Many thanks to those well wishers, critical reviewers, and all around WoW/HP enthusiasts of all shapes, types, and opinions! We're back for another bi-weekly update! The siege of the Black Temple resumes... now!

Chapter 135

The Betrayer, Betrayed

Bellatrix was not certain about this new Death Knight that had joined them. From the ambient magic, which she was now far more in tune with than she was ever in life, Bella could sense that this one was ancient and powerful, but that only made her more cautious around him.

Still, the Death Knight, Teron by name, had many orcs under his command, which had all pledged their loyalty to the Dark Horde, and abandoned the part-demon Illidan, whom they had come to kill. That at least meant something. And Lord Nobu'tan, leader of the Dark Horde trusted this old sorcerer, but that didn't go very far for Bellatrix.

She still recalled who the warlock used to be, and what the boy had meant for their world: the doom of the Purebloods, of their entire world; the Dark Lord's enemy Harry Potter.

They must have been in a poor position to be allied with their enemy, although the powers over death seemed to be a great boon. Still, she was in no position at the moment to confront her lord about their new relationship with Potter, nor most other things that had transpired since… whatever had occurred to cause her death.

Even that fact was hazy for Bellatrix. She remembered the cold loneliness of Azkaban, a blast of flaming agony, then nothing until she was summoned back by her Lord.

As they descended from the rise that Teron had been on with his orcs, a flare of Fel magic came down from far above, and the doorway across the main hall from them slammed shut, becoming enchanted with magic to ward off all who would try to enter it.

"Illidan has set the defenses of the Temple to prevent you from reaching the upper levels," the strange creature, Akama, said.

"He thinks a Fel lock can withhold me?" Nobu'tan said, almost laughing at the notion.

Approaching the door, even Bellatrix could feel the Fel magic repelling any attempt to open the door, but the warlock was undaunted.

"Mastery over the Fel is mine!" Nobu'tan declared, thrusting a hand at the door and its lock. Bursts of flame launched around him, colliding with the door to little effect, while a beam of green energy launched from the open palm, striking the door in the center jewel.

The gemstone flared brilliant green, but did not react otherwise. Grunting, the warlock added a second hand's worth of Fel magic, holding it until the light intensified in the gem.

"If subtlety isn't going to work, then brute force is always an answer," Nobu'tan said, his magic blasting outward, changing the lock into a white-hot star until it exploded, shattering into hundreds of tiny shards.

The door groaned open, revealing a new chamber filled with plush couches and cushions. Decadent silks were hung from the ceiling, and thick perfume wafted through the air. Many of the figures inside were lulled into states of obliviousness, but the scantily clad demonesses were more than aware of their presence, and their eyes burned with the Fel as they leeched power from their ignorant victims.

"You are not welcome here," one of the succubi said, hands tensing over her whip as she stepped toward them.

"You foolishly think you can hinder me," Nobu'tan shot back, advancing and allowing his magic to flare around him. Fel and Arcane mixed with the wizarding magic of Earth, tainting the air with a pungent scent only those attuned to magic could detect.

The demoness widened her eyes in horror at the presence, but would not retreat, despite Bellatrix understanding the creature's desire to survive. "Lord Illidan is not to be disturbed…" she continued nonetheless, tensing.

"I will not be denied…" Nobu'tan threatened, flames already conjuring in his hands.

The succubus shrieked, a feminine sound of fright and terror, rousing all the being in the room, all of whom turned their angry eyes at the group of attackers. They wasted no time in throwing themselves to their doom at the Dark Horde, seduced into believing that the female demons of lust were worth defending.

Bellatrix eagerly joined in the slaughter, most of these foes wearing nothing that constituted armor, nor carrying any weapons other than their hands and feet. Unleashing a tremendous wail, the witch-turned-banshee incapacitated many of the fools that approached, allowing those with blades and more deadly magic to strike them down without effort.

The demons had fled in the chaos, retreating up nearby stairs, which led through some indoor gardens and into more rooms of slumbering and intoxicated males, all basking in the affection of their demonic mistresses.

Several Felguards also stood watch, but these were the only real threat that they encountered. Nobu'tan banished them back into the Nether with a wave of his hand.

The creatures did not go willingly, but his overwhelming mastery of the magic binding them to this world overpowered the tethers that held them, and they were dragged back into whatever hellscape they were summoned from, leaving the way clear as they crossed the sickeningly intoxicating room to the far exit.

If they thought that this would be the end of it; however, they were sorely disappointed. The terrace beyond the chambers was filled with more of the female demons, as well as their superiors, the Shivarra. Bellatrix knew nothing about these creatures, but it seemed that Nobu'tan was more familiar, and discounted whatever threat they may have posed against them.

"I will not let even the fanatics of the Legion hinder me now…" he seethed, already conjuring more demonic magic around himself. "Slay them all!"

Bellatrix had half a mind to question the order, but the towering creatures were already bearing down on their, their many-armed frames wielding swords to try and smash the much smaller mortals into craters.

Scattering, she tore to the left, wailing to disrupt the rush of smaller succubi as they tried to flank the assembled group of attackers. With no other recourse of action to take, Bellatrix allowed her sentiments and irritation to wane in the face of another bout of bloodlust.

Pouring all her malice into the next screech, Bellatrix couldn't help the grin that spread across her face as the demons covered their ears, burning blood already spilling around their hands. Shadow magic spilled forth from her hands, catching these debilitated demons off guard, and sending them to the ground writhing in agony.

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Teron Gorefiend mused as they broke through the lines of the female demons and their male slaves. The changes he had witnessed in Nobu'tan, the little runt of a human waif that Gul'dan had taken in, now a powerful warlock in his own right, and perhaps something even more.

He admitted he himself had underestimated the child, thinking him far beneath any concern in the grand scheme of the orcish Horde, but that had been to his own folly. True, the boy had had a great effect on the heart of the Stormreaver Chieftain, and had led the old warlock to his doom via seeking the Tomb of Sargaras well before their clans had been ready, but at the same time, wherever the boy had been sent, he had matured into a powerful specimen of his race, coupled with a devotion to their cause that sat somewhere beyond even the wildest anticipation of the Burning Legion.

Gul'dan had told very little of his true intentions regarding the Horde, and their relationship with the Legion. While they had been all but enslaved to the demonic army for the entirety of Teron's own lifetime, pre and post-mortal, they had always been an underlying coup mustering to dethrone the Dark Titan and seek for a more perfect establishment for the orcish people. To say that Gul'dan was a perfectly selfish being would have been a falsehood, although very near to the truth.

Gul'dan cared deeply for his people, as a whole. Individuals, such as the Frostwolf clan, he could disdain and hate, but the orcish race as a whole he would have fought to the bitter end to preserve. That mentality, and determination, clearly had passed on to what Teron could only amount to the old warlock's son, Nobu'tan.

The allies that he had gathered, from both Azeroth and realms beyond, was testament to that. It was clear that the young human warlock had drawn to him all the downtrodden and outcast of many groups, encircling them in what could only be expressed as a fierce kind of love, protective and fiery. And that protective endearment was reciprocated; Teron could sense it on the many talismans and charms that the warlock bore on his person.

Many were mere baubles, tokens of gratitude or other ornaments, but there was a power there that the ancient Death Knight could sense above anything else. Few would have called it magic, or anything other than sentiment for that matter, but Teron was wiser than most. There was power there, which could be manifested at the direst of time, and for the single figure to possess so many were a testament of the human's kindness.

And so Nobu'tan and his allies fought like ravenous beasts, magic and martial skill expressed in a song of determinations and righteous fury, decimating their foes before them. Even the fanatical rage of the Shivarra could not withstand them.

Teron could do little more than add his fuel for the flame of their cause, and in his blackened and dead heart he swore that this beacon of fury, the true heir of Gul'dan, would be protected by the Shadowmoon clan, and his own blade, no matter the circumstance or the cause he strove for.

"Well, well," the leader of the Shivarra loyal to Illidan said, turning to face them from her dais as the assault group of Dark Horde warriors and their allies approached. "To what do we owe the visit? Business or pleasure…"

The attempt at seduction fell flat before the might of Nobu'tan, and Teron relished the daunted glance that Mother Shahraz gave the warlock before smoothing over her features, still trying to dissuade them from locking in mortal combat.

"I will have no more dealings with you pitiful creatures," the warlock said boldly, stepping forward, "I have come to destroy your master, and you will either stand aside or be eliminated in turn…"

"Now, now, young pup," the demon chided, four of her six arms already grasping the hilts of her weapons, "No need to get rough… You seem a bit tense, are you sure there is no alternative for your frustrations?"

The phrase that Nobu'tan spoke next Teron did not understand, but several members of their company tensed. From a rough wooden stick in the warlock's hand, a jet of brilliant green energy leapt forth, driving toward the heart of the matron of seduction. In a flash, her swords interposed themselves, blocking the beam of power, but the force of it hurled Shahraz backward several steps.

"I'm not impressed," she stated, although the grit of her teeth and the loss of her silky voice betrayed her true thoughts, even as she started forward, her free hands channeling shadow magic of their own, while the four blades swung heavily, seeking to slice Nobu'tan to ribbons.

The Night Elf warden, as well as the other Death Knight intercepted two blades each, their own weapons ringing as the demoness' attacks ricocheted off.

But even the start of their conflict seemed utterly insignificant to the shudder of magic that flew from the young warlock next. The largest portal Teron had ever seen opened up behind the Shivarra matron, yawning wide into the deep parts of the Nether, and drawing in air all around it.

The others seemed to have expected something similar to this, and had already grounded themselves to the stones of the temple, preventing the sudden gust of wind from taking them from the ground.

Shahraz slammed her two swords into the ground, and Teron mirrored the action, burying the blade deep into stone and straining against the powerful suction from the portal. Nobu'tan, on the other hand, had surrounded himself in a purple shell of arcane magic, invulnerable to the buffeting wind, and rose off the ground.

"I gave you the chance to depart, willingly…" he said, Fel and Arcane magic swirling around him in a violent storm, "but you have elected the way of pain!"

Demonfire and arcane torrents flew in all directions as Nobu'tan thrust his arms outward, striking the Shivarra across the body and arms, barraging her until, one by one, each arm was dislodged from the swords and pulled behind her toward the portal.

"I…wasn't… finished…!" she screamed, the sound slowly fading as she fell into the portal, disappearing into the blackness of the Nether beyond the portal, and drifting aimlessly in the inky blackness.

With another shuddering pop of sound, the portal closed with a deafening boom of sound. The wind reversed suddenly, throwing most of them to the ground before ceasing altogether, leaving the world eerily silent and void of any opposing demons.

"Well," Akama said, rising first and retrieving his weapons from their lodged place in the stone, "that was one route to eliminating her…"

He turned to the door on the right hand side, which Teron knew continued up the final section of the outer terraces before the summit of the Temple. The ancient Death Knight knew that the most fanatical loyalists, Blood Elves all, inhabited that section, and they would fight to the death for Illidan.

"Beyond this door is the final bastion of the Illidari loyalists," Akama explained, stating much of the same information that Teron, and all those that had been in the Temple for any amount of time knew. "They alone stand in our way to the court of the Betrayer."

"The battlements are heavily fortified by now, I suspect," the Broken Draenei added, "they had plenty of weapons in place before now, and would have activated their sentinels and loaded their ballista."

"Then we bring forth a force of our own, and let them take the brunt of the firepower that these Elves can throw at us," Nobu'tan replied.

And before anyone could say another word, the warlock had conjured yet another portal, to some foreign Legion world. Apparently the Stormreaver Clan had already taken control of many of the demons here, or else they were wild, uncontrolled warriors that answered whoever called them. Either way, Teron knew that the largest number of Felguard marched through, along with hounds and other minions, all answering the call of the leader of the Dark Horde.

"Kill the Elves, kill them all!" Nobu'tan commanded, even as Akama opened the door to the next terrace.

The demons marched through, heralded explosions and yells from ahead. The Elves indeed had been prepared, but they had not expected a host of demons to be what marched on their final lines.

Teron could sense the work of death that was occurring beyond their point. These demons were not random mercenary Felguard, but seasoned veterans. What fight had they already been summoned to where their loyalty had been earned rather than subjugated as most demons had to be.

Regardless of the answer, the small army of demons marched on regardless, and soon there was room for their party to move on, among the littering of Elven corpses and intermixed demons that had not faded into Fel ash yet.

"The Illidari Council won't expect this," Akama said, although it was clear the former wielder of the Light was disapproving of the use of demons to defeat their enemies.

"Yes, well, I wouldn't count on their assistance for a time after this…" Nobu'tan said, "The demonic horde that we'd amassed for this siege have been greatly depleted, and it'll take time to gather them again from the Nether where they've been scattered."

Teron could respect the need to keep such a resource supplied as much as possible, if it was filled with such powerful demons as these. The temptation to make use of them as often as possible would be great, and the former warlock turned Death Knight would be hard pressed to show the same restraint.

"Still, the four members of the council will be far easier without having to battle their entire legion as well as them…" the Night Elf replied neutrally.

"Agreed…" the other Death Knight put in.

Their route thoroughly cleared, as they ascended to the final interior section of the Temple. Within, the four Elven leaders of the Illidari waited, surrounded by the blasted remains of part of the demonic horde that the Stormreaver Lord had summoned.

Teron had no love for these Elves, but the strength they had to fight off what their entire regiment failed to withstand was respectable to say the least.

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Lor'themar was commissioning another regiment of Magisters to go and assist the Horde expedition into Outland, when Lady Liadrin rushed into the Regent's chambers. "Lord Lor'themar," she declared, and the former Farstrider could tell that something had shaken even her steely resolve.

"Prince Kael'thas has returned," the Blood Knight Matriarch informed him, and Lor'themar dropped the quill he was writing with.

The information that had returned from adventurers of the Horde regarding the Prince and his betrayal of those left behind in Silvermoon had shaken many of those in the city, and even those in leadership who had been highly in favor of the Prince had had to change their stance.

For him to suddenly return, and not triumphant through the main gate with those Elves that had joined him in Outland, did not bode well for any of them, "Where was he seen?" Lor'themar demanded, rising quickly and reaching for his bow.

"Quel'Danas," Liadrin informed him, which was even more concerning.

"What could he want with the destroyed Sunwell Platue?" Lor'themar asked. There had been no efforts as of yet to reclaim that area from the Scourge remnant crowding the area, or those former High Elves that had withered from lack of contact to magic.

What business that the Prince could have there with whomever had joined him was a mystery. "But how many…" Lor'themar started to ask, when the ground quaked and magic flared from the north, where the isle lay.

"Apparently there is something that he wanted there," Lor'themar said, "send word to those at Orgrimmar, this will most definitely be of concern to them. There was Fel magic in the air from that blast."

Turning to a set of guards, Lor'themar continued, "I want eyes on Quel'Danas, and information as soon as possible about what is going on there, send dragonhawks to scout and find a suitable location to make some manner of base camp."

Their orders given, Lady Liadrin and the guards departed, leaving Lor'themar to ponder the strange mystery. Surely the power of the Sunwell, weakened as it was from the corruption of the Scourge when they raised the terribly Kel'Thuzad, was still hidden.

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Khadgar studied the shattered sphere in his hand.

The Fel energy radiating from it told of a powerful connection directly to the Legion, and from the report he had been given, the Alliance had taken it as proof of the defeat of Prince Kael'thas. That major thorn in the side of the Sha'tar was welcome news.

With Kael defeated, and Illidan's fortress under siege at that moment, soon all of Outland would be liberated, and Khadgar would feel content enough to leave Shattrath and return to Azeroth permanently.

"Soon all our efforts here will be complete, and those displaced by the Legion and the Illidari will be free to return to their homes." A'dal spoke to the Mage's mind.

The sphere flared to life in Khadgar's hand, surprising the wizard and causing him to drop the object. A flare of fire surged into the air, forming the emblem of the Elven Kingdom, even as the voice of the mad Prince boomed across the wide chamber.

"You're human monkeys failed to finish the job, naaru…" Kael'thas taunted. "Beaten, but alive… The same mistake was not made when we took command of your vessel."

Khadgar tensed, knowing in his mind that these kinds of taunts would have no affect on A'dal, but the affront was still barbed.

"All for what?" Kael'thas continued, "Trinkets? You are too late. The preparations have already begun. Soon the master will make his return."

A child ran down the mage's spine. If Kael'thas was speaking truth, it meant that he had found some way to bring Kil'jaeden into the world. It was the one thing that they had fought to prevent, over Illidan keeping his foothold over Outland or even the unknown threat of the Dark Horde.

"And there is nothing that you, or that fool Illidan, can do to stop me! You have both served me in your own right – unwittingly." Kael'thas taunted, laughing. "Lay down your arms and succumb to the might of Kil'jaeden!"

With another burst of manic laughter, the image faded, and the remains of the sphere clattered to the ground. "If our problems were already so dire, now Kil'jaeden…" Khadgar said aloud, turning to A'dal for answers.

"We must see the fight with Illidan completed swiftly, so that all our united forces can work toward locating and stopping Kael'thas and his demon masters," the naaru said.

"I don't like this waiting," the Mage replied, knowing that there were really no other options. They had willingly joined in with the Dark Horde's campaign against Illidan, and they had to see it through in order to make certain that they at Shattrath were safe when they brought the fight to the mad Blood Elf, wherever he was hiding with his forces.

If the Legion succeeded in returning, either in Outland or heavens forbid, Azeroth, then all that the Sons of Lothar had fought and died for would be lost. Despite being relatively against his initial inclinations, Khadgar found himself hoping that Nobu'tan of the Dark Horde found his victory at the Black Temple sooner, rather than later.

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The four Elves barring his way to Illidan had already taken note of the force of the Dark Horde's approach.

The female was first to speak as they entered, "Flee or die, fools…"

"I have better things to do than deal with these petty intrusions," the plate wearing male added.

Nobu'tan restrained himself from snarling at the audacity of these fools, to completely overlook the fact that he had decimated their forces utterly, laid siege their fortress, and now stood before them, unscathed, and they were the ones to act mildly annoyed at his presence.

"I do not care what business I have beyond, these four will suffer for their arrogance…" he seethed, already feeling the raw fury of the Fel rising to meet his heightened emotions.

"You wish to test us? Please…" another of the males, clad in a leather armor and brandishing his daggers, said dismissively…

But even that paled in comparison to the haughty look that the final Elf, a Mage by the distinct look of his garb, gave them all. "Common… Such a crude language… Ban'dal!"

"They're trying to goad you into exhausting your energy against them, so that Illidan can crush you, even if they fall," Warden Shadowsong said, brandishing her weapon, "You mustn't allow them that power over you. We will defeat them together, or not at all effectually."

Voldemort, his Banshee, as well as Akama and Maiev charge in, closing the gap between the armored Elf, while Nobu'tan hurled spells along with Teron Gorefiend at the two casters in the group.

The assassin vanished, but Nobu'tan was already accosted by the mage, trading Arcane and Fel-based magic over the heads of the others, and couldn't be bothered to keep his eyes on the movements of the other foes.

Loath though he was to admit it, the Elves were certainly more proficient than their underlings, the Mage more than readily able to evade or otherwise deflect what curses and other bursts of flame and demonic magic that Nobu'tan threw at him.

What he was certain would give him the edge; however, was the overwhelming strength of the Elder Wand. The feel of the artifact in his hand was satisfying, even as the first of his wizarding spell splashed across the hastily raised arcane shield. The shock in the Mage's eyes at magic faster than his mastery of the Arcane was delightful, and Nobu'tan eagerly chanting off the Latin phrases, allowing magic to pour through the wand with increased rapidity.

"Diel fin'al!" the Mage shouted, trying to layer a blanket of magic over the entire battle, dampening all magic in the area, likely vainly trying to reestablish dominance over part of the battle. Pouring magical strength, augmented with his connection to the Fel, Nobu'tan banished the attempted enchantment.

It took more than he had expected, but not an unbearable amount of magic in the long run. Nobu'tan had saved his strength for the fight ahead, and had magic to spare to sweep these fools aside as his warpath took him straight to Illidan.

Still, the magic being traded between the pair of them was not going unnoticed by the others. Voldemort at the least was well aware of the rising levels of magic, and was doing what he could to hinder the Light-wielding paladin of the four Elves, who desperately was trying to get at Nobu'tan, likely to engage him directly in martial skill.

Still, while he was held up by the Death Knight, the rogue Elf finally made his reappearance, striking from the shadows at Nobu'tan as well, daggers slashing as the warlock dodged out of the way. The stink of poison was on the blades, and Nobu'tan knew better than to allow them to so much as touch his skin.

Gul'dan had taken well to instruct Nobu'tan in the ways of assassins and their poisons, through Garona, and while the Lord of the Stormreavers would never use them himself, he could tell that the material coating the Elf's blades would be more than fatal if they entered his bloodstream.

Still, the combined attacks from the assassin and the Mage forced Nobu'tan onto the defensive. "You're not cut out for this, are you?" the assassin mocked, weaving his weapons in a rapid succession as he dodged around the retaliatory spells that Nobu'tan fired from his wand.

It was steadily taking more energy just to keep a step ahead of the flashing daggers, not to mention shielding from the blasts of arcane, fire, and frost that would sail over from the Mage, whose confidence was returned in spades.

He would have changed out the Elder Wand for Magtheridon's Glaive, but keeping the spells back was far swifter with the smaller focus, allowing him to focus on evading the daggers. That was, until Voldemort appeared right in the path of the assassin, the poisoned daggers clashing harmlessly off the armor and bones of the Death Knight's frame.

How he had managed that, Nobu'tan wasn't sure, so distracted in the heat of the lightning fast battle, but he wasn't going to question it. Slapping aside the next spell from the Mage, he couldn't keep the manic grin off his face, even as the Elder Wand crackled with power.

The Mage would be the first to fall, or else he would be sorely disappointed.

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Voldemort had been heavily engaged with the Elven Paladin, alongside the Night Elf huntress, when he sensed the return of the assassin to the battle. Fortunately, the Warden had also become aware, and intercepted the paladin's next strike, parrying it harmlessly into the ground with her crescent blade, "Go, this one is mine!" she ordered, already spinning out of the way as the Elf wrenched his weapon back into the air.

Voldemort disengaged, followed by Bellatrix, the Banshee having lent support from afar for the melee fighters through clever use of shadow magic to mend their wounds and debilitate their enemies, and together the pair rushed at the assassin, who had focused solely on Lord Nobu'tan.

Swinging Blightbringer upward, Voldemort parried a blade that was plunging for the warlock's clavicle, even as he positioned himself to take the other blade, the metal slipping between two exposed ribs, the poison ineffectual on his undead form.

If he was capable of facial expressions that meant anything, the sadistic grin would be splitting his face from ear to ear. Shifting to the right, Voldemort turned just enough that the blade of the weapon was lodged in his body, preventing the Elf from yanking it back and depriving him of one of his pair of weapons.

After that, it was a battle of size and strength, and a runeblade was significantly larger than the Elf's puny dagger.

Supported by Bellatrix's song, the former Dark Lord of Britain waded into the fray, driving the spry assassin backward with great sweeps of Blightbringer. The Elf might have thought himself nimble, but Voldemort was driving him exactly where he wanted.

The crossfire between the spell casters had leveled out so that rather than arcing over the battle they were using friend and foe alike as cover. The fiercest of these was the firefight between Nobu'tan and the Elf Mage. Fire and arcane bolts splashed across the room, and Voldemort gleefully backed the fool of a rogue right into the no-man's-land between the magical combatants.

The scream as the first spell lanced across his back was a music that equaled the spells coming from Bellatrix bolstering his own strength and resilience.

The assassin whirled, trying to lash out at whoever had struck him, and took another pair of spells to the chest, this time from his own ally. Voldemort did not even have to go in and finish him off. Nobu'tan shouted the curse of Death, likely meant for the mage he was contending with, but nevertheless the assassin was the first to fall, without so much as a gasp of air as the emerald flash engulfed him.

"For Quel'thalas! For the Sunwell!" the female Elf shouted, enraged at the death of one of their own.

"Selama Amor'anore!" the paladin replied.

"Sha'amoor Seabenal!" the mage echoed, even as the three of them intensified their will to fight.

But Voldemort was not going to let them gain any momentum. Darting forward, with Nobu'tan and Bellatrix supporting him with magic, the Death Knight rammed his blade into the Elf mage up to the hilt, feeling the life energy expel out the caster died.

With two of their enemies dead on the floor, the odds were in their favor more than ever. The ancient Death Knight, Teron, had joined the Night Elf to fight with the Paladin, while the Dranei was keeping the attention of the female priest.

A loud cry signaled the victory over the Paladin moments later, leaving the priest alone to try and hold them all off.

And that was when Bellatrix made her move. Voldemort had not instructed her on the full potential of her Banshee form, but it seemed that she had done a great deal of studying on her own, and flew through the air, diving headfirst into the body of the priestess.

The Elf shrieked, her staff clattering to the ground, and she slumped to the ground as though dead. The others stepped back as the Elf did stand up once more, her eyes glowing with the strange light of the undead.

"What wonderful knowledge this one had…" Bellatrix said, surprisingly them all the more with her ability to distill the memories of the now very dead Elven priestess. "The Betrayer is sealed behind a powerful ward that the Elves created," she added after a few moments of thought sifting through the new thoughts in her mind.

Voldemort knew that this possession was not permanent. The Elf's dead body would rapidly decay with a foreign soul locked inside of it. It had been part of the mysteries he had to overcome so long ago when he first made his Horcruxes, but that was not a necessary fear of true death for the Banshee. Bella would be able to depart the body long before it perished, and find another host if she so desired.

"Let us see what final barrier denies us access…" the withered Draenei said, moving toward the ramp that led to the back of the room.

It was much like the others in the upper reaches of the temple, locked with powerful Fel wards and a massive crystal holding the various spells and enchantments in place. "This door is all that stands between us and the Betrayer," Akama said, "Stand aside, friends…"

The old creature held his hands outward, unleashing a torrent of lightning into the crystal, which glowed briefly for a moment before dimming as it absorbed all the energy forced into it. "I cannot do this alone…"

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. It was less about magical strength, and more fear. This creature, despite his strength and age, feared the being that lay beyond the door.

Nobu'tan seemed about to step forward and open the door himself, but a pair of wispy figures appeared, flanking the chieftain of the Ashtongue.

"You are not alone, Akama," one of them said.

"Your people will always be with you!" the other added, even as they too focused magic into the crystal, followed slowly by Akama, his own courage building.

Within moments, the crystal shattered, and the door slid open, revealing the sky above. "I thank you for your aid, brothers." Akama said to the specters, "Our people will be redeemed!"

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Illidan felt the moment that the door down into the temple was forced open.

They had come. The leaders of the Dark Horde had come at last, with traitors and the Warden in tow. Akama was giving them their final instructions, "Be wary, friends. The Betrayer meditates on the court just beyond."

It wouldn't save them, Illidan though sinisterly. The Warglaives of Azzinoth would see to that. The spirit of Gul'dan sent a final chortling laugh through his mind as Illidan turned to face his betrayers as they finally approached.

Rising, he let the irritating artifact tumble to the ground, and noticed the glare that the youngest among his foes, a human face betraying some far more sinister spirit, gave him.

"Akama…" Illidan said slowly, stalling for his forces as he drew more power over the Fel to himself. His elite were nearly finished with their mission, and wouldn't need his direct assistance for a time yet. He hoped it would be sufficient time to eliminate these fools. "Your duplicity is hardly surprising. I should have slaughtered you and your malformed brethren long ago."

"We've come to end your reign, Illidan." Akama said resolutely, flaunting his freedom from the Shade of his former self. "My people, and all of Outland, shall be free!"

"Boldly said," Illidan admitted, "Buti remain… unconvinced." His gaze swept over the band of warriors again, noting the possessed body of Lady Malande, as well as the ancient Death Knight Teron Gorefiend. He had held onto hopes that these two would have put forth much stronger resistance to his enemies, but they would perish together it seemed.

"The time has come!" Akama declared, "The moment is at hand!"

Illidan, spreading his wings, leapt into the air. Drawing the blades from the warp dimension caused by the Fel infused in his body, he handed heavily in a fighting stance.

"YOU ARE NOT PREPARED!" he challenged, eager to see this contest over and done with swiftly.