Chapter 26

The warm and lively atmosphere of the tavern was interrupted as the door swung open, drawing every gaze towards the entrance. Malakar stepped in, his tall, imposing figure casting a shadow over the room—a death knight whose aura exuded both mystery and danger. His cold, piercing eyes glowed faintly beneath his dark hood, and the armor he wore bore the scars of countless battles, each mark telling a story of his past. His cold eyes scanned the room, calculated as ever, and his dark cloak swept behind him. Malakar always had a flair for dramatic entrances, and today was no different. His gaze locked onto a table at the back, where his brother, Lysander, sat with Evelodie, Gorral, and a young raven-haired girl.

As Malakar approached the table, his eyes swept across each of them—the usual air of self-assuredness on display—until they landed on Crow, the girl sitting beside Evelodie. He froze mid-step, his gaze narrowing. A flicker of disbelief, perhaps even recognition, passed across his expression.

"What is that doing here?" he muttered, his voice cold, though it lacked true fear. Only caution.

The group looked up, startled. Crow, however, smiled up at him, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief, her expression innocent yet knowing. Malakar couldn't shake the feeling that she was playing a game only she knew the rules to. Her demeanor reminded him of a time long past—of betrayals and manipulation, of the twisted charm that had once ensnared him. There was something unsettling about the way she looked at him, almost as if she could see right through him, and it made his guard go up instinctively. The others exchanged puzzled glances, clearly unaware of the silent exchange.

Malakar's eyes moved from Crow to the rest of the group. Evelodie rested a comforting hand on Crow's shoulder, while Gorral raised an eyebrow, confused. Lysander, as always, gave his brother a welcoming smile, oblivious to Malakar's sudden unease.

No one else notices anything, Malakar thought, clenching his jaw. The contrast between the group's casual demeanor and his own unease was almost comical. Crow's knowing smile only heightened his suspicion—there was something about her that felt dangerously familiar, something that demanded his vigilance. But this wasn't the time or place to confront her, not in front of his brother and their friends.

Taking a sharp breath, Malakar decided to let it go for now. He continued toward the table, his usual arrogance slipping back into place. Lysander greeted him with a nod. "Finally. I was wondering when you'd show up."

Malakar smirked, settling across from Lysander. He placed a small, rune-covered box on the table, its surface etched with intricate, glowing symbols that seemed to shift and writhe as if alive. The runes were ancient, their angular patterns resembling a language long forgotten, and they emanated a faint, eerie light. His eyes met each of theirs in turn. "Had a few things to take care of in Gilneas," he said, his voice casual. His gaze flickered to Crow before returning to the group. "But I found what I was looking for."

Evelodie leaned in, curiosity piqued. "What is it?" she asked, her eyes shifting to the box.

Malakar's expression softened slightly as he tapped the box with a gloved finger. "This belonged to an old warlock named Haverty—a man who dabbled in things far beyond what most would dare. It's connected to the Titans, something ancient."

Gorral frowned, his brow furrowing. "Haverty? You knew Haverty?"

Malakar gave a slight nod, his eyes narrowing. "Yes, I knew him. He was known as the Maw of Sargeras, a warlock whose power rivaled even that of Gul'dan. I first met him during a mission in the Blasted Lands, where he was attempting to harness the power of a demonic artifact. He was reckless, but his knowledge was unmatched. We clashed, but it wasn't until much later that I truly understood the depths of his obsession." Haverty was obsessed with unlocking powers beyond mortal comprehension, and his name became synonymous with madness and dark magic. His ambitions took him to places even the Legion feared to tread."

Malakar sighed, fingers tracing the runes. "It means we may be dealing with something far more significant than the Old Gods," he said quietly. "Something that connects the past to what's coming."

He glanced once more at Crow, the suspicion still evident in his eyes, but he chose to keep his thoughts to himself for now. There was something dangerous about her—an undercurrent of power that felt almost predatory, as if she was hiding far more than her innocent appearance suggested. There were more pressing matters at hand, and whatever mystery surrounded Crow would have to wait.

Looking back at Lysander, Evelodie, and Gorral, he said, "We're going to need everyone's help. We're up against ancient forces moving pieces we don't fully understand. But this," he gestured to the box, "is a start."

Lysander nodded solemnly. "We'll figure it out, Malakar. Together."

Evelodie smiled, her eyes filled with determination. "We're ready to do whatever it takes."

Gorral nodded as well. "We're in this together."

Malakar glanced at Crow one last time, unease still gnawing at him. There was something off about her—something that made him think she wasn't just an innocent child. But that mystery would have to wait. They had bigger concerns, and whatever secrets Crow held, he would uncover them in due time.

The room fell silent, the weight of Malakar's words sinking in. The warmth of the tavern, the laughter and chatter around them, all seemed to fade into the background. The small, rune-covered box lay on the table, its significance a mystery to most, but to Malakar, it was the beginning of something much larger.

Lysander leaned forward, his expression thoughtful as he examined the box. "Haverty," he mused aloud, "I remember the stories. They said he was a madman, dabbling in magic no one else would touch. But a connection to the Titans?" He shook his head slightly. "How did you find this?"

Malakar's gaze shifted, momentarily lost in the memory of his time in Gilneas. "His shop was almost untouched," he began. "While the rest of the city lies in ruin, Haverty's butcher shop stood as if time had forgotten it. I felt something there—a residue of Fel energy, something deliberate. That's when I found this box. It wasn't alone either; there was something else, a sprite—a demon manifestation, guarding it. I had to… persuade it to let me take it." He gave a humorless smile, the edge of his dark demeanor showing.

Evelodie's eyes widened. "A demon, just waiting there?"

Malakar nodded. "Haverty may have been mad, but he was also cunning. He'd left things behind—clues, traps, and messages. Even in death, his plans were in motion. When I took the box, I experienced… visions."

"Visions?" Gorral repeated, leaning closer, his brow furrowed.

Malakar's expression grew darker. "Flashes of memories. Not my own. I saw the battle of Gilneas, saw Gorral fighting, Herald Jr. by his side. And then… Winter Veil. The blunderbuss." He looked at Gorral, his eyes intent. "The weapon Herald made for you—the Scourge Buster. I saw it etched with Titan runes. Runes I now recognize."

Gorral's eyes widened, his confusion evident. "Titan runes? On the blunderbuss? Herald never mentioned anything about that. He just wanted to make something special for me."

Malakar nodded grimly. "He followed the blueprint too closely, never realizing what he was dealing with. The etchings were ancient—more than just decoration. They were Titan symbols, significant and powerful."

Evelodie's eyes filled with curiosity and concern. "What does it mean?" she asked.

"That's what we need to find out," Malakar replied. "Haverty wanted me to see it, wanted me to understand there was more to it than just a weapon. The connection to the Titans, the reason he pointed us to it—it's still unclear. But whatever it is, it's important."

Lysander frowned, deep in thought. "So, we have a weapon with Titan runes, created without anyone realizing its significance. And Haverty led you to it because it's crucial to what's happening now?"

Malakar nodded. "Precisely. Whatever is coming, whatever the Old Gods are planning, that weapon plays a part. Haverty left us breadcrumbs, and we need to follow them."

Gorral's expression darkened, thoughts of Herald crossing his mind. "He just wanted to make something special for me. He didn't know…"

Evelodie placed a comforting hand on Gorral's arm. "We'll figure this out. We'll make sure the blunderbuss is used for the right reasons."

Crow, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke, her voice soft but deliberate. "The man with the tattoos… he mentioned looking for things of value," she said, her blue eyes meeting Malakar's. "Maybe he was after the same thing you were."

Malakar looked at her, his suspicion still lingering, but he nodded. "If the Defias are involved, it means others know what's hidden in Gilneas. We need to be cautious. We can't let anyone else get their hands on that weapon."

Lysander's gaze turned serious as he looked at the group. "What's our next move?"

Malakar's eyes met Gorral's. "We find the blunderbuss. We find it, and we uncover its secrets. Whatever the Old Gods are planning, that weapon is part of the puzzle."

Evelodie nodded firmly. "We're in this together. We'll find it and make sure it's used for the right reasons."

Gorral hesitated, then sighed. "I… I no longer have the Scourge Buster," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I lost it during the attack. It got left behind in Gilneas."

Malakar let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple. "Of course it is. That means we'll have to go back to Gilneas. I hate backtracking."

Evelodie glanced at Crow, who had been listening intently. "Before that, we need to make sure Crow is safe. We should take her to the orphanage. Mother Isla would take care of her."

Crow looked at Malakar, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Can Mally take me?" she asked sweetly.

The nickname caught everyone by surprise. Laughter erupted at the table, even Lysander chuckled, while Malakar scowled, his teeth grinding.

"I like his armor," Crow continued, unfazed by his irritation. "It looks beautiful."

Malakar flinched slightly at her innocent admiration, the contrast of her childlike wonder against his deathly armor making him uncomfortable. He gave her a pointed glare, but Crow simply smiled wider, her eyes filled with a mischievous glint.

With an exaggerated sigh, Malakar finally muttered, "Fine. I'll take this… cute little creature to her forever home."

The laughter at the table only grew louder, Lysander clapping Malakar on the shoulder. "See, brother? You do have a soft spot after all."

Malakar rolled his eyes. "If I come back with all my fingers and sanity intact, it will be a miracle."

Evelodie smiled, her gaze softening. "Thank you, Malakar. I think she trusts you, in her own way."

Malakar gave Evelodie a skeptical look, then glanced back at Crow, who was now pretending to inspect his armor, her fingers hovering near the dark plates. He quickly pulled his arm away, giving her a warning glare. Crow simply grinned, her eyes bright with innocence that Malakar knew was only half-genuine.

"Let's go," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Shall we?"

Crow nodded enthusiastically, hopping off her seat and holding her hand out toward Malakar as if expecting him to take it. The others laughed again as Malakar, with yet another sigh, took her small hand in his armored gauntlet. The contrast between them was almost absurd—his dark, intimidating presence and her innocent, almost playful demeanor.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered, leading her toward the door, the group's laughter following them out of the tavern.

As Malakar led Crow out of the tavern, the daylight seemed blinding in contrast to the dark, cozy interior they had just left. He glanced at the young girl beside him, her small hand still in his. The innocent look on her face did nothing to ease his suspicions, and he found himself unable to keep them contained any longer.

"You know, you look ridiculous possessing that little girl," Malakar said coldly, his narrowed eyes focused on her. "What is wrong with you?"

Crow turned to him, her ocean-blue eyes widening with feigned innocence, her voice dripping with mocking sweetness. "What? Me?" she asked, pretending to be shocked. "Can't I visit an old friend after all these centuries?"

Malakar's gaze darkened as realization struck him. "Old friend being the key phrase." His voice dropped lower, anger barely contained. "Vyaas Dewvein, you wicked witch of the Void." He smirked bitterly, eyes narrowing. "Do the Old Gods know you're this far from home? How's that eternal prison of insanity treating you, darling?"

The corners of Crow's lips twitched, her innocent facade cracking into a smirk. Her eyes flashed with anger. "My torment is far from over, but my love for you keeps me sane, you insensitive arse."

Malakar stopped in his tracks, his grip on her arm tightening for a moment before loosening. He looked away, his face now expressionless. Yet, for just an instant, a hint of guilt and sadness flashed across his features—something that Vyaas noticed.

Crow's voice softened, filled with resentment and longing. "You forget, it was I who broke the Lich King's chains for you. Only you! The others had to wait for Arthas' death, but I freed you long before that. I damned my soul for eternity because I love… loved you."

A heavy silence settled between them, the bustling noise of the street fading into the background. Her words hung in the air, unspoken emotions palpable. Malakar's eyes turned dark, regret and old wounds briefly visible.

Crow broke the silence, her expression hardening as her tone shifted to business. "I had to see this mage's power for myself," she said, glancing back towards the tavern. "My suspicions were correct. She's been touched by the Void."

Malakar's eyes narrowed sharply. "What do you mean?"

"She sees flashes of the future, doesn't she?" Vyaas continued, her tone cold and calculating. "She's a seer—a doorway for the Old Gods. Their failsafe in case Deathwing falls, which he most certainly will."

"Deathwing will fall?" Malakar echoed, surprise in his voice.

Crow nodded, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Yes, but that's supposed to be a secret. The Dragon Aspects are already planning to stop him. They're trying to locate the Dragon Soul. It's the only thing capable of cleaving his armor—perhaps without the need to climb onto his back."

Malakar fell silent, processing the information. He trusted Vyaas, despite her twisted nature, because her knowledge often held weight. But learning that Evelodie was a potential tool for the Old Gods complicated everything.

He shook his head, his gaze hardening once more. "And why possess the girl?" he asked, sarcasm thick in his voice. "Is it because of her connection to the Twilight Cultists? Defias is contracted to find this girl, to rip her soul out and fuel their madness." He let out a dry chuckle. "So, she's your buffer from the Old Gods? You're not one to pity mortals. Why protect this child?"

Crow—Vyaas—hesitated, her expression flickering with something Malakar couldn't place. For the first time, she seemed unsure.

"Because I do…" she muttered, her voice trailing off, eyes darkening. She straightened, her innocent smile returning. "No more questions."

Malakar watched her for a moment, suspicion still evident, but he said nothing more. He simply shook his head and led Crow down the street.

Soon, they arrived at the orphanage—a building that seemed to exude warmth and solace. "We're here," Malakar said curtly, hiding the emotions stirred by their conversation.

Crow looked up at him, her blue eyes glinting mischievously. "Thank you for the escort, Mr. Mally," she said in that sickeningly sweet tone.

Malakar rolled his eyes, his face hardening. "If you cause any trouble, witch, I'll know," he said, his voice dangerously edged.

Crow smiled, waving as she skipped toward the orphanage door. Malakar watched until she disappeared inside, the door closing behind her.

He turned away, his emotions churning—anger, regret, and suspicion all mixed within him. Vyaas Dewvein—wicked witch of the Void, former lover, now protector of a child marked by the Old Gods. It made no sense, yet somehow, it made perfect sense for her.

With one last glance at the orphanage, Malakar walked away, his expression hardening as he focused on the challenges ahead. He would have to tell the others what he'd learned—about Evelodie, the Void, and Deathwing. For a moment, he hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing heavily on him. How could he burden them with this? Yet he knew he had no choice, no matter how much he wanted to protect them from the truth.

But his thoughts lingered on Vyaas, on the sacrifices she'd made for him—sacrifices he could never repay. He wanted to bury those feelings, but the regret and pain remained, gnawing at him as he walked through the streets of Stormwind.

Malakar's expression shifted as he walked, slipping into something more vulnerable. The reunion with Vyaas had shaken him. Her words echoed in his mind, bringing back memories of her sacrifices—damning her soul to the Void for him—and his own failings. He sighed, his pace slowing as he allowed himself a moment to mourn the love that had once been.

The guilt twisted inside him, but he couldn't let it show. Not now. He steadied himself, forcing the emotions away, burying them beneath the cold exterior he had perfected over the years.

As he approached the meeting spot outside the tavern, he noticed Gorral and Evelodie approaching, their expressions determined, their eyes searching his face.

Malakar straightened, his face becoming unreadable, his mask of detachment slipping back into place. He couldn't tell them what had transpired between him and Crow—especially not what he had learned about Evelodie. Revealing her connection to the Void, her potential as a tool for the Old Gods, would only complicate things further.

When they finally reached him, Gorral nodded, curiosity in his eyes. "Malakar, are you ready?"

Malakar took a breath, the cold mask firmly in place, and nodded. "We need to prepare for a journey to Gilneas," he said calmly. "It may have been empty when I was there, but it won't be for long. We need to find the Scourge Buster and figure out why it's important."

Evelodie exchanged a glance with Gorral, then looked back at Malakar, her expression serious. "Do you think it will be dangerous?" she asked, her voice steady but tinged with concern.

Malakar's gaze flickered, his thoughts drifting to Crow's words about the Twilight Cultists and Defias. "There are… interested parties," he said carefully. "It's likely someone else is looking for the same thing. The Old Gods' influence runs deep, and they have servants in unexpected places."

Gorral's jaw tightened, his expression darkening. "Then we need to get there first. We can't let it fall into the wrong hands."

Malakar nodded, meeting Gorral's eyes. "Exactly. We leave as soon as we're ready. Gather your supplies, but travel light—we may need to move quickly, and being unprepared could cost us dearly.""

Evelodie studied Malakar's face, sensing something unsaid. "Is there something you're not telling us?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Malakar met her gaze, expression unreadable. For a moment, the truth was on the tip of his tongue, the burden almost overwhelming him. But he couldn't share it. Not yet.

"Just be ready for anything," he said steadily. "Gilneas is dangerous, even if it seems deserted. We don't know what we'll find."

Evelodie studied him for a moment longer, then nodded, her expression softening. She trusted him, and that trust was something Malakar wasn't sure he deserved.

"Alright," she said with determination. "We'll be ready."

Malakar nodded curtly, turning away as he took a deep breath. Memories of Vyaas's sacrifice and the burden of his past failures still lingered, but for now, he had to push them aside. They had a mission, and failure was not an option.

"Meet me at the city gates in an hour," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "We have a lot of ground to cover."

Gorral and Evelodie nodded, and as they turned to make their way to gather supplies, Malakar watched them go, a sense of unease settling in his chest. He hoped he was doing the right thing, keeping what he knew from them. He hoped that when the time came, they would understand.

But for now, all he could do was focus on the task ahead. Gilneas awaited, and with it, whatever secrets Haverty had hidden, whatever truths the Old Gods sought to conceal. And Malakar knew that they would need every bit of strength—and every ally—they had to face what lay ahead.

Mother Isla led Crow through the orphanage, her gentle voice explaining the different rooms, the rules, and the other children who called this place home. Vyaas, inhabiting the little girl's body, watched the scene with a detached calm. Mother Isla had no suspicion of her true nature, treating Crow with the same warmth and care she showed to all the children. Vyaas found it amusing—how easily people could be fooled by the mask of innocence.

But as they moved through the orphanage, Vyaas began to notice something different. There was a warmth here, an undeniable light that touched even her ancient, scarred soul. And when Mother Isla introduced her to Patricia and Hanna, Athana's sisters, something shifted inside Vyaas. She could sense the pain and loss they had experienced—the lingering echoes of the horror they had witnessed during the fall of Gilneas.

The little girl, Crow, whose body Vyaas inhabited, seemed to stir at the sight of the two sisters. For the first time in a very long while, Vyaas actually felt the warmth of the Light, a sensation she hadn't allowed herself to feel in ages. It wasn't just the warmth of the orphanage, or the kindness of Mother Isla, or the presence of Athana's sisters—it was something deeper, something that seemed to come from Crow herself.

She felt the girl's consciousness brushing against her own, a small, timid presence that seemed to seek reassurance. Yes, child, Vyaas thought, her tone surprisingly soft as she reached out with her mind. We are safe now. You can be happy here.

For a moment, there was a hesitation, and then Crow seemed to accept her words. Slowly, Vyaas began to loosen her hold, allowing Crow to regain control of her own body. She stayed just beneath the surface, still there enough to help her see, to hear, to speak—because Crow was mute, her voice taken from her at a young age.

No one knew the truth—no one knew that Vyaas wasn't hiding within Crow, but rather helping her. She was allowing the little girl a chance to live, to experience the world in a way she never could before. Vyaas could sense Crow's memories, the trauma of what had happened to her family when they discovered her disability, how they had tried to rid themselves of her, seeing her as a burden.

It resonated deeply with Vyaas in a way she hadn't expected. She herself had once been powerless, different. She had been born with a disability, and in her desperation, she had bargained with the Old Gods for a chance to be "normal." It had been a dark choice, one that had led her down a path she could never escape from. She had become something more, something feared—something powerful.

In her journey into the depths of dark magic, she had met Malakar, and in their twisted world, they had fallen in love. Vyaas had taught him the ways of the void, shown him the power that lay beyond the veil. But when Malakar had been taken by the Lich King, turned into a death knight, she had made another choice. She had betrayed the Old Gods, used every bit of her power, damning herself to save him, because she loved him.

And for that, she was damned, her soul lost to the void, her existence a shadow of what it had once been. But to her, it had been worth it. Saving Malakar had been worth everything.

And now, as she looked at Patricia and Hanna, and at the small, shy smile on Crow's face as the two girls introduced themselves, Vyaas felt something stir within her. She had lost so much—her freedom, her love, her very soul—but perhaps, in this small, innocent child, she could find a small bit of redemption.

We are safe, she repeated to Crow, her voice a whisper in the little girl's mind. You will live a good life, and I will protect you. No one will hurt you ever again.

Crow smiled at Patricia and Hanna, her blue eyes bright, and for the first time, Vyaas found herself smiling too—not a smirk or a grin of mischief, but a true, genuine smile.

Whatever else lay ahead—whatever darkness, whatever challenges—Vyaas knew that she would protect this child at all costs. This was her second chance, her way of making right the wrongs of her past, even if only in a small way. And for the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of hope—a small light in the darkness that had consumed her for centuries.