do the right thing. Why keep torturing himself…

Then again…

Zackel withdrew his hand, placing it against his chin and pondering his options. Was he down to making excuses? Or was there some vital, esoteric thought nagging in the back of his head that would be completely lost if he went into the room?

It had been two days. Maybe Rielle had calmed down by now. Maybe she would be more willing to be sensible. Or maybe he should cut off her bullshit before she completely convinced herself of its righteousness…

…Or maybe it wasn't time for that yet.

"…DAMN IT." Zackel said, turning around. He walked a few more steps before he whirled back around and approached the door. He stopped short again, and after a few seconds started pounding on the side of his head.

"WHY-DO-THE-WOMEN-IN-MY-LIFE-ALWAYS-END-UP-SO-COMPLICATED?" Zackel said to himself, punctuating each word with a blow to his own skull. "All right Zackel…what is this…is this fools rush in where Naaru fear to tread, or he who hesitates is lost?…And why are you debating the issue so much?"

Zackel stared at the door, but like many other things in the fortress, it refused to provide him answers. Finally, he put his ear to the door. A few adjustments allowed him to hear breathing inside.

Zackel closed his eyes, debating for another dozen seconds before he sighed deeply.

"You're a coward, mage. Or brilliant. Watch, it will be the former." Zackel said, as he turned towards the stairs. He'd decided to give it one more night. One more night of thought. If he woke up tomorrow, and nothing had changed, then the first thing he was going to do was march into the room and deal with whatever the consequences were.

One more night to figure this out.

Figure her out.

Figure himself out.

No way out.

No escape from it. Not in any way she could muster. Rielle had thought she'd heard someone at the door, but nothing had come of it. She was alone.

Which is what she wanted.

Which was what she hated.

Which was what she was used to.

Which is what she expected of her life.

Which made the quiet so…quiet.

"…I guess I'm just a disappointment again, aren't I." Rielle said to the fire. As she spoke, her decision settled on her, and she stood up. "Well, weerku you. I might as well be a full-on failure. It's what you all decided I would be, after all!"

It didn't take Rielle long, pawing through the mage's things, before she located the chemical vials he'd used to prepare his PT alcohol. She did vaguely remember that he'd done some measurements in adding them to water.

Rielle didn't bother, dumping both of the entire vials into her water canteen, shaking it up, and throwing the resulting mix down the hatch.

Whatever went into her stomach couldn't feel any worse then what was already in it.

Sleep was slow in coming to Zackel.

What was worse that his mind kept wandering away from the problem at hand and returning to the fonder memories he had of Rielle. At first, Zackel had hoped that he was searching for fresh insight, but as time passed and his mental facilities began to fog over with his approaching sleep, the mage began to realize that he might have just been remembering some good times before they all ended, or punishing himself for what might have been.

Why he felt the need to punish himself, Zackel didn't know. Sleep claimed him before he found an answer.

Sleep…

Sleep was a troublesome process as an adventurer in Azeroth. Despite measures and spells that could bring you back to a safe place, not every person who set out to quest around the world and beyond made use, or had access, to them. And if you found yourself needing to sleep in a hostile area, you either quickly learned to get by on little until you were safe, or learned to sleep deep enough to rest and light enough to be aware of danger. If you didn't, then chances are a deeper sleep would find you, one that you never woke up from.

Zackel had thought he had learned enough about such ways.

When the hand seized on his throat, he only learned that he was wrong.

"Wh-!" Zackel gagged, his eyes shooting open even as his hand clawed for his staff. The knee that planted itself on his arm stopped that cold, even as the equally cold point of the knife shoved itself under his chin.

"Thiissss is ending, maggeeee." Rielle slurred, her glowing eyes locking onto Zackel's even as Zackel's vision cleared.

"Rie-?"

"Noooooo tallkkking…" Rielle said. "Always…talking. Tired…"

Rielle's breath wafted down to Zackel's nostrils, the reek of alcohol so strong it managed to shock the mage all over again. His PT mix. Rielle must have gotten into it. But why…?

Why didn't really matter. She had, and was clearly drunk, at least. Worse, the truth she had supposedly found in the drink clearly was going to hurt, and hurt HIM at that.

"Why did you do it? Do you mages think it's funny? Or are all your staffs and explosions just a great big bunch of compensation…for small things?" Rielle said.

"Rielle, you need to…"

"I'M DOING WHAT I NEED." Rielle said, tightening her grip. "Should have done it when I first had my hands on you. Before you could talk with your little storm. Feed its ego. Make it mean and hateful. Make it DEFY you. Well, if you can't talk it down…then maybe there are other ways to bring it down."

"…Rielle…what are you doing?" Zackel said, his voice equal parts scared out of his wits and trying to collect them. He was going to need them, or the worst possibilities he had imagined were going to seem positively grand as end results.

"I'm doing what I WANT! And I want OUT." Rielle said. "And if the only way out is to TAKE you OUT…!

Zackel felt the dagger point bite deeper into his flesh.

"Then…I'm prepared to make that sacrifice."