Chapter 28

Malakar stood at the city gates, his impatience growing by the second. He glanced up at the sky, the sun slowly beginning its descent, and he couldn't help but tap his foot in irritation. They were late. He had expected Gorral and Evelodie to be here by now, and the waiting was getting to him. Time was precious, especially with what they were about to face.

He scanned the bustling street for any sign of them, and then, finally, he spotted them—Evelodie and Gorral walking side by side, a slight smile on both of their faces. They seemed to be in good spirits, and Malakar watched them for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. They looked comfortable together—maybe even a little too comfortable.

"Great," he muttered under his breath, his gaze darkening. "They seem to be fond of each other."

Malakar sighed, a mixture of annoyance and resignation washing over him. He had seen it countless times before—adventurers growing close, becoming attached to one another. He knew how these stories usually ended. He could already picture it—one of them doing something reckless, sacrificing themselves for the other. And the one who survived would be left with nothing but regret, haunted by what could have been.

"Suppose that's how all adventures end," he thought to himself, his expression hardening. "One dying, the other living with regret."

He shook his head slightly, his eyes still on Gorral and Evelodie as they approached. In his years, he had seen it all before—the friendships, the bonds, the sacrifices. He knew that caring about someone made you vulnerable, made you weak, and in a world like theirs, weakness could be fatal. But no matter how many times he had seen it, it always played out the same way—people just couldn't help themselves.

Malakar let out another sigh, his lips curving into a wry, bitter smile. "I suppose I should start preparing something to say for both of them," he thought, his eyes cold. "In case one of them dies."

He could almost picture it now—the final words, the empty promises, the futile attempts to make sense of it all. He had spoken those words before, had tried to comfort those left behind. And he knew he'd likely have to do it again, maybe even for Evelodie and Gorral.

When Evelodie and Gorral finally reached him, Evelodie gave Malakar a smile, seemingly unaware of his dark thoughts. "Sorry we're late," she said, a hint of embarrassment in her voice. "Got caught up getting supplies."

Gorral nodded, giving Malakar a polite smile as well. "Yeah, we're ready to go now," he said.

Malakar looked at them both, his expression neutral. "About time," he said, his voice curt. "We've wasted enough time already." He turned, starting to walk, motioning for them to follow. "Let's move. We need to get to Gilneas before anyone else does."

Evelodie and Gorral exchanged a quick glance, their smiles fading slightly at Malakar's tone. They followed after him, the earlier lightness between them replaced by a more serious determination.

Malakar led the way, his thoughts still lingering on what he had seen—the smiles, the closeness. He knew that attachments like that could make you reckless, make you forget the mission, forget what was at stake. And he had no intention of letting them get in the way of what needed to be done.

But as they walked, a small part of him—the part that remembered what it was like to care, to love—felt a twinge of something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time. He pushed it down, burying it beneath layers of cynicism and bitterness. He couldn't afford to care, not now, not with everything they were up against.

Instead, he focused on the road ahead, the mission, and the secrets they had to uncover. And as they left Stormwind behind, he silently vowed that no matter what happened, he wouldn't let emotion get in the way of what had to be done. Not again.

Malakar led the group out of Stormwind, his gaze fixed ahead, thoughts clouded with purpose. He knew he couldn't use the Wrath Gate again—not if there was something dangerous in Gilneas that might detect their movements. No, it was best to keep things subtle, to avoid attracting attention. So, they took the long way, journeying on foot.

Behind him, Evelodie was chatting animatedly, showing Gorral her map as she pointed out various locations, sharing the history of each one. "This town here is Lakeshire. They say it was once saved by a group of adventurers from a black dragon attack, and now it's grown back stronger..." she said, her voice cheerful, her enthusiasm clear.

Malakar rolled his eyes, his brow furrowing in annoyance. He couldn't think clearly with her endless prattle. He preferred silence, especially when they were walking into potential danger. He had to keep his senses sharp, and Evelodie's constant talking was making that harder. He kept to himself, staying slightly ahead of the group, while Evelodie and Gorral continued to talk.

Despite his irritation, his thoughts kept drifting back to Evelodie. She was connected to the Void somehow—he knew it. Her visions, her power, the way the Twilight Cultists were interested in her. There was a bigger picture he couldn't see yet, and that frustrated him. He hated not knowing, not having all the pieces.

Meanwhile, Gorral seemed to be enjoying the journey in his own way. The woods and the open nature intrigued him—he hadn't had a proper hunt in a long time, and he found himself wondering about the creatures and beasts that might be hiding in the shadows around them. His Worgen senses were on high alert, picking up the scent of animals and the rustle of leaves. He wanted to put his strength to the test, see how much of his Worgen abilities he could tap into without fully transforming.

And then there was Evelodie. She couldn't help but steal glances at Gorral as they walked. He seemed so at ease, so connected to the world around him. Her admiration for him had grown beyond the physical attraction she felt—there was something more now, something deeper. She might even be falling in love with him, though she wasn't ready to say it out loud.

The sun began to set, the sky streaked with orange and pink, and Malakar finally called for them to stop for the night. They found a small clearing surrounded by trees, and Evelodie glanced at Malakar, a frown on her face. "Why can't we just find an inn nearby?" she asked, her tone slightly annoyed.

Malakar sighed, shaking his head. "Too many eyes and ears in towns and villages," he said. "It's better to stay away. Besides, I've felt a presence following us. It's of no concern yet, but I'd rather not risk being surrounded if things take a turn."

Evelodie looked at Gorral, who nodded in agreement. They both understood—they were traveling with secrets, and it was safer to stay hidden. As they set up camp, the tension from Malakar's words hung in the air. The idea of someone following them made Evelodie uneasy, and she couldn't help but glance into the shadows, wondering who—or what—was out there.

Malakar reassured them in his own detached way. "Death Knights don't sleep," he said. "I'll patrol the area and make sure it stays secure. Rest while you can."

As the fire crackled, Evelodie and Gorral lay close to its warmth, the night settling around them. The attraction between them was almost palpable, the quiet of the forest making every glance and touch feel amplified.

She decided to break the silence, her voice soft. "Do you have anyone waiting for you back at the refugee camp?" she asked, her tone casual, though there was a hint of curiosity beneath the question.

Gorral gave her a small, brave smile. "The only women in my life are Hanna and Patricia," he said, his voice filled with warmth. He avoided mentioning Athana—it was too painful, the memory of her loss still fresh. "Athana was my best friend, but… we were never a couple." He hesitated, his eyes momentarily clouded with sorrow. "I've never been with anyone, really. I was always shy around girls. I preferred being alone, being in nature, hunting and living off the land."

Evelodie smiled softly, understanding his hesitation. She shifted slightly, her gaze meeting his. "What about you?" Gorral asked, his voice gentle. "Did you ever have someone special?"

Evelodie shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "The way I grew up… there wasn't much time for love. Most of the boys and men I met on the streets, they didn't see me as anything more than just another girl to take advantage of." Her voice was calm, but there was a hint of pain there, an edge that Gorral could hear. "It was all about survival. There wasn't room for love."

Gorral looked at her, his eyes filled with admiration. "You're strong, Evelodie," he said. "You've been through so much, and you're still here. You're a survivor."

Evelodie smiled, her heart warming at his words. She held his gaze, and for a moment, it felt like everything else faded away—their journey, the danger, the weight of the past. But then she noticed something in his eyes, a flicker of something deeper, a primal desire that made her blush. Gorral quickly shifted, trying to suppress the feeling that rose within him, and cleared his throat.

"So…" he said, trying to distract himself. "Why did you decide to become a mage?"

Evelodie looked at him, her expression softening. She took a deep breath, deciding to tell him something she hadn't shared with many people. "It was during the attack on the orphanage," she said, her voice quiet. "The Scourge attacked, and there was a mage there—a woman named Sylvia Frostfire. She saved us, fought to protect the orphanage. But she was overrun, and… I couldn't just watch. My power manifested that day, and I burned the undead to ash. I was so scared of myself, of what I could do."

Gorral listened intently, his heart heavy as he imagined the scene. Evelodie continued, her voice soft. "Mother Isla took me in, helped me understand my power, helped me learn control. I wanted to be like Sylvia… I wanted to be brave and strong, to be a hero like Jaina Proudmoore." She paused, her gaze dropping to the fire. "And someday… I'd like to have children of my own."

She stopped, realizing what she had said, embarrassment washing over her as she glanced at Gorral. She hadn't meant to let that slip out. Gorral, seeing her discomfort, smiled softly, brushing it off.

"I understand," he said gently. "I feel the same, in a way. I already have children, I suppose—Hanna and Patricia. They mean everything to me."

Evelodie smiled, the awkwardness fading. She looked at Gorral, her eyes soft, filled with warmth. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the connection between them deepening. They were both survivors, both carrying the weight of their pasts, but in that moment, they felt lighter, as if they were sharing the burden together.

"Tell me about Constance," she asked. Her words were gentle, but Gorral could feel the weight of the question.

He sighed, knowing there was no avoiding it. The memories he kept buried deep started to surface, and he decided, for the first time in a long while, to open up. He felt that around Evelodie, he could be vulnerable.

"I never knew Constance was at the Wrath Gate," he began, his voice low, tinged with emotion. "I had no idea what her life had been like as an adventurer. I only knew her as a gentle soul. She was so patient, even when Athana was being… well, difficult." He paused, wincing slightly at the mention of Athana. He hadn't meant to bring her up, and the pain was still fresh. But Evelodie didn't seem to notice, and he continued, deciding to focus on his memories of Constance.

"She was like a mother to everyone," Gorral said, his eyes distant. "Especially to Herald. His mother, Neah, died at Wrath Gate. Herald was very young when it happened, and his father—he was never the same." Gorral's voice grew quieter, sadness etched into every word. "His father, Herald Sr., was a proud warrior. He lived for battle, for the fight. He was legendary in his own right—heroic even. But when Neah died, something in him broke. He lost his will to live. I honestly think if it weren't for Herald, he would have fallen on his own sword, just to be with her."

Gorral glanced at Evelodie, and she was watching him intently, her eyes soft, filled with empathy. He continued, his voice heavy. "He might as well have. He spent most of Herald's life drowning in ale, drinking his sorrows away. It was like he never left the tavern. Even the tavern keeper tried to help him, to get him to pull himself together."

Gorral shook his head slightly, the memories raw. "Constance… she stepped in. She made sure Herald was taken care of, that he had a family, even if it wasn't the one he should have had. She was like a mother to all of us."

Evelodie shifted closer, her eyes never leaving his. "She must have been an incredible person," she said softly.

Gorral smiled faintly. "She was," he said. "I heard stories about her time as an adventurer, how majestic her Druid forms were—how powerful and protective. People always said she was a healer, but when the battle for Gilneas happened, she showed her true strength. She wasn't just a healer—she was a Guardian Druid. She protected us all, just like she always had."

He paused, his gaze dropping to the fire. "In a way, she was all our mother," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Evelodie's eyes were growing heavier, her voice dreamlike as she asked, "And what about Herald?"

Gorral's face fell, the sadness and guilt returning. "He fell during the battle," he said quietly. "They all did." There was a long silence between them, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

Evelodie reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand. "You're doing right by them, Gorral," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Live for them."

Gorral looked at her, his heart heavy, but somehow, her words lifted some of the weight. She was right—he needed to live, to honor those he had lost. He gave her a small, grateful smile, and slowly, Evelodie drifted off to sleep.

Gorral lay beside her, his eyes still on the fire, his mind filled with memories of the past. But for the first time, the sorrow and guilt felt a little lighter. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and finally, he closed his eyes, allowing sleep to take him as well.

In the distance, the campfire flickered, casting an eerie glow across the forest clearing where Evelodie and Gorral rested. Unbeknownst to them, Joshua Stonecutter watched from the shadows, his eyes fixed on the sleeping figures. He had managed to avoid the Death Knight's patrols so far, and now was the time—now or never. He had felt the pain from his previous failure, and he couldn't afford to let that happen again. He would kill the Worgen and leave the mage alive, fulfilling his twisted orders.

Slowly, he moved closer, his steps calculated, the cold steel of his jagged dagger reflecting no light in the darkness. The blade was coarse and dark, perfect for this work—silent and deadly. He could feel his heart pounding as he drew closer, his breaths shallow. Just one more step—

But then, the shadows moved.

The darkness around him seemed to come alive, wrapping around him with an unholy presence. Joshua's eyes went wide, fear gripping him as he felt himself being yanked backward, his body flying through the air before slamming into the ground with a silent thud. He tried to scream, but nothing came out, his body held immobile by the shadows.

A voice cut through the silence, cold and mocking. "A nice night for a stroll, isn't it, rogue?"

Malakar stepped into view, his glowing blue eyes filled with a sadistic amusement, his lips curled into a cruel smile. He held Joshua pinned with his death grip, the shadows keeping the thug in place. He paced around Joshua as if having a casual conversation, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I was out taking a walk and enjoying a wonderful evening when I noticed a sneaky, annoying pest following us," Malakar said, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at Joshua. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Joshua struggled, his mouth opening and closing in a futile attempt to speak, but the shadows kept him silent. Malakar tilted his head, watching him with a detached curiosity.

"My companions and I are on a very important journey, you see," Malakar continued, his tone conversational. "The world is going to end, as you know. Wicked dangerous thing, really. A deadly dragon throwing a tantrum, breaking all his toys so no one else can play with them."

Malakar paused, tapping his chin in mock thought, while Joshua's face grew pale, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as the shadows tightened their grip.

"No, no, don't interrupt," Malakar said, waving his hand dismissively. He paused again, his eyes glancing down at the struggling man. "Blast, I lost my train of thought. You were saying?"

He loosened the grip just enough for Joshua to draw a shaky breath, coughing violently. "Please… kill me!" Joshua begged, his voice breaking. "I can't go back… not again. The horrors, the pain. I can't do it again!"

Malakar raised an eyebrow, amused. "Go on…"

Joshua's eyes were filled with desperation, tears streaming down his face. "The Twilight Cultists… they want the Worgen dead. He's connected to the Void-touched mage!" Joshua gasped, his words coming out in a rush.

Malakar stared down at him, his expression unreadable. "He's connected how?" he asked, his voice cold.

Joshua swallowed hard, his body trembling. "He's some kind of force. It directly opposes the Void Mage. He's been touched by the Light… meant to destroy her. It's part of the balance between Void and Light. The Old Gods want him dead—they want the mage consumed by the Void, to herald their arrival. It's a contingency plan… in case Deathwing fails. Please… kill me, I can't go back!"

Malakar let out a long, slow sigh, his expression one of disinterest. "Is that it?" he asked, yawning.

"There's one more thing…" Joshua said, his voice barely a whisper. "The possessed child… they want her dead. The Void Witch escaped her torment, and they want her back."

Malakar flinched at that, his eyes narrowing, anger flashing across his face. "Do they know where she is?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"They know she's in Stormwind…" Joshua said, his voice trailing off.

Malakar stared at him for a long moment, his mind racing. Crow—Vyaas—was in danger. He let out a slow breath, his expression hardening. He released Joshua from his grip, stepping back, the shadows loosening around the man.

Joshua looked up at Malakar, his eyes filled with fear. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Malakar ignored him, turning away, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "Are you hungry?" he asked, his voice dripping with malice. "I'm not much of a late-night snacker, but I know someone who might be."

Joshua looked at him, confused. "What?" he managed to say, his voice shaky.

Malakar stepped back into the shadows, his eyes cold. "I know someones who might be hungry," he said, his voice dark. "Careful now, they don't like loud noises when they eat."

Cold, icy chains wrapped around Joshua's mouth, silencing him as the ground began to stir. The shadows moved, and from the darkness, the undead rose. Twisted, rotting forms with hollow eyes, their skeletal hands reaching out towards the helpless man.

Joshua's eyes went wide with terror, his body trembling as he tried to scream, but no sound escaped, the icy chains holding him still as the undead descended upon him, their skeletal fingers digging into his flesh.

Malakar watched from the shadows, his expression impassive as the undead tore into Joshua, their hollow eyes void of any emotion. The man had made his choice, and now he would pay the price.

As the undead devoured him, Malakar turned away, walking back towards the camp. His companions still slept, unaware of the danger that had lurked so close. He had to keep them safe—had to keep Evelodie safe. Whatever the cult's plans were, he wouldn't let them succeed.

And as he returned to the campfire, the screams faded into silence, the night once again still, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the rustle of the leaves in the wind.