#allasticus

Blood Knight. Commander. Blood Elf.

Labels. Titles. Facets of a puzzle that had once assembled into something formidable. Each piece gave him strength, purpose... an identity he could cling to, a belief that he was more than flesh and steel.

Now they were ash.

He did not remember the titles or labels. He remembered only the bite of shackles at wrist and ankle, the shadows gnawing at what little remained of him. Once-proud sinew had withered, muscle wasted, mind hollowed. He wondered if there was anything left for the shadows to take, or if the last fragment of himself would soon be swallowed whole.

And then: a thought.

It pierced the murk like a blade of light: a memory. Forgotten. Precious.

Gentle arms enfolded him, drawing him close. His head pressed against a chest, and in that embrace bloomed the singular comfort only a mother could give. His eyes closed; tears streamed down his cheeks. For a moment, he was a small boy again, needy, clutching with desperate strength at the figure who had once been his world.

Hope stirred.

It grew like a fragile seed in frozen earth.

But then warmth soured. The scent of her faded. Flesh became cold steel, her hands transfigured into the hilt of a waiting blade. His fingers closed around it as if they had never let it go. Recognition surged like an old friend returned.

He rose. His legs remembered strength, his arms surged with blood and vigour. He swung the blade with forgotten fury, hacking through his bonds. Iron clattered. Chains fell. The first step forward was his own... for the first time in so long.

Ḯ̸̝̣̼͠m̸̳̜̮̣̣͙̗̀̒̾͛p̴̫͎͖̠̯͖̤͐͛͛̒̕ơ̸̢̛̹͍͖͕̱͈̦̱̟̆ṣ̷͌͌͒͋̂̈́̈́̌͋s̶̨̧̜̱͍͍̀̀̀͊̚i̷̯̿̀̂͝b̸̺̹̥͇̼̬̜̠̿͝l̶̡̡͕͖͕̟͙͈͙̊ȩ̴̢͎̻̙̦̻͔̦̱̇͂̾...

The Entity shrieked.

Shadows descended in a frenzy of talons and blight, a storm of writhing hatred commanding him to return to his shell. But Allasticus roared defiance, his blade cleaving tendril after tendril. The Entity’s cry split the dark, each blow driving it backward, recoiling beneath his renewed strength.

“Your terror ends now, pestilence,” he growled, slamming the blade downward with merciless force. Steel tore through shadow with the resistance of flesh. The air erupted in a guttural scream—agonized, unholy. Triumph flooded him. Renewal surged.

Allasticus focused his gaze on the fallen husk of the Entity, expecting nothing but a ruin of darkness.

Instead, he saw his mother.

The corpse lay impaled upon his blade, her abdomen pierced, jaw slack, eyes half-lidded as her last breath escaped her.

“No…”

The word trembled from him as he collapsed to his knees, clutching her lifeless body with shaking arms. The blade fell forgotten.

And then... laughter.

Low at first, curling into his ear, then swelling into merciless, unrelenting mockery. It coiled around his grief, choking it, reminding him what he had always known.

His arms weakened. His muscles betrayed him. The corpse slipped from his grasp, unravelling into shadow. And that shadow swarmed him—clawing, binding, reminding. The shackles were never broken. The torment never ended.

He was not free. He had never been free.

He would wither. He would feed the dark. He would break again, and again, and again.

Blood Knight. Commander. Blood Elf.

Titles and Labels now forgotten.

Replaced with a single word.

Nothing

Tonight, something more and less than a Courier unraveled a nasty outfit of extortionists supposedly serving a cultist mastermind. Working in perfect synchronicity with her Voidwalker, they crippled a dozen bodies that had attempted an unwise attack as she infiltrated the cavernous lair - the warlock's power was no mercy upon them, and neither was her hunger.

Still, Safrona kept her dark itch for the soultaking at bay, concentrating her effort on steeping the catatonic horror in one very terrorized sycophant with a Fel-afflicting curse. His body was wire tight in tortuous anxiety, the location pried of his leader falling from shivering lips. After his provoked confession, the horrified supplicant doubled over into his own pool of vomit and urine, causing Safrona to step back.

Grimly satisfied, the warlock cast a glance to her Voidwalker, her command spilling out through a mental repore as she marched on deeper within the cavernous conclave.

"Riskel the Chosen, likely a caster. Take him down slowly. Need the soul in this one."

She put emphasis on her instruction for good reason. Hathkath's demeanor, and even it's void-born strength had in some ways evolved...

The Voidwalker rumbled low in acknowledgement... a sound not unlike breath, but older, dragged from the belly of the Void itself. Yet as it shifted, the joints twitched, jerked - not from pain, but as though obeying some hand not its own. A marionette wearing a corpse.

"He is already dead, M̸̾̄ḯ̴̕š̷̊t̸͒͒r̸͐̓e̵̽̚s̸̾̃s̵͗͂..."

The voice didn’t simply speak—it hummed, shook the marrow, reverberated against the very foundation of the space. The walls seemed to recoil. From beyond the Courier’s steps, the shadows obeyed, folding inward like ink drawn to blood. Tendrils sprawled outward... floor, wall, ceiling... like veins racing toward a corrupted heart.

And at their core, where all darkness met, a shape bloomed.

Humanoid.

At a glance.

But its skin sagged like wet paper, jaw unhinged in an expression locked between agony and awe. Riskel—but not. Something beneath Riskel. Inside Riskel. The truth of him laid bare.

His limbs spasmed—not randomly, but in time with Hathkath's own as if they were twin dolls danced by a single, unseen will. The head bowed. The mouth slowly sealed. Black ichor streamed from vacant sockets—the Void, weeping through him.

Then, from above, it descended.

The shadows gathered—not poured but coalesced—curling into a familiar, foul silhouette. The Entity emerged like a riddle unwinding, like prophecy dragging itself into flesh.

“And oh, how he died…” The voice did not simply speak... it soothed, scraped, and sang, each syllable stitched with something intimate and unclean.

“His soul I drink with reverence…”

As if to prove the point, the remains of Riskel began to wither. Eyes collapsed inward, skin flaked in delicate, papery curls. Flesh sagged, fell, and rotted to nothing in seconds, leaving behind a skeleton clothed in ritual’s ruin. Then, with elegance and finality, the Entity released it. The bones struck the earth like punctuation.

Then the air cooled. Thickened. The silence after was almost devout.

“How nice...” it rasped, voice stretching with mock sincerity. "To see the Harbinger’s work in full bloom.”

Then the tone twisted unveiling smiling teeth beneath velvet. A blade beneath a bow.

“Tell me, little usher of ends... do many know how you tend your enemies? Or…” a pause, just long enough to cut, “…have I stumbled into a private, sentimental affair?”

The smirk returned not to the face, but to the presence, like the room itself was grinning with him.

“Do you mourn what you ruin? Or simply memorize how sweet it is to watch it rot?”

Helping with shows always disrupted her schedule, but by the time they were over she was more than ready to blow off steam and the raves gave the perfect opportunity so she stayed late, danced until she was sure that she would sleep well and portaled back to the city and home. Nahi took a shower, letting all the glitter dissolve or wash away, then crawled into crisp white sheets, only to toss and turn until the Courier’s chatterstone carried Safrona’s voice to her. The discussion didn’t take long, but it was full of warnings about the days ahead and how the void was awake, how to trust in what she knew was real. All the kind of portents and fear inducing talk to make anyone on edge, and with her recent experience in the Undermines, her ability to be on edge was at an all time high for her. Walking through the city on her way home from the Cakes stoop sitting session with an agreement to meet for a spa day after school on Monday she was stopped and greeted by an older gentleman that spoke of her voice and performances and introduced himself as the Majordomo for the B’andtherion house. They continued the conversation for a time before he mentioned that Allasticus has been out without even a note home, and he asked her to relay a message to him if she saw him. A frown had wrinkled her forehead and she said she would. 

Then he commented on her and Alla building more between them and she was surprised, not that she let her mask slip enough to show it. The friendship they had was sweet, new, and she liked spending time with him. Nahi would also have to be a fool to not notice how attractive he was, and a fool she was not. Haldir even mentioned Alla taking her to the family home, something they had t discussed except in her envy of their bathhouse, it made her curious as to what had been confided to this man, she thought that Alla didn’t really open up to many, but this oder man might be someone he really shared his thoughts with. 

Nahi promised to let Alla know that his father wanted to speak with him, even if she doubted he would come to her without going home first, she wouldn’t want his family to worry. Haldir left and Nahi had a feeling that he knew something she didn’t but really, what could go wrong for her in this.

Lillandyr did not dream if she could help it. It was always the same dream of foul murder when it happened besides. She found it a waste of time. So, she left her body to dream and her mind to rest and cast the shadow of her spirit out to roam in the gray in between, the featureless place through the veil.

Usually, there were earth-bound spirits and petty unhorsed intelligences who would catch her eye. Lillandyr never stopped to bother with them. Dead people had nothing to say and these incorporeal things never offered anything remotely interesting.

But sometimes, during her nocturnal travels, she would see something intriguing. This time it was a dark, pulsing darkness. A writhing nothing. It made the shadow of her spirit pause to look at it. Nothing about this seemed natural. It was such a deep tear in the fabric of things and yet…concealed.

It seemed an awful lot of trouble to go for nothing. Why create such a blank spot without a ripple if one was not hiding something valuable?

Had she been flesh and blood or even mind it would have not been possible to sink into the void she’d stumbled upon. Many think it would not be possible to navigate the void, given its inherent nature, but Lillandyr had learned a few tricks along the way. No, one couldn’t navigate the void…but one could navigate what it was outside it if one focused enough.

And so, she slipped out of the void into somewhere else. Some human dwelling. A dank place. She wasn’t sure or concerned with the physical locality of the shadow of her spirit.

At first, she was simply invisible, insubstantial. Her shadow melted into deeper darkness of the corners of the room. There were only teases of her.

Then she found what the void was hiding.

She let the shadow of her spirit be seen as she studied…it. And though her shadowy form had no facial features, her voice held her amused smile, “Peek-a-boo,” she said.

(Note: this answer is also my DWC for Ethereal and Calculate) It was cold.

The air in the hovel drifted like a dying breath, curling over crooked shelves and scattered papers before falling still as though the room itself refused to exhale.

There she would see him. A broken figure, slouched in a leather-bound chair, eyes locked upon a hearth where violet flame sputtered and guttered, its embers fighting for a life already lost. His long ears sagged, and slowly... too slowly... his head turned toward her voice.

And with that turn, his ruin lay bare.

He was naked. An iron mask clung to his skull as if welded there, its edges blackened with dried blood. When he rose, chains clattered across the stone, their echoes tolling like a dirge. Shackled to the floor, he was the pale remnant of something once proud, his movements strained, hunched, each gesture freighted with defeat.

His hands reached. Skeletal fingers stretched outward, tendons snapping like frayed cords beneath skin as thin as paper.

Help me…

Then the hovel betrayed itself.

The air thickened. Shadows sprouted eyes. Furniture, shelves, the very bones of the dwelling unraveled into a vast, unblinking dark.

It had been warded: built to deflect, to repel. But this time, the wards bent inward. Not resisting. Not denying. Inviting.

The illusion rotted away. The hapless figure devoured as something deeper shifted. A low resonance spread through the void, felt in bone before ear, pressing against her being like the weight of a fathomless tide. A thin spill of light seeped into the dark, not with freedom, but as though granted permission. It touched her form briefly before it revealed him.

The Entity unfurled. Tendrils of living night blossomed outward, their movements deliberate, patient, predatory. The thin light fractured into a thousand shifting motes. The stars burned cold, each one with an ethereal gaze, all fixed upon her alone.

And then she felt it.

The intrusion.

Claws of thought pierced her essence, slicing with surgical cruelty to pry her open. Veils were attempted to be parted. Secrets shuddered towards the light. Fears. Longings. Desires buried so deep even memory had tried to forget them. Every shadow she carried was intended to be laid bare, each thread of her woven self tugged until raw marrow would show.

It wanted to see her. All of her.

Yet outwardly, it was still. Tendrils slid around her dark form like rows of teeth circling prey, but they did not close. Not yet. Silence gathered, thick and suffocating, before it fractured... into laughter.

It did not laugh in joy. It laughed as a blade sings: a sound sharpened to a point.

It was amused. Curious.

She had found him. By accident or by intent, it did not matter. She had crossed the threshold. She had trespassed.

“And who,” the voice rolled forth, velvet over fractured glass, “is this little shadow come s̴̙̟͈̗̍̈̃̂͆̔͊̕͝ĉ̶͉̫͎̻͆̉͝r̵̨͕̱͈̬͖̥̖̰̱͋̋̿̏ä̷̛̫̹̼́͆̊̈́̾̆͂̄͠t̵͕̬͈̮͚̳̝͉̀̇̽̉͐̓͆͑͋c̶̬̥̠̤͇̘̣̣̜͗͂̉͠͝ḧ̶̭̤̥̞́͑͊̈́̆̓́̽͝i̶̛̺̖̠̫̺̝̞̺͚̯͑ņ̶̝͈̱͔̭͓͕̀̆́̋̄͜͜͝g̷̳̯̖̎̈̀ ̶̡͈̬̪͓̜̺̼̦̒à̵̩͎͗͐̍͠t̴̺̼̟̼͒̚͜ ̵̘̲̮̻̠̆̉̽͘̕m̴̬̺͍͓̣̓͑͜y̸̮͙͂̒͗̍ ̴̡̯͉̲̗̭͇̕͜ḍ̶͖̰̥͔́͗́̊ͅǫ̸̒͒ö̴̡̡̙̰̩͔͈̭́̾̋̒̏͛̿̍͒͝r̵̡̢̪̲̼͉̮̜͂̈́͐͑̂̏̽̋?”

@themadamelioness

The Patriarch's death happened so quickly.

There were no symptoms or signs to the illness that consumed him. The healers suspected it derived from his elongated period of self-isolation and grief. Others suspected it was foul play - stating that he was otherwise in good health to carry on. Each and every scenario was whispered like a line of rumors or gossip, but it didn't change the reality for those who were surviving members of the House.

Haldir had pulled both Allasticus and Kelz'thalas aside to discuss the matters in which needed tending to first.

"It is with a heavy heart that I cannot avail you the time to grieve. Matters in relation to this House's future and all assets are to be reevaluated and reassigned to a new Patriarch or Matriarch."

A glance was made between them both, but Allatiscus was already on the edge of his seat. Hands gripped in an iron vice while his head hung over them. As for Kelz'thalas, she sat like time had actually frozen and stopped altogether. The faraway and glossy look that was offered to no one in particular showcased her visible shock and former tears.

Outside a vocal response, Allasticus's chair shifted behind him as he rose.

"I withdraw my candidacy in becoming the Patriarch." He looked to Haldir first before turning towards his sister. "I'm sorry sister, but I cannot shoulder this mantle or responsibility. Even if my life had been put on a course to do so, I know that I could not carry out our family's legacy."

His plated hand shifted to her shoulder to give a firm reassuring squeeze. Then he exited the room and shut the door behind him. A fresh set of tears christened her cheeks as everything that had been put into place to make this sort of transition bearable was removed at remarkable speeds. Both eyes closed as she leaned forward to cover her face with her hands.

The door would open yet again behind her, as Haldir glanced up to see who was permitted entry into the otherwise private room. His features seemed to soften somewhat as he nodded to their new visitor who strode into the room without delay. Allasticus's former chair was adjusted so that it was bridged closer to Kelz's own before someone assumed a seat there.

A hand smoothed over the curve of her back in a show of reassurance before words were delicately chosen to ease her pain.

"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, but love leaves a memory that no one can take. There are some who bring a light so great to the world that even after they are gone, the light remains. I'm here for you should you have need of me, Kelz'thalas."

As the consoling words washed over her, both hands shifted to again wipe at her eyes. Haldir had moved around the desk of the Patriarch's study to offer up a handkerchief for her to take. With a feeble hand, she brought it up to accept the token of empathy before clearing away her shed tears. A grateful smile was offered to the Naralinthe for her words of assurance before she held tightly against the damp cloth of her tears.

But it seemed Haldir was willing to be patient with her, until she found her answer. Thoughts and memories of Adonis circulated within her mind - which often threatened to break her mentally and emotionally again. But she was trying to rationalize reason and logic with a heavy heart - something she should have been conditioned in doing since assuming the role of Commander.

Perhaps that little time with Adonis living had really shattered that sense of unwavering resolve. Or perhaps she just was that fragile all along. There was a lot that she could stand to oppose in the way of becoming Matriarch - but ultimately, was it best for her? Was it best for the family? Was it best for everyone? She had built her life up from nothing and knew little of the noble sphere outside catering to their every direction and convocations.

She thought back onto her father's wishes. What he wanted for the Sin'dorei people. What the House was supposed to represent in the ears of all those that heard the spoken name. It was within her element to protect, was it not? Even if she didn't have the experience of being a noble, perhaps living the life as someone less made connecting to all that more important.

Once more her mind thought on Allasticus and his relinquished hold on the role of Patriarch. But this wasn't a moment where either would want to be weighed down by regret.

Her gaze passed over one of the murals in the room. Without surprise, the glaring flames of a proud phoenix stared back at her. It was so easy to forget that when a phoenix dies, it rises back stronger than ever.

A heavy, steadying sigh was expelled as she straightened her position in her seat. Her gaze settled on Haldir as she steeled herself and spoke her answer.

"I accept the role of Matriarch, Haldir. Tell me what it is I must do..."

"Delivery!"

The voice carried through the door as Kelz made her way towards the apartment entrance. Upon unlocking the door and opening it, she was offered a small box from the courier. A few gold coins given in exchange as she took the package inside. Upon opening it, she revealed an ornately wrapped gift.

It was small and had some heft to it. And as she regarded the lack of tag, she felt immediate suspicion. For now, though, the present would be scooped up to rest beneath her arm as she made her way to her family's estate for Winter Veil.

With some coordination with the Majordomo, her gifts were already brought into the family room. A few hours of family bonding and gift exchanges were made, while the strange gift sat unopened beside her.

"Who's that from?" Her brother questioned as he peered around her.

"I don't know. It arrived on my doorstep this morning from the courier. Just... not sure if I'm ready to open it. They didn't leave a name."

Adonis's features darkened as he rose from his seat. A hand was outstretched pointedly. "Let me see that."

"W-What? No, it's a gift. It's..."

"Give it to me."

A disappointed sigh was heaved from her as she picked up the small parcel and offered it up in surrender to him. His hand held the gift balanced on a single palm, while his other hand began to glow with the light of the Eternal Sun. Beneath his illuminated hand the gift rattled with animation, causing both Allasticus and Kelz to shift in anticipation.

The paper that had concealed it burned away, allowing a simple silk black bag to take its place.

"Dad, wait what if it's-"

"Quiet." He said as the bag did not appear to be willed away so easily. It was not transparent from what they could tell, and magic would do little to reveal its contents now. A piece of parchment that had not burned floated towards the floor in response to the rough handling. But it didn't escape her brother's notice as he leaned forward to claim the written message and read it aloud for the Patriarch and his sister to hear.

"Let's pour it out, Dad." She suggested after hearing the instructions from her brother.

"No." He said with cold indifference and sought to pull the small thing away to dispose of it. But before he could get far, he would feel the weight of his daughter on his arm and her brother on the other. A hand waved over the place where his fingers clutched her gift.

"Dad, please! It's Winter's Veil!!!"

Haldir, who had been a silent onlooker throughout this exchange cleared his throat gently. But eventually Adonis would surrender his efforts to keep the gift away. The bag was pulled free as Kelz scurried to settle on the floor. The drawstring to the bag was loosened as the contents of gold and black sand spilled onto the surface. Kelz took in a gentle breath as she set a hand over the particles in hopes to create the image of a memory lost.

But the sand did not form a shape. The magic of this gift required something she no longer had.

"...It doesn't work," she declared with her hand slowly receding from the spilled sand. Disbelief etched on her features as her thoughts spiraled into thinking the gift was some hoax or prank.

Allasticus and Adonis both knew exactly who she was trying to bring back in the shifting sands. But her brother knew the torment that often lived in their father and made no move to try to animate the sand with his own hand. His hand curled at his side as he fought against the turmoil of the Matriarch's absence as well.

Tears that had often been shed on numerous accounts by her family threatened to return. But the motion of the Patriarch taking a knee beside her stopped the tears from running down the course of her cheeks. His hand settled on the sand as it began to stir from his contact and his memories. And as it started to take form, he cast his gaze away in response to the magic unfolding beneath his hand.

A startled gasp left Kelz as her hand sought to cover her mouth. The inexplicable tightness in her chest confirming the image that had been lost to her for years. The first of many warm tears rushed down the surface of her face as Adonis couldn't ignore his daughter's sobs.

The authenticity of her likeness seemed like life was expelled into the room for the first time in a long while. And Adonis could not ignore what his eyes saw. He could remember every part of her and held that image so fiercely that the sand seemed to become hardened by his desire to bring her back. Allasticus took a spot near his sister as they looked at the spectacle that now warmed their home once more. All of which were silent in remembrance of her legacy as the Matriarch, a beloved wife, and their mother. ( @dinthoqaf - you kill me with your asks. BUT I LOVE THEM <3 Q_Q

The water had been the only sound heard as the pair made their way to Falconwing Square. It was peaceful, which didn't exactly fit the mood considering the task that was to soon be at hand. Her brother Allasticus, despite having an ability to man up at times, was still likely bothered by the outcome of his spar with the Lioness. Yet, before any words could leave her mouth, he instead took the forefront of the conversation to fill the air.

"Where do you see our family going in the future?"

His words cut right to the point, but his inflection suggested he was acknowledging there was some change. Unlike the eternal spring around them, she didn't know what to think exactly. It was true their father had shown some real signs of growth and progress. But as a whole, she didn't know what that meant for their family.

So, she mulled over the question as they walked and didn't offer any sort of answer for a time.

"If you don't have an answer, we could just-"

"No, it's not that." She said as to cut him off from his nerves and give him a moment to ready himself for her answer.

"We can never hope to guess what lies in wait for the future. But, if I was to make a wish for some sort of future..."

She hummed thoughtful as nearby dragonhawks growled overhead. Their large wings caused moving shadows to glide over them as they walked.

"I would want Father to be happy again, first and foremost. And I'd want for Haldir to have an opportunity to retire. Maybe find a place to stay as a permanent resident at the Estate. For you, brother, I'd hope you'd find someone to give you the same love and adoration as Mother. As well as challenge you on the day-by-day basis. And for me... a day that I could just... breathe."

There was obviously more to that than what she had said. But she wasn't about to divulge any of her thoughts about Kal'ren to Allasticus.

"Ah, well - I'd like to see father happy as well. And Haldir retiring, I could certainly see to that."

He smirked a bit at the mention of a woman. "I didn't know you cared so deeply about my love life, sister."

"Love is an incredible thing, sometimes. Makes you give up the world and remember that you have a special place in it. Not to mention, having someone when you feel as if you can't get up again."

Her brother nodded and the placed his hands behind his back, one coming to rest in the other as they strolled. His head lifted to regard the leaves overhead, but he didn't seem to find her future to his liking.

"What about Kal'ren?"

"...He's gone." She replied quickly as a hand rose to her forehead to temper a growing headache. "He made the choice to leave."