Untitled

The dragons of Aszuna had been saved. Lyren had enjoyed the triumph of it, basked in Senegal’ return to glory. 

But there were other places to be. Soon enough, news came that a group was forging ahead to bring the Tidestone home to Dalaran. That was signal enough to Lyren to move on. He had not been chosen for such a task, nor did he think he should have been. There were others to help, people that needed it. A call came for people to explore Val’sharah - but it seemed that there was little help needed by the time her arrived.

He was... less than enthused to see Malfurion Stormrage in the flesh. But even his presence could not mar the place he had found himself. Val’sharah was green, not like Marduum, but the green of life.

Deep browns of fresh fertile earth. Blues to mirror the sky reflecting from gurgling streams. And most important of all - delicious fish that practically jumped into his claws.

“Mossgill Perch,” a dryad informed him brightly and he barely stopped his reflexive scowl in her direction, wings flaring as if to protect his foot from her prying gaze. She seemed unaffected, bounding around him with hair flying every which way. “They’re best fried in Muskenbutter! Or so they say. i don’t eat meat, and you seem to be doing just fine!”

“I have teeth,” he shrugged, baring them to display what he meant. She peered in close, invading his personal space without the slightest bit of hesitation.

“So I see - Oh! come on! He’s going to see the Lord of the Forest!” She lifted him up as if he weighed nothing and threw him onto her back. before he could protest - he had no need to see Cenarius - the dryad had taken off after Malfurion with him clinging to her spine. 

Fawns watched them spring by with mild curiosity. Flowers and trees of a variety he had seen nowhere else in his life sprouted from the ground. Val’sharah seemed an untouchable land of peace and harmony carefully tended by the druids. 

His opinion was proven wrong as the dryad came to a stop with a gasp. He slid off of her back and watched where Malfurion had gone.

The Lord of the Forest had fallen.

There was great beauty in Azsuna. Fighting by the side of dragons was a thrill, but there were moments Lyren simply had to stop and stare. it was achingly clear his people’s own ancestors had gotten their unique sense of beauty from exactly these sorts of things. The unicorns especially made him wistful - so like an unlike the horses of the Eastern Kingdoms.

Deadly, too - or so he assumed. Crazed hunter of demons he might be but he wasn’t about to test it. Of course, considering they likely had magic of their own... he wouldn’t be surprised if others would. Where once his own people had striven to desperate measures to stave off a state they called wretched...

So now did their cousins have the withered. Their need for magic and mana was much too familiar. Addicted, dependent... willing to turn on anyone and anything nearby for the slightest fix.

Yes, he had seen this before. A new fury rose at his brethren’s careless attitude toward helping the natives of Broken Isles. Perhaps the kaldorei among them might not quite understand. But the sin’dorei would. Add on to their own unique wants as demon hunters, the ache for fel down in his very bones and they should understand very well.

Even the look of them was... familiar.

He had slept through the re-igniting of the Sunwell. But if they had done something for the Sunwell, then something could be done about the Nightwell. It wasn’t in him to usually feel so much sympathy for others - oh, he was helping, but knew it was for the best interests of Azeroth to collect their allies.

It wouldn’t leave him be. He wasn’t even sure where it came from. One moment he had been fighting against the urge to gobble up the manage in the pool of the blue dragon, the next there was... 

He wasn’t sure actually. The dragons laughed at him, chuckled and told him he had good luck. Good luck to be followed by a cross between a dragon and a bug? A color changing dragon-bug.

“It’s a Fey Dragon,” one of the blues explained, smiling at him from an elven form. He put a hand on his shoulder. “They don’t trust easily. She must have sensed something good about you.”

“Or she thinks I’m food,” he scoffed suspiciously.

“Oh no, she eats insects. Not cute elves.” The dragon grinned at him, shifted infinitesimally closer.

Oh. Oh. The dragon was - he was - 

Lyren had never been good at this. “I should get her a saddle,” he decided hurriedly, face the color of flames as he ducked away. Stupid puppy, was a thought he could easily agree with. Right now, dealing with the dragon seemed suddenly a much happier task.

Despite the united front they provided toward outsiders, things were not always so clear cut within the Illidari.

“We have no need of them.” The argument was new - they had needed people in the beginning, however reluctant. Or perhaps not new - certainly Altruis had cautioned against trusting anyone else. But it was certainly louder.

“Like we didn’t need the Horde? The Alliance? We help them with their problems, they help all of us with the Legion.” It seemed a simple argument. Lyren didn’t understand why they were even having it. The defenses were reignited in Azsuna. Surely some help could be granted to the dragons, the ghost elves.

“If they can’t deal with their own problems they are not worthy allies,” someone said stiffly and at that, even Lyren had to scoff.

“Are we worthless allies then? Hands up if you remember being stuck in a cage for years.” And like the brat he was he did in fact stick his own hand in the air - as did a few others. 

There was a low growl from the opposition. Lyren wasn’t well liked as it was. “What would you know? You think someone like you is any help? Your demon was a dog.”

“That is enough.” The firm command came from a female voice and they all cringed. “We are all Illidari. And we are not so few that we cannot both defend ourselves and let those who wish to go help others to go. But you will be on your own out there. If you get yourselves in trouble and we have the resources we will try and come for you. But I cannot guarantee we will be able to.”

“Fine with me. When you get yourselves killed,” There was a special sneer toward Lyren, who bared his teeth right back. “Don’t expect any help from me.”

Bad pack, the voice the wasn’t his grumbled and he grimaced. “Believe me, no one was expecting you to lift a finger to do anything that doesn’t benefit yourself.”

Deliberately, he turned his back. There was a snarl, a shift of movement and yes, he expected to get attacked at any moment. 

“Let it go,” someone whispered quietly - too quietly for most of them to hear. But he had.

Once she had stalked the greatest of her master’s enemies with her pack behind her. She had taken down foes with impossible skill and cunning. She had been larger than her pack mates, more intelligent. An experiment - but one that had worked out. Her master spoke to her with kind words where other felstalkers got barked only orders.

She was brave. She was vicious. She was the hunter of hunters. She was ALPHA of her pack, she was - 

Summoned. By strange magics that had her snarling. Someone had marked her! Marked her to later bring her elsewhere and she hadn’t known, hadn’t sense the subtle magic. She felt a moment of respect in her bewilderment.

“Remember what you have been taught,” a voice rumbled, deep and dark. Hooves scraped in the corner of her vision and for a moment she thought nathrezim but it wasn’t quite right. He didn’t smell right. Didn't feel like a master at all - certainly not hers.

“I will, Lord Illidan,” a new, lighter voice said. And this one was... small. And elf-thing. But the smaller ones. By a sniff, a male. Pale skinned, thin, weak seeming. Small - they had let a runt live? She barked a laugh, paid more attention to the crowd of observing elves than the one in front of her. He was no threat.

He attacked her - with magic. Powerful, yes, cunning, quick, not so weak - but it was still magic. And she was still an eater of it.  She lunged for him, gobbling down the energy he brought to bear as she went. She expected his dodge.

She did not expect the sword.

Elf-thing mages rarely used swords. She was wary now.

But not wary enough. Her teeth almost got his throat in the ensuing battle and she allowed confidence to flow through her. His sword was light, quick, but she was quicker. So she thought, despite the wounds that opened across her skin. 

Angry gashes flowed fel tainted blood. His non sword arm was mangled and broken. She bared bloody teeth. He bared his right back.

Her lunge went high, aiming to end this all at once. But he was not where she expected. He was past her, behind and she too slow - 

Like she was the prey and he the hunter, he cut into the tendons of her back legs. She howled her fury - no one howled back.

She expected the blow - but it was not one that killed her. Not completely. She was alive when it cut open her chest, when magic bound her very self to the still beating heart. She was alive when he ate her up, down to the last bite. And then she was...

Him.

And he was here.

It was the little things he had missed. Sand shifting under his feet. Leaves on actual bushes. Rain sliding against his skin.

The overwhelming smell of it all was new - but it smelled like life. Like a land growing and feeding and reaching out for warmth, light, water, and air. It was flowers glowing with magic in the water, and broken cobblestones murmuring history with each step.

Cries of birds sounded in the distance. An entire river full of water flowed nearby. He ended up swimming in it, despite disapproving looks from some of the Illidari. There were still demons about - but let them catch him there. He would defend himself - or maybe invite them in for a swim. After seeing Marduum he couldn’t help but think there had to be some demons out there that would enjoy a swim just as much as he was.

Water over his head, around his horns. Fish swimming alarmed as he snagged one with his claws - and well, he had been hungry anyway. 

“Not sanitary!” One of the other Illidari barked as he licked fish bits from his claws.

“We eat demon souls!” he sang back. “Fuck it. if a little fish is going to be what kills me then let it.”

“...Point,” came the concession - and the sound of another body hitting the water.

After years of torment. After finally getting their feet on Azeroth again. After experiencing the magic of Dalaran in their Spectral Sight.

They were back in Marduum.

Lyren stared mutely at his fellow Illidari, all cheering to be back at the dreary, lifeless landscape. It had been fine when they had a mission there. But to get the ship back and then simply... leave it parked here. HERE.

The dreariest planet that could possibly exist. A landscape of fel and death. Nothingness and life stealing power. This was where they had put their base at. Or rather, not moved their base FROM. For that matter, mother Malevolence seemed like an intelligent, strategic and insanely frightening Shivarra.

Agreed, the voice that was not his sighed in... admiration? He wasn’t going to think about that. Why had she not moved the Fel Hammer?

Logically, there were of course reason. But less logically, Lyren Flarewind looked out at the landscape and nearly wanted to turn his glaives in.

Can’t uneat my heart little elf.

The Fel Hammer was the place was where they would train, where they would confer, where they would take breaks against the Legion. Or so it should be. But Lyren... saw himself coming back to it very rarely. He simply couldn’t imagine sleeping there. He had done it enough. Had been imprisoned and locked away from life long enough.

It was amazing to feel the city beneath his clawed feet both for the magic that hummed and vibrated in every stone - and for its very existence in the first place. His last sight of the city had been while caged among its very ruins. He had never expected to see it at nearly full glory.

And it was flying! He felt almost a little disappointed in his people. Yes, the Kirin Tor was technically able to be a mixed group but it was almost completely human. If the humans could make their city fly what were the Sin’Dorei doing? 

On the other hand... it did make it a bit hard to trade with. or port boats at. Dalaran was a school for and of mages. As magical as the Sin’dorei were, they did have other concerns. So fine, not Silvermoon.

That didn’t make Dalaran less of a marvel. He wished his own magic responded as it once had before he had eaten a magic eating demon. He wanted to feel it flow through him without making it his own. He yearned to be able to discuss theory and debate techniques with the Kirin Tor themselves.

Ultimately however, he really needed it to not be under attack.

To say Lyren was skeptical was an understatement. He wasn’t sure what to expect when they were teleported away... but a city that had been in its infancy last he knew wasn’t it. it was also very... spiky. Considering the amount of people he saw flying about on wyverns and a variety of exotic beasts he wasn’t sure who thought that was a good idea.

Yes, he had heard the Sin’dorei had joined the Horde but this was all a bit... much. And yet... it was warm, and safe, with high walls and a lack of a scar down the middle.

It wasn’t as if they had many choices. Those that were Sin’dorei illidari were being momentarily split from those that were Kaldorei. To them, it made little difference but the rest of the world didn’t agree as much.

And... in the back of his mind the quiet thump of the bond with his sister flared to life, like she knew, somehow, that he was in Ogrimmar. Or at least... that he had moved. Was moving - that he was no longer a prisoner.

Likely, they should do something about that.

Lyren however, felt much more at ease running headfirst into the Legion’s invasions than seeking out his twin. Some things were just so much easier to manage. His claws slicing flesh much preferable than hearing his sister call him a monster.

Again.

“Fool! You would trust the Warden? She hates us almost as much as the Legion.”

Altruis’ words rang true. Lyren’s gaze slid between the two demon hunters. All of those escaping had heard similar exchanges as the two ran, and bickered.  For the most part, the redheaded demon hunter was used to following Kayn. 

Terrible packleader. Get his puppies eaten, the voice that wasn’t his grumbled.

He probably shouldn’t listen to it... but Altruis was one of their own and showed no signs of fel corruption beyond the norm. Less, if he had to guess. And most of all... Lyren couldn’t stomach blindly following the Warden. Her instructions made sense for now - they had no other choice.

Lord Illidan dead.

The Illidari trapped.

This was not at all how he wanted to go home. And from the crystal there was... nothingness. He could see, faintly, through the fel spell wrapped around him. Hear. But he could not move at all.

He struggled. of course he did. But it was impossible. His mind could move however it wanted, but his body could not move even an inch.

It was suffocating except he wasn’t breathing. or not breathing. he was nothingness, trapped, trapped - and at first when being moved he at least had that as a comfort. Something new. And then... it was the same. For... days. Weeks. He couldn’t tell. Only rarely did anything change. At first.

They would check on them. At first.

But then when it became clear they could not escape, would not escape... even less. More time of nothingness. Or maybe all there ever would be was this. The end of the world could have come and gone in the world beyond them. How would they know?

For Lyren there was on, slim connection. The pulse of the bond in his head. Weaker than it had been once, forever lessened by their experiences, by other people’s attempts to care for them. But it existed. lisaerys existed, alive and well.

He hated her for it, at times.

If the bond hadn’t existed, he could have left behind the lingering crumbs of hope that one day, someone might come for them. One day, she might forgive him and actually look.

She won’t

(She didn’t.)

Instead he was left with the knowledge that there was something out there, and the tiny stubborn kernel that he might, one day, get out.

Impossibly...

It proved true. Not by any outside influence, but by the captor herself freeing them - some of them. Enough that when one of his brethren came for him he was ready. or so he thought.

The crystal shattered as if it was nothing. And he fell to his knees, scrabbling at the air, at himself, at the floor as if it might disappear. His fellow Illidari waited grimly, gave him a whole 30 seconds to contemplated the (days weeks months years?) lengthy imprisonment in his own mind.

Then arms hauled him up, glaives were shoved into his hands and a voice rasped, “There is work to be done.”

Terrible pack mates. 

He welcome the voice that should be gone - she too had been silent so long he had thought her gone. He breathed in air. His fingers tightened on the glaives.

He could do this.

The Sargerite Keystone was theirs. The portal was open. They could go home again.

He could go home.

He would talk to Lisaerys. He would convince here it was still him.

It isn’t

They had, surprisingly... lived. More than that, they were a step closer to defeating the Legion, a seemingly impossible goal.

One day, they could even go back to Azeroth, triumphant.

“Illidari!” A barked command that had all of them long trained to come even without any other context. But this - THIS had the Sargerite keystone?

She called spiders like they were children and he was entirely baffled. Was that literal”? How did that even work?

Would you like to live or like to know?

He had come back from life before so if his death gained them new knowledge-  

DUCK

He ducked as wings as strong as metal slashed at his throat. He turned it into a forward roll, his glaives flashing upward to dig into the fish of the demon’s calves. There was blood on the ground and in the air, the clash of battle a song that made the power in his veins thrum to life.

The problem with fel - 

(There was only one?)

One of the problems with the fel wasn’t just that it stole life. it was what was left behind didn’t seem to even know it was dead. by all logic, the dead, blackened husks of plant life should have been long gone on Marduum. The soil was... He didn’t want to talk about it. Suffice it to say nothing should be growing there.

But then there would just be... bushes. Tiny stalks of what had been plants. He didn’t understand them. He taste tested them - 

(It was supposed to be a suicide mission it wasn’t like he was worried over this health)

- and they tasted like... nothing. Not even the fel in the soil. They tasted as if everything had been sucked out of them for a tiny bit more power, for a smidgen more oomph to a careless demon’s (or demon hunter’s) spell, for nothing more than ambition and the complete disregard of long term effects.

Also, he was projecting a little. They didn’t even smell like much - and his sense of smell was one of the best now.

Thanks to me

The fel has just turned them into... nothing.

Like it would turn them all inevitably into nothing.

You are nothing, puppy. Little elf. You are you are you ARE. Nothing. But you could be more. If you listen.

Marduum was green, lifeless, ugly.

It was their only hope.

In their camp, the remains of Mannethrel Darkstar were being efficiently moved. No time to mourn. They had a mission to complete. But Lyren's attention lingered, his stomach rolling at the thought. Their leaders had been so eager to teach, and they so eager to learn. Lyren himself had been one of them, learning the shape of this new power so he might survive a little longer, be a bit more help to those like Kor'vas and Kayn who went forward without nary a stumble to indicate their doubt.

Now new power settled under his skin and he was left to wonder - was she right?

Were they becoming monsters?

Darling little elf, what did you think you were doing when you tore my still beating heart from my chest?

He tried to shrug off the voice. They had a mission after all. And yet…

You drank my soul, my power, my very self down. Consumed me and tried to make me you. Is that not the work of a monster?

"One of us must be sacrificed," Sevis Brightflame proclaimed gravely. It should have been a decision of strategy, or morals. Something besides the ringing in his ears, his sister's voice a whisper etched into his mind.

"What have you become, Lyren?"

The reason he made the decision wasn't the right way to go about it.

But it was an easy decision to make. He welcomed the glaive to his throat, the expected darkness…

Illidan's curious words in his mind, intrigued, maybe a little proud. Those were not expected.