On Atlas Island, in the headquarters of Atlas Company, on the door of the Commander of all of the above was a small note.
"To any Atlas Employee or associated person that sees this,
Lyren Flarewind is offering a bounty on all blank, unused packets of sticky notes found on the island. You can choose between coins or a favor, the magnitude of both increasing depending on how much you bring me. Please deliver all you find to the Flaredere-Winwind house before the first Friday of next month.
Thank you for reading this very serious message,
Lyren Flarewind
Keeper of Paperwork, Second-in-Command of this Company.
P.S. No Darnath, you can't participate in the bounty. The end result is all yours anyway."
It was magically adhered, and only Darnath or Lyren himself was going to be able to remove the message without setting off some extra spellwork.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Hands pinning him down, greater weight keeping everything but uncontrolled fire out of his hands. A spark of violence contained despite his thrashing. A voice, purring an echo to the one in his head. "Succumb."
A vaguely concerned elven woman, peering down at them like they were mere curiosities. All the actions slightly off (or was that him?), emotions never hitting anything but minor bumps. She didn't do extremes, her voice going from friendly to mild concern, positive emotions easier to fake, her excitement slightly more true. No fear of the one crazed above him.
Contrast:
Hands that only touched gently, teasing, friendly, backing off when he said. Telling him he was special. Apologizing. (But he'd already done what he'd wanted, hadn't he?)
Her, a bright echo, flirting with the first, following his lead. Exclaiming it all all done with. They were friends. Swept it under the rug.
Two sets of impressions, and he had found himself reacting in return - warming slightly. But the first was no less true than the second. He was no less the one that had wanted his submission to the darkness in them than the one that sidled up with a balm of offered words he hadn't realized he needed - wanted.
He didn't need anything anymore.
She was no less the one that had watched on, barely bothered, letting it flow around her as long as she got her "friendships" than the one offering kind words and a sense of safety.
Nothing and no one was safe.
Ah, but of course nothing could be that simple. If it had been he might still be planning subtle ways of getting rid of them, regardless of this second effort. He could trust that both were true and work to prevent the reappearances of the first.
Except -
How much of his perceptions were colored by what he was, the voices in his head?
He had thought he knew.
But which part of his mind had wanted to give in to the order? What part was relieved, what part was afraid? What part of him had agreed? Which part of him yearned for the friendly touches on offer and what part of him rejected them? What was due to trauma, what to personality, and what was the fault of insidious corruption in his veins?
Once, even when there had been a creature in his mind he had known. There had been a protection around the core of him. A last gift of Temeraith's (remembered love, crashed to dust) used up to get that thing out of his head.
How he regretted searching for knowledge, wanting to know everything about the Void so it could never happen again. If he had never joined with Umbric's people - this wouldn't be happening. The last vestiges of connection lost (Starsong), access to his sister's grave, Temeraith's, the Sunwell lost because he had sought knowledge.
And they asked him what he was angry about.
Those fools.
Everything.
But mostly.
Himself.
( @darnath and @mira-ashsong for your MG alts setting this off.)
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.
In the case of the Nightfall... their plight was too much like the sin’dorei’s. Even if they were of no help with the Legion, it could not be ignored.
Crusted iced over snow folded and held. Lyren breathed out, peering out from the crest of the hill into the valley of stone and ice. The howling windows and storms might start up again at any moment and for now, they had a few moments. As Darnath's attention was taken up in engineering, Lyren had offered his help to strengthen the enchantments around the tournament grounds. It helped to keep busy.
But when there was a moment of quiet like now where Darnath was still distracted and he had a sudden spare moment there was nothing to do but think.
Snow and ice and howling winds, nothing but rocks for color. Even he dressed in more muted tones to blend in. It made sense then, that everything, everyone was just a little bit colder. That was the reasonable argument his mind brought up to explain away growing oddities.
It was also absolute bullshit. He knew it. Darnath knew it.
Which was exactly why the death knight distracted him every time he started expressing alarm over a growing number of things Lyren had noticed. And most likely there were several things he hadn't noticed.
Surreptitiously trying to ask the other death knights about… anything, really, related to their health and physicality did not normally get him anywhere. The new dragonsworn were a bit more polite about it. But their newer loyalty was more like - Dragon, Ebon Blade, Darnath, with a strong possibility of the latter two being flipped if Darnath spent enough time around them.
Not that Lyren was advertising he was asking because of Darnath either which was as much the problem. No, no, he was a mage, it was perfectly natural magical curiosity! If any of them guessed otherwise, well, he was stubborn on his point.
And so he wouldn't give away a possible weakness of Darnath's, and they wouldn't give away theirs.
He snorted, quietly, exhaling heavily to watch the air steam with heat and disappear.
Below, the scourge teamed and grew and with every push the Argent Crusade made to contain them, more dragged themselves up from beneath the ice. Or worse, if someone fell on the battlefield they need not await broken snow and dirt. Not to mention the creatures that looked like dark val'kyr that came down from the broken sky and brought forth long dead enemies that needed crushing waves of the Crusade forces to bring down again.
Behind the tournament grounds held strong, but never not in danger if too many slipped up, if anyone weakened. Spellcasters threaded defenses and early alarm systems that Icecrown's very nature worked to disintegrate. It had taken days even to get a stable enough grip on everything to create anchored portals.
And above… above Atlas' Aurora hovered, usually hidden out of view. It was exactly where Lyren should be right now, having eked out a tiny break of time. He should curl into the warmth Darnath provided for them with the wonders of engineering created heat and rest.
One of them should.
If not rest, then call the kids. Call Javinth. Call Sunsoul.
He did every day. But usually with Darnath. There were things he couldn't mention or even hint at in front of his daughters. Star was especially sharp and Arenlia still remembered when he had disappeared for a month. Either of them would pick up on the slightest hesitation in tone.
He wished they could be with them, that it was safe. He wished they were back with them. He especially wished Darnath was there, back on the island. If he thought there was any way Darnath would leave, he would have tried to arrange it. At this point, he would rather accept one of the teenagers being out here instead of the death knight.
Because something was wrong with Darnath. And it was now, in these moments of quiet, that he could let it terrify him.
Not the snow, the ice or the cold. All of them could hurt him, if he wasn't careful to keep his temperature up, if he let ice magic into his core. But he wasn't frightened of that. It was a known issue.
Darnath wasn't. It was something growing worse the demonic death knight didn't want to talk about. Because clearly that would only have worried Lyren.
Problem: Lyren was already worried.
Solution: Distract.
It was easy to say he shouldn't let himself be distracted. But the other problem was the distractions weren't always normal Darnath distractions. The problem was there were very serious problems in Icecrown.
The newest problem was the longer something was wrong with Darnath the less Lyren cared about the giant hole in the sky. The backup dream of gathering everyone up and getting off this insane planet was getting more appealing by the moment.
Crunch.
Snow shifted beneath him. Too close. Snow was melting around him before he had fully acknowledged the ghoul that had been crawling its way up an incline of snow toward him.
Flames curled at his fingers, swirled into a dense ball of yellow and orange. He let it get hotter, larger, as the ghoul came closer, snarling now like it knew it was doomed.
It was a flick of his fingers, not a throw that rolled it out of his hands. The ghoul was close enough the ball of fire dropped more than it flew, engulfing the ghoul in bright warm tones for a brief moment before there were only flames.
The crackle of fire was louder to Lyren than the ghoul's death screams.
He stared behind it as it burned. No one had been posted up here. No guard. ...The storms had piled snow and ice on the other side of what he thought was a "hill" and should in fact be a cliff. And now they were coming up this way too.
It was tempting to try melting it away. He probably could. But fighting Icecrown's nature would have him down and out for likely the same amount of time it took for the storms to fill it in again.
So, here it was. Another distraction. Something else to figure out. And as tempting as it was to try and drag Darnath out of Icecrown altogether until he knew what was wrong, in a battle of wills about this -
(The mark on his back was a warm comfort beneath his skin and in his mind and why would he want to fight Darnath on it anyway?)
It was Darnath, whole and hearty again. Horns and dragon arm and all - his face twisted in a familiar murderous rage.
"I told you I didn't want this… I was going to let you go. But you thought you knew best."
A flash of Cul'tarin beside Darnath, staring with such abject disappointment Lyren wanted to get down and beg forgiveness.
"You dragged me through the Maw, broke me apart, then you forced me to be someone I didn't want to be. Never again."
Being pinned down beneath Darnath's bulk was familiar. The hand around his neck, fingers digging into his skin until it bruised, until things broke - that was unfortunately familiar too.
This time there was no magic to pull on. Shadowlands had made him too weak. He struggled and pulled and gasped out breaths until his vision faded and all the while Darnath loomed over him. His eyes weren't senseless like back then. He stared down at Lyren dying by his hand. And he smiled.
Lyren woke up. He woke up gasping, clawing for air. He reached for his throat, struggled to sit up.
There were arms around him, pulling him, surrounding him. Suffocating him. Hands on his, trying to hold them down.
"Sparky, it's okay, you're fine, it was just a nightmare." The voice was familiar. Soothing. A few weeks ago it would have been absolutely all he needed. He would have just known he was safe.
His efforts to get freed redoubled. The sensible part of him was too quiet to be heard. He was going to be crushed and maybe, maybe he deserved it but he didn't want to die. He was just wanted, "Off," he managed to rasp. Had he been screaming? "Get off!"
In moments, there was no longer a body wrapped around his. No hands holding his. No fingers at his throat.
No, no, that had been a dream. Hadn't it?
He hunched over, form shuddering as he panted for breath. It had been a dream. It hadn't happened.
Except all the parts that had.
"Lyren?" He jerked his head up at his name and he stared at Darnath wide eyed. Perfectly normal, worried looking Darnath. He was sitting down, body language so purposefully relaxed Lyren knew it was for his benefit. "You back Lovely?"
Lyren took a breath. Deep, slow. Another. Shoved as many of the emotions into the boxes they belonged in as he could forced his own posture to relax. "Yeah. Sorry. Did I - anything on fire?"
"Everything's fine," Darnath told him, which - was pretty much what he had told him when things were absolutely going to shit in his own body in Icecrown. "C'mere."
It was perfectly natural, after a nightmare, to offer cuddles. And perfectly natural Darnath would let him come to him after he had responded badly. There was absolutely nothing strange about Darnath reaching one hand out toward him, palm up for him to choose to grab on to.
Lyren flinched.
Darnath dropped his hand.
There was a moment of quiet, where Lyren could see Darnath's brow furrow. The questions that were about to be asked. It did not escape him exactly how hypocritical it would be to answer them with a lie.
"Water," he blurted out, because he was not half so good at Darnath as thinking up distractions on the fly. "I'm just - going to splash water on my face. At the stream. Five minutes."
He bolted out of there as swiftly as possible. A wasteful pull of arcane brought his sword to him but it was - it had been near Darnath.
He didn't lie either. They were camped out near one of the gentle, glittering, swirling streams of Ardenweald and Lyren used a gigantic curved leaf to dump the equivalent to a pitcher of water over his head.
Not lying. And now wet. And cold. With water made of death running down his skin.
What was new? The entire place was made of death. So different from necromancy, a magic of decay. He hadn't quite realized the full difference. Death magic could be wonderful. It could be amazing. It could even help renew. In Ardenweald the closest to Life existed.
But the entire place was still made of Death.
And he could still feel it in his bones. With every breath of air and step they took.
The water didn't help. The cold didn't help. But at least he wasn't lying.
It would be easier to ignore it all again, when they were traveling, searching. Then for the most part - it was Darnath. It was putting him back together whether he thought he needed it or not. Even him nuzzling at his neck was fine. Good. Hands? Hands sometimes he couldn't stop the flinching. Sudden movements. But he could brush it off. He could ignore his fear, and he could ignore how every step in Shadowlands something in him wanted to throw up.
Maybe Bolvar had more than one reason to look at Darnath like that when he showed up with a phoenix.
But his magic still worked, which was all that was important. Darnath was getting stronger, more of himself every new piece they found. He might end up hating him by the end if he was wrong about this all, but at least he would be whole.
Now of course he just had to manage to find a way around the conversation of something Darnath never needed to know about. It had been his body that had done it, but he hadn't really been there. ...That didn't mean Darnath wouldn't blame himself anyway if he knew.
Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe, some part of him whispered so reasonably, the fact Darnath upon losing control had immediately tried to snuff him out of existence was meaningful.
It was a terrible, disgusting thought. Darnath in his right mind would never.
But did he want to?
He scowled down at his reflection in the water, and slashed at it with the side of his hand, distorting the image for a few moments as he banished the thought from his mind. It wasn't true. Darnath was angry at him now, and he had every right to be. But their relationship was steady. The kids loved him. He was a part of their family and he loved the girls. There wasn't any reason to think otherwise.
Except of course Lyren had gotten himself into such stupid danger they were bound together. And being bonded in anyway was something Darnath had hated even the idea of, once upon a time.
Except how much time he'd had to spend babying Lyren back to health.
Except Lyren had been the one in Icecrown, watching him slowly lose himself and doing nothing about it.
Sure. No reasons at all.
And for a brief moment he could feel it all. Feel everything he was missing. Everyone.
Sunsoul-Star-Arenlia-Lis-Javinth. And… Darnath himself. He missed him. He missed his family. He missed the home he shared with Darnath and Sunsoul and the girls and yes Javinth who mysteriously never moved out.
There was an aching loneliness that wanted to eat him up inside. There was guilt, for leaving everyone behind for so long. ...There was anger, at himself and yes, at Darnath who could have said something.
And he missed him. He was right there but he wasn't. He was right there and Lyren could touch him and it wasn't really him. But it was.
It was useless to think any of this. His five minutes were up. Probably more than - though who could tell in this unchanging plane?
He breathed in. Breathed out.
They had to find Darnath's missing pieces. Anything else - everything else… would keep.
He was going to fix this. The consequences of his actions could wait a little longer to fall onto his head.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
There had been before him and since, other mortals into the Maw. The Ebon Blade even said some had gotten out again, but Lyren was less focused on that.
The light in the Maw was weak and pale, more shadows than light. And never changing. Nothing changed. It could have been days or weeks or mere hours. It could have been months. Time keeping devices and magics flowed too strange to be depended on.
Magic was in technical abundance… but it was that which came from souls. A literal river of them and Lyren hated it, hated every bit of arcane magic he needed to use that needed more than he could give it. So he rationed his own magic, and ate conjured mana buns and ignored the way his internal fire didn't like this place of Death at all, the his dependence had to be on arcane over fire because at least there was an outside source to sift through and transform into arcane if necessary.
At least he had brought his sword instead of using a staff as was more common focus when he had a companion that preferred throwing their face at the enemy. It was the one upside.
He was surviving. Not thriving. But he was surviving - and it was finding Darnath, the first time, that nearly outdid him.
The mark barely gave him any notice as two bodies dropped next to him, a furious and familiar death knight, and one of the winged beings who was paying for attempting to abduct him. The mark lit up with recognition - if it was weaker than it should have been, if other signals even now still felt stronger, it didn't compare to Lyren physically seeing him.
"Darnath!" For expediency's sake, now he used fire on the winged being.
He was hoping for a greeting. Even just his name. Any sort of words. Instead what turned toward him - was Darnath's body and none of his intelligence. Darnath's body gave a snarl, raised his sword in Lyren's direction - then paused.
"Darnath?" he asked it again, so, so hopeful. Not-Darnath strode toward him - but though there was a glimmer of recognition now as hands that had both once held his children and tried to strangle him came closer. Lyren tensed up, and swallowed. "Now would be a great time to say something if there's any part of you in there."
Instead, one hand left the sword to tug at Lyren's robes - still with enough magic in them they were recognizable, if dirtier. Darnath's head gave a nod, as if satisfied - and then just began walking off.
Lyren - stared. It was… There was no sign of improvement. Nothing. So much for the former Lich King's idea this whole adventure would "fix things". They had been better off on Azeroth. He should have - should have just dragged them back to Atlas. Fuck, what had he been thinking? Jumping into a death portal. Now they were far away from home *and* Darnath was still… gone inside.
Maybe if he brought him home, Alinith could have fixed it. Or Javinth, or maybe Mira would have had an idea. Any of them, a better resource that was more - … or at least equally trusted as the guy that had lost his very important Hat of Death that led to their world breaking.
(Mira was a little crazy but her heart was in the right place.)
(Javinth… was pretty good these days and knew some sort of soul magic he absolutely refused to divulge.)
(Alinith couldn't be trusted as far as Star could throw him but he seemed invested in Darnath's continued existence at least and had fixed Lyren's fuck ups before.)
Anything would be better than now and for a brief, brief moment Lyren closed his eyes and wanted to sob. The burn of moisture was there, the pit of despair, the yawning loneliness and guilt. For just a bare moment it seemed overwhelming.
He gave himself that one moment, before tucking all of that into a ball to deal with never and straightened up, and opened his eyes. "Wait up!" he called to what was left of the man he loved, and ran after him.
(Reaching for his shoulder was how he found out that not-Darnath might not be trying to kill him anymore, but he now bit. Unrelated, he now would have a scar on his right ear perfectly matching Darnath's teeth.)
-----
The first time he lost Darnath's body in the Maw, one of the Ebon knights grimly declared, "It may be for the best."
The subsequent fight was how Lyren ended with his magic chained and unconscious. When he was let go, he immediately left the camp, struck out into the Maw, and went to find Darnath.
Eventually, Darnath simply… wandered right back up to him. As if he hadn't been gone in the first place or in an entirely different area. He also tried to immediately bite him. Lyren was beginning to think Darnath was seeing it as a greeting now. Lyren did not approve, but he was so relieved to see him even the newly bleeding wound wasn't deterrent of his happiness.
His magic was stretched thin, his food had basically no true nutritional value, the lack of sunlight was possibly making him actually sick, they were cut off from all contact - but he had Darnath. It had to be enough.
The third and last time he lost Darnath's body in the maw was both the worst and the best. It was yet another rescue attempt of Azerothian denizens. Sometimes it was other knights, sometimes it was the original leaders stolen… sometimes it was new people that had come into the Maw since. Lyren had, honestly, stopped keeping track. They almost all failed except maybe to get one or two people through a supposed gateway to somewhere not the Maw.
They were over the river of souls when Helya herself popped up… and Darnath threw himself straight at her while the rest of them went flying off… on the opposite side of the bridge.
Lyren had felt the river of souls. It was impossible not to when he had first opened his senses up. But being in it - being in it the river was no longer like a singular piece of the Maw. Now he could feel each individual coursing through it. Some endlessly. Neverending in their rush onward - except - there was something -
"LYREN!"
It was his name. It was a voice he hadn't truly heard all this time in the Maw.
It was a soul. It was Darnath. Lyren was still spinning from that fact alone when Darnath came up with a plan and put it into action. `"Maybe Just...stay put. And. This, is going to be a wee bit uncomfortable."`
One of the souls was there, pushing at his mind until it penetrated his defenses and shoved inward and he knew it was Darnath but - `"Wha - Hey!"` - that was still his mind! And his body and most recently he was all too used to a close Darnath meaning he was about to get hurt. It was natural to resist and evidently Darnath knew that.
But they both knew it had to be done. Darnath's soul clung on but his voice was in Lyren's mind, soothing at the necessary hurts. `"I know I know. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, but if I don't get in fast and lock the path others might realize and try to follow."`
The mark on Lyren's back warmed, welcoming the new presence… and Lyren felt such relief he wanted to be able to just focus on nothing but the warm feeling of Darnath with him. Except he couldn't. They didn't even have time for the full explanation Darnath wanted as Lyren struggled out of the river of souls with one burrowed determinedly into him. Not a long term solution to be sure - but Lyren wasn't going to let it be a long term anything.
Somewhere in here, there was a body to find.
Unfortunately… they refound the Ebon knight before Darnath's body. A couple of them stared at him like they could see and Lyren ignored it, traveled with them on autopilot with a new murmur of Darnath banter in the back of his mind. It was wonderful.
It was distracting.
They were at the portal out before he knew it, surrounded on all sides… and there, out of nowhere, was Darnath's body crashing through the enemy.
`"...Am I really talking with just grunts and growls? No wonder he's not getting laid."` Darnath seemed less than impressed with himself. Which was a confusing sentence Lyren was never again going to think.
The thing was, the waystone portal was glowing. It was active. They had to go now if they wanted to go.
The problem was, last time he went through a portal he had lost Darnath. And right now his body housed Darnath's soul. If they went through again, there was no guarantee that this time, he would be able to find him again and soul and boy might remain separated. It was insane, and impulsive, but he knew it had to be done. `"Hold on a minute you two."`
He took a breath and stared at the body, empty of the usual soul occupying it. Occupying. A lot more made sense, but not all, and none of it was to contemplate now. He could only hope the feral death knight who absolutely was not really Darnath at all right now would give him a little leeway. `"Okay, we need to go through the glowy thing veeeery soon, but can you do something for me real quick first?"`
Disturbingly, feral death knight had learned to parrot some things… including a key phrase of the Ebon knights as he glared, full of wrath and a hunger wholly belonging to the undead. `"Get on with it."`
Notably, he did not give Lyren his hands. The phoenix stared before rolling his eyes and mentally going, 'fuck it'. It had to be done. Likely only from surprise, he was able to yank one the death knight's hands toward his back. He began struggling - and biting at him - almost immediately but Lyren still got one palm against his back where the demonic mark was anchoring Darnath's soul.
`""Lyren wa-!"` Oops. Evidently Darnath's soul wasn't quite ready for it to be suddenly connected to its more usual occupant as immediately after the soul left him… the big death knight slumped unconscious over him. He kept his feet, but only barely.
There was still fighting going on - fighting they were losing. Lyren couldn't risk it. He dragged Darnath's unconscious form over to the waystone step by step, aware with each breath how less and less blades rang out. He didn't look back. He could focus on hating himself later for it.
((Meant to be directly related to this post. Read that first!))
-
Darnath meant safety.
It was an indisputable fact. A constant in his mind, backed up with evidence and nights spent curled up sometimes in the only place that held any sanctuary against the dangers lurking in his thought. It was comforting, and a cornerstone of Lyren's sometimes shaky stability around certain times of the year.
Darnath had tried to kill him.
He hadn't been in his right mind. Something was wrong. He, the demon, was clearly not in full control. These were all facts. And none of them changed the bruises dug deep, the rasp in his voice, the way he could taste blood in his throat everytime he coughed. The way he could still feel cold fingers wrapped around his throat and a face monstrous in rage.
The dawning victory of the rocket had been overshadowed swiftly. He had managed to send a swift message home, that it had gone through, and explained away the hoarseness in his voice as the rocket's fumes. And this had been after he sputtered down three potions.
The girls had believed it at least. He wasn't so sure about anyone else but it was them he was focused on. Questioning where Darnath was. Accepting hsi explanation with disappointment. He couldn't tell them, any of them, that someone they all loved was currently… gone mad.
Darnath's armor and clothes were charred in places, and Lyren didn't dare actually change them. It had been arcane, not fire, that had finally gotten Darnath away from him - or him away from Darnath really. Once he wasn't immediately in his sights the death knight seemed to… forget about him. As a target.
Unfortunately that didn't fix the situation… and it wasn't unique to Lyren. When he went after an Argent Crusaders Lyren teleported them both out of there, closer to Icecrown. The Argent Crusade wouldn't tolerate an undead, any undead, out of control.
He shivered in the chill winds beneath the citadel and eyed Darnath…. Darnath's body. There was none of the usual intelligence. Whatever had been going on… had reached a peak. There seemed nothing of him left.
Appearances were deceiving. The mark on his back still said Darnath was in front of him and as long as he was, there would be some way of getting him back. Clearly, this was an Icecrown problem. perhaps because of the hole in the sky, perhaps because of the broken helm. Lyren didn't know. But someone else might.
"Hey," Lyren talked to him as if he was still there but whether he listened or not now seemed to be… up to chance. "We need to go to the Citadel. We're going to see the former Lich King. You like that guy. Bolvar Fordragon? Knights of the Ebon Blade?"
Darnath's eyes were peculiarly empty but he cocked his head as Lyren talked… too close and yet carefully just out of arms distance. He seemed to be listening. Maybe. Lyren pointed at the top of the citadel. "Up there. We're going to… teleport as far as we can. And then walk."
Because Darnath's body was an uncoordinated mess half the time, and the other half was trying to murder things. Sometimes him. Getting on a mount seemed like grounds for trouble.
He reached out with his arcane carefully, wrapping it around them much more gently than his emergency teleport. Icecrown didn't like him much - neither, it seemed, did Darnath right now. He was a fire elemental in a land of cold. But Icecrown didn't protest the arcane quite as much, so fire and life were kept stuffed down as far as they could go and they disappeared from the shadows of the citadel in a blink.
They appeared inside… but only just inside the first floor of the ring. Lyren pressed his lips together and when his teeth bared he forced them into a smile. "Great. So. We're walking to the top. Fun."
It was at least and unfortunately empty inside. Unfortunately because while walking Lyren often… forgot. Darnath felt mostly like Darnath. Safety. He drifted closer as their steps echoed in the cold lonely walls, all the death knights above.
Too close, Darnath apparently decided. It was fortunate really, that the citadel had so much empty space because rather than burn his lover, or actually fight him, it was much easier to throw himself off the platform toward the bowels of the towering place of death.
He landed fine of course. A line of sight swift teleport, and in the blink of an eye he was safe. Just… much farther down. He glared upward at Darnath, who… seemed confused as to why he was all the way down there.
"Fuck it," he decided, taking a quick glance around. Extended his senses. Life - it was something he was much better at than he had once been. Death Knights however… not always as easy to sense. Still… they also cared much less about secrets like his.
He was a bird of fire the next moment, thrust his wings into the air. Much, much smaller than Sunsoul. Still big enough for one or two people to ride… and more importantly big enough to dive at Darnath, head hitting his stomach hard and flipping him backward. It was half determination, half a prayer the death knight was in an uncoordinated mood for a few moments.
He didn't plan to be in this form long enough for Darnath to get a grip on injuring him. He flapped up to the top level and stopped abruptly, a little vindictive as he watched Darnath fly off his back and land perfectly on the icy doorway to the very top. Short of going back outside, it was the quickest way.
The glow of fire was still fading from him when she stepped out on two feet and perfectly elvish looking body. It got them attention. He bared his teeth at the watching death knights and helped Darnath to his feet. Discombobulated as he was, Lyren could touch him without harm. For now. Who knew how long that would last. There was still nothing in his eyes that touched of recognition. Lyren grabbed at his hand and dragged him forward, eyes on Bolvar. His loss to Sylvanas had caused this and he didn't care how powerful the former paladin was, he had better be able to fix it.
Another death knight stepped in front of him. orc. Nearly twice his size. He knew him, faintly. Had never worked in lock step with the Horde close enough to meet him in life - but with Darnath he had passing knowledge of each of the Four Horseman. He glared at him anyway.
There was a glance at his feet, then cold eyes speared him again. He tightened his grip on Darnath, who could decide that someone was a threat again at any moment, and very briefly looked down, then up again.
Ah. That would perhaps put the death knights on edge. There were trailing steps of melted water behind him. They were of course quickly refreezing. This was Icecrown. "I need to speak to your Highlord."
"Let them come." Bolvar's voice echoed "His fire is no threat to me."
Lyren narrowed his eyes. Was that an edge of amusement? Possibly he was imagining it. ...Possibly he wasn't. This was the man who had put on the Helm of Domination to save the world - not that all of them had known that at the time. A man who was forever filled with dragonfire and stood there before them with it still glowing out from him. He was dead, yet alive. Lyren was exactly no threat to him and had no leverage.
But on Atlas Island there was a family waiting for Darnath to come back. An island of employees that needed him. Friends. Teenagers that called him Big Brother. A (supposedly) sleeping dragon. A rookery full of whelps and the old elf that took care of them. Darnath's father who would most certainly carve Lyren's soul to pieces if he brought Darnath back like this. His own siblings, and two little girls that, frankly, he sometimes suspected liked Darnath more if only for the way he was completely unable to say no to them. And him. His love was just one of many, but it was what he needed now, to keep his own fire lite - and spreading, ice cracking around him..
He hissed through his teeth and dragged Darnath past the bare opening they were allowed. Bolvar was tall and large for a human and he was small for an elf and any other time a discussion would have left him tongue tied. But he was singularly driven and he stared up with fire-orange eyes into the placid gaze of the former Lich King.
"Something is wrong with Darnath," Lyren spat out, guilt and self loathing and worry and fear mixed into a ball against anger, determination, love, need. "And you're going to fix it."
((Warning for non graphic references to torture. ))
The cell was for the moment blessedly empty. The temperature was normal. He was whole. Lyren suspected this was scheduled downtime before the next event to purposefully give him recovery time and stew in his own thoughts. Or perhaps just the lack of sunlight, food, and sleep was the task for today. It wasn't because Corandes was sleeping - that didn't stop anything. No, Corandes was deliberately leaving him and Sunsoul alone right now.
And Lyren was obsessing over it. Which was probably part of the point. Since the moment he had been shoved into the cell… a week ago? He wasn't sure. He couldn't see the sun and the only times he could feel it were the brief moments after coming back to life before he had the band around his throat blocking his use of fire. He hadn't even realized he could feel the sun that way until it was no longer possible.
If he didn't obsess over why they weren't being tortured right now - instead of just being able to be glad he was just filled with ever growing paranoia and anxiety - then he had to fret over how things were outside. Arenlia, who would inevitably be brought in by Corandes if Lyren didn't manage to get out. Somehow. Darnath who probably hadn't exactly had the most positive reaction to Lyren going missing right in front of him. Mira - was she still lost? She had been nearby, according to Levi. Had someone found her when they couldn't find him?
And of course his husbands. Corandes had a lot to say about that subject. A lot that… Lyren couldn't think about too much. Couldn't think that beneath the sneers and manipulation his worst enemy had a point. He scratched at his left wrist, furious all over again that his marriage tattoos had been taken by the constant deaths and rebirths. To mock the loss, Corandes had put his own name there, over and over until it stayed through the cycles.
His wrist. A demonic mark near his left shoulder blade. Each time it was the first thing done. His skin crawled, wondering if the Faceless that sometimes loomed behind his tormentor would have its own mark on him before this ended. If it ever ended.
The ever darkening spiral of thoughts was stopped as the front of his cell went puzzlingly see through. He hadn't even know it could do that. He tensed, wondering what would be happening out there that he would have to see, have to watch.
There wasn't anything. Instead of Corandes, or Zargrius, or that much too big elf he had seen confusingly during one rebirth or any other adult - there was a child. She was small - smaller than Arenlia. Finely boned. Her hair was strange, like it tried to be black and dark at the roots but swiftly changed to shades of red instead. He didn't know what that meant - Sunsoul's hair went from darker reds to pale yellows but always stayed in the fire range. Arenlia's hair looked almost normal. Neither of them had a spec of black.
Then again… neither had been born elf. He wondered if, maybe, her hair should have been black. Because he knew who she was. Or at least, who she should be. Arenlia's sister. The one born as an elf. Corandes had only talked of her a little and he had thought she was… stashed somewhere. But evidently he just.. Let her wander around. Alone.
Then again, he doubted anyone here could exactly be worse for her than Corandes.
She was watching him, her eyes a peculiar electric blue. He wasn't sure why that startled him. Or why it looked familiar. His eyes had turned gold. Why were hers blue? And why was she just staring at him?
"You are a bad subject." He started at the words, projected into the cell. They were hers, a statement of fact. A puzzled statement of fact. "Why does Sir spend so much time on you instead of a good subject?"
Oh. Lyren struggled to throw his mind onto this different but at least somewhat familiar track. They had estimated Arenlia at the equivalent to eight - maybe a little older if her small size was from how she was raised. She had been growing like a weed - but she was still a little girl. And so was the "subject" in front of him. One seething with jealousy. It was absurd, to be jealous of what was happening to him. But that didn't matter to her, he was sure. If she even knew.
What mattered is she had been the center of Corandes' universe as far as she knew. When he was around her, his attention was hers. Now it wasn't and she didn't know that was a good thing.
"Believe me, I don't want to be any sort of subject," he muttered but that didn't help the prickling anger in her expression. "Look, don't you enjoy the.. Lack of tests?"
"No. The tests are beneficial. And they provide necessary stimulus." Her nostrils flared. "We have not had arcane workings lessons in nine days. If we don't cover the material I will not be able to reach the next level on schedule."
"And you'll be punished for that?" he guessed, his own anger stirring.
She gave him a look like he was particularly stupid. Unbidden, he had to suppress a smile. "If this subject does not reach the next benchmark this subject does not reach the next benchmark. Sir will merely mark it down and try again. And we will start over from the lessons that started at last benchmark. I do not repeat materials."
It took Lyren a moment to work that out - he had the bizarre mental image of Corandes actually teaching the girl, patient and almost kind and wanted to throw up. He should be happy it wasn't anything worse but all he could see was this was the only entertainment the child probably had. The only anything she had. Of course she was angry. "...What are you working on?"
"Do you think I'm an idiot? You wouldn't be able to help," she scoffed, shaking her head. She flicked her hair out of her face and the movement was so bizarrely familiar he nearly missed her next words. "No one could who is such a bad subject. If you were a better one, Sir would have time to return to his more advanced subject."
She spoke with such pride - despite referring to herself as a subject. Lyren opened his mouth, feeling somewhere between weirdly charmed and entirely horrified but was interrupted when she went suddenly ramrod straight. She sucked in a breath. "This subject was never here."
He blinked, raised a sardonic eyebrow - and then sucked in a breath as she disappeared from sight. Huh. There were plenty of scans in the area that read for arcane, elemental, anything else. For once he could see them and he watched them closely - nothing. She had learned to hide herself from Corandes' scans. Interesting. Sneaky.
But then just as he could start to heart the footsteps along the walkway, the cell's wall went back to being a wall instead of a window. He supposed that meant it wouldn't be long now, until the next event Corandes had devised.
But at least he had something else to think about now.
(( @darnath @mira-ashsong for mentions! With both of them having their own no good terrible months.))
