#annilise

The nighttime shadows sat thick and cloying throughout the ruined houses in what was left of the town of Andorhal. They wrapped like a shroud around the scrawny human who ducked in through one of the crumbling doorframes and flattened herself against the wall, heedless of the mold and damp rot clinging to her once-elegant robe. In the firelit night outside the guttural shouts of Forsaken soldiers called out in their harsh, incomprehensible pidgin, but they passed by the woman’s half-fallen refuge. After a minute they faded as the patrol returned to their posts. She was just one human, after all, and not a terribly powerful one. She wasn't worth a long, drawn-out search. A breath she hadn't realized she was holding sighed out from her lips as she relaxed against the rotting wall, just barely controlling the buckling of her legs enough to sit rather than collapse. A glance around confirmed that her demonic minion was gone, likely returned to the Twisting Nether by the Forsaken scouts. She could summon him back once she caught her breath; after all, drawing fire away from her was the miserable creature’s job. His mortal manifestation was expendable. She sat still for a minute, recovering her strength. The stink inside the house would have been nauseating to someone new to the region of Lordaeron that had come to be called the Plaguelands, but after a few days secretly seeking out Scourge artifacts while assisting the human forces in the area she was nearly accustomed to it. The putrefaction of the wood behind her was nothing compared to the noxious stench of death, of the long undead and now rotting human population of the town that permeated everything for miles. The only thing that smelled quite so foul as a corpse that had spent years in a slow rot was a kingdom of them. Soon the woman felt her legs steady enough under her to rise. Carefully, certain that no Forsaken were lurking outside in wait for another human body to add to their charnal wagons, she conjured a tiny ball of green fell flame to push back the shadows. The shadows didn't move. A soft rustling sound like a chuckle came from her left, further into the house. The woman breathed deep, bracing herself, and turned slowly. The darkness was impenetrable. The sound came again, now more distinctly a voice, but hollow and whispered like a breeze. The air seemed suddenly thick with Shadow magic. "You'll need the other sort of Light to banish me, child." She answered, her own voice unwavering. “What do you want, Shadow-creature? Scourge or Forsaken, a dozen Alliance soldiers will be here to rescue me any moment!” Another dark, hollow laugh echoed through the room. “Scourge or Forsaken. Most nights I’m not certain myself.” The shadows beside her began to congeal into a more human form until they resembled a robed man. “And as for what I want, I simply wish to say hello to my baby sister.” "I...I don't..." She stared at him as her mind raced, trying to assign some meaning to the shadow-man's words. "I don't know what you're talking about." As the Shadow that composed him sharpened, became more defined, he did strike her as familiar, but whether through affectation or some other cause his features remained half-rotted like the Forsaken. “My brothers are in Stormwind, creature, and they’ll not take--” She was cut off by a cackle from the man. “I suppose they told you I died, all those years ago, didn’t they? Father and your mother and the others. You were only a little thing, after all. Your mother’s precious girl...” The shade began to pace, though he floated still a foot above the ground. “And in a way they were right, not that they cared to know. I was simply dead to them when I left Dalaran with the Cult of the Damned.” He turned sharply toward her. “I’m Etheris, Annilise. Your oldest brother, the one your father rejected because I had no interest in doing his bidding. Because I had the gall to wish to live my own bloody life!” Cowed before the ranting shade, Annilise could only stare. “They made you...this? The Cult did?” Etheris looked down at himself, then waved an arm. “Among them I learned how to control my Shadow essence, yes. For a time I was one of their liches.” He looked at his own hand, a bony claw composed entirely of Shadow, and made a sound like a sigh. “It was glorious. But all that is over now, and my services belong to the Forsaken.” “Can you teach me?” Eyes narrowing, Etheris looked at her, seemed to look through her. “Necromancy is no longer worth studying, my little Annilise. Its greatest masters have been granted true death at the hands of the narrow-minded and self-righteous.” He stared, his eyes brighter blue-purple pinpricks in the Shadow that comprised his face. “What brought you to this path, Annilise? What brought you to consort with demons? Did you fail to live up to Father’s maddening wishes as well?” Annilise’s voice faltered. “Our....my...mother was killed when that dragon attacked Stormwind. Father as well. Anseth refused to grant me my inheritance.” She scowled. “So I’m finding my own way to gain power. I don’t need their money. Demons are better than any human servants.” A smile seemed to cross the shadow of Etheris’ face. “Good girl. You’re learning what years of the city’s best tutors could never teach.” The baying of hunting hounds sounded outside the rotting building. They both looked over at the door with a start, Etheris’ form losing some of its definition.. “Perhaps you should return before you’re found conversing with the enemy.” Annilise nodded. “And you.” As the patrolling humans came into view outside the door she stepped out, smiling winningly at them. “Oh, thank the Light you came!” With a cheshire grin, Etheris faded back into the shadows.