#anthai

written by Matthew Rossi

Green flames crackled around the Kirin Tor encampment, partially shielded by a violet aura that threatened to fail at any moment. The surf pounded along the beach as demons screeched in their guttural language and Anthai's fellow mages fell to teeth and claws around her.

Stupid! Stupid! Anthai chastised herself as she whipped a fireball at a nearby succubus. It collapsed with a shriek, the outline of its wings just visible in the flames.

"Hold the shield!" barked a Nightborne. She whirled her silvery staff, weaving her magics in a criss-cross pattern to reinforce a crumbling section of the shimmering barrier. "Hold!"

Fel bats dove in between the gaps of the arcane shield to rip and tear at the mages beneath. Anthai whirled and made a horizontal slashing motion in the air with one hand. Flames shaped vaguely like phoenixes arced towards the bats, incinerating them with the force of the impact.

She cursed under her breath. She'd come to the Broken Shore to perform the ritual to open the gate to Agatha's pocket dimension, but it had been a trap. She'd found Levia Laurence, all right, but it was too late for the missing mage. She'd been turned by the Legion and was waiting for Anthai on the other side. Anthai had no choice but to fight her.

Fire had clashed with ice, and in the end Anthai was victorious. Levia was barely conscious as Anthai brought her singed body back to the Kirin Tor encampment. Agatha, however, was not about to let her pet go so easily, and she'd released an army of demons to retrieve Levia.

To say that the Kirin Tor were unprepared for the assault would be an understatement. Agatha's power had increased a hundredfold with Levia's help, and it was no longer just imps she commanded. Because of Anthai, the entire encampment was going to die.

"Be...hind you..." a dying mage nearby coughed. Anthai turned to be met with a crash of fel fire. Her own crimson flames flickered around her, prepped and ready for combat, but it was an Illidari—one of the half-demons that served Illidan Stormrage, only just recently joined the Alliance and Horde forces as they laid siege to the Tomb of Sargeras.

Something about the demonic huntress tugged at Anthai, flickering at the edges of her memories. She shook it off, unable to wrest her attention away from the assault. Red and green flames sparked and flared around her, the Illidari's unexpected appearance finally turning the tide of the battle. The other Kirin Tor rallied, battering the demons with fire and ice and beams of pure arcane energy. One Blood Elf, her eyes golden with the Sunwell's light, danced around a Wrathguard. With a haughty gesture, she touched its muscled arm and, moments later, it exploded from the inside out, flaming chunks of flesh spattering the sands.

"Brannd, quit showing off!" Anthai yelled at her.

The Blood Elf sneered, moving further away from her Alliance counterpart. Anthai turned again towards the blonde demon hunter, who was surrounded by dozens of dead imps. A Wrathguard was pressing his massive blade into her crossed twinblades, and Anthai knew the blonde was in trouble. She moved both hands in a kind of scooping motion, and shot her splayed fingers forward. The ground beneath the Wrathguard exploded in a sheet of pure flame.

The demon hunter caught the mage's gaze, just for the briefest moment.

And Anthai knew.

The demon hunter deliberately turned away to slash at a Mo'arg. Anthai didn't think she could breathe. She stood frozen to the spot.

It's not. It's not her. It's a demon trick.

The demon hunter spread her fel wings, leaping up towards the cliffs above, not looking back.

An old dwarf grabbed Anthai's arm, pulling her out of her daze. "Lass, get movin'! We've got the demons on the run thanks to that Illidari! Fall back to the encampment!"

Anthai did not fall back. She gestured, and the air next to her shimmered like a heat mirage. A moment later, a bird of pure flame appeared, preening its feathers. It let out a squawk of surprise as Anthai mounted it, untouched by its fire. The dwarf called after her, but she ignored him as she began to catch up to the retreating Illidari.

"Wait!" she cried with her whole heart. "Karan, wait!"

The Chamber of the Guardian was empty. Most of the citizens of Dalaran had gone to their beds hours ago, and the majority of the armed forces were encamped below on the Broken Shore.

Anthai Taylor, archmage of Stormwind, formerly of the Templars of the Rose and now one of the aides to the Council of Six, had just ended her shift atop the Violet Spire - the weapon attached to the highest point in Dalaran, the Violet Citadel. It was powered by an artifact called the Nightborne Soulstone, which contained within it the demon Kathra'natir. That artifact was kept continuously guarded by a dozen mages, working in two-hour shifts, both to supplement its power and to ensure Kathra'natir did not escape his prison.

Anthai was exhausted, yet her mind was racing, the adrenaline from channeling her magic for so long still flooding her body. She wandered down to the area where the Pillars of Creation were kept, letting their ambient energies wash over her like sunlight. Not that Anthai could remember the last time she'd seen the sun - her shift at the Spire was in the middle of the night, and during the day the skies above the Broken Isles were dark and tinged with a sickly fel green.

The Legion takes everything from us, she thought. Even the light.

Anthai brushed her fingertips across the surface of the Eye of Aman'Thul. The artifact sang with power, resonating with her own innate magic. The power of the ruler of the Titan Pantheon himself. She marveled that such a thing could be at the same time she cursed the Legion for necessitating its existence.

I wonder what Victor is doing right now.

She shook her head as if to expel the thought from her brain. The Rose was no place for her anymore. She'd sent two letters off with that Dwarf Death Knight, the ambassador whatshisname - one to the Justicar with her resignation, and one to Victor.

The latter had been the harder to write. What was she supposed to say? "Sorry I set you on fire, but you shapeshifted into my dead girlfriend and I was really drunk" didn't exactly excuse the way she'd hurt him. Victor had been a friend when she'd really needed one. She'd known full well that he had a thing for her and had repeatedly told him he was barking up the wrong tree (ha, "barking," because he's a Worgen; good one, asshole), but what the hell was he thinking when he used that trinket? That he had a chance just because he was going to have lady bits for an hour? The second-degree burns all over his body had probably disabused him of that notion.

He probably hated her now. She hated herself. She'd nearly killed him, plain and simple. Plus the whole "Victor looking like Karan" thing messed with her brain in complicated ways she didn't even want to try to sort through.

Anthai took a second and tried to picture herself with Victor in his human form and shuddered. "Nope, still super gay," she murmured under her breath.

Titans' blood, but she missed Karan so much.

She left the Chamber and was making her way towards the Hero's Welcome when a gray-haired woman appeared before her in a flash of bluish-white light. Anthai jumped, startled, but relaxed her guard when she saw who it was. "Archmage Modera," she greeted the other with a slight nod.

"Archmage Anthai," Modera replied with a slight twist to her lips. Anthai suspected Modera had always had an understated sense of humor that went unnoticed by the rest of the Council. She thought it was sexy as hell and wow hey slow down girl, she thought to herself. Everyone knows Modera's been wanting to wield Khadgar's staff for a while now.

I really should have fucked that Demon Hunter, she sighed internally before shifting into business mode. "You don't need me back up on the Spire, do you?" she asked. "Because my shift ended half an hour ago and I don't think I could conjure so much as a croissant right now."

"No, no, something else has come up," Modera assured her. "I knew you'd be hanging out here around this time, and I wanted to offer you this assignment before anyone else. I know you're tired of Spire duty every night."

"I live but to serve the Council of Six in any capacity," Anthai replied with an absolutely straight face.

"Smartass. I've received word that one of our mages, Levia Laurence, was involved with a succubus named Agatha." Anthai raised an eyebrow at the implication, and Modera raised her hands. "I don't know, I don't want to know, and I certainly wasn't about to ask. In any case, this succubus turned out to be an imp mother in disguise - an extraordinarily powerful imp mother, as it turns out."

Anthai crossed her arms. "And this Agatha is extra problematic because...?"

"Because this one can command entire armies of imps, and that was before she drained Levia of her power. There's no telling what what Agatha will be capable of with that kind of magic. And who knows what secrets Levia shared while under her thrall?"

"You don't think—"

"I don't know what to think, other than I know you don't consort with demons and you're more powerful than Levia. You're our best shot at taking Agatha down before she can strike back at us for taking away her pet mage. Are you game?" Modera asked.

"You have absolutely no idea how very much I would like to set a large demon on fire, yes please and thank you."

Modera laughed. "Now that's our girl," she said, clapping Anthai on the shoulder. "Get some rest, Anthai. We'll prep you for the mission tomorrow evening."

Anthai grinned, a wicked sort of grin that held the promise of wanton violence. Her eyes flickered red. "Oh, I'll definitely be prepared."

Victor Blackwald stood amongst the workers at the Stormwind Docks, overseeing the loading and offloading of materials on board his ship. He was in human form, something he tried to be mindful of whenever he was in a majority-human port of call. He was clad in his usual Captain's garb of feathered hat and azure leather clothing trimmed in gold.

Khazarath Redbraid, ambassador from the Ebon Blade, hovered on his mount just above the docks for a moment, making sure he was delivering his message to the correct person. He noted that the crates were filled with gunpowder and cannonballs. Either the captain was part of the war effort, or the man really, really liked explosions.

The dwarf landed his mount among the gryphons and made his way towards the end of the docks, where the man stood talking with a worker and signing off on some paperwork. "Beggin' yer pardon," Khazarath said as politely as possible in the grave-touched voice of all death knights. "Are ye Cap'n Victor Blackwald?"

"...Eh?" Victor glanced to the left...and down at Khazarath. "Ahoy, lad. You've found him; what can I do for you?"

Khazarath reached into a pouch at his belt and withdrew a letter. "Name's Ambassador Redbraid. I've a message for ye. It's from that mage friend o' yers. She said she didn't want to deliver it in person." Khazarath handed the envelope, sealed with red wax, over to Victor.

Victor tilted his head. "Mage friend? You mean the dwarf, or the fire-haired?"

"Ah, the redhead," Khazarath answered. "Foulest mouth I've ever heard on that one. Drinks like a champion."

"Anthai, then."

"Aye; couldn't remember her name."

Victor collected the envelope, tugging out his knife as he broke the seal, and unfolded the letter to take a careful appraisal of the note. He scanned his gaze across the letter, his frown deepening as he shifted his gaze across each word. Yet...he paused, looking down at the letter for a long moment.

"Ye all right there, Cap'n?" Khazarath asked, breaking Victor's reverie.

Victor stood in silence for a moment. "Ambassador...do you...do you know where Anthai might be right now?"

Khazarath shook his head. "Nae, but I've been known to track people down when need be."

Victor looked down at the dwarf as he tucked the letter into his jacket. "Then...I want you to listen carefully, and tell her exactly what I say, aye?" Khazarath nodded. "I want you to tell her...tell her I'll always have my door open for her, and I'd like to see her again, aye? And that if she does some damn fool thing like get herself killed, I will personally fight my way into the Shadowlands, yank her ginger backside out of there, and nurse her back to health just so I can whoop her arse for her foolishness."

Khazarath laughed at Victor. "Ah, Cap'n, I don't think she'd take kindly to that sort o' thing."

Victor shook his head, running a hand along his face. "Take kindly or not, you tell her," he said in a soft tone. "Because I'm dead bleedin' serious. She best keep herself safe, and know that there are those out there who care for her, hm? She'll do what she has to, but...we'll be waiting for her to come back. Keeping a chair empty and a plate set out."

Khazarath committed the message to memory, already considering possible methods of tracking the mage if need be. He knew a cut-and-run when he saw one, but he also knew the Templars of the Rose, and they didn't leave a man behind if they could help it. "I'd best be off," he said in that slightly echoing voice. "But just so ye know...this seems like a personal thing t'me. My advice? Let the lass do what she needs. Dinnae seem like she was th' sort who wants to be found at th' moment."

Victor nodded. "I'll not go looking for her, short if I hear that she's gone and got herself in trouble. Thanks, Ambassador. I know I'm putting a fair bit on a messenger's shoulders."

"'Tis my job an' all," Khazarath replied, climbing up on his mount. "'Twas a pleasure, Cap'n." He shot Victor a wicked sort of grin. "Say hello to that bonnie lass at the Golden Keg for me."

"Hah! Aye, I will, hm?" Victor laughed and waved farewell as Khazarath flew off. After the dwarf was out of sight, Victor turned and paced around the docks for a while, lost in thought. He shooed off his workmen and ended up sitting on the rocks by the lighthouse, staring out at the gray sky and sea.

His eyes darkened from blue to a deeper indigo as he read over Anthai's letter once more, his wolf side only just able to contain his emotions.

To be delivered to Victor Blackwald Captain of the Raven's Revenge Dock #2 Stormwind Harbor

Victor-

I'm sorry for what I'm about to say, but I hope you'll be able to understand.

When you shapeshifted into that Blood Elf woman the other night, you were the spitting image of someone I lost a long time ago. With everything that's been happening - Xavius, helping Khadgar and the Nightborne take down Gul'dan, the constant battles in Suramar - I did something unforgivable, and for that I am so sorry.

There's something empty and missing inside of me, and there has been for a long time. I need to find out what that is, and I have to do it alone.

You've been very dear to me, but I'm leaving the Templars to forge my own path. Please don't come looking for me. I can't be part of your mission like this. I will never forget any of you, and I'm grateful for what you all have taught me. Give my love to the friends I made, and let them know that we may meet again someday. For now, I need to see if there's anything more to me than anger and vengeance. I have to.

Thank you for everything, Victor. I care for you very much. Don't do anything stupid.

-Anthai

[NOTE: This story takes place prior to the opening of the Tomb Of Sargeras. For maximum feels, put this on repeat in the background: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btOE7MKSKkA]

"This will get you to where you need to go...more or less."

"Wait, what the f--"

* * *

Anthai of Stormwind, orphan of the First War, last of her family line, was displeased.

Perturbed, perhaps. Out of sorts. "Nettled," as Sumeri would put it. She drifted, bodiless, in a glowing violet ocean of raw arcane magic. How long ago had that reckless, incompetent Withered screwed up what should have been a simple teleportation spell? Days? Months? How the actual fuck had that idiot become a telemancer?

Anthai tried to re-focus on the swirls of arcane power surrounding her. What was the lesson Leigh had tried to teach her years ago in Old Dalaran? Arcane magic was order. Logical patterns, mathematics. Anthai was terrible with math. Probably why she never quite got the hang of the Arcane school. Fire, that was easy. Fire was rage and destruction. Fire had an effect. It consumed and hungered and it was hers.

But even the school of Fire had to be checked. She'd learned that in Pandaria. A beautiful, golden land of balance and tranquility out of necessity. Slow down, the Pandaren had constantly tried to impress upon her. Your rage sustains me! the Sha Of Anger had roared throughout Kun-Lai. The Alliance and Horde had thrown these people into chaos and turmoil by bringing their war to Pandaria's shores, and Anthai had known right then and there that her baggage was absolutely not going to be responsible for harming innocent lives.

Think. Meditate.

Hard to do without a body to control your breathing. Her consciousness was spread throughout the arcane, woven tightly into its patterns. Damned science. Discipline. Focus your anger. Find your balance. Be fire, not fire's slave.

You control you.

And just like that, the answer hit her. She'd been going about this all wrong. She'd been so focused on solving the equations of the magic itself, but all she needed to do was follow the order and patterns inherent to her own corporeal form.

Anthai took a moment to curse - well, everything, really - and drew together the atoms which made up her physical self, herding them into place, feeling (finally feeling!) her skin tingle and warm up, her magic flowing through her alongside her blood, her breath--

* * *

A bluish-white light flared once and winked out of existence, depositing one very, very, very angry mage at the feet of the Greywatch flight master. He jumped back, startled, as the redhead slowly stood up and brushed herself off. Orbs of flame swirled, crackling, around her head, and her eyes blazed with the color of lava.

The flames limning Anthai's skin vanished as her eyes flashed red once and faded back to green. "We need to get out of here. We need to get back to the Templars."

Lauren blinked. "Wait, but how did you--"

"Now," the mage insisted. With a wave of one hand and a brief incantation, she opened a portal. An image of Dalaran's domes and spires flickered in its depths. Before either paladin could object, Anthai shoved them both through and followed immediately after. The portal winked out of existence, and Icecrown Citadel fell silent once more.

For now.

*  *  *  

A day later, Lauren, Kem and Anthai gathered in a room at the Hero's Welcome inn. Lauren and Kem had gotten some sorely-needed healing, a bath, and several hours' sleep. The three women sat at a table out on the balcony, a spectacular view of the Violet Citadel soaring high above them.

"So..." Lauren began.

"So." Anthai repeated, that familiar teasing smirk on her lips.

Lauren shook her head. "I don't even know where to begin."

"You could properly introduce me to your friend, for starters," Anthai pointed out.

Kem gave a polite nod. "Kem Redbraid, miss. I owe ye my life. Thank ye."

Anthai waved it off. "Just makes me even with Lauren, is all."

"Anthai, Light above, I thought you were still on Draenor," Lauren said. "What happened to you?"

The mage was silent for a brief moment, her eyes distant. "I stayed behind to help with the cleanup."

"I remember that."

"Yeah, well, turns out Exarch Yrel and that bastard Hellscream are all buddy-buddy now." Her eyes narrowed. "Grommash gets bitch-slapped around a bit by that fucker Gul'dan and goes crying to the people he tried to conquer in the first damn place, and she helps him. Unbelievable. The Orcs and Draenei called a truce, if you can believe that nonsense."

"Anthai--" Lauren began.

"Forgiveness in the Light, blah blah, I heard it endlessly from the Exarch's speeches, I don't need to hear it from you, all right?"

"And that's why you left? Just out of bitterness?"

"No. A little, maybe, but no. I wasn't going to come crawling back to Azeroth while my powers were still out of whack. I took some time to study with the Draenei mages, mostly researching some texts Mar'gok kept at Highmaul." Anthai shivered and drew her cloak tighter around her. "Life-Binder's tits, I hate Northrend. Never get the chill out of the air."

Kem raised an eyebrow. "Did ye really just swear on the Dragon Queen's chest?"

"What? She's got a great rack."

The Dwarf chuckled. "I like her," she told Lauren.

"You and I'll talk later, cutie." Anthai got back to business as Lauren rolled her eyes. "In any case, a lot of it had to do with the timeline, how Kairoz and Garrosh disrupted it, lots of math involved, boring mage stuff, you wouldn't get it.

"And then Yrel had a vision."

Lauren leaned in attentively. Draenor's Velen had passed something on to Yrel before he'd sacrificed himself. Apparently he'd passed on his ability to see the future as well. "What did she see?"

"A sword. A quest. A way for me to be more powerful than ever, but that isn't important. She saw the Legion, Lauren."

"But Archimonde is dead, he died in the Nether, Gul'dan even--"

"No, Lauren, the Legion is coming here. To our Azeroth. This is the big one. They're pissed."

Lauren's blood froze as it all clicked. Highlord Fordring's absence, the weird signs from the Void, the Twisting Nether, the Emerald Dream. Khazarath's vision. The hundreds of new Scourge in Icecrown. "We...we have to tell the Justicar, the Templars are at Westguard..."

Kem's voice was panicked. "I need t'find me brother, he'll need me--"

Suddenly, before any of them could finish speaking, something huge and burning shot out of the sky and crashed into the street below. Someone screamed, and as Lauren jumped out of her seat to see what had happened, the skies above Dalaran darkened from pale violet to a sickly green. In the distance, they could make out fel meteors beginning to rain from the skies.

"Blessed Light preserve us," Kem breathed.

Lauren gripped Anthai's arm. "Portal us to Westguard. Now." The mage nodded, her face white, but they already knew they were too late to give the Templars time to prepare.