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Chapter Text

Art by: Linnpuzzle

Our Heartsong in Red and Gold

Acquila Everdawn
The Frozen Throne, Seat of the Lich King
Icecrown Citadel, Northrend

It is with utmost reverence and respect that Acquila enters the Frozen Throne, bowing his head as he flanks his liege, Lor’themar Theron. Settled atop the chilly peaks of Icecrown Citadel, it is the seat of the Lich King—formerly an enemy—now an ally. Acquila remembers the current Lich King—Bolvar Fordragon—in life. Even if he is now a Blood Knight of Silvermoon, scarcely anyone of the Paladin profession has not heard of the venerated Lord Fordragon of the Alliance. He held a speech to the Argent Dawn once at Light’s Hope Chapel during the first scourge invasion and the appearance of the dread citadel Naxxramas. Acquila was among their ranks and can still remember the Lord’s inspiring words to this day.

“Regardless of who you are, in our service to the Light we are one. Human or orc, elf or dwarf, anyone pledging their loyalty to this cause is an ally I am proud of serving together with, side by side. In the name of Azeroth we shall prevail against the scourge and those who threaten to tear our world apart!”

There’s bitter irony to how Bolvar Fordragon in the aftermath ended up being the one to take the mantle as the leader of the scourge with the defeat of the former Lich King, Arthas Menethil. But there’s also a certain poetic justice to how the very same man thus took absolute control over the scourge, finally ending their seemingly eternal reign of terror.

At least up until now.

Acquila quickly surveys their surroundings as they approach the middle of the room. The Ebon Blade are gathered around them in a half circle, their ritualists spread out around the runic circle on the ground of which the shards of the Helm of Domination rests in the middle. A group of Kirin Tor mages, flanked by Archmage Modera and Aethas Sunreaver are channeling arcane energies—for whatever purpose—in the background. As they join the rest of the Horde’s faction leaders, Acquila cannot help but notice the palpable hostility radiating from the newly crowned Night Warrior, Tyrande Whisperwind. He gives a curt nod towards the Alliance leaders. King of Gilneas, Genn Greymane, has the courtesy to return his greeting although it is aimed more towards Lor’themar than towards Acquila himself. Everyone but Tyrande follows Genn’s example and Acquila supposes he cannot fault her. Her story was one of great sacrifice and loss—and parts of the Horde were to blame for that.
It is with wistful longing he casts a glance at the last of the groups gathered there. The Champions of Azeroth—adventurers of different races and creeds—are all standing together, some wise beyond their years, some having seen enough for a lifetime already, a stark contrast to how the Horde and the Alliance’s leaders still have a great divide between them.

“As I previously stated—” Alleria Windrunner says, indicating that there’s been some discussion before Acquila and Lor’themar arrived, “—I think it wise to use some of our strongest in our pursuit of my sister. I am personally involved with her and find it only natural I go.”

“We are all personally involved.” Tyrande speaks, her voice frosty, “I will go as well.”

“I would advise against that.” Lor’Themar says, shaking his head. It is clear that this aggravates Tyrande immensely.

“And why is that, Regent Lord?” she says through gritted teeth, “You find yourself not up to the task? Is the Horde left with only weaklings as their leaders now?”

Acquila wonders briefly if she is merely baiting him or if she is speaking out of anger. Suffice to say there’s a strong chance it is both. Lor’themar remains calm and collected, only a slight furrowing of his brows can be seen.

“The peace remains tenuous.” he says, “These are troubled times. Our people need stability—Alliance and Horde alike. We cannot risk sending Azeroth’s leaders on what might well be a suicide mission. Our friends who were abducted would offer the same counsel.”

“Coward!” Tyrande shouts, the darkness in her eyes swirling as a thick aura of maliciousness rises around her. Acquila fights the impulse of brandishing his sword. Doing so would be seen as a clear invitation for a fight.

“I would pay any price— any price —to see the Banshee impaled upon my glaive!”

“Even threatening your own allies with malicious intentions?” Acquila says calmly, facing the Night Warrior as he steps in front of Lor’themar. There is a very real possibility Acquila’s actions will only anger her further, but he isn’t a well-known diplomat for nothing. Either way, as he is currently Lor’themar’s escort it is his job to step in if he senses danger towards the Regent Lord, and right now, it is rolling off Tyrande in waves.

“Allies? Allies? The Horde are no allies of mine. You would do well to watch your tongue, sin’dorei. ” Tyrande says as she towers over Acquila, “To think your tiny bodyguard here possesses more guts than you, Lor’themar Theron. Pathetic.”

“I too want Sylvanas to answer for her crimes.” Genn says, a gentle hand on her shoulder, “But Lor’themar is right, Tyrande. Anduin wouldn’t want us to risk the well-being of the Alliance for his sake.”

“The kaldorei need you if they are to have any hope of finding peace, High Priestess.” Calia Menethil adds, taking a step forward from behind Lor’themar. “You are their beloved leader, losing you too would be devastating.”

“Peace ? You dare speak to me of peace !? After the atrocities your kind inflicted?”

Tyrande violently shakes Genn’s hand off her shoulder, her glaive glinting in the frosty lights as her fingers closes around its handle. Acquila has his sword up now with zero hesitation, his pulse already racing.

“ ENOUGH! ”

Bolvar’s booming voice rattles and echoes off the walls of the throne room. The lava veins in his skin flares and the pressure in the room rises abruptly.

“ The war is over. We can ill afford to start another. Lay down your weapons. ”

Tyrande’s hand falls away from her glaive as the pressure lowers again, and her hard gaze shifts from Acquila to Calia.

“You are to address me as Night Warrior, I am High Priestess no more. Don’t you ever forget it, little forsaken. ” she hisses, and Acquila notices how Calia winces at the scathing remark.

“Both the Horde and the Alliance have highly decorated champions at their disposal do they not?” First Arcanist Thalyssra interjects, commanding the attention of both groups. “There really is no need for us to argue when the decision is so clear before us. Highlord?”

Bolvar turns his attention to the broken Helm of Domination. The shards are floating lazily in the air, spinning around their own axis within the circle. He gives a nod to Thalyssra and straightens his shoulders.

“We need to take action regardless. I do however see Regent Lord Theron’s argument as the wiser one. This is not only a matter of freeing our comrades, it is also a matter of keeping the frail peace we have already achieved. I should know that better than anyone.”

Tyrande grits her teeth at his words but doesn’t otherwise challenge him. They watch as he approaches the shards. They’re humming with potent energy.

“When the Banshee shattered the helm, it tore a gaping wound through the veil between our world and the Shadowlands. During my vigil upon the Frozen Throne, I caught fleeting glimpses into the realms of Death. Among them, I saw a place of inescapable darkness. This is where our champions must go, if you are to save those Sylvanas have taken.” Bolvar says before he pauses, staring intently at the shards, “Together, we can open the way. Place the Shards of Domination around the circle of runes. Then the ritual can begin.”

The Ebon Blade Ritualists scatter to pick up the shards and place them around the runic circle, the shards pulling and pulsing in their grasp as if connected by a magnetic force. The Kirin Tor moves around them, creating the outer circle as they channel arcane energies—most likely to stabilize the ritual.

“Our champions shall venture forth beyond the shattered sky above, into the Shadowlands, and search for those who were taken. The dangers you face will be considerable but I have faith in the heroes of the Alliance and the Horde. The Ebon Blade shall lend you their strength, Darion Mograine will be at your side.”

“The Ebon Blade does not fear death. Here, or in the realms beyond.” Darion says, taking his place in front of his army. Bolvar walks out of the circle and stands with the focal rune in front of the throne.

“Living mortals were never intended to cross beyond the veil. Where you are going, you may be unable to return. But there is no other course. On this day, you will be remembered as heroes. Heroes who in our darkest hour come to the aid of Azeroth once again.”

The Champions of Azeroth all move with the practiced ease of a hero towards the center of the circle, ready to take on the challenge. Acquila admires them but he does not envy them. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten, and he hopes it is not in vain. Azeroth’s future is at stake, and they all need to play their part, both those venturing into the Shadowlands and—

—those staying behind.

He sneaks a glance at Tyrande. The Night Warrior is stone cold as she watches the ritual unfold. There’s an uneasy feeling tugging at the back of Acquila’s mind, her earlier words echoing in his mind.

‘I would pay any price — any price — to see the Banshee impaled upon my glaive!’

“The time has come! The path opens!” Bolvar shouts, commanding everyone’s attention as black energy interspersed with white lightning crackles from the main shard. Slowly a void forms from the shard, expanding outwards on the stone floor. The champions steel themselves, the Ebon Blade brandishing their weapons, ready to charge through the rift. Acquila watches with rapt attention. He’s bared witness to many a major event due to his high status as a knight, but yet one of this calibre. They are opening up a rift into the afterlife, an action that might break the world as they know it.

“Your courage will be remembered, champions. Al diel shala.” Lor’themar salutes the heroes, prompting Acquila to do the same.

“Find those who were taken and bring them home!” Genn shouts, following Lor’themar’s example and saluting Azeroth’s last hope. The darkness expands further and even if Acquila isn’t standing in the center he can feel the pull of the void within, almost a sweet, beckoning whisper. He shakes his head to get rid of the foggy feeling creeping into his mind. The powers currently at work were not to be trifled with in the slightest. He jolts as the Night Warrior lets out a massive roar, pulling her glaives from their straps.

“Rescue the others! The Banshee is mine to kill!”

“Tyrande! Don’t do this!” Genn shouts over the crackling energies, a fruitless effort as he transforms and tries to jump the Night Warrior to hold her down. She dodges him with ease, spinning in the air and aiming for the portal.

“Tor ilisar’thera’nal!” she roars as she charges forwards. The moment her body makes contact with the darkness of the rift two of the Ebon Blade ritualists fall to the ground unconscious as ripples of white lightning crash out from within the portal. Bolvar grunts as the ritual destabilizes and the portal flickers dangerously.

“No…!” he pants through gritted teeth. Aethas Sunreaver and another quick-thinking Kirin Tor mage take up the vacant ritualist spots in an attempt to stabilize the ritual as Archmage Modera teleports the unconscious ritualists away. For a moment the rift seems stable again, but then it erupts into an explosion of chaotic energies. The void on the ground expands rapidly, swallowing up the Ebon Blade army and the Champions of Azeroth. Some are immediately pulled away, others scream in agony as they slowly sink into the inky darkness, vomiting black matter as life disappears from their eyes.

“My liege, you need to get out, now !” Acquila says, ushering Lor’themar and his group to the citadel’s teleporting mechanism. The Alliance leaders are all backing away, Genn looking utterly crestfallen and in shock as he is dragged along by an equally distressed Alleria Windrunner.

“We cannot lose you… to the darkness.” he calls after Tyrande, desperation palpable in his voice.

The rift suddenly lets out a massive gravitational pull, dragging more people into the center of the room. It feels as if all the air in his lungs are knocked out of him as Acquila is harshly yanked into the rift, waist deep in what feels like thick syrup. Desperation tears at the edges of his mind as he can feel the foggy sensation from before, slithering around in his brain and how his feet are slowly sinking into the deep. Lor’themar and his group have gotten out, thank the Light. Through his failing vision he can see Modera and the Kirin Tor mages teleport Bolvar away, along with other unlucky people caught in the pull. Someone suddenly blinks into existence in front of him, through his swimming vision he can make out a halo of red hair and the purples of the Kirin Tor tabard.

“Hold on.” the mage says, latching onto Acquila and pulling them flush together. “I’ll get us out of there.” Acquila is too dazed to say anything, he clings onto the mage for dear life. The terror he feels right now is like nothing he’s ever felt before, the sheer and utter fear of death is all-consuming. Torturous seconds pass by, the mage grunts in frustration.

“No…why..?” he groans as if in pain. Acquila has lost his vision completely, everything is dark. He can still hear the crackling and the screaming around them, and the dark syrup has reached their upper bodies.

“Kamijou!” he hears Modera call out, her voice sounding like static, “Ta-- m- han-! K---jou!”

“Hold...on. Whatever you...do...don’t let go…” the mage murmurs into Acquila’s ear and Acquila does as he is told, tightening his arms around the man’s waist right before his consciousness slips away into a darkness so very, frighteningly absolute.

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Chapter Text

Art by: Linnpuzzle

Our Heartsong in Red and Gold

Kamijou
Crucible of the Damned
The Maw, Shadowlands

Kamijou wakes himself by violently hacking and coughing. The sensation in his chest is curiously akin to finally getting air into your lungs after being on the brink of drowning. Initial panic mixes with relief as he makes the most important assessment about his situation; he’s alive. His vision is somewhat foggy but gradually clearing up as his breathing calms down. Does he still possess all of his limbs? Check. Are they working? Check. Mana?

“…”

He didn’t deplete his reserves while assisting the ritual at the Frozen Throne, nor did it disappear when they went through the portal. He can still sense it within himself, but the flow of mana is without a doubt acting differently in the Shadowlands. Along with his own mana—sealed at the moment—he assesses other chaotic energies too, twisting and pulsing around them. The sky above is dark and menacing, with umber clouds and brimstone in the air, winged creatures far off in the distance—and tortured screams coming from the depths. He tries to sit up, but nausea hits him like heavy goblin-made machinery, and he wobbles as he falls back down. Someone groans beside him, and Kamijou tries rolling over onto his side. By the looks of it, the Paladin he had been trying to save survived them falling through the sky as well. Kamijou frowns as he remembers how his magic had been sealed away the moment he entered the rift, effectively trapping them there. How he wasn’t hurt save for feeling a little bit sore was a mystery.

“Hey.” he tries, laying a hand on the Paladin’s shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

The Paladin breathes harshly, his hands rub at his face and he rapidly tries to blink. Kamijou drags himself closer, leaning over him to establish eye contact. The Paladin’s eyes doesn’t meet his, and Kamijou feels a stone drop in his stomach as he notices his eyes are black—both sclera and iris.

“I can’t see.” the Paladin says, voice thick with panic.

“Hey, hey, breathe.” Kamijou says, putting a hand on the man’s chin. “Deep breaths—there you go. What’s your name?”

“Acquila.” the Paladin replies after a few gulps of air.

“Acquila.” Kamijou repeats, “I just woke up and my vision was foggy too. Give it a few moments to adjust.”

“I cannot even see the fog, it’s pitch dark.” Acquila replies, and Kamijou’s heart sinks. The Paladin must have actually gone blind going through the rift by the means of some unknown, dark power. A piercing shriek rips through the air just overhead and they both feel the whipping winds from the wings of the creature charging past them. Kamijou slowly stands, the nausea having mostly abated. He takes Acquila’s hand, motioning for him to get on his feet as well.

“We cannot linger here for much longer, it’s getting dangerous. We need to look for other survivors.” Kamijou guides Acquila so that he has one arm slung around his shoulder, much like you would support someone with a limp. It’s the best he can do for now. They’ve landed in a somewhat secluded outcropping of rocks, might be why none of the terrifying creatures have noticed them yet. They’re at risk going out in the open, but they’ve got no other choice.

“Kamijou, right?” Acquila questions as they traverse the rocky pathway.

“Ah, yeah, that’s my name. I suppose you heard Modera call out to me back there.”

“Thank you. Thank you for saving me.”

Acquila’s voice is somber and Kamijou truly feels for him. Losing your eyesight is a pretty devastating blow. Considering Acquila had been there with Lor’themar Theron, Kamijou can only surmise he has an important job—one that he won’t be able to do anymore.

“Well, don’t thank me just yet. We’ve kind of gone out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

To his surprise Acquila snorts, then he laughs.

“What?” Kamijou asks indignantly, feeling heat creep into his cheeks as he realises what he just did.

“Nothing, I just—you’re clearly sin’dorei considering we’ve been speaking in Thalassian, and then you drop, of all things, a rather cheesy Human phrase on me out of nowhere.”

“It’s—” Kamijou sighs, “—because I have a good friend who is weirdly obsessed with these things. He gets under my skin sometimes and to my absolute horror I sometimes pick up some of the things he says. It’s embarrassing really.”

“But it’s not wrong per se.” Acquila counters and now it is Kamijou’s turn to laugh.

“Perhaps not. It’s oddly fitting right now isn’t it? Pfft.”

Their situation is dire, but Kamijou has got to admit it felt good to laugh. Acquila is smiling beside him and Kamijou cannot help but to smile back—even though Acquila cannot see it.
Shouting can be heard not far ahead and Kamijou motions for them to speed up. Rounding the corner of the massive outcropping they’re met with the sight of several of Azeroth’s Champions and Darion Mograine battling winged creatures that aggressively swoop down from above. Darion pulls his swords out of the skull of one of the creatures, stomping on it for good measure and kicking it off the ledge they’re on. He spots Kamijou and rushes towards them.

“You made it through the rift! Good. We cannot stay here for much longer, these creatures are rapidly dwindling our numbers. Were there any others with you?”

“No, we are alone.” Kamijou says, “Acquila lost his eyesight going through the rift.”

“Then you’re better off than most of my soldiers.” Darion says, “Several of my comrades are dead, double dead, and they didn’t go prettily. I assume you saw it too.”

Kamijou did see it. Ebon Blade warriors caught in the rift, vomiting something that looked like thick ink. Others met with the fate of having their skin sizzling and melting off their bones. Some just dropping lifeless into the void. His eyes flick nervously to Acquila, the paladin’s eyes still black as the void itself. He shudders as the stark reality of the fate they just narrowly escaped sinks in.

“I cannot see the High Priestess among you.” he says, addressing Darion.

“I assume she charged ahead into the chaos, unhinged as she has become.” Darion replies. Kamijou can hear it in his voice; he holds no love for Tyrande Whisperwind at the moment.

“Highlord!” a voice calls out. An Ebon Blade soldier limps towards them, another soldier slung over his shoulders. Darion rushes forwards and helps him lay them on the ground. The soldier coughs and clutches their abdomen in pain as Darion removes their helmet.

“Wilona…” he murmurs, removing his own helmet too. Kamijou swallows as he gets a good look at the soldier. She’s a Human. Her skin is sickly pale, blood gushing from her nose and her mouth. She coughs again and the sound chills Kamijou to the bone. She’s got punctured lungs. She won’t survive.

“One of the...larger fiends...” she rasps, heaving for air, “Our scouts up...ahead...several of them engaged…Go...It’s too late for me...”

Darion stands and pulls one of his swords from its hilt. A somber expression passes over his face, one you might just as well miss if you didn’t pay enough attention.

“Ashes, to ashes, soldier.” he says quietly.

“Wouldn’t have it...any other way, commander…” Wilona murmurs, and grins weakly.

Kamijou looks aways as Darion plunges his swords into her, putting her out of her misery. Kamijou feels Acquila’s hand tighten on his shoulder in silent frustration. So many lives lost already, and there would without a doubt be more. Darion turns to them, his stone mask back into place.

“Can you fight, mage?” he says, to which Kamijou shakes his head.

“My mana appears to be sealed in this place. I can wield a sword against a common ruffian or two but these unknown creatures pose a much too dire threat to me for that to be of any use.”

“You take care of your paladin friend then.” Darion says, donning his helmet once more and turning to address his ragtag group of heroes and soldiers. “Listen up! We’ll advance through the battlefield to the slopes below! Round up any Ebon Blade and Azerothian Champion who can still fight! Give these creatures a taste of what death truly feels like!” He turns to a white-haired knight brandishing an enormous sword on her back.

“Rahm. See to it that Wilona is avenged. I want that creature’s head on a stake.”
“Consider it done.” Rahm says as she salutes Darion and motions for a group of heroes to come with her. They charge forwards and disappear into the whipping, sandy winds. As Darion’s group advances, Kamijou gently nudges Acquila who appears to be deep in thought. The paladin hasn’t said a word since their exchange about silly Human phrases.

“How are you holding up?” he gently asks. Acquila inclines his head towards Kamijou’s voice.

“I’ve been better.” he replies honestly, “I am however grateful for your support.”

There’s words lying unspoken between them, and Kamijou understands why. Their situation is dire, they cannot afford losing their wits now. There will be time to grieve later, for the lives lost—and in Acquila’s case—sight lost. Right now their priority is to survive, and locate their lost comrades. He dares not hope for Tyrande Whisperwind to emerge, she might be their salvation as well as their demise the way she has let the Night Warrior consume her. A spike of anger twists in his stomach as he quietly admits to himself that she is the sole reason they are here. They were both only supposed to assist with stabilising the portal, and escorting their Regent Lord. Yet here they are, with a large death count already, because Tyrande was too selfish to keep her anger in check. It’s bitter however, admitting that she is justified in her anger—yet she isn’t justified in her actions of sacrificing others for her own goals. Kamijou doubts she knew what would happen, yet she chose to plunge into the rift with seemingly no regard for the consequences.

“How are you feeling?” The question is unexpected and Kamijou snorts before he can stop himself, “My apologies.” Acquila says quietly and Kamijou realises the paladin probably thinks he offended him.

“No, I am the one who should apologise. I’m feeling a certain type of way, because if this hadn’t happened I would be sipping Arcwine together with Modera right now in her cushy Dalaran apartment, listening to her pining for the clueless men in her life.”

Acquila’s chuckle is like refreshing sunshine, a bright spot in the otherwise dreary landscape. Kamijou privately files away his personal score of having made the man laugh twice now.

“If it makes you feel any better I’d gladly treat you to some Arcwine when we are out of here.” Acquila says with humour.

“Please.” Kamijou replies, “But only if you promise me you won’t be complaining the whole night about how Aethas Sunreaver won’t answer your—as my friend would put it; booty calls.”

Acquila sputters and Kamijou watches him bite his lower lip to quell any further reactions. A couple of the closest Ebon Blades give them curious looks but he can’t bring himself to care at the moment.

“Duly noted.” Acquila comments, “Besides, he isn’t my type anyways.”

The comment makes Kamijou warm under his collar and he looks away in embarrassment.

‘Are you—falling for this guy? Come on now, you’ve just met him.’

Something at the corner of his eye draws his attention and Darion seems to have noticed it too. A couple of twisted creatures in otherworldly armour is impaled on jagged spikes. Darion pokes at one of the spikes with his sword.

“Frost Magic.” he states calmly, “Looks like the work of our friend the Lord Admiral.”

So Jaina Proudmoore had come through here and by the looks of it very recently. That was good news indeed.

“We’ll make a stop here for now!” Darion yells to his army, “Spread out, search for more clues then report back to me! Find the Lord Admiral and her companions!”

Kamijou helps Acquila sit down against a rock formation and hands him a flask of water an Ebon Blade soldier so graciously offers them. The paladin chugs half of it down before passing it back to Kamijou. As he drinks what’s left he scouts the landscape anew. More sharp rocks and vile creatures mill about below, the void stretches on among rubble and flames, and far off in the distance there’s a menacing tower, floating in the air. A chill slithers down his spine just by looking at it. He observes as Rahm and her group catch up to them—Rahm dutifully presenting Darion with the head of a massive creature. Darion takes the head and with great strength impales it on a thin rock nearby.

“For Wilona. Do not test the Ebon Blade.” he spits.

“Highlord!” one of the soldiers calls out, “There’s some charred remains of a beast further down this path, that and what appears to be a sheep.”

“A Polymorph? Sounds like more of Lady Proudmoore’s handiwork.” Darion replies, “Alright, we move, our target is close!”

Their group reorganizes and they move anew, down the slopes further into the hellscape. They brush past a small circular area where a massive winged creature hovers in the air above glowing runes. It looks like some sort of ritual is about to take place and Darion ushers his group hastily away.

“Whatever is going on here, we don’t want any part of it. Let’s move on.” he says, lowering his voice.

They move down into the valley below and the sight that greets them is one of terror. Even more soldiers are littered around the field. All dead, all mutilated. Coalescing and volatile energies are moving in a frenzy, and faint whispers of damned souls permeate the air. The charred remains the soldier was speaking of isn’t just any creature. It’s enormous and there's still embers glowing within its body—a testament to the formidable power of Jaina Proudmoore.

“Up ahead! It’s Lady Proudmoore!” Rahm shouts. There’s flurries of ice and snow whipping up into the air on a rocky hill. The foul winged creatures from before are amassing above and swooping down trying to snag Jaina. Their group moves, Darion and Rahm charging ahead with the Azerothian heroes. The Ebon Blade joins the fray, blood splattering, and feathers flying as they are carried away on icy winds. The surviving creatures screech and circle them a few rounds before they speed off, most likely to call for reinforcements. Jaina breathes harshly as she falls to her knees.

“Thank the Light you found us!” she says, wiping ash off her face, “Thrall is wounded, and we are being hunted. We need to find shelter at once!”

Darion motions for Rahm to help Thrall to his feet, steadying the orc as he tries to walk.

“I...can walk just fine.” he says, obviously in pain.

“Don’t try to play hero with me.” Darion orders sternly, “Let Rahm support you as we go. Quickly now!”

“Struggle all you like, mortals! You cannot escape your fate!” A booming voice rings from above. Several more of the winged creatures drop down, one of them—most likely their leader—carrying a long spear, glowing with a red enchantment.

“They’ve found us!” Jaina shouts, “Watch out!”

“Your chains will be eternal!” the leader shouts. Rahm steps in front of Kamijou and Acquila, and let’s go of Thrall before brandishing her sword.

“I have the civilians covered!” she shouts.

“Ebon Blade; attack!” Darion bellows and all hell breaks loose as they are assaulted from all angles. Kamijou watches with rapt attention as Jaina blinks around on the rock shelf, freezing enemies in rapid succession, gifting the heroes and Ebon Blades with easy killshots. He’s only able to push his Blink spell thrice before he has to charge it again, but here is Jaina, blinking up to six times without losing her breath! Acquila’s hand is tight on his shoulder again and Kamijou glances to the side to check on the paladin. He’s staring emptily out towards the battle, beads of sweat along his hairline. He swallows twice and Kamijou notices he’s clenching his jaw, hard. He is afraid. Kamijou wants to say something for comfort, but he’s interrupted as they almost topple over when one of the creatures swoops down on them, narrowly missing Rahm.

“Wretched creature!” she hisses, Deathgripping it back to the ground with her and slashing it across the chest. It screeches in pain and launches towards the Death Knight, but misses yet again as she sidesteps and plunges her sword deep into its stomach. It lurches forwards and falls dead to the ground. Across them Darion is shouting orders as more and more of the creatures pour in.

“We’re overrun!” Jaina shouts, “I’m getting us out of here! Everyone brace yourselves!”

Kamijou can feel the telltale signs of a teleportation spell tickle across his skin. The flow of magic is like a breath of fresh air and he lets out a small gasp as they are pulled into the arcane realm for a nano second and back out again. With himself, Acquila, Darion, Rahm, Thrall, and Jaina herself, there’s about a rough estimate of 20 something Ebon Blades and Azerothian Heroes in their group. Meaning Jaina alone just teleported a group of 25-30 people at the same time. Kamijou knows that now is really not the time to marvel over another mage’s skill but he cannot help himself thoroughly admiring her prowess.

“I left some mirror images behind to keep them distracted, but the illusion won’t hold up for long, we have to hurry.” Jaina says, motioning for the group to keep moving. “There’s a cave just around this bend. With some luck we can reach it before they notice that we’re gone.”

“Let’s hope so. Our captors won’t be pleased with the fact that you’ve managed to slip past them yet again.” Thrall comments, letting Rahm hoist his arm over her shoulder again to support him walking.

“You will not evade our grasp, mortals!” the same booming voice from before resonates through the air.

Jaina curses under her breath. “Damn. Looks like luck isn’t on our side this time.”

“Ebon Blade, secure the cave! We’ll hold off these fiends!” Darion yells, slashing the creature that boldly tries to spear him cleanly in half. Kamijou and Acquila hastily follow Rahm and a couple of Ebon Blades making a beeline for the cave. They’re flanked by two Azerothian Heroes brandishing bows, keeping the winged creatures at a distance. Behind them Jaina and Darion work in tandem dispatching the rest. As they round the corner to the cave, a scream pierces their ears as the hero on their left side is snatched and thrown up into the air. The creatures waste no time in shredding him to pieces before they snatch the other one and show him the same treatment. Ice lances fly past their ears—courtesy of Jaina behind them—piercing the skulls of a few of the fiends as they stumble towards the cave entrance. A shrill cry echoes above them, and acting on pure instinct Kamijou throws both him and Acquila to the ground, narrowly avoiding being run through by sharp claws. The creature speeds past them, soars up in the air and charges them from the opposite direction. Kamijou twitches as a sudden surge of unnatural mana flows into his veins. His curse—now a blessing amidst the chaos.

“Try me.” he whispers as he rises to his feet, “I dare you.”

The creature screeches and charges them at full speed. Time seems to distort somehow, slowing down as Kamijou raises his hand and weaves a sigil with his other. The timing had to be perfect, but he can see the creature’s every move, every bat of its wings, every little twitch of it muscles—and as the creature is a hair’s breadth away from colliding with him, he flicks his hand upwards in a slashing motion, ripping an otherworldly scream from its throat. It crashes to the ground, twitching and convulsing as its neck area dissolves as if it is being eaten away by acid.

“F-fel…” it gurgles in terror, with its last, dying breath.

The spectral dagger in Kamijou’s hand glimmers, then fades away in a hiss of green smoke together with the sudden mana surge. He falls to his knees beside Acquila, and lets out a shaky breath as he tries to will his heart rate down.

“Kamijou?” Acquila says, worry thick in the paladin’s voice as he reaches out with his hand. Kamijou takes it on reflex.

“I’m—” Kamijou starts, but the words stop abruptly in his throat as his eyes trail over their interlaced fingers. Whilst Acquila’s hands are covered with leather and steel—his are bare, and he swallows thickly realising his fingers have become discolored. His fingertips have taken on an ashy tint and suddenly he feels light-headed. There’s a fog creeping up at the corner of his eyes and panic is about to settle in before Acquila speaks again.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, “I feel so useless.” The tremble in his voice has Kamijou snap back into reality and he shakes his head as the fog clears.

“I’m fine.” he manages to say, “Everything’s going to be okay.” His own voice is trembling pathetically as well, but he is the only one who can actually see at the moment so he better stay focused. Jaina and Darion catch up to them and Darion helps Acquila to his feet, letting the paladin lean on him as they scramble to get to the cave.

“What was that?” Jaina hisses, only for Kamijou to hear. Kamijou swallows thickly as his eyes meet hers.

“Fel.” he whispers, wincing as he notices Jaina tightening her jaw.

“Nevermind that right now.” Jaina says, “We have worse things to worry about. You did what you had to do.”

“Your cell awaits, mage! The Jailer has plans for you!” the leader of the winged creatures swoops down and hovers above them just as they reach the cave entrance. Jaina whips around in a flurry of frost, flinging ice shards towards it which it shatters with a parry of its spear.

“I’ve had enough of your cages, fiend!” she shouts as fire envelops her hand, a fireball forming in the center of her palm.

“There is nowhere to run! Nothing escapes the Maw!” the creature bellows and charges up into the air. Jaina blocks its dive attack with a frost wall and blinks away, lobbing the fireball straight into its chest. It screeches and slashes at her with its spear, but it’s too far away. Rahm and Darion come charging from inside the cave. They’ve most likely shuffled Thrall and Acquila further inside. Good.

“These allies of yours are insignificant. You will all end up in chains!”

“Not if we end you first!” Darion bellows and leaps at the creature, hacking one of its wings cleanly off. It screams in agony and lashes out with dark magic. Jaina crashes into Kamijou with a frost shield, deflecting the attack by a hair’s breadth. A couple of Ebon Blades are sent flying into the jagged rocks from the shockwave.

“Shit.” Jaina says through gritted teeth as the creature charges them again. Kamijou throws them both down to the ground just as Rahm leaps into the air and lands on the creature’s back. She slides her enormous broadsword against the creature’s neck, holding it upright. Kamijou scrambles to his feet and helps Jaina up on hers.

“Move away!” she orders, charging up what Kamijou recognises as a Pyroblast. Darion and the rest of the entourage give her space, and just as the Pyroblast leaves Jaina’s hand, Rahm leaps into the air. The Pyroblast crashes into the creature’s face and it falls backwards to the ground.

“It is useless… to resist…” it wheezes before Rahm comes crashing down, plunging her broadsword into its skull, effectively killing it. Hopefully.

“In here!” Jaina shouts and they all hastily follow her down into the cave.

“Those of you still fit to fight get on guard duty at the cave entrance!” Darion orders. “Ryder, Tan’Jin, Netha, I want you to tend to our wounded. Rahm, we need a few fires lit—”

Darion’s orders fade out as Kamijou slides down to the stone floor with his back against the wall, finally able to exhale a breath that feels like he’s been holding it in forever. He rubs at his eyes, tendrils of fatigue seeping into his bones. As he moves his hand away from his eyes he steels his jaw—his fingers have lost the ashen tint from earlier. Relief washes over him and he sighs deeply.

“No really, I-I am fine, thank you for your concern.” Muted voices can be heard across from him and as he looks up he spots Thrall and Acquila, Acquila being tended to by an Ebon Blade soldier. Acquila is not fine, that much Kamijou can tell. He might not be physically wounded, but his mental state is frazzled. If only there was something Kamijou could do. The face of Zanthorias Sunwhisper spawns unbidden in his mind and Kamijou snorts before going perfectly still. There was something he could try, it was ridiculous, but it might just work!

He’d have to talk to Jaina immediately.

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Chapter Text

Art by: Linnpuzzle

Our Heartsong in Red and Gold

Kamijou
Forlorn Respite
The Maw, Shadowlands

Kamijou approaches Jaina and Darion by the campfire Rahm lit for them moments prior. Jaina’s voice is trembling as she speaks.

“Forgive me if I seem out of it.” she says, “But I was beginning to lose hope that I’d ever see anyone from our world again.” She pauses to drink from a flask by her feet. An Ebon Blade soldier gently lays a blanket over her shoulders and she mouths a ‘thank you’ to them. Kamijou accepts a blanket as well, just now realising how cold he actually is. “When I first saw you I wasn’t sure if you were even real...or just another illusion meant to torment us. Anduin insisted that our allies would come for us, but I must confess I had begun doubting him. Time loses all meaning in a place like this, I cannot tell if we have been here for days, weeks, or even months.”

“Lord Admiral, Thrall mentioned earlier that you had managed to ‘slip past them again’ . Have you escaped before?” Darion presses. Jaina nods quietly.

“Indeed. I’ve broken free countless times, only to end up back in a cage. These fiends, these Mawsworn, they hunt us like wild animals.”

“The winged creatures are called Mawsworn?” Kamijou interjects, prompting another nod from Jaina.

“Denizens of this realm call this place ‘The Maw’, and the Mawsworn are servants of the one the spirits here call 'The Jailer'.” she continues, “It was intended as a prison for the most foul, irredeemable souls that ever existed.”

“But something has changed.” Thrall says as he approaches them on unsteady feet. Beside him an Ebon Blade soldier escorts Acquila to come sit by the fire as well. They carefully ease him down beside Kamijou. The poor man looks so tired. A gentle weight lands on Kamijou’s shoulder and he realises Acquila has laid his head there. He nary dares breathe for a full few seconds, but a soft smile finds its way to his lips as he readjusts his blanket, covering them both.

“Pure, noble souls are now being held captive and tormented here as well.” Thrall continues after having settled down beside Jaina. “And The Jailer appears to have taken a special interest in us, considering how he oversees our 'treatment'  here personally. At times, it felt as if we were being tested, but for what purpose we do not know.”

“We know little about him,” Jaina says, “Only that he is the ruler of this realm, and that he has found an ally in Sylvanas Windrunner. Whatever The Jailer and the Banshee is planning, it won’t end well...for any of us.”

“Where is the King of Stormwind and High Chieftain Bloodhoof being held? Do you know?” Darion asks after a brief pause.

“I’ve caught glimpses of them both during my attempts to break free. They live, of that I am certain. The last time I saw Anduin he was being held in a place the shades call ‘The Tremaculum’. It’s not far from here.”

“And the Night Warrior? Any sign of her?”

“Tyrande? I have not seen her, no.”

“She leapt into the rift ahead of us, creating chaos in her wake. Thanks to her, civilians were pulled in with us as well.” Darion says, nodding towards Kamijou and Acquila.

“That is troubling. An ancient ritual infused her with incredible power. I fear it may be growing beyond her ability to control it. This... is one hell of a mess...” Jaina says, rubbing her temples.

Their voices dim out as Kamijou focuses on the soft breathing in the crook of his neck. Acquila’s ear twitches, but he doesn’t otherwise move. Had he fallen asleep? Warmth creeps up Kamijou’s neck as he can’t help but admit—disregarding their current predicament—just how nice it feels, having someone fall asleep on your shoulder like this…

“How is he?” Jaina’s concerned voice interrupts Kamijou’s train of thought. Thrall and Darion are walking off to the side of the cave, seemingly in deep discussion.

“Distressed I would guess.” Kamijou says, “He lost his sight when we were pulled through the rift, I’ve been looking out for him since then.”

“Oh.” Jaina says, “I thought you—nevermind.” she clears her throat and lets her eyes glide over to Acquila once more, seemingly in deep thought. “He’s got stygia in his eyes.” she says.

“Stygia?”

“It’s—complicated. It’s a form of matter naturally occurring in this realm. I haven’t had a chance to properly study it, but it is known to have several debilitating effects on a person when exposed to it in larger quantities. Curiously enough, not everyone is affected by it.”

If this stygia was the cause, that would explain why so many of the Ebon Blade soldiers had perished at the Frozen Throne when the rift had first opened. And to think that both of them had gotten off relatively easy—Kamijou seemingly without a scratch.

“Is there a cure?” he hears himself ask. Jaina offers him a somber look.

“I don’t know.” she says quietly. “For his sake, let’s hope there is.”

“I have a favour I need to—”

“Can I ask you about some—”

They both speak at the same time and Jaina chuckles softly. Kamijou motions for her to continue talking.

“It’s about the—fel.” She says, “You’re not a Demon Hunter are you?” Her eyes glide to the black horns protruding from his forehead, going backwards in an elegant arc over his head.

“No.” he replies, “And neither am I a Warlock.”

“I see. It took me by surprise, I’ll admit as much. I guess you do already know how suspicious you may come off to some.” She falls quiet for a moment before she speaks again. “But you are a...Blood Elf, yes?”

“Yeah.” Kamijou says, “And—it’s a long story, a story that I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about—yet. Perhaps at a future date, if the Lord Admiral is willing.”

“Well as long as you are on our side…” Jaina says, casting a glance over to Darion and Thrall, “Then we’re good. Although I am curious.”

“Lady Proudmoore.” Kamijou says after a short pause, “I have a favour to ask of you.”

“Yes?”

“Since we entered The Maw I haven’t been able to channel my mana at all and thus I cannot cast any spells. I can sense it, it’s there, but there’s something different about the way energies flow here. Can I ask for your assistance?”

The way Jaina’s eyes light up at his question is endearing. She inches closer to him and boldly takes his free hand.

“Of course. You do have a good mana reservoir, I can tell you that much right off the bat.”

“You flatter me.” Kamijou says, chuckling softly. “I happen to be a mage as well, and while I would love to engage in a longer discussion with a fellow colleague about the wonders of the arcane, right now I need some very basic guidance in mana channeling.”

Acquila Everdawn
Forlorn Respite
The Maw, Shadowlands

Acquila’s initial thoughts as he slowly wakes from having dozed off is that he wants to go right back to sleep. There’s a blanket snug around his shoulders and a toasty campfire bathing him in warmth. The potion he had been told to drink earlier had helped some with his anxiety, but as he realises that his eyes are still useless however—his vision pitch black like before—it slowly begins to creep back. It’s a reality he really doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“Hey.” a voice gently says, as a hand comes to rest on his side. “How are you feeling, Acquila?”

Kamijou.

The mage’s voice is like a balm to his ears and Acquila carefully sits up, facing the direction of the voice.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been better.” he says, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

“Heh, yeah. I can imagine.”

The mage’s voice is soft, tired—no doubts he had his fair share of feelings to deal with at the moment as well. Acquila feels a tiny pang of guilt for having been so absorbed in his own pain that he had scarcely considered the others around him. It’s not usually his style but—the circumstances were extraordinary at the moment. He offers Kamijou a gentle albeit strained smile.

“Water?” Kamijou asks and Acquila nods, surprised when there’s a small tingle of magic in the air and Kamijou gingerly places a conjured mana flask in his hands.

“While you were sleeping Jaina gave me some pointers on how to best work my mana flow here.” Kamijou says, and Acquila swears he detects a hint of pride in the mage’s voice. It’s...endearing.

“Meaning—” Kamijou continues, “I can finally cast spells again.”

Acquila takes a generous sip of the offered water, savouring the faint flavour of peaches. At the back of his mind he vaguely remembers hearing a curious fact about how a mage’s conjured food and drink items all had a personal taste to them. Peaches huh? Peaches are nice. As he drinks, Kamijou gives him a brief recap of the conversation the group had by the fire while he slept. It’s a lot to take in, but he’s relieved to hear that Anduin Wrynn and Baine Bloodhoof are still alive, and how Darion and his forces are currently working on a rescue plan—and a way to get them all out of here. Not that he’d be of any use to anyone now that he’s blind. He jolts as he realises he’s been lost in thought and that Kamijou is calling his name.

“Acquila? Are you alright?”

He isn’t alright, not by a longshot. But admitting that is tough, and it’ll make all of this too real. He sucks in a breath and takes another sip from the mana flask. Something with the way Kamijou simply asks him is so gentle, so compelling.

“No.” he says, “I am not.” There, it’s out. He’s got no reason to feel ashamed, he knows that, but he still is. Ashamed of being in essence; deadweight. He’s used to protecting others, now they have to protect him. It stings his pride.

“I feel like a failure.” he says quietly, “I feel utterly useless, to all of you.”

Hands seize his shoulders roughly and he can feel Kamijou get in really close to him.

“Hold it right there.” the mage says, and Acquila is surprised by how angry he sounds. “You got the Regent Lord out from the Frozen Throne didn’t you? Lor’themar and everyone else in the Horde entourage got out safely—so did the Alliance leaders, what more could you have done?”

“It’s not just—” Acquila starts, faltering as he realises he is slowly breaking apart. “It’s not just that.” he continues. “I’m blind now. I’m letting you and the rest of the Ebon Blade carry out the burden of the rescue mission. I’m essentially deadweight to you.”

“Do you want us to leave you behind, is that it?” Kamijou says so deadpan that Acquila feels shame rise in his chest.

“No…” he replies quietly.

There’s a longer pause where Kamijou doesn’t say anything, Acquila can feel his hands still on his shoulders, but their grip has loosened and the mage sighs quietly.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Kamijou says, “I just—you’re not deadweight. We don’t leave our own behind. I refuse to believe you would leave anyone behind either.”

He’s right. Acquila would never leave a comrade behind on the battlefield. He’s always fought tooth and nail to protect everyone else. Wherever there’s a glimmer of hope, of success, he’ll fight to his last breath. It’s part of why he feels so ashamed now. He’s truly feeling lost, for the first time in ages.

“Have you ever...felt utterly and hopelessly lost?” he asks quietly.

Kamijou shifts to sit beside him and Acquila again feels that small tingle of magic in the air, followed by the sound of flowing water as Kamijou drinks from what Acquila assumes in a newly conjured mana flask. There’s a long pause before the mage speaks.

“Yeah.” he answers honestly, “Not very long ago actually. Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

“I fear for the future, for my future.” Acquila continues, hating the tremble in his voice, “I’ve devoted my life to serving Silvermoon and the people of Azeroth. I’ve seen war and the horrors it brings, likewise I’ve seen peace and the contentment that follows. I still want to, I still need to, be able to do my job as a diplomat, as a protector. But now all prospects of that have been taken away from me—and I don’t know what to do. How do I move forward after something like this?”

“I won’t pretend that I have an answer for you.” Kamijou replies solemnly, “I just know that we have got to always move forward. That in itself is a way to protect the people dear to us. We owe it to our friends, our fallen, but most of all—” he takes Acquila’s hand and Acquila really wishes he could see the mage’s face right now. “—we owe it to ourselves.” he finishes gently.

The profoundness in his statement hits Acquila right in the heart. He has no idea how old the other elf is, but he’s clearly wise in a way that only comes from lived experience. He masks the lump in his throat by taking another sip of mana water. Exhaling a long, calm breath, he realises that most of his anxiety has melted away and he sighs.

“Better?” Kamijou asks gently.

“Yeah.” Acquila says, and he means it.

“Good, because I thought of something we could try—for your sight.”

Acquila perks up, tilting his head in interest towards the mage¨s voice.

“It’s...experimental, but it’s not like this can get any worse than it already is.” Kamijou says, a peculiar tone to his voice, almost as if he’s cringing at the thought of doing whatever it is. “I learned this from a friend.”

“The same friend that teaches you all these wacky human sayings?” Acquila says jokingly.

“The very same.” Kamijou replies after a pause, “Speaks for itself doesn’t it?”

“My my.” Acquila says, then he laughs. He’s not sure why that is so funny, but it is, and he hasn’t even met this friend of his. Kamijou laughs with him and Acquila’s heart becomes ten times lighter. He appreciates greatly how the other elf has a knack for always lightening the mood. “Please, I’d like to try. Anything but idling about like this.”

“Alright. I need you to just sit so that you’re comfortable. I’m going to work a spell on you.” Kamijou says. “As I said, it’s experimental, the worst that can happen is that it doesn’t do anything at all.”

Acquila adjusts himself so that he is sitting cross-legged, relaxing his shoulders and popping his neck. He can sense Kamijou in front of him, warm hands coming up to gently touch his temples.

“I want you to close your eyes and empty your mind. Take even breaths and listen to my voice, I’ll guide you through this.”

A gentle stream of arcane energy flows from Kamijou’s fingertips. It’s a strange sensation as it intertwines with Acquila’s own life energy, brushing against his cells much the same way holy magic does, but still different. He’s never given much thought to how arcane feels when a mage has granted him their intellect boon in battle, but right now he’s fully aware of the actual sensation itself.

“So what I am going to do is form a sigil on you that will enhance the experimental spell.” Kamijou says, “You can think of this spell kind of like how a priest’s mind vision spell works, but backwards.”

Now that’s interesting.

“Since I am not a priest and shadow magic is not my forte, we’ll rely on arcane magic to make this work so it won’t be exactly the same thing.”

Acquila’s aware of the sigil manifesting in his mind’s eye and how the flow of arcane magic amplifies itself, pulsing gently in his head and soothing his synapses. Kamijou murmurs a flow of incantations and as the spell washes over them, a burst of green appears before Acquila’s eyes. He jolts slightly, but composes himself. Kamijou slowly withdraws the residual arcane magic and carefully removes his fingertips from Acquila’s temples. Acquila watches as the mage stands up and takes a step back.

“Can you see me?” Kamijou asks him.

Acquila can’t quite believe it. He’s still blind, the world before him an endless void of black, but he can see Kamijou—or rather—the shape of him. He can see the outline of someone who is clearly an elf, and wearing long robes. The contours he can see are a glowing green, with an energy burst right where the man’s heart is. On the opposite side is a sigil, identical to the one Acquila can perceive in his mind’s eye.

“Yes, I can see you, in a way.” Acquila says. He’s thoroughly fascinated by the spell Kamijou has pulled off, almost as fascinated as he is with the fact that the other elf appears to have horns .

“Good.” Kamijou replies, sounding relieved. “I’ll keep the spell going for as long as I am able to. It’s kind of a mana drain now that I get a proper feel of it, but if it helps you then I am good. I have bound us together with sigils, but that is as much as I can do for now so you can only see me. It should make it a bit easier for you to navigate around.”

“Thank you.” Acquila says as he rises to his feet. He takes a step forward, his focus on Kamijou, then another, and another until he is standing in front of the mage. They’re about the same height he notices. Having only a vague outline to go by, Acquila suspects that he has long hair too.

“Acquila?” Kamijou questions, and Acquila realises he has zoned out.

“Thank you for doing this, truly.” Acquila says as he reaches down and takes the mage’s hand, “You’ve eased my anxieties a bit, I don’t know how I can thank you enough for doing this for me. You’re truly remarkable.”

“I uh—it was nothing, as I said, an experiment. I am glad it worked though!” Kamijou says, turning his head to the side in what Acquila recognises as embarrassment. “You’re welcome.” he adds after a pause and Acquila offers him a gentle smile in return.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please considering leaving a kudos and/or a comment telling me what you liked about it♥️
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Chapter Text

Art by: Linnpuzzle

Our Heartsong in Red and Gold

Kamijou
Forlorn Respite
The Maw, Shadowlands

There’s a ruckus at the entrance of the cave as Darion and his entourage of champions and soldiers return from their mission, wrangling a volatile shade between them. They’d gone out earlier at the behest of Jaina, to find and interrogate one of the souls
wandering The Maw. It was currently their best bet on finding a way out.

“Speak, fiend!” Darion growls as he shackles the shade in place at the back of the cave.

“No…hope! No…mercy!” it laments in its otherworldly cadence, writhing and shimmering in its bonds.

“Tsk. This is going to take some more work.” Darion says gruffly, turning to Jaina. “I’ll be preoccupied here for a while. Your best bet is to take some of the heroes with you if you want to prioritize saving King Anduin Wrynn.”

“Time is of the essence as they say.” Jaina says, nodding, “I don’t need to bring more than two or three. The fewer we are the better. Makes it easier to sneak inside the Tremaculum.”

“I’ll go with you, Jaina.” Thrall says as he approaches them.

“Absolutely not!” Jaina counters, “You’re hurt, Thrall, it’s better if you stay here with the others.”

“No.” Thrall replies firmly, “I owe Anduin at least this much. What he has done for us can never be repaid in full.”

Thrall’s words seem to placate Jaina for the time being and she quietly nods.

“Fine. Who else can we bring?”

Their numbers have dwindled drastically as they’ve progressed through The Maw. Darion has several heroes helping him with the unruly shade, while others are busy guarding the entrance to the cave. Kamijou is on the verge of volunteering when a rogue slinks out from the shadows to stand beside Thrall, who jumps slightly in surprise. The rogue is petite, flat, all bones (well, they appear to be Forsaken so what could one expect…) with a discoloured jaw and bald head. Dressed in all black, yet with an elegant twist Kamijou swears he recognises from somewhere.

“Lord Admiral.” The rogue says, voice raspy and green eyes glowing eerily in the dim light of the cave, “I will accompany you in retrieving Anduin Wrynn from the clutches of the Jailer.”

“You’re one of the heroes, yes? Pardon, but I didn’t catch your name?” Jaina says. The rogue flashes their wrist and both Thrall and Jaina go silent. Kamijou’s view is obscured, but he notices Jaina’s jaw tightening.

“You can call me Yaiba.” The rogue says, “You know who I answer to, thus you know why it is important that I go with you.”

“Very well.” Jaina says, “I believe your skills will be useful to us, even if I am not on the best of terms with your master.”

“Good.” Yaiba says, unsheathing one of their daggers and flicking it upwards into the air, catching it elegantly as it falls back down again, “I’ve been going way too long without spilling some blood.”

The rogue’s dagger glows with a faint green aura, and Kamijou swallows as the familiar scent of fel assaults his senses. He shakes his head as his vision starts to cloud again, trying to clear his thoughts. Was he really that tired? Yaiba meets his eyes then, their expression hollow yet feeling as if they’re peering into his very soul.

“Interesting.” they rasp, head tilted as they sheathe their dagger again. Neither Jaina nor Thrall seem to notice.

“I will use my staff as an anchor point we can teleport back to as soon as we have Anduin. There’s some distance to cover, so I won’t pretend that I am a hundred percent sure I’ll be able to do it. Were there any mages among the heroes that we could bring as an amplificator?” Jaina says, scouting the few people left in the cave.

“There were three, they are all dead.” Yaiba says matter of factly. “One melted in the pool of stygia, another cracked their skull open upon landing in the Crucible of the Damned, and the third—”

“That—is quite enough. W-We get it.” Jaina says, rubbing her temples. “I guess we have to wing it and see where that gets us. We’re bringing Anduin back here at whatever cost.”

“There is a fourth option.” Yaiba says, tilting their head, and Kamijou can feel their eerie gaze on him again. “His mana reservoir is quite something. He should make for a good amplificator for you, Lord Admiral.”

Jaina’s eyes meets Kamijou’s, and her expression is one of conflict. There really isn’t anyone else to bring along. Jaina did teach him how to channel his mana in The Maw.

“I hate to ask this of you.” Jaina says, “But would you be willing to assist us?”

“I will.” Kamijou says, “I came to the Frozen Throne with the Kirin Tor. You need not worry for my safety, I am more than capable. At least now that you have given me some pointers on how to channel my mana down here.”

“It is settled then.” Jaina says, looking relieved. She plants her staff in the ground, murmuring a spell over it. It glows and pulses with mana, anchoring itself to the cave. “As I said earlier, Anduin is being held at The Tremaculum. It’s where they hold souls still needing to be broken, tormenting them until they turn into twisted shades. Last I saw him they took him up into the towers above. We need to find a way up there, preferably undetected, but I do not think that is plausible. You best be ready for a fight.”

Acquila gently puts a hand on Kamijou’s arm, prompting the mage to turn around to face him.

“Something for the road.” he says and places two fingers, albeit a bit clumsily, on Kamijou’s forehead.

As Acquila murmurs a prayer, gentle light transfers from his fingertips and into Kamijou. The blessing instantly soothes his nerves and his mana sings in his veins with the wisdom imparted upon him.

“Thank you.” Kamijou says, receiving a gentle smile in return.

“Stay safe.” Acquila says, and Kamijou nods before returning to Jaina and her group.

“All set?” She says, “Good, let’s go save Anduin.”

The Tremaculum is not far from the cave, and it is as intimidating as the rest of The Maw seems to be. A massive construction resembling a twisted prison, which it for all intents and purposes is . There’s cages as far as the eye can see, chains, spikes, skulls—it is a place of nightmares. They’re assaulted by a Mawsworn guard by the bridge leading into the main area. It is quickly dispatched by Yaiba slitting its throat from behind, missing the rest of the group by an inch with the blood spray. If the black matter even is blood. Kamijou has a distinct feeling that too is what Jaina called stygia . Yaiba disappears further down the bridge, and Kamijou can only assume they are scouting the way ahead. Thrall grunts as he narrowly dodges a trap set in the bridge. Spikes as sharp as needles penetrate through the layers and he would have been skewered alive hadn’t it been for his reflexes. Jaina shoots him a concerned look that he waves off. They manage to cross the bridge without further incident, only having to take care of two more Mawsworn guards at the end.

“Over here.” A raspy voice calls out to them and they spot Yaiba as they duck behind a corner. “They use teleport pads to move between the layers.” Yaiba explains as the group catches up to them. Several Mawsworn lie dead at the rogue’s feet, all having had their throats slit, faint glowing green residue in their wounds. “This should take us to the upper levels.”

“We’ve got no time to waste. Let’s go.” Jaina orders and they all step onto the pad. The sensation is strange, but thankfully not too different from what they’re used to on Azeroth. There’s yet another two bridges they have to cross, but this time there are no guards around.

“I don’t like this.” Thrall says, putting Kamijou’s thoughts into words.

“I don’t either. It’s way too quiet up here.” Jaina agrees. “Proceed with uttermost caution.”

As they slink along the bridge, careful not to trigger any of the spike traps, a platform comes into view. There’s two silhouettes on the platform, one kneeling on the ground, arms in chains, and another standing to the side.

“I see him.” Yaiba whispers, “Over there on the platform.”

“There’s someone else there too.” Jaina says, “Sylvanas? Why is she here? What does she want with him?”

“We better lay low.” Thrall murmurs, “Sylvanas most likely has the Jailer’s forces at her command. If she notices us now we’re finished.”
They carefully maneuver around the vast amount of cages and spiky protrusions til they can duck behind a close cover and listen in on the conversation.

“You will never...succeed.” Anduin’s voice is strained, tired. He looks as if he hasn’t slept for weeks. Sylvanas is towering over him, a pensive expression on her face. She cups his face, her index finger trailing down his cheek.

“You disappoint me, Anduin.” she says softly. “Your vision is way too narrow.”

Anduin snarls and whips his face in an attempt to shake Sylvanas’ hand off. She pulls back and shakes her head, sighing as she gives him one more look.

“No matter. We will find what we seek...In another.”

She vanishes in a swirl of purple mist, her cryptic words lingering in the air, and Anduin slumps further down towards the floor.

“Anduin!” Jaina calls out, running towards him as soon as the mist has dispersed, “Are you hurt?” She fusses over him, cupping his face in her hands. “The banshee will pay for this.”

“I...will live.” Anduin says, “Thank the Light you are safe, Jaina, Thrall.” His eyes glide over to Kamijou and Yaiba, Kamijou being the only one with manners enough to present a slight bow for the King of Stormwind.

“Thank you, for aiding my friends in my rescue.” he says, “I am however afraid I won’t be going anywhere lest you can find the key to these shackles.”

Thrall gives the lock a firm tap with the handle of his axe, frowning as he does so. “Yeah, these are too strong to break with pure force.” he surmises.

“My tormentor is a creature they call The Afflictor. It should have the key. I haven’t seen it in a while though it usually stays here in The Tremaculum.”

A chill runs down Kamijou’s spine as dark energy manifests in the air around them. Yaiba draws their daggers, falling down in a low combat stance and Jaina throws up a shield around them, her fingertips frosting over as she draws magic.

“It’s here.” Anduin says, voice full of warning.

“You will all serve The Jailer!” The Afflictor shrieks as it lunges forward in a cloud of black smoke. Jaina puts up an ice wall, the creature hitting it with a loud thud before it slashes it in half with razor sharp claws. Kamijou wastes no time in throwing three fireballs in rapid succession right in its back. A loud shriek rings in his right ear and he narrowly dodges the body of a Mawsworn guard falling flat on its face. Yaiba pulls their daggers out of its neck and comes back to back with Kamijou.

“He’s got reinforcements. I see seven more.” they say. The fel from their daggers whispers along Kamijou’s skin, an oh so tempting siren song. He shakes his head violently and takes a deep breath.

‘Concentrate.’ he tells himself.

Yaiba lunges forward again, meeting another guard head on as chaos erupts. They’d need to finish this quickly, lest The Jailer himself shows up due to the ruckus they’re causing. While Thrall charges the guards together with Yaiba, Kamijou turns towards The Afflictor with Jaina. She has frozen the creature on the spot, her shield absorbing its spectral bolts. Her brows are furrowed in concentration and Kamijou senses she’s rapidly growing tired. Her shield shatters suddenly and she stumbles backwards from the impact. The creature charges its magic, the air around it crackling threateningly. Kamijou whispers the incantation for a counterspell, successfully silencing it. It shrieks again, lunging forward as the ice around it cracks. Jaina howls in pain as the creature’s claws slashes open her arm.

“Jaina!” Anduin yells, struggling against his bonds. Kamijou weaves a phoenix flame, launching it towards The Afflictor, but with a flick of its hand it dispels the flames. Yet again the same energy crackles around The Afflictor and Kamijou watches in slow motion as it readies the spell, realising he won’t have time to counter the spell this time. He blinks forwards, maybe he can shove Jaina out of its path, take the hit for her, maybe—

The Afflictor’s dying shriek is like a thousand needles in his ears, the shockwave sends Kamijou backwards and tears well up in his eyes from the full body shiver that racks through him. In the split seconds between Kamijou’s thoughts and his blink, Thrall has leapt up into the air and landed in front of him, cleaving the creature cleanly in two. He’s breathing hard, eyes dilated, and arm muscles bulging. He drops his axe and falls to his knees in front of Jaina, his hand on her uninjured shoulder. It’s only a fleeting thought in Kamijou’s head, but he finds the gesture so tender, Thrall’s face so gentle he has to look away, as if he’s spying on a private moment between two people. Rustling catches his attention and he spots Yaiba rummaging through the corpse of The Afflictor, procuring a shiny key from its robes. Wasting no time they approach Anduin to rid him of his shackles. The sudden silence around them is somehow suffocating, and Kamijou can feel himself get antsy. Something has felt off for a while now, they’d best leave sooner rather than later.

“Thank you.” Anduin says, rubbing at his wrists, “I feared I would never get out of those chains.”

“We need to move. Are you alright with teleporting?” Jaina asks as she approaches them.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” Anduin replies, “Lead on.”

“My ability to teleport is limited here, but I’ve put my staff up as an anchor back in our hideout, and Kamijou is going to help me amplify both my mana and the distance we can travel. Everyone stay close.”

Jaina takes Kamijou’s hand and they open up their mana flows at the same time.

“Give me a good but steady burst.” Jaina says, “That last fight was quite taxing.”

Kamijou does as she instructs and lets his mana flow from his veins, connecting with hers and letting it leap across her arcane paths. He can feel her concentration on an abstract level only magic users can and he holds perfectly still. The teleport envelops them in soft light and in a blink of an eye they are back at the cave. Jaina falls to her knees, sighing in relief. Thrall is right there with her, throwing a blanket over her shoulders and fetching her water.

“Jaina, please, let me see your wounds.” Anduin says, immediately fussing over her.

“I’ll be fine, Anduin. I’m just relieved you are okay.” she says, grimacing as Anduin takes her arm to inspect it. An Ebon Blade soldier brings them a medic kit and wordlessly assists Anduin in cleaning her wounds.

“Thrall! You are hurt as well!” Anduin exclaims. Kamijou finds it amusing how the human king sets his hands on his hips, looking most of all like a stern mother at that very moment. Thrall cannot do much but comply with the man, letting him tend to him as well.

“Welcome back.” a familiar voice says, and Kamijou turns around to face Acquila. He gracefully accepts the flask of water the paladin offers him.

“I am relieved the young king seems to be in good shape.” Acquila says, “Same goes for you.”

Kamijou’s heart gives off an extra thud at that.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, relieved to see that the paladin appears to have a little more colour to his cheeks now.

“I’m alright.” Acquila replies, “I’ve been giving instructions to the medics here on different healing techniques while you were gone. I’d have loved to ‘lay my hands’ on it myself as it were but, not possible at the moment.” he says, chuckling. It takes Kamijou’s brain several seconds to get it.

“By the light, that’s an awfully dorky joke!” Kamijou replies, laughing. Acquila looks mighty pleased.

“Thank you.” he says, a shy smile on his lips. Kamijou swallows.

“You’re welcome. I like it…”

Suddenly they’re at a standstill, neither saying anything more. Kamijou racks his brain for something—anything—anything to disperse the sudden air of awkwardness between them. He’s almost thankful for the fact that Acquila cannot actually see him—almost. The man is too handsome for his own good with that well-groomed beard, slightly disheveled snowy hair, high cheekbones—Kamijou groans inwardly at himself. Really? Now of all times?

“Would you guys care for some food?”

The standstill is broken as an Ebon Blade soldier approaches them, offering them each their box of rations. Kamijou’s stomach chooses that very moment to groan loudly, and he realises how hungry he actually is.

“Yes please, thank you.” he says, gracefully accepting the offer. “Should we go sit with the others?” he asks Acquila, whereupon the man nods in reply.

They eat their rations in comfortable silence by the fire, Kamijou occasionally listening in on Darion’s informative monologue to Jaina about what the captive shade had told him. So they had managed to crack the shade huh? That was good.

“Your highness.”

Yaiba slinks up to them, or rather—up to Anduin Wrynn—that is seated to Kamijou’s right side. His hairs stand on end mostly out of reflex this time, anticipating the smell of fel, but nothing comes. His ears twitch trying to listen to the rogue’s raspy voice. Yaiba flashes their wrist to Anduin and then hands him an envelope. The young king’s expression is one of mild shock, then he smiles softly as he peeks at the contents.

“Thank you, truly.” he says, “When you see The Black Prince again, tell him that—”

Anduin falters, he looks almost shy before he clears his throat and puts his composure back on again.

“Tell him that I am thankful for his concern—and that I miss him greatly.” The last part is spoken so softly Kamijou can barely make out the king’s words. He’s pretty sure he heard him right though, and briefly feels bad for having eavesdropped on such a private conversation. Yaiba bows their head deeply, and slinks back to the shadows from whence they came. For a brief second after, Anduin’s eyes meet Kamijou’s, and he smiles uncertainly. Kamijou offers him a small smile and what he hopes conveys as an understanding nod in return. The young king looks relieved.

“Thank you.” he mouths softly, pocketing the envelope in his armor.

“Alright everyone.” Jaina says, rising to her feet and addressing the group, “We know where Baine is, now we need to formulate our next plan of attack, and here is how we do it!”

If you enjoyed this chapter, please considering leaving a kudos and/or a comment telling me what you liked about it♥️
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Chapter Text

Art by: Linnpuzzle

Our Heartsong in Red and Gold

Kamijou
Forlorn Respite
The Maw, Shadowlands

“So to reiterate, the condensed version of our plan is;” Darion addresses the group, “Jaina will lead the first group towards the place called Zovaal’s Cauldron, where Chieftain Baine Bloodhoof is being held. From there they will free the Chieftain and continue on to scout for this waystone that the shade spoke of. If it’s possible to activate it, they will signal group two and we’ll be on our way—hopefully home for free. I will stay behind with the Ebon Blade, we will continue tending to our wounded comrades and prepare to bring our fallen with us as soon as we get the signal. Any last questions?” The Ebon Blade Soldiers salute him in unison, ever efficient they get to work, preparing and packing up their lair and arranging everything so that they can move as swiftly as possible.

“Think you’ll be able to do this?” Jaina says, addressing Kamijou.

“Yeah, you’ll have to manage without me should we get into a fight though. I will need to fully allocate my mana into keeping the portal open.” he replies.

“Worry not.” Anduin chimes in, “Should it prove to be hard on you, I shall assist you with lending you some of my mana, my friend.”

“Good. Let me just—” Jaina says, stabbing her staff into the ground and mapping out the cave with her magic. She conjures tiny arcane strings—invisible to the naked eye—and attaches them to the walls, looping back again to her staff. “There. The focus is in place.”

Kamijou closes his eyes and channels his magic in turn, letting it jump from his arcane paths and onto Jaina’s razor thin strings. They flicker gently, humming with a strong resonance, yes, this would hold in place well. He maps out the cave in his mind’s eye, centers Jaina’s staff—brimming with magical power—and draws a sigil on the ground by the staff. He attunes it with power and draws forth a portal on top of it, dormant for the moment lest all his mana get drained too fast. They’d activate it as soon as they could locate the waystone.

“All set.” Kamijou says, nodding to the group, consisting of himself, Jaina, Thrall, Anduin, and Yaiba. The fewer they were, the easier it should be sneaking around undetected. They’re almost ready to move out, but there’s one last thing that compels Kamijou before they do. Acquila is seated by the still burning campfire, a libram resting in his lap. Acquila’s fingers are caressing the cover, and Kamijou can sense the tendrils of holy magic in the air.

“If we come out of this alive, maybe I can still be of use to someone.” Acquila says quietly, “At least I can still be somewhat of a healer—right?”

“We are coming out of this alive.” Kamijou says, harsher than he intended, “As for your sight—” He falters, looks away. “Hey, we don’t know for sure, right? There might be a cure—somewhere.”

“Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to— see the possibilities should I not recover from this.” Acquila says, grimacing. His pun is way too grim to laugh at so Kamijou stays quiet. He sits down beside the paladin and lays his hand on top of the other’s, feeling the soothing warmth of the libram seep into his skin. Acquila jolts slightly from the contact of naked skin on skin.

“I believe in you.” Kamijou says simply, “For what that is worth.”

“More than you can possibly imagine.” Acquila says after a pause, “Thank you.”

“I better get going. Last stretch now. See you on the other side, yeah?”

“Al diel shala, Kamijou.” Acquila says, and his smile warms Kamijou to the core.

Their group moves out, the entrance to the cave eerily quiet and devoid of otherworldly creatures. Jaina ushers them on, further away in the other direction of The Tremaculum, her eyes going towards the ghastly tower in the distance from time to time.

“You seem troubled, Thrall.” she says, breaking the quiet as they move between jagged rocks and sulphuric vents.

“I am worried for Tyrande.” Thrall says, “Still no sign of her. We cannot leave her alone in this nightmare.”

“I know, but we have no idea of where she is. No signs, no traces, nothing.” Jaina looks tired, hopeless at the mention of the High Priestess. “If we had even one lead to go by, I’d say we’d try to track her down, but right now, this waystone is our priority. Should it prove to work, and we can get out of The Maw, then we will surely be able to get back in as well. We’ll form a search party and go back in after her. For now, we have to have faith, faith that she is alive and that the powers of the Night Warrior can protect her from harm. She is strong, as is you.”

Jaina’s words seem to soothe Thrall, and he smiles gently at her for a scarce second, just enough for Kamijou to notice. A smile with a fondness that feels oddly familiar.
There’s a bridge going over what looks like it could be a river, except that said river is pure white, chaotic energy, pulsing threateningly underneath them.

“Hold. Do you hear that?” Thrall says, stopping in the middle of the bridge. They get in closer to each other, Anduin brandishes his sword and is immediately backed up by Yaiba drawing their daggers, anticipating an ambush.

“Your wretched souls will feed the coming darkness!” A commanding voice shrieks through the smoky air. Slimy tentacles sprout forth at both ends of the bridge, barring their escape. Winds whip up around them and Kamijou can almost taste the salt in the air. On their left side, The Queen of Helheim itself, Helya, sprouts from the shadows, flanked by a flock of Mawsworn.

“Wretched?” Jaina shouts, frost magic swirling around her, “I heard you were soundly beaten by a force of ‘wretched’ champions, witch!”

“You will pay for that insult! I will have your world and I will have your souls!” Helya booms, dark magic blossoming around her as her Mawsworn readies their spears.

“For Azeroth!” Thrall shouts, his axe flying with great speed, embedding itself in Helya’s forehead. The sea witch screams, her shrill voice makes Kamijou wince. Anduin takes his arm, ushering him towards the end of the bridge before taking Shalamayne in both hands, hacking at the tentacles.

“Drown! Drown among the souls of the damned!” Helya booms, sending dark shockwaves towards the group. The impact knocks the air out of Kamijou’s lungs and he falls off the edge of the bridge with Anduin. Panic sets in as he calculates whether he can cast slowfall or if that will break his connection to his portal, but he is saved as Jaina’s familiar magic envelops him and his momentum halts. As they land at the bottom of the river, voices from all over invade his consciousness.

“I expected this all along.”
“I had so much life left to live!”
“Don’t let it take me!”
“Don’t see me, don’t see me, don’t see me…”
“Has he forgotten me?”
“I...did it. I sacrificed everything.”
“Death becomes us.”
“FIRE! THERE’S A FIRE!”
“Join us…”
“Please! PLEASE!”
“Sk’yahf qi’plahf PH’MAGG!”
“What just happened to me?”

“Jaina! Snap out of it! We have got to move!” Anduin yells, taking her by the hand and dragging her with him. They clump together as they try to move through the thick, white haze, shades flying past them, phantom limbs tearing at their clothes. They are moving through a literal river of damned souls. Somehow they manage to find the riverbank, the river itself shallow enough for climbing out of without problems. The ringing in Kamijou’s ears stops the second they get out of the white haze and he breathes in relief.

“Look! On the precipice above! Is that—” Thrall says, alarmed.

“—The Jailer.” Jaina finishes for him, “And he has Baine.”

The Jailer is standing on top of the tower of a massive fortress, holding Baine Bloodhoof by his throat. The man is enormous, and the dark energies radiating from him, even though he is at quite a distance, is incredibly unpleasant.

“This is not good.” Thrall says, reaching for the axe on his back that is no longer there, “He’s going to kill him!”

“Pitiful mortal.” The Jailer drones, his voice carrying through the dusty winds and chaos of The Maw, “I find your spirit—unworthy.” He lets go of Baine, leaving the Tauren to plummet towards the ground and the terrors underneath the tower. Jaina screams, shooting forward on a path of ice. Thrall and Anduin leap after her, leaving Kamijou and Yaiba in the dust.

“Go after the others, I’ll be with you shortly.” Yaiba says, pulling a dagger from its sheath before they cloak themselves in shadows and disappear. Kamijou can naught but listen, heading off in the same direction as the others. He finds the group huddled beneath a rock formation, Anduin channeling holy magic over an unconscious Baine. Jaina is cradling his head in her lap, her face streaked with tears.

“Please… Stay with us, Baine.” she pleads.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.” Anduin says quietly, “His wounds are mending, but his spirit remains weakened. What dark powers is this?”

“Shadowmoon Clan.” Thrall says quietly, prompting a confused look from Anduin.

“The Shadowmoon Clan of Draenor, used to wield dark magic reminiscent of this. It poisons your soul, even though your body is healing the soul will still wither away. They used this type of magic in old, sacrificial rituals.”

“That is terrifying.” Anduin replies, “What can we do to counter it?”

“The clan’s sorcerers used to draw blood from the victim with a specific type of ritual dagger infused with dark magic. The only way to break the curse was to destroy the object which was used to poison the victim’s soul. Even if this magic works by the same principles, we have little chance of finding the precise object that The Jailer used on Baine. I fear—we are going to lose him.” Thrall says looking away, his expression one of great pain. Anduin sucks in a breath as Jaina sobs quietly into Baine’s fur.

“No, this isn’t happening…” Anduin says, “Not you, Baine, please!”

“Your highness.” Yaiba’s raspy voice startles everyone but Anduin as they slink forth from the shadows, “Get ready to fight.” They present a glimmering ornamental dagger speckled with blood, putting it down on a flat rock. Thrall sucks in a breath, his train of thought no doubt the same as Kamijou’s.

“How—?” Thrall whispers. Yaiba gives him a hollow look.

“That is of no importance. Get ready. Oh, you might want this too.” Yaiba presents Thrall with a hefty axe that he reluctantly accepts.

“You truly walk among the shadows don’t you.” Thrall says. Kamijou cannot quite decide if Thrall sounds impressed or if he’s become even more apprehensive of their rogue.

“There are many things that you do not know, and there are many things that you should not know. Break the dagger, darkness comes for him.”

Jaina still cradles Baine’s head in her lap as Anduin pours out more holy magic to hold his spirit stable. Thrall lifts his axe and smashes the dagger, drawing forth a swirl of darkness. The darkness roars, coalescing into the vague shape of a shade before it swipes at them with long claws. It’s over within a few seconds as Thrall cleaves it with his axe and Yaiba stabs at the inky core with their daggers. Kamijou holds his breath as fel permeates the air for a split second, the shade’s core melting from where Yaiba’s daggers hit it. The shade falls to the ground in a swirl of dust.

“Baine?” Anduin says, “Baine can you hear me?”

“Anduin? I thought my end had come...” Baine groans softly as he shifts, trying to sit up. “Jaina?” He gently touches her face, his massive hand wiping the tear streaks away.

“Are you able to walk, brother?” Thrall asks, “We need to make haste.”

“We don’t have time for the full story, but we’ve been told of a waystone, our ticket out of this place, supposedly lying beyond the Cauldron. Have you seen anything?” Jaina says as she helps Baine on his feet.

“There was an obelisk of ancient stone upon the high ridge, beyond these jagged rocks. It did look out of place, but The Jailer’s forces paid it little heed. Do you think that might be what we are searching for?”

“I hope so.” Jaina replies, “The Cauldron is heavily fortified with The Jailer’s forces. Our best bet from here on is for me to cloak us in a mass invisibility spell. I’ve been preparing it for a while now and we should have a couple of minutes before it drains all the allocated mana. Even though we want to avoid a confrontation, be prepared to fight nonetheless. Kamijou, how are you holding up?”

“Drain rate is as expected, but mana reserves are still stable.” Kamijou replies.

“Good. Is everyone ready?”

The group collectively nods, and Jaina’s spell flickers in the air, small, glimmering particles cloaking them in reflective light. Yet again Kamijou is amazed at Jaina’s prowess. He could cloak two people without problem, but any more than that would quickly render his spell unstable.

“Stay close, I don’t have much wiggle room when we’re this many.” Jaina says quietly. A Mawsworn guard patrols nearby, oblivious to their presence. Jaina gives a hand signal for them to move, up the slopes and around the corner of a volcanic vent. The sight that greets them is anything but pleasant.

“The Jailer’s forces are—unreal.” Thrall whispers, “They might as well rival those of The Legion.”

“And they are growing larger by the minute.” Anduin says, “This is more dire than we could have ever anticipated.”

“Stop.” Jaina commands, halting them all in their tracks. A sentry floats by, in the shape of a grotesque eye. It flitters erratically, as if searching for something. After a few agonizing seconds it scurries away, disappearing into the throngs of Mawsworn milling about.

“I fear those eyes can see through my spell.” Jaina whispers, “Better safe than sorry.”

“So many souls pouring into the Maw.” Anduin says, pain and sorrow in his voice, “The dead of Azeroth… Draenor… Worlds beyond our imagination. All damned to this place.”

“All to be forged into weapons for The Jailer.” Thrall says with disgust, “Despite all that Sylvanas has done, I never thought she would be part of something like this. She should have been stopped a long time ago.”

“The waystone lies just ahead.” Baine says, pointing towards the overlook. The Jailer’s forces are gradually thinning out, leaving the place vacated for the time being.

“I don’t like this, it’s too quiet.” Thrall says, “Be on your guard.”

As Jaina’s spell disperses they make a beeline for the waystone. She touches it tentatively, eyebrows knitted in concentration. “The shade said the waystone was dormant, yet it seems to be reacting to something. I can feel the energies, but I cannot connect to it.”

Anduin goes up to her, placing his hand on the waystone as well. Soft, holy light emanates from his palm as he closes his eyes, trying to connect as well. “This is reminiscent of the Titan artifacts I have studied, yet it appears to have been made by different beings. Fascinating. I made brief contact with the energies within, but it withdrew as soon as I called out to it. How are we supposed to activate it?”

“It doesn’t react to the arcane nor the Light.” Jaina says, giving Kamijou a brief glance, “I doubt the elements have more luck.” Thrall nods as he confirms her words, having briefly touched upon the waystone too.

“Perhaps our rogue has a miracle solution to this problem as well?” Thrall says, suspicion clear in his voice. Yaiba shrugs, their expression minimal, almost bored. They walk up to the waystone, hesitating for a brief moment before touching it. It hums as it comes to life underneath their fingers. Thrall snorts, he almost seems angry. “Well what do you know…”

“It appears we need to charge it.” Yaiba says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“A relic of the First Ones...Responding to a mortal!? Impossible! Mawsworn, take them!”

Jaina whips around, frost magic at the ready as The Jailer’s booming voice zones in on them. “He’s here! We need to hold them off long enough for the waystone to charge!”

Kamijou backs away as all hell breaks loose. He sticks to the side of the waystone where Yaiba is. Anduin takes up a guarding position in front of them while Jaina, Baine, and Thrall leap into the frenzy. Something tugs at Kamijou’s senses and he goes rigid as fel energies pulse off Yaiba in waves. The waystone hums louder, clearly feeding off of their Rogue. He feels as if he is going to be sick.

“Jaina, the signal!” Thrall shouts. Jaina’s frost shield explodes as all the Mawsworn in her vicinity freeze in their tracks. She lifts her hand, conjuring a massive arcane blast and shoots it off into the air, the shockwave trembling through the aether.

“Kamijou! Open the portal!” she shouts as the frozen Mawsworn thaws and launches at her. Thrall dispatches them in a whirlwind of his axe, lightning bolts flying off in all directions. Anduin has to dodge one, but he seems unfazed by it, flipping through the pages of his libram as he shields Kamijou and Yaiba from incoming harm. Kamijou shakes his head violently to clear it, forcing down his nausea before concentrating his mana, his inner focus vibrating as he connects to the sigil back in the cave. In a slow pull he draws a rift, shaping it into a portal, and channels a burst through the connection, activating it fully. Seconds tick by, but no one comes through. Jaina launches a pyroblast into the air as a second signal, the sheer size of it lighting up the dread landscape underneath the overlook.

“Where are they!?” she shouts in frustration. Thrall grunts as one of the Mawsworn gets in close enough to collide into him, bringing him to his knees. It is quickly dispatched with a smite from Anduin who leaps forward with Shalamayne to ward Thrall from getting swarmed. They are quickly getting overrun. Kamijou can feel himself sweating from the strain of keeping the portal open and dread fills his stomach as time stretches on and no one comes through. There are a couple of Mawsworn hovering overhead of them, but they curiously appear hesitant of acting. Yaiba pays them no mind whatsoever, flashing Kamijou a sharp grin.

“They are aware of the danger we possess. They aren’t going to attack us .”

The rogue’s cryptic words doesn’t make Kamijou feel better in the slightest. He goes back to watching the portal, gritting his teeth in worry. Where were the others? The portal flickers and Kamijou grunts as the connection suddenly grows unstable. Someone—or something—is trying to cancel it out. He steels himself, arcane paths flaring as he pours the remaining mana from his reserves. It’s a massive strain on his magic and he groans, his limbs protesting and threatening to give out. With a tinge of regret he releases the sigil he bound to Acquila, a surge of fresh mana blossoming forth from the return. With one last burst through the portal it stabilizes somewhat and he falls to one knee, breathing heavily.
In front of him the portal suddenly shimmers, and Acquila stumbles through. Kamijou catches him, but his plate armour is too heavy for Kamijou’s weary limbs and they both tumble to the ground as the portal closes immediately behind him.

“Acquila!” Kamijou says, “Where’s Darion? Where are the others?”

“Kamijou?” The paladin says, his voice is panicked and his breathing erratic, “We were attacked. Darion told me to go, or rather, he shoved me through the portal, together with Jaina’s staff...”

The paladin is clutching Jaina’s staff in his arms. It’s still pulsing with magic, a vortex of arcane going rampant, probably due to having been severed from its ties to the cave so suddenly.

“Kamijou, what’s going on?” Acquila says, “I cannot see you anymore…”

“We’re right in front of the waystone, it needs to charge. We’re getting overrun by The Jailer’s forces.” Kamijou explains hastily.

“My forces are vast! Endless!” The Jailer booms as more Mawsworn pour out from every crevice, nook, and cranny around them. Baine knocks a trio off the ledge before spinning around, planting his totem in the ground and sending shockwaves through the earth. Thrall takes his cue and amplifies the waves, calling forth a small earthquake to stagger the approaching army. Yaiba tsks beside Kamijou, backing away from the waystone.

“You need to take over here, charge the waystone the rest of the way.” They say, pulling out their daggers and doing a backflip down from the waystone’s podium.

“How!?” Kamijou shouts after them, “I don’t have any mana left!”

“The waystone doesn’t operate on mana!” Yaiba shouts back before they’re gone in a flash of smoke. Shrill screams can be heard in the distance, holy magic lighting up the area as Yaiba frees Anduin from a horde of rabid dog-like creatures.

“Death comes for your world! All that you see—all that you know—will be undone!”

The ground shakes as The Jailer materializes, thousands of Mawsworn flanking him on both sides, effectively boxing them in. Jaina and the others back away slowly, retreating to the waystone, weapons at the ready.

“We have defeated endless armies before! We will never yield to you! Never!” Thrall shouts, fire and lightning crackling in his fist. He’s seconds away from leaping at The Jailer, death be damned.

“Nothing escapes The Maw.” The Jailer says as his front line of Mawsworn soldiers march towards them, “Yield to the inevitable.”

The soldiers box them further in, covering all possible exits before they abruptly halt. Yaiba immediately shoves Anduin towards Kamijou, the king stumbling and falling to his knees at the waystone’s podium. The Jailer raises his hand, dark energies coalesce in front of his soldiers and make a wave of darkness that sweeps over Jaina, Thrall, and Baine, chaining them to the ground itself. Anduin gets back up on his feet, anger and determination in his eyes.

“The Light is with me… even here.”

The sky flickers as a pale column of light envelops Stormwind’s king, and with a flick of his hand it expands, creating a dome of light over the waystone, stopping the wave of darkness.

“The waystone!” he shouts, making Kamijou snap his attention back to the ancient device.

‘The waystone doesn’t operate on mana.’

Kamijou grits his teeth in anger as he faces the waystone. His fingers twitch as he lets the latent fel in his blood leap across his arcane pathways, colouring his mana reservoir green instead of blue. The pathstone immediately starts glowing, it sings and pulls at his magic, and he lets it drink from him as he touches it. Whatever ancient mechanisms that make it tick appears satisfied and it opens in a shimmer of silvery white.

“Interesting.” The Jailer says as he effectively dispels Anduin’s dome of light and chains him to the ground as well. The king grunts as he falls to his knees, Shalamayne discarded to the side.

“You… Have failed.” he growls with venom in his voice.

“No… I have precisely what I need.”

“GO, CHAMPION! GO!”

Anduin’s voice fades into a distorted cacophony of noises as the fel in Kamijou’s blood flares into chaos and makes his vision swim.

An insistent hand pushes him through the waystone portal and everything fades to black.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please considering leaving a kudos and/or a comment telling me what you liked about it♥️
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Chapter Text

Art by: Linnpuzzle

Our Heartsong in Red and Gold

Zanthorias Sunwhisper
Vestibule of Eternity
Bastion, Shadowlands

“Invalid command has been executed. Please enter a valid query.”

“For the last time—” the High Elf General shouts, impatience dripping from her voice, “—we are not dead!”

The newly formed platoon shuffles nervously on their feet behind her as the Greeter Mnemis continues to aggravate her temper. A petite elven battle-mage leans in and whispers something close to Zan’s ear. He’s got just enough of a grasp of conversational Common to get the jist of it.

‘General Arcadia scary, always. Temper bad, soon she kill that thing, and maybe others.’

He chuckles softly in response, meeting her lavender coloured eyes.

“That would be an unfortunate turn of events, no?” he replies in Thalassian, better safe than sorry, “I wouldn’t want to die before having had a chance to get to know you.” A tint of pink blossoms on top of her cheekbones and she holds his gaze for a second before she turns her attention back to the General, looking all flustered. Outwardly Zan grins, but on the inside he screams. Of all the stupid—and he doesn’t use that word about himself lightly—things he has done, this might just have taken the proverbial cake.
He had gone to pester Modera in Dalaran about Kamijou’s whereabouts, seeing as his best friend had the audacity to not reply to his communications, only to be met with a disheveled and half-drunk Archmage telling him to ‘haul ass’—he’d definitely start using that one—to The Shadowlands of all places. After having consoled her for a little while he eventually got the full story, dread gripping his whole being. Of course he would ‘haul ass’ to The Shadowlands! His friend’s life was in danger! He could however have gone without seeing Aethas Sunreaver stumbling drunk and naked out of Modera’s bedroom, asking if he was up for a threesome before he left. He wasn’t necessarily against the idea, but he could smell messy drama from a mile away and thus bade them both a hasty farewell.
Both the Horde and the Alliance in the city had been thrown into disarray as different coalitions were trying to organize and get ready to take the plunge into the afterlife so to speak. Having no luck getting assigned to a Horde convoy he had in a moment of recklessness just blended into a group of Alliance High Elves—and it had worked.
Which now left him as a part of General Izara Arcadia’s platoon, tasked with going to a place called Bastion and lending their aid to the denizens of that realm, the Kyrians. The Shadowlands had apparently been thrown into chaos as well with Sylvanas’ meddling, and while he didn’t yet understand the full scope of things, he might as well play along and pass the time while he waited for Kamijou to recover in Oribos. He swallows as he thinks of his friend, comatose and ashen in the med bay. The caretaker he had been talking to had reassured him again and again that Kamijou was going to be fine, he had just—fully depleted his mana reserves, knocking him out cold, and he would be out for a good while. Zan had been planning on sticking around, guarding his friend like a hawk, but the general unfortunately had other plans. He was now a part of the Bastion Relief Squad and he’d ‘better pull his weight ‘round these parts’ was the stern message he’d received.
The Kyrian who’d met them when they arrived in Bastion, Kleia, looks apologetic where she stands by the Greeter Mnemis. She puts her hands up in defeat as the Mnemis shuts down due to lack of anima as she called it.

“I will arrange a meeting with The Archon for you at once.” she says, addressing General Arcadia. The General furrows her brows, the scar going vertically down all the way over her eye and chin crinkles, making her look straight up menacing.

“Good.” she says, crossing her arms. The platoon mills about the vestibule while General Arcadia meets with the one Kleia called The Archon. Zan entertains himself by casting levitate on the various fruits in a bowl set out on one of the tables. He’s balancing eight of them in a nearly perfect circle when someone approaches and sits down opposite of him.

“Cool trick!” the chipper voice of a Draenei says in Common. Judging by the armor she’s wearing, she’s a Paladin. She’s got windswept, blonde hair, framing a narrow face and straight horns, slightly curved towards the tips. It’s not like he’s got a thing for horns specifically, not at all. She’s cute, but honestly all Draenei are in Zan’s humble opinion.

“Oh this? It’s nothing special.” he replies in Thalassian, making the fruit spin slowly around their own axis. He alternates each one so that they spin in opposite directions, the Draenei watching with rapt attention.

“You are very modest.” she says, a cute chuckle leaving  her lips as she procures a small notebook and writes something in it, “But very interesting! Darnassian?”

It takes two seconds for him to connect the dots, but he gives her a curt nod out of reflex as he realises that she is asking him if he speaks Darnassian—or if he is Darnassian aka a Night Elf? Thalassian and Darnassian were distant cousin languages so he can’t exactly blame her for that mix up.

“I have practiced my Darnassian ever since we landed on Azuremyst Isle.” she continues, actually switching over to Darnassian, “I apologize if it’s somewhat broken!”

“No worries.” Zan says, still very cautious. Great, another lie he would have to live by. For now.

“Do you speak a dialect?” she says, tilting her head and picking up her notebook again, “It is most peculiar!”

“Yes.” Zan says without missing a beat. (Damn it.) “I grew up in a different...forest.” (Technically true though, Eversong Woods was a forest.)

“I see!” she replies, scribbling something down again, “Oh! Where are my manners! My name is Theary, pleasure to make your acquaintance! Oh, you can call me Thea though, as everyone else does.”

“Zan.” he says, feeling a bit sweaty when she tilts her head, as if waiting for him to continue, “Zan Sun—” he  clears his throat, “—sun, moon, and the stars in the sky, much like your eyes.” he finishes, giving her his best, charming smile. She looks like she disconnects from reality for several seconds before she blushes madly, but to her credit she doesn’t look away like the battle-mage had done earlier.

“As the humans say—” Thea replies, “—smooth.”

She writes something down in her notebook again. Zan’s pretty sure she’s writing down his pick-up line, which was for once meant as a deflection, to make her lose interest and leave him to his own devices. He could ill afford getting much attention now lest he’d be exposed as Horde. No such luck apparently.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Thea says after a somewhat awkward pause, “Can you believe we’re in the actual afterlife? It is nothing like I had imagined it to be.”

Zan picks up another fruit and adds it to the circle, it’s perfectly round now and he grins.

“I’m not sure if I believed in an afterlife to begin with.” he says, “But with everything else that has happened over the years, why not?”

“You didn’t think we’d end up somewhere after we died?” Thea says, genuine curiosity to her voice.

“Well, I’ve heard on more than one occasion from humans that we’d end up in the Twisting Nether if we didn’t follow the Light…”

“An old drinking buddy of mine used to say that, well, he used to say that he wouldn’t mind if that’s where we ended up.” Thea says, chuckling, “But he’s also a Warlock so...you know.”

At this Zan laughs. Yeah, he knows, all too well.

“One word; succubus.” he replies with one eyebrow raised. Thea snickers.

“Yeah.” she says, sighing in fake exasperation.

Zan decides that he likes her, and if circumstances were different—maybe he would have charmed her to bed?

“Alright, playtime’s over!” General Arcadia barks. She’s done with her meeting with the Archon, and if possible she looks even more sour now. Zan’s only half listening to her, it’s not like he understands half of it anyways since she’s shouting orders in Common.

“You two!” The General says as she marches towards them, “Rank?”

Zan jumps and all the fruit he’s been levitating drops to the table.

“Knight-Captain, ma’am!” Thea says, jumping from her seat and saluting the General with practiced ease. General Arcadia bores her eyes into Zan, awaiting his answer. What were the Alliance ranks called again?

“Same as her.” he says in Thalassian, inclining his head towards Thea, swallowing hard when General Arcadia raises an eyebrow at him.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe.” she says, thankfully responding to him in Thalassian, “Why they do keep sending me useless fodder like this I’ll never know.” She drags her hand over her face in an exasperated manner and turns to Thea. “Well, I don’t have the time to whip a mere Private into shape today so you two, you’re going to head to the Aspirant’s Rest and help the civillians there. If you have the time you can slap this one around a little, Knight-Captain.” she finishes. Thea salutes her with all the poise and grace of a veteran Paladin.

“Yes, ma’am!”

When the General is out of hearing-range, Zan rises to his feet, a hand dramatically on his chest.

“Excuse me!?” he says indignantly, “That was uncalled for!”

Thea doubles over in laughter, wiping away tears with the back on her hand.

“Really though, are you only a Private? Nothing wrong with that, but somehow I had expected you to be…more.” she says, making vague hand gestures. Zan’s honestly offended, but he did put himself in this position didn’t he…

“Fine, fine.” he says, dragging a hand through his long, silky hair, “I may be a ‘Private’, but I’ll have you know I am a damn good one!”

“I don’t doubt that.” Thea says, and Zan swears her voice just dropped a smidgen lower, and the way she looks at him? He shakes his head.

“So, where to?” he says, steering the conversation elsewhere.

“The Aspirant’s Rest…” Thea says, pulling a folded paper out of her armor, “My map says it’s up to the north, it’s not far from here.”

“You have a map?” Zan questions. Thea shrugs.

“A steward gave it to me. Didn’t you get one?”

Kleia approaches them and hands them both the reins of the creature the inhabitants of Bastion use as a steed. She calls them ‘Larions’ and they kind of remind Zan of Alliance Gryphons.

“Let me ride with you.” Kleia says, “I am on my way to Aspirant’s Rest to meet with my soulbind, Pelagos, I can guide you.”

Riding a Larion is much like riding a Gryphon. It’s comfortable—and also very warm. Whilst Thea and Kleia make small talk, Zan’s thoughts again drift to Kamijou. He isn’t quite able to shake the feeling something’s very wrong with his friend. Was it The Maw’s doing? The other guy in the med bay with him had looked fine, even though he was also out like a light. There’s another thought nagging at the back of his head, but he really doesn’t want to acknowledge that one, really not.

“I can still hardly believe you’re actual, living mortals!” Zan hears Kleia say as she steers her Larion to his side. He swears her eyes are sparkling with wonder.

“In the flesh, quite literally, since we’re not dead…” he says, laughing nervously.

“The wonders of Bastion welcome you nonetheless.” Kleia continues warmly, holding out her arm as they ascend a breezy hilltop. The view is simply breathtaking. Bastion isn’t like any other place Zan’s ever seen. There’s grassy meadows the color of wheat as far as the eye can see. Speckled upon rolling hills are plants akin to cotton and different types of ferns, trees with leaves of muted purple, and crystalline rivers running through slender valleys. In the distance there’s a heavenly monument, floating in the air, the seat of higher beings no doubt. It is truly a place of celestial beauty.

“Here we are.” Kleia says as they ride into the settlement called Aspirant’s Rest, “We are supposed to meet Pelagos at the square, come with me.”

Another Kyrian greets them and takes the reins to their Larions, leading the animals away to a drinking fountain. They receive curious glances from the various locals as they walk towards the main square together with Kleia.

“This architecture is truly fascinating!” Thea says with unbridled awe in her voice, “Somehow it reminds me of the Exodar. Not in the literal sense, but this place exudes a holy energy, much like the one of a Naaru. Very fascinating indeed!” She pulls up her little notebook again for the umptenth time and gets busy scribbling.

If he allows himself to, Zan can feel it too. There is a definite hum of holy energy in the very aether of this place and his arcane pathways vibrate in anticipation as he lets a small amount of that very energy trail along his skin. He shuts it out abruptly, grumbling to himself as he has to yet again admit defeat to a calling he doesn’t want. He was a Shadow Priest damnit!

“Kleia! Thank the Archon!” a voice calls out to them, “Pelagos began the ritual without you!” the woman says, trying to catch her breath as she stops before them.

“What? That fool!” Kleia cries, “I told him it’s too dangerous to attempt a cleansing alone!”

“His memories have manifested and become violent, and they’re welling up from within the den, tormenting the other aspirants. My apologies, I tried to stop him...”

Kleia turns to Zan and Thea, a sorrowful expression on her face.

“Pelagos is my soulbind. He is my brother, my closest friend, my mentor, my student, my everything. He knows me completely, and I him. We share a bond stronger than any other, his torment is my torment. He was supposed to undergo a cleansing ritual today, with me as his witness, but he got impatient, and now he will pay the price. I am forbidden from intervening, as an Aspirant’s trial is their own. They must succeed on their own merit or the trial is forfeit.”

Dark energies swirl from the den Zan assumes is the site of the ritual. They coalesce into twisted, black blobs, slithering across the ground until dispersed by the Kyrian Defenders outside. Well, that was unfortunate. Thea looks at him, he raises an eyebrow at her.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Thea says and pulls her hammer from its strap.

“Whoah, whoah, wait—we are forbidden from intervening, remember?” Zan says, looking at Kleia for confirmation.

“Not...you.” Kleia says quietly, “As a Kyrian and a soulbind, I am bound by our laws, you are technically not.”

Zan can read between the lines, he can hear her silent plea, and Thea has apparently already made up her mind. Well, looks like their first mission was already on the table then. He gives Kleia an affirming nod, catching Thea smiling at him from the corner of his eye.

“Make haste, bring Pelagos back to me.” Kleia says, “I will not allow this to be his last trial, not when he may finally have a chance at ascension.”

“You got it!” Thea says, charging forwards, her hammer ramming into the first blob unlucky enough to be in her path. Zan unlocks his arcane pathways, careful not to let the holy energies in the air distract him as he calls forth power from the void lingering in the depths of his consciousness. There’s a momentarily sear across his synapses, a hot flash as shadows sprout forth from his being and cover him in darkness. The shat’yar whispers dim and fade out fairly quickly as his shadowform stabilizes. Good. He managed to manifest it on the first try this time.

“Shadow Priest, huh?” Thea says, more for conversation’s sake than anything, “Means we’ll work a yin yang synergy here!”

Zan nods at Kleia one last time before he follows Thea carving a path into the den. Thea makes short process of cleaning out the spiraling hallway leading down into the first room of the den, saving two aspirants from a gaggle of memory blobs by flattening them with her hammer.

“Thank the Archon! We’re saved!” one of the aspirants cries as they stumble towards the hallway and the exit.

“Pelagos went further inside.” the other aspirant says, “He must have gone to the purification chamber, at the very depths of the den.”

“Thank you!” Thea says, already moving again. Zan hurries after her. As they descend, Zan notices curious pits in the stone floor, large enough for a person to fit through. He carefully peers over the edge of one, finding it bottomless. Contrary to what he is used to—bottomless pits being filled with darkness—these are all filled with light. Somehow that feels more threatening. He shakes his, trying to dispel the eerie feeling sneaking into his mind.

‘I’m so sorry’

“For what?” they both say in unison, halting their descent. Thea turns to look at him, a puzzled expression on her face. Zan is feeling just as confused.

‘Alone… all alone…’

Zan’s ears twitch as something sounds as if it's scraping against stone—and moving very quickly. Before he can tell Thea to be on her guard, something hisses loudly and springs forth from the shadows, knocking the paladin over with such force she is sent flying. She crashes into the wall, groaning as she falls to her knees. Her hammer is flung down the next hallway, clattering against the stone floor.

“What in the world…” she groans as she rises to her feet, only for the unknown force to charge at her again, knocking her over. Everything moves in slow motion as Zan watches her fall towards one of the larger pits. Panic rises in his throat as he lifts his hand, his shadowform fizzles out, angry shat’yar yelling in his ears as holy energy collects at his fingertips and shoots forwards in an elegant arch. It snakes around Thea’s waist and lifts her in the air, and with a flick of his hand he pulls her towards him. She lands on her feet right in front of him, her hands up a guarding position.

“Catch!” he says, as he grips her hammer and flings it towards them. She jumps and expertly snags it mid-air, holy wings sprouting forth from her back and with an elegant twist of her body, she slams her hammer full-force into the head of the twisted creature. It gurgles and shrieks as it melts away, spouting unintelligible gibberish.
Thea breathes heavily as she wipes at her forehead, there’s blood there, but only a superficial smear. Zan’s heart is still hammering in his chest. That had been unnecessarily close!

“You...saved my life.” Thea says, offering him a grateful smile.

“You’re...welcome.” Zan replies, “That was...way too close for comfort.”

“I agree. Let’s find Pelagos and get out of here. I am so done!”

She recovers quickly this one, Zan muses as he watches Thea cast a quick healing spell on herself, the small cut on her forehead vanishing. She marches on with determination, leaving Zan dumbstruck for a second. He quickly composes himself, and activates his shadowform again, rolling his eyes at the pleased whispers in his mind.

‘Yeah, yeah, gloat all you want. One day I’ll master this, mark my words!’ his inner voice angrily replies before hurrying after Thea. The memory blobs become more aggressive the further in they go, meaning they must be on the right path.

“H-elp...me…” a voice groans. Zan’s ears perk up in alertness and shadow magic swirls around in his hands. They weren’t going to get jumped like earlier again if he could help it!

“In here!” Thea says as she rounds the corner, “It must be him!”

In the center of a spacious room, an enormous black, twisted creature stands, inky tendrils holding a Kyrian man suspended in the air.

“Help…” Pelagos groans.

‘You are weak. Ascension will never be yours.’ The creature rasps in an otherworldly voice as its tendrils caress Pelagos’ limp body. ‘Give up.’

“I am… weak... I will… fail.”

“Not on my watch!” Thea shouts as she charges headfirst into the room. The creature lets go of Pelagos as its gaze focuses on the charging paladin. Zan manages to grip Pelagos just in time and pull him out of harm's way.

“I would like a heads up next time!” Zan shouts after Thea as he tries to get Pelagos to sit against the wall.

“Sorry!” she shouts back, sparing Zan a glance as her hammer smashes into the creature’s side, “You’re doing great though!” she adds, her eyes gleaming. She’s smiling too. Weirdo…

‘Your failure… Is a stain… On your soul…’ the memory continues to taunt Pelagos as it swipes after Thea.

“No.. No! I must not give in!” Pelagos cries, writhing on the ground in feverish spasms. He pulls himself up on his knees and coughs, black matter pouring from his lips. Zan winces.

“Uuh, Thea? This doesn’t look good. I think we need to finish this rather quickly.”

“You don’t, hngh—say?” Thea quips as she narrowly dodges a particularly nasty attack, “Though I wouldn’t mind some help here.”

“Never thought you’d ask!” Zan says with a smirk, one hand elegantly rested under his chin. Goosebumps rise on his skin as his shadowform flares, fed by his inner void core. Steady, steady—a purple flame manifests over the memory’s head and with a flick of his wrist Zan has the creature shriek in agony as the flames spread and lick down its body. It flails and lashes out indiscriminately, small blobs of ink explode from its shape.

“Hold it down!” Thea shouts, readying her hammer. Hold it down? Oh right, right. Zan closes his eyes and concentrates.

‘It’s like a Life Grip, but opposite, and also channeled into a steady beam.’

Bastion must be a place of miracles, because Zan manages to get his Mind Flay off perfectly, slowing the memory down enough so that Thea can charge her finishing attack. She does that elegant jump into the air again, lifted high on wings of holy light, and smashes her hammer hard down on the creature’s head. It falls flat to the floor and goes limp before it slowly melts and disperse into the air, not leaving a single trace behind. Thea breathes in relief and wipes sweat off her brow.

“I was thinking about shackling it, but a mind flay worked too. Good job!” she says and grins.

“Haha, yeah, thought I’d give you a little challenge!” Zan says, not all too convincing.

“Is that so?” Thea says, a small chuckle escaping her lips. Their banter is interrupted by Pelagos coughing and rolling over on his back.

“I—I thought that was the end. You two saved my life!” he says, sniffling a bit and rubbing at his eyes.

“You’re welcome.” Thea says warmly. She goes over to him and helps him up.

“Let's get out of here, hm?”

The den has quieted down, and the rest of the memory blobs have dispersed as well. Thank the Light. Kleia meets them at the entrance with a look of utter relief on her face.

“Pelagos!” she cries, running towards him and hugging him, “Ooo that was so reckless of you!” she continues in a scolding tone, shaking him by his shoulders, “You would have fallen were it not for these mortals!”

“Kleia… I am so sorry, I thought I could succeed on my own. But I was wrong…”

“Nevermind that, I am just glad you’re safe.” she says, hugging him tightly again. Zan lets them have their moment, letting his shadowform fall off and roll the tension out of his shoulders. He managed to hold it for their whole trek, save that little incident with the Life Grip. That was progress for sure. Thea yawns beside him.

“Excuse me.” she says, yawning again, “That must have been more tiring than I thought. It’s still in the middle of the day somehow?” she continues, squinting at the bright sky.

“Oh, no, it is actually very late.” Kleia says, “Bastion is always bathed in eternal light, we see the shift from day to night in our holy dials.” She proceeds to point at a device vaguely resembling a sundial. It is as elegant as the rest of the architecture around them and covered in obscure symbols.

“I realise you may not be able to understand this, my apologies.” Kleia continues, “I shall teach you how in the morning. For now, let me show you to your quarters so that you may rest.”

They follow Kleia and Pelagos to another den, this one more reminiscent of actual living quarters.

“My apologies for the sparse accommodations, we weren’t expecting guests so soon. I will have something better arranged for you by tomorrow.” Kleia says, “I’ve set out some fruit and water for you. If you need a wash there’s necessities behind this curtain. Please, get a good night’s rest, and do find me in the morning, I shall have a proper breakfast prepared for you before you leave!” She bows to them and offers them a friendly smile before she exits the room. Pelagos bows too, holding it way longer than necessary.

“Thank you again, mortals, for saving my life.”

“Think nothing of it, friend!” Thea says, “But next time promise you you’ll listen to your girlfriend, yeah? Don’t go off all alone.”

Pelagos splutters at Thea’s words.

“O-oh, you are mistaken we are not—o-of course I will keep that in mind! H-have a good night!” Pelagos says hastily before he exits, closing the door way too quick.

“Did I say something wrong?” Thea questions, raising an eyebrow at Zan. Zan shrugs.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“Well, no use mulling over that. I need to get out of this sweaty armour…”

Zan tries not to peek as Thea removes her armour, piece by agonizingly slow piece. He’s a gentleman after all, but it’s not like naked bodies are a big deal. At all. When he hears the curtain open and close he removes his own robes and kicks back on one of the beds with a fruit. It’s pink, and it tastes light and sweet. He chews slowly as he mulls the day over. What a day, and it has only been one day… One day where he has already managed to trick several people into thinking he is a High Elf. That was so going to backfire. He sighs as he pours himself some water. He was doing this for Kamijou. His friend was out cold in Oribos, and there was nothing Zan could do for now other than help the inhabitants of the realm.

“I don’t think soulbind means that they are lovers, but more like soul mates in a platonic way.” Thea says as she emerges from behind the curtain, “I think I embarrassed the poor guy.”

Thea is gorgeous. She’s got those typical feminine hips that Draenei women do, her sandy blonde hair compliments her lavender skin perfectly, and then there are those horns… Zan doesn’t realise he’s spaced out before Thea, hands on her hips, clears her throat loudly.

“Yeah.” Zan replies, not sure to what exactly. Thea grabs a fruit, this one yellow, and flings herself down on the other bed.

“I’ve barely learned about some of the cultures of Azeroth, and now there’s even more here in the Shadowlands. I wish I had brought more than one notebook with me.” she says, taking a bite out of the fruit. “How long do you think we’ll be here for?”

“I don’t know.” Zan replies honestly, “I’ve got a friend waiting for me in Oribos. He’s not...well. They said I should come back in a few weeks so...That’s what I’ll do.”

“I’m sorry. Must be hard.” Thea says, chewing slowly.

“Eh, they say he’ll live. I just have to—not think about it too much.”

“Still… Hey, I’m here, if you need to talk, ok?” Thea says, offering him a kind smile.

“Thanks.” Zan replies, feeling a swell in his heart, “I appreciate that.”

He goes behind the curtain to wash up. It’s not a shower or a bath, they must have communal baths somewhere else. But there’s a wash basin, wash cloths, soaps, and powders, and honestly he feels quite fresh when he’s done. The lights in the room have dimmed, and he finds Thea fast asleep, on top of her covers. Would she be cold? He lays down in his own bed, but after a minute he rises again, bringing his own cover to the paladin and arranging it over her sleeping form. He picks up his robes from where he left it and snuggles underneath it, casting one last glance at Thea.

“Good night.” he whispers, before sleep claims him too.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please considering leaving a kudos and/or a comment telling me what you liked about it♥️
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Chapter Text

Art by: Linnpuzzle

Our Heartsong in Red and Gold

Zanthorias Sunwhisper
Aspirant’s Rest
Bastion, Shadowlands

Zan wakes to the tinkling of tiny bells, a soft musical melody that leaves his heart strangely light. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he catches Thea smiling at him as she fastens the straps on her armor.

“Good morning!” she says cheerily, “Sleep well?”

Zan doesn’t have any problems sleeping for the most part, but being this well-rested is more of a rarity. Although they were in an arduous fight yesterday, his muscles are relaxed and his head is clear. Wonders of Bastion indeed.

“Yeah. You?” he says as he stretches languidly and pops some of his joints before pulling his robe over his head. He gathers his hair and ties it up in a messy ponytail, brushing some of the loose strands behind his ear. His eyes meet Thea’s and he cocks his head to the side.

“Did you...sleep well last night?” he elaborates when she doesn’t reply to his initial query.

“Oh! Yes! I did!” she says, fretting for whatever reason.

“Are you alright?” Zan presses, noticing the slight pink on top of her cheeks.

“Never been better! I mean, the beds here are like sleeping on actual clouds. I wonder if I could bring one home with me?”

She’s acting weird and Zan wants to continue prying, but they needed to start the day. Kleia had mentioned that they should come find her when they woke up and wanted breakfast. Zan splashes some water in his face and grabs his satchel as Thea fastens the last straps on her armor and her hammer to her belt, and then they’re off to go find Kleia. Outside is just as white and bright as yesterday. Zan’s got no idea about the time, but by now it was quite clear Bastion’s only got one type of weather; permanently sunny—except there was no actual sun in the sky. No use pondering the logics of the afterlife however, might as well just roll with it. They find Kleia not far from the living quarters. She greets them with a friendly smile and a wave from where she is arranging pastries in a woven basket.

“Good morning! Please, have a seat. I will serve you breakfast in a minute.”

Breakfast appears to be a communal affair as they are joined by several other Kyrians from the encampment—all of them bright and cheerful. They’re served tea with a floral scent, airy ciabatta bread, and a generous helping of fruit salad. It’s a light yet filling meal and Zan feels refreshed and ready to take on whatever job needs to be done. Thea’s eyes sparkle with joy as Kleia hands them each their bag of something sweet smelling and sticky looking.

“Candied walnuts.” she says, “For the road. Never know when you might need a little something.” she winks at them.

“Thank you so much!” Thea says, pocketing her bag somewhere in her armor, “I do have a sweet tooth so this is just perfect!”

“Right, let me brief you about your tasks today—ah yes—and how to tell time with our holy dials. Follow me.”

After a short lesson in how to navigate the dials—they’re much like sundials actually, despite the no-sun situation—Kleia asks for Thea’s map and draws a ring around a specific area.

“You are to look for Tamesis and Zosime, down by the Garden of Respite. The garden is in turmoil at the moment due to the anima drought. Zosime requested assistance a couple of nights ago, but we have been stretched thin as is with our problem with the Forsworn and all.” Kleia looks pensive for a moment, the afterlife apparently had some unique problems to deal with. Zan isn’t sure what a ‘Forsworn’ is, but they must have assigned someone else to deal with that particular problem. Probably General Arcadia.

“You only need to follow the road east from here til you’re past Purity’s Reflection and then head north. You should see the dip in the terrain where the garden is located.” Kleia explains as she points to various places on Thea's map, “You best be prepared to deal with frenzied wildlife, at least that is what Zosime’s latest report said.”

“You can count on us!” Thea says with gusto, pocketing her map, “We’ll be home in time for supper!”

Kleia laughs, a sweet and relieved sound.

“Thank you.” she says, bowing to them, “Your Larions are saddled and ready to go. I have some urgent matters to attend to so I best be going. I’ll see you later. Archon guide you.”

They wave her off and swing themselves up in the saddles. Zan watches as Thea pats her Larion affectionately and sneaks it a candied walnut from her bag.

“Who’s a good boy? Yes, who’s a good boy!?” Thea croons as she ruffles the Larion’s ears. It purrs and growls contently, gleefully chomping down the treat she offers.

“You might not be aware, but that would be me.” Zan says with a smirk, not able to let the opportunity go. Thea chuckles in response.

“Need me to scratch your ears and feed you walnuts too?” she says, her eyes gleaming.

“If you absolutely must.” Zan says in his most suave tone. Thea rolls her eyes.

“You haven’t proven to me that you’re a good boy yet though.”

“What did the Larion do to deserve your immediate affection then?” Zan says, pretending to be wounded.

“He’s soft and fuzzy—” Thea says, bowing her head to nuzzle the Larion’s neck, whom stretches and purrs as Thea cuddles with it, “—and he lets me ride him.”

The mischievous glint in Thea’s eyes is what does it—and maybe that low, sultry tone does something too. Zan’s mouth goes dry, the tips of his ears burn hearing the double entendre. Her head is tilted to the side, cheek brushing the Larion’s fur, lips quirked slightly upwards. She knows what she is doing.

“Something the matter?” she says innocently.

“Excuse me, mortals?” A soft voice interrupts their awkward moment. Zan coughs to clear his throat and faces the Kyrian who has approached them. “Yes?”

“My name is Klystere. I don’t mean to intrude, but I overheard that you’re traveling past Purity’s Reflection, and I was wondering if you could do me a favour?”

“What do you need?” Thea says, all friendly as she packs away her walnut bag.

“Someone very dear to me recently achieved the role of Acolyte at the Temple of Purity. It is one of the highest honors pre your ascension. I need someone to deliver a gift for me.”

“Well what are we here for if not helping the people of Bastion?” Thea says, beaming brightly, “Of course we’ll deliver your gift!”

“Thank you!” Klystere exclaims, clasping her hands together. She rummages through her bag and carefully hands Thea a neatly wrapped parcel. Thea places it in one of the saddlebags on her Larion’s side.

“Ask for Acolyte Amalthina when you arrive there.” Klystere says, “Go in service.”

As they ride out Zan is again stricken by the sheer beauty of Bastion. Just viewing the landscape is enough to make his heart full of a strange sense of calm. Thea must be feeling the same way too, as she has a peaceful look on her face.

“I will confess, when I die, I hope I get to go to Bastion.” she says. “I don’t even know why I said that.” she adds after a pause. Zan chuckles.

“Strange that you mention it, so do I.” he replies.

“Do you think Bastion has a connection to the Light? Maybe that is why we feel so at home here?”

It had sort of crossed Zan’s mind, and it would make sense in his and Thea’s case. They were both disciples of the Light, even though he tried very hard to not be, but a priest was still a priest at the end of the day.

“It is entirely possible, I mean, anything goes now.”

Not before long another encampment appears in the distance. Thea checks her map and confirms that it is indeed the Temple of Purity in the distance, their first destination, and thus the encampment would be Purity’s Reflection. They’re greeted warmly as they approach, despite the general gloomy mood. Some of the Kyrians appear to be hurt, currently being tended to by healers. One of the guards approaches them, bowing deeply as she greets them.

“Welcome to the Temple of Purity, mortals. Are you here as extra reinforcement against the Forsworn assaulting our temple?”

Someone must already be here, that was good at least, Zan muses.

“Ah, no, apologies.” Thea says, “We’re merely passing by, looking for someone by the name Acolyte Amalthina.”

The Kyrian seems surprised for a moment.

“That would be me. Can I be of assistance to you?”

Thea rummages through her saddlebag and procures the parcel she was given by Klystere.

“Someone who holds you very dear asked us to deliver this to you.”

A smile spreads on Amalthina’s lips as she is handed the parcel. She opens it and gasps softly as she unpacks a beautiful wreath of what looks like Larion feathers and dried flowers from a soft pelt. She gazes lovingly at it for a long moment before addressing Zan and Thea.

“You have no idea what you just delivered, do you?” she says. Both Zan and Thea shake their heads.

“This is a gift of high importance, but before I tell you of its significance, if it’s not too much trouble, may I ask you for a favour as well?”

“Of course!” Thea exclaims before Zan can protest, “We’re here to help!”

“Wonderful!” Amalthina says, “When we have moments to ourselves, Klystere and I frequent a resting place to the north of here, along the path to the Temple of Courage.” She accepts Thea’s map and draws a ring around an area, “We planted a special flower there together a while ago, a Windblossom , it should be in bloom around this time. Could you bring it to me? I shall tell you of the significance of our exchange when you’ve done so.”

“You can count on us!” Thea says enthusiastically. Zan wonders if the Draenei actually gets a high from helping other people run errands.

“Thank you, mortals, this means more to me than what you could possibly understand.” She bows again and bids them farewell.

“Looks like luck is on our side again. The area she marked is right beside our next destination!” Thea says as they ride.

“It will be one hell of a side quest though.” Zan supplies, “Since we’re picking up a flower I reckon we’ll have to head back again before it wilts, and then we can head to our actual mission.”

“That won’t be necessary!” Thea says, “I have a neat trick up my sleeve!”

Thea does actually have a trick up her sleeve, a rather neat trick too. As they locate the resting place and Amalthina and Klystere’s flower, Thea brings out a tiny, clear hydropod from her armour that enlarges with one press of a button. She extracts the flower with surgical precision and encapsulates it in the pod, pushing some of the buttons on it til it clicks and whirrs and tiny droplets of mist gather on the plant’s petals.

“There we go.” she says, satisfied with her work, “Now it’ll stay nice and fresh til we can head back.” She places it carefully in her Larion’s saddlebag.

“That’s a pretty neat trick.” Zan says, impressed.

“I learned it from a friend of mine who is a really passionate herbalist. He actually developed this specific type of hydropod with the help of some of the brightest engineers on the Exodar!” Thea explains, all giddy, “I am glad it came of use here, I wasn’t sure if it was worth bringing it with me.”

A bit further up on the road they are greeted by a Kyrian woman tending a small campsite. She looks very tired.

“Thank the Archon you’re here to help, mortals!” She says, “I am Tamesis. My partner Zosime is down in the garden. You can leave your Larions here with me.”

From afar the Garden of Respite looks quite tranquil, but as they descend the slopes they’re greeted with low growling and shrieks mixed within. It reminds Zan of the ambiance of Stranglethorn Vale. A Kyrian woman stands on a ledge overlooking the garden, a large Larion yawning by her side.

“Greetings!” Thea says, addressing the woman, “You must be Zosime!”

“Thank the Archon!” she exclaims, clutching her chest, “Yes, I am Zosime. I am so glad my message got through! Please! We’re in dire need of help!”

“Fear not—” Thea says, patting her hammer, “We’re more than ready to take on this challenge!”

“Can you give us a briefing of the situation?” Zan asks, letting the curious Larion sniff his hand before petting its head. The Larion makes a purring sound and slobbers all over Zan’s hand instead. Disgusted he shakes the drool off as Zosime laughs politely.

“Oh Kala, bad girl!” She chastises the Larion, “She might be big, but she is still a baby, so she doesn’t know how to behave very well yet.”

Thea gives Zan a sly grin, one that says ‘watch me’ , and walks up to Kala, finding her walnut bag again and holding a treat in front of her nose. There goes Thea again, showing off with her walnuts and animal friendships. Zan folds his arms as he watches her. Kala sniffs the walnut vigorously—before chomping down on Thea’s hand. Thea yelps as her whole hand disappears inside Kala’s mouth.

“Kala!” Zosime shouts, prying Kala’s mouth open, “That’s not how you take a treat! We have been over this!”

Thea’s hand is intact, but full of slobber as well. Zan tries to stifle his laughter, but it is a half-assed effort. Thea pouts at him.

“You’re not hurt right?” Zosime says, “Kala only has baby teeth yet and they frequently itch, but her drool is rather excessive, it’s not...pleasant.”

“Yeah, I’m...fine.” Thea says, not wounded anywhere but in her pride.

“The anima drought hasn’t been hard on just the Kyrians, our wildlife suffers as well.” Zosime says as she starts explaining the situation, “Many animals have become aggressive and menacing, especially the wyrms and the cloudfeathers. They are attacking the other wildlife blindly, and not only out of hunger. I fear they are beyond saving at this point, and it hurts me to say, but I believe that we need to thin their ranks, even clear the garden of the tainted wildlife.” She looks sorrowful for a moment, this is a decision that has been weighing heavy on her.
“Tamesis desperately wants to believe that we can save them, but they are truly beyond saving. Please, can you carry out this burden for us?”

“We’re here to help.” Zan says, trying to pet Kala again, she tries to nip at his hand, but he is too fast for her, pulling it away before she can have a nibble. “So all the wyrms and cloudfeathers in the area yes?”

“Correct, and while you’re out there; we had to leave our post in a hurry so all of Kala’s toys got left inside the garden. Could you just keep an eye out for them for me? She is getting too jittery for me to handle.”

“Sure.”

“Please be on the lookout for her slobber ball, her plushie Mister Mikanikos, and her comfort pillow.”

“You got it!” Thea says, the chipper tone back in her voice, “We’ll fix this, no problem!”

“Thank you, truly, mortals. We use this place to meditate and reflect as a part of our journey to ascension. It is important that it remains quiet and serene for that purpose.” Zosime says, bowing in gratitude.

The garden is a beautiful place bathed in a soft blue hue, with waterfalls trickling from the stone formations that make up the walls, and a rich and expansive flora. As they reach the bottom of the slopes from Zosime they are immediately greeted with a shrill shrieking as a wyrm flies low over their heads, swiping at them with its claws.

“Right off the bat, huh?” Zan says in an irritated tone. He calls for the void and lets his shadowform envelop him. A well placed mind blast has the wyrm hissing and spitting acid at their feet. Thea clobbers it over the head with her hammer and it falls to the ground twitching before it goes still and disintegrates into fine dust.

“Well then.” Thea says, her hands on her hips as they survey the garden from their new vantage point. Chaos would be an apt description, with way more frenzied animals rampaging about than what they had anticipated.

“Yeah.” Zan agrees, mimicking Thea’s stance, “What did you say about being home in time for supper?”

“Disregard that.” Thea replies, “We’re in for a long-ass haul.” Zan’s heart gives off a giddy thump.

“I think I might love you.” he blurts out, “ Long-ass is one of my favourite human words.”

Thea chortles at his remark.

“Right!?” she says, grinning, “It’s so useful and it has that punch to it. How about ‘kick-ass’ ?”

“Marry me.” Zan says deadpan, but can’t help his lips quirking upwards. Thea laughs again.

“Only if you can beat my kill count!” she yells as she charges into the throngs of enemies ahead.

“You’re on!” Zan shouts on the tops of his lungs as he rushes into battle after her.

“Are you...are you alive?” Thea says, gasping for air. Zan waves his arm weakly as he adjusts his seating. A few hours later, they’re sitting back to back on the ground, with piles upon piles of wyrm and cloudfeather dust spread around them. A gentle gust of wind brushes past, picking up some of the dust, and Zan sneezes violently when it gets into his nose.

“Never...been, achoo—better, ugh...” he replies, sniffling.

“Just one area left now.” Thea supplies, “Hang in there.” She offers him her flask of water and he takes a big gulp.

“The north-western side, right?” he says, wiping his mouth.

“Yeah, and hopefully that’s where we’ll find Kala’s ‘slobber ball’ .”

Thea gets up on her feet, wobbling a bit as she stretches her long limbs. Zan follows her example. His mana was getting a bit low, but he’d manage the rest of the way. They’d done a pretty good job cleaning out the garden and finding two out of three of Kala’s toys. He’s pretty sure he’s going to be out like a light at the end of the day though. As they approach the last area of the garden, Zan notices that it’s eerily quiet.

“Hey, look, there’s Kala’s last toy!” Thea says with enthusiasm as she walks over to pick it up. Something scrapes at the back of Zan’s mind, the shat’yar laughs ominously. As Thea’s hand closes around the ball, Zan snaps his wrist and yanks her back with his Lifegrip, a hair's breadth away from the jaws of a screeching cloudfeather leaping from the tall grass. Thea yelps as the cloudfeather charges her again, but it bounces back from crashing into Zan’s Power Word: Shield. Spittle flies everywhere as the frenzied animal shakes its head, roaring on top of its lungs.

“Excuse you!?” Thea shouts angrily at the cloudfeather, “Now you’ve had my friend here save me twice , what do you think that does to my confidence, huh!?”

She roars as she leaps forward, stunning the animal with her hammer and pelting it with holy light. It growls as it comes out of its daze, slashing at her with its claws. It leaves scrapes down her armor as she continues to advance, apparently too pissed to care anymore. Zan watches her in awe. She stuns it again, spinning around to gain momentum as she gives it one final clobber right between the eyes. It falls to the ground, quite dead, and evaporates into yet more fine dust.

“Yeah, I’m quite done.” Thea says as she turns to Zan, “Let’s clean out the rest of the small fries and be on our way.”

Zan nods in agreement. Luckily, the last of the small wyrms milling about doesn’t pose any problem whatsoever. A few quick rounds of his mind sear spell cleans them out nicely, and soon they’re on their way back to Zosime, carrying all of Kala’s toys with them.

Kala chirps in delight as they walk into Zosime’s temporary camp. Thea hands her Mister Mikanikos whom she chews on enthusiastically all while purring up a storm. Kala is adorable despite her excessive drooling Zan thinks.

“Thank you, mortals.” Zosime says warmly, “I’ve prepared a meal for you, please eat while I go over the plan for the next phase.”

Zan would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed he can’t go back just yet. He’s hungry and tired, but a promise is a promise. He helps himself to the porridge Zosime presents for them, throwing a ton of berries on top as he listens to her plan.

“Eons ago, there was a powerful Ascended by the name of Korinna. She was especially gifted with animals, and she single handedly tamed the wildlife of Bastion. In her possession she had an artifact whose original name has been lost to the times, but we call it Korinna’s Allaying Crook. Her staff has the power to inoculate creatures against succumbing to the anima starvation.”

“Are there any particular reasons as to why we didn’t use the artifact to begin with?” Zan asks.

“It can only prevent early stages of anima starvation, not cure it entirely sadly.” Zosime replies, “This artifact hasn’t been used in millenia, but it has been held in the reliquary in the north part of the garden. We’ll need to retrieve it. Hopefully we should have no problems now as you have cleaned out the garden of the infected creatures.”

Thea is furiously taking notes in her book between spoonfuls of porridge. It hits Zan then, that the Draenei race is still new to Azeroth, and that Thea is always making an effort in learning about everything around her. The Shadowlands was new to both of them, but Thea approaches it just like she does Azeroth. He admires her dedication.

“You need to come with us, Kala.” Zosime says as she unhooks the Larion’s leash. “But I expect you to be on your best behaviour, ok?” Kala makes a happy noise in response, still chewing on her plushie as she skips after Zosime. The reliquary is quiet. There’s a few creatures nesting there, but they appear to not yet be tainted, and they barely glance in the party’s direction. The artifact is nestled primly in the center of the back room, protected by a bubble of holy energy. Zosime orders Kala to lie down by the entrance and wait for them. There’s a bell beside the artifact, and Zosime goes to bow before it.

“The artifact is meant to be used only in a time of dire need. I think we can all agree upon this indeed being a time of dire need. But it is ultimately up to Korinna. I will ring the Vesper of Courage, and be judged accordingly.”

The sound the vesper makes as Zosime rings it, is otherworldly. It sounds like a bell, yet it doesn’t. It leaves a pleasant tingle in Zan’s ears.

“Courage calls. Ah, Zosime, my child, you have come to retrieve the artifact.”

From the vesper a winged silouhette springs forth, it’s translucent and reminds Zan of a hologram.

“Honored Ascended Korinna, our garden is in dire need! The animals are starving, and we are having difficulties soothing their pains. I come to you to request your aid, to request your artifact to be used once more!” Zosime says, bowing deeply.

“My child, you are young, but you have tended to this garden with uttermost devotion. Your courage is a beacon, and your vision for this place is pure, I shall grant you your wish. Channel your anima into the staff, show me your courage and your hope, and the artifact shall be yours to command!”

Zosime takes a deep breath, and as she focuses her anima, Zan can sense the holy energies in the ether, pulsing around her. It caresses his mind gently, and flows over his skin—a pleasant sensation, and it has the potential of great healing. If Zan opened his pathways just a little, and embraced those energies, he’s convinced he could effortlessly heal a full army. He grimaces and keeps quiet.

“Well done.” Korinna says as the bubble of energy is dispelled, “You have proven to me that you are worthy. Tend to the garden in my name, I will be watching over you as you grow.”

“Thank you, great Korinna, it is an honour.” Zosime replies, and bows deeply before the waning visage of the ascended hero.

A curious Kala trots up to Zosime, and sniffs at the newly revealed staff. Before they know it, Kala drops her plushie and chomps down on the artifact.

“Kala! No!” Zosime yelps as Kala flaps her wings, kicking up dirt and sand. Thea tries to catch Kala’s leash, but she misses. The Larion chirps happily as she gets lift-off, and they can do nothing but watch helplessly as she flies away.

“She must think it is her chewing stick!” Zosime cries, running after her. Zan and Thea sprint after Zosime. How were they going to catch a flying Larion? This day just got even longer.

“I told you she could be quite the troublemaker. Ugh, Kala!” Zosime says, sounding about as irritated as Zan is at the moment. At least that’s a comfort. “I saw her fly into her den in the west section of the garden. Come!”

Kala’s den is spacious and it smells musty and warm. Zan narrowly dodges stepping in what he assumes is Larion poop as they follow the trail of fur and feathers inside the den.

“I think she has just entered her growth spurt.” Zosime says, “She’s shedding fur and feathers all over and she keeps chewing on things. Larions get really rowdy in this phase, we need to show her some tough love.”

They find Kala laying down on the ground, gnawing on the priceless artifact, and Thea winces audibly.

“Kala!” Zosime shouts, “You have been a very, very naughty girl!”

Kala’s ears twitch, and she growls in confusion. She gnaws faster on the staff, and Zosime sucks in a breath before she throws Kala’s slobber ball with full force towards her. Kala has lightning reflexes and jumps from her spot, bonking her head against the slobber ball, knocking it back towards Zosime. Zosime misses it and it flies past her, but luckily Thea is athletic enough and catches it. Kala’s released the artifact, but she isn’t moving from her spot just yet.

“Give me the staff.” Zosime says sternly. Kala growls again. “I will have to put you in time-out if you don’t listen to me, Kala.” Kala chirps sadly, but still doesn’t move. “Throw the ball again.”

Thea leans back, and throws the ball with full force. It flies way faster than when Zosime threw it, a testament to how strong Thea is physically. Zan swallows, unbidden pictures of Thea’s muscly biceps manifesting in his mind. Kala roars enthusiastically when she sees the ball and she smacks it with her forehead again, sending it flying back towards them. Zan shouldn’t have gotten distracted. He barely registers the ball before it connects with his face with a smack, wet and slimy with drool. He groans as the ball falls wetly to the ground. Thea snort-laughs.

“By the Light, you’re not supposed to use your head! Well, you are , but also not, damnit Zan!” She howls with laughter. Zosime looks mildly shocked.

“Are you alright?” she asks. Zan wipes his face with his sleeve and spits as he realises that some of it got in his mouth.

“I have definitely been better.” Zan replies, “I think I am going to be sick…”

“Uh oh, here she comes!” Zosime shouts as Kala charges them. She speeds full force towards Zan and knocks him over. She lays on top of him and licks his face vigorously. Thea tries to wrestle with the big, furry animal, but Kala merely purrs and jumps off, knocking Thea over instead and gives her the exact same treatment as Zan.

“No!” Thea shouts, as the big Larion showers her with affection. Zan takes a hold of Kala’s leash and yanks on it, but she doesn’t budge. Finally Zosime comes over, with the discarded artifact in hand, and she gently taps Kala on the head with it. Soft light emanates from the staff and Kala stops squirming, gently hopping off Thea and sitting primly beside Zosime as if nothing had happened.

“Kala…” Zosime says, sounding awfully tired, “I am so sorry you two.”

“Think...nothing of it…” Thea says, breathing hard as she gets back on her feet, “We’re here to help after all…”

“At least we got to make out with a pretty girl, huh?” Zan says, giving Thea a tired wink. Thea splutters, but Zosime laughs, full on and hearty, and soon Thea laughs with them too.

“Of course you would say that.” She says, wiping at the corner of her eyes. The laughter has dispelled some of the tension and tiredness, and now Kala is sitting there, all prim and well-behaved—and dirty.

“She’s in need of a bath isn’t she?” Zan comments casually. Zosime gives him a guilty look, folding her hands in a praying gesture.

“I wasn’t going to ask but—”

“We might as well. We’re here to help after all. Right, Thea?”

“Yes!” Thea exclaims, apparently full of energy yet again. Yep, she definitely gets high off of helping others.

Zosime offers to make them another meal while they bathe Kala, so they bring her to the glittering waterfall below the camp. Kala chirps happily as she splashes out into the water and Thea coos at the Larion.

“You’ve caused us so much trouble, yet you are still so adorable!”

They wade into the shallows of the river and gently ease Kala underneath the small waterfall. She holds remarkably still as she soaks in the water and then they crush some flowers Zosime told them about into a foamy paste they can lather her fur with. Kala purrs as they clean her, nudging her head into their sides and nipping at their clothes.

“There you go girl, all done!” Thea says, scratching Kala’s chin as she skips out from underneath the waterfall. She chirps happily—and shakes herself off with all her might. Zan groans as they are splashed with huge amounts of water and fur. Kala then tries to lick at his face again, but he dodges her. She skips around him and charges him, just in time for him to twist his body before he is knocked forcefully into Thea, making them both topple over and into the shallows of the water. He lands on top of her and they both groan from the impact. Kala makes a happy noise before she flaps her wings and bounces off in the direction of Zosime’s camp, leaving them to soak in the river.

“Mission accomplished?” Zan says as his eyes meet Thea’s. She offers him a tired smile.

“Yeah…” she says. Neither of them are moving, but Zan’s tired brain slowly realises how close they are, how much of a scandalous position they are in—and how beautiful Thea’s eyes are. He wants to say something, but his mouth ends up just hanging half open. Thea mirrors him—and suddenly they are both just laughing. It had been a completely ridiculous day. Of all the things they could have been tasked with, they had been trusted with babysitting a Larion, who had caused them nothing but trouble.

“Forget dealing with the Forsworn, I am convinced this was the actual hardest task out of them all.” Zan says, grimacing.

“You know what, I think you’re right.” Thea agrees. They should probably get moving, or Zosime would start missing them.

“Oh no, my journal!” Thea cries, motioning for Zan to get off her. She hurries out of the water, digging inside her armour and pulling out her soggy journal. Her lower lip quivers as she studies it—it’s completely water-logged.

“It was almost full…” she laments quietly. She looks so sad that Zan’s heart actually aches. His pathways twitch as he is reminded of how Bastion is brimming with energies. He could probably fix this rather easily…

“Here.” he says, motioning for Thea to hand him her journal. She does so without question, mild confusion on her face. Zan carefully opens it and lays it flat on his palm before pausing to look at her.

“Do you trust me?” he asks gently.

“Well, yeah…I do.” she replies. He offers her a soft smile. Goddamnit.

Zan releases his lock on his starving pathways, and they sing in anticipation as they absorb the holy energy in the ether of Bastion. He doesn’t need much at all before his senses wrap around the concept of the spell he needs. His fingers briefly touch the surface of the paper and it all ignites into holy flames. Thea jolts at the sight, but she keeps quiet as Zan effortlessly channels the spell. The flames dance across the paper, the warmth soothing and healing as the journal dries. He warps the spell further, because why not, and the pages of the journal smooths out as the last of the ink solidifies. When the flames wear off he closes the book and hands it back to Thea. She takes it carefully, as if expecting it to be scalding hot and flips through the pages. It’s pristine yet again.

“How did you…” she says, bewildered. Zan offers her a smile and a shrug.

“It’s just a...neat little trick I know.” he says, wanting to just leave it at that. He doesn’t get time to react before Thea lifts him off the ground and kisses him. It’s an intense smack on the lips, and he is put down just as fast as she lifted him, but his brain just about short-circuits. Thea stops dead in her tracks, as if she can’t believe what she just did either.

“Thank you.” she squeaks, her cheeks pink with color. Zan swallows and nods, not trusting his voice at all. They shuffle back to the camp in embarrassed silence.

“There you are!” Zosime exclaims when they return. Tamesis has joined her too, stirring a big pot. Kala is already sleeping beside a glowing fire, an empty bowl beside her.

Tamesis hands them both some more of the same airy bread they had for breakfast that morning, with butter that might as well pass as actual clouds, and a stew that smells nothing short of divine.

“Thank you for all your hard work today. You are a true blessing to Bastion!” Zosime says as she pets the sleeping Kala, “Kala thanks you too!”

“Thank you, mortals, you’ve given us much hope.” Tamesis supplies, “I will saddle your Larions for you when you’re ready to depart. You’ve earned a good night's rest now!”

They bid Zosime and Tamesis farewell after they’ve polished off their dinner. There’s one more stop left before they can go back to Aspirant’s Rest however, as they still need to deliver the Windblossom to Acolyte Amalthina.

“Flower still alright?” Zan says, itching to make conversation. Thea checks the hydropod inside her saddlebag, nodding.

“Yes.” she replies curtly.

“Amalthina will be happy.”

“I hope so.”

“I wonder what the significance of the gift is.”

“...”

“Thea, are you alright?” Zan tries when the paladin doesn’t give him anything but absentminded, short answers. Thea jolts in her saddle, and looks at him with what can be best described as mild panic.

“Yes, yes I’m perfectly fine, I’m j-just—” she stutters, before taking a deep breath, “I’m just tired. Apologies.”

Zan doesn’t press her any more after that. They ride in silence through the vast, dreamy landscape of Bastion and Zan swears it has gotten a bit darker, but that may just be his brain playing tricks on him. The ride back always seems faster for some reason, and soon they are hopping out of their saddles to find Amalthina at Purity’s Reflection. She welcomes them warmly, and gasps softly when Thea presents her with the hydropod. She releases the valve and the pod gently hisses as it opens and the flower appears, fresh with dew. Amalthina takes it out gently and gazes at it lovingly before she addresses them.

“Thank you, mortals. For your aid I shall tell you of its significance.” She pauses to put the stem of the flower in a little cylinder with water before laying it gently in her shoulder bag. “A wreath, like the one you brought me from Klystere, is a symbolic gift. When you receive it from someone you cherish deeply, it carries a deeper meaning.” Amalthina smiles softly, “She is asking me to become her soulbind.”

“Ah, like Kleia and Pelagos.” Zan muses.

“Yes, Aspirant Kleia and Aspirant Pelagos are indeed soulbinds, bound together for eternity to come. It is the greatest of honors.” She smiles, almost shyly. “I will take my reply directly to her. Thank you again, for bringing me this flower, it shall act as the symbol of our devotion to each other.”

Amalthina’s winged Larion is but a speck far in the sky before Zan and Thea move again, their own Larions invigorated from their water break. Thea still looks like she really isn’t present in the moment, but rather far away somewhere else. Zan chalks it up to what she said earlier, she is tired, he is tired, and he is still thinking about what happened by the waterfall in the garden. He sighs inwardly. It was just a spur of the moment thing, she wanted to thank him, she did the first thing that came to mind. Nothing more. Kleia welcomes them back just as a peculiar dusk sets in—so it wasn’t just Zan’s imagination—apparently already having received news of their success. She offers them food to which they politely decline. Pelagos dunks them both on their back in a friendly manner before he takes their Larions to the stables.

“While you were away I managed to rearrange your rooming situation.” Kleia says happily, “You now each have your own room at your disposal, complete with a bathing area! Come, I will show you.”

Some of the tension seems to evaporate from Thea’s shoulders, and she lets out an almost inaudible sigh. Zan’s heart does a surprising, pained twist. So that’s how it's going to be huh. Right before they enter the den, Zan spots movement up on the elevated ledge of the mountainside surrounding Aspirant’s Rest. Against the dark purple and glowing golden backdrop of the sky, underneath one of a wispy tree, sits two silhouettes, heads resting against each other. Zan cannot explain why, but he is a hundred percent sure he knows who they are. Thea stops beside him, and looks up, just in time to see the two people kiss each other tenderly.

“She said yes…” Thea comments quietly. Zan chuckles softly.

“Good for them.”

Kleia shows them to their rooms, which are just opposite of each other. She bids them a good night’s rest and vows to have breakfast ready for them whenever they wake up tomorrow as well. Zan can’t wait to have an actual bath, finally noticing how he’s started to smell. All thanks to Kala.

“I’ll see you in the morning then.” he says to Thea. She offers him a tired smile.

“Yeah.” she says, opening the door to her room before pausing in the doorway. She turns around, and looks at him. She clearly wants to say something, but there’s still some kind of conflict there.

“Good night, Zan.” she says finally.

“Good night, Thea.”

The bathing area Kleia spoke of is exquisite. It’s a shallow, inside pool of running water. Zan can’t quite grasp how it works, but there’s a trickling waterfall, smooth rocks, and plants hanging down over the surface, creating an oasis of tranquility. He takes care of nature’s call before he peels off his dirty robes—thankful that he brought spares—before climbing into the pool and sinking down into the perfectly tempered water. He’d have to ask Kleia about cleaning his clothes tomorrow. Everything is quiet save for the gentle trickling of the waterfall, and he finally lets out a long breath, releasing all the tension from the arduous day. There’s a myriad of soaps and oils laying on a platter on the stone ledge and he grabs one, too tired to sample through them. It smells divine, it smells sort of like—Kamijou. Worry refreshes in his mind as he remembers his friend. It had barely been two days, what if—he shakes his head. No, the attendants had told him it would be weeks til his friend would wake up. He squeezes the soap angrily, it was so unfair, goddamned Tyrande should have known better!
He sucks in another breath, no use in seething, it wouldn’t make anything better. Kamijou would have told him to get lost, go do something useful, go get laid, or...something. His cheeks flashes hot yet again as he thinks about Thea kissing him. He shouldn’t be entertaining that thought, he was walking a thin enough line already. Of all the stupid ideas he could have gotten, pretending to be an Alliance High Elf was definitely making it to the top of his list. He should have waited in line, maybe he’d gotten there just in time for Kamijou to wake up instead. He sighs as he realises he is letting his thoughts wander too much again. He puts the offending soap back on the platter and picks a different one, this too a pleasant fragrance, but far enough removed from his friend’s smell. He dips his head under water and lathers both his hair and body, scrubbing off all the dirt and most importantly—Larion drool—from the day. Satisfied he rinses himself and gets out of the pool, drying himself off with a towel from the wall rack. His room’s got everything. Toiletries are laid out on a table and he gleefully brushes his teeth and combs his long hair.
He dons one of the simple linen robes laid out for him and dims the lights—he only needs to touch the glowing rocks from where the light emanates— and he’s eyeing his bed when his stomach growls at him. He rolls his eyes—he just brushed his teeth—and picks a fruit from a bowl set out for him. He chews absentmindedly as he sorts through his satchel, arranging all his runes, pens, potions, and various other knick-knacks. A knock on the door has him pause, and he assumes it is Kleia. Who else could it be?

“Come in!” he calls, and picks up his laundry, chucking it in a basket, and carrying it to the door “I was going to ask you in the morning, but if you could please—”

Thea comes rushing into his room, closing the door hastily behind her. Zan raises an eyebrow at her. In the dim light her eyes are glowing faintly, she looks serious, and...decisive.

“Can I help y—” Zan’s words are cut short by Thea’s lips covering his. He drops his laundry basket as he is pulled against Thea’s body, strong, yet soft at the same time through the thin fabric of their robes. She spins them around and lifts him off his feet, pinning his back against the wall. This kiss—is nothing like the first one back in the garden. It is not a grateful peck or a loud smack, this kiss has intentions very clearly written out. It’s not even between the lines, it is the line.

“Thea...” Zan says quietly as their lips come apart, she’s still pressing him against the wall, his toes barely touching the floor, “ Are you alright?”

“I don’t know.” She whispers, “Probably not, I just—” She goes quiet and looks away for a moment.

“I just need to feel alive , just for a moment.” Her gaze is on him again and it is smouldering, boring into Zan’s very soul. He’s almost frightened by its intensity. There’s no doubt that she’s vulnerable right now, she’s having an inner conflict she hasn’t told him about. He shouldn’t be doing this...for a variety of reasons.

“Thea…I—” he says gently, hoping she’ll back off by the uncertainty in his voice.

“ Please. ” she says, her voice airy as she brushes her lips against his yet again, “Don’t you think for a second that I haven’t noticed how you have been looking at me all this time…” She presses her crotch against his and he groans at the contact. He’s already grown hard, the thin material of their robes is a flimsy barrier between them, and he can practically feel the heat radiating from between her legs. He swallows.

“Maybe you’ve got someone waiting for you at home. If that’s the case then I’ll back off.” she concedes quietly, lowering him to the floor and pulling away.

“No.” he replies truthfully, stopping her with a hand on her wrist, “I do not…” He cards his fingers through her still damp hair and rests his hand on her neck. Zan’s fate is sealed within a split second when he decides to lean in and kiss her back. She gasps softly at the contact, opening her mouth as he kisses her deeper. She backs him into the wall again, their bodies flush as they grind slowly against each other. Thea makes a soft noise as Zan’s free hand brushes against her shoulder and trails down her side, settling in the dip on her delicious curvy hips. He lets his thumb slide even further, teasing just out of reach. She bites her lower lip, her gaze barely holding back her silent prayer. Zan obliges.

“Let’s go to bed.” he whispers in her ear, delighting in her full-body shiver. She falls back on the bed, with Zan on top. He kisses her again, working his way from the corner of her lips and down her throat. His hand cups her breast, kneading it lovingly as the robe slips from her shoulder, revealing more pale lavender skin. He proceeds to trail his lips over the space where her shoulder meets her neck, sliding his tongue over her collarbone and down, until he can take a stiff, rosy nipple into his mouth. Thea moans softly as Zan continues to caress her body, slowly and gently, savouring the feel of her warm skin. He keeps eye contact with her as he undoes the knot on her robes, marvelling at the sight of her fully naked body. She’s fit—as expected of a paladin—but she’s also curvy in all the right places, and the way she is looking at him, it makes his heart do an odd thump. He leans down to kiss her, and she kisses him back with vigor. It’s hot, and a bit messy, and she’s panting with need. Zan knows what he’s gotta do to sate that need. He slides down her body, pausing to kiss her taut abs. His cock twitches, and he sighs contently. Light, he loves a strong woman.
Thea sucks in a breath as he gently spreads her legs wider, and kisses the inside of her thighs. With a devilish grin he dives in between her legs, and Thea moans hard as his mouth meets her dripping wet folds.

“Aah, by the Light~” she keens, her fingers twisting in Zan’s hair. He caresses her thighs as he drinks from her, lapping up her sweet juices, and boring his tongue into her center. She can’t stay still, undulating her hips as if trying to ride his face. Zan loves that. He kisses her clit and takes it into his mouth, relishing in her pleasure and soft noises. He could probably come just from pleasing her, and pleasing her was his priority. He slips two fingers inside of her easily, and she twists her hips, panting as he curls them inside of her, searching for that little spot he knows many of his trysts love so much.

“W-wait!” Thea says, her hand gripping his wrist and holding it still.

“Do you need a break?” Zan asks, sitting up on his knees. Thea watches him as he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks then clean. That smolder from before is back in Thea’s eyes and she launches herself forward, taking a hold of Zan and pushing him down on the bed where she laid moments prior. Zan’s heart is racing as she shrugs her robes off, and undoes the knot on his. She leans over him and kisses him hard, her hand closing around his cock and stroking him firmly. He groans into her mouth as she probes with her tongue, no doubts getting a taste of herself. It’s unbelievably hot. She pulls back and offers him a heavy-lidded look and a small smirk.

“I believe someone wanted to be called a ‘good boy’ earlier.” she says, her voice deep and sultry, “What do good boys have to do?”

“Let you ride them.” he replies without missing a beat, as his heart misses several due to the sheer excitement of her words, “Please, ride me.”

“That was—” she says as she squats above him, “—the plan—” she lets the tip of his cock nudge against her wet entrance, her juices dripping down and pooling at the base, “— all along. ” she finishes as her pussy slides down his cock, all the way to the hilt. Zan moans hoarsely, the wetness, the warmth, an exquisite feeling wrapped around him so tightly. Thea’s breathing is loud, her mouth open and her eyes closed as she savours the feeling as well. She lifts her hips half way, and sinks back down, shuddering as she does so. Zan watches her as she works up a rhythm, barely rising, mostly grinding down on him. He watches her face, soft with pleasure, cheeks pink with arousal. Her chest moving with her breathing pattern and her strong abs, clenching as she rides him. He swallows as his eyes fall to rest on the space where they are joined. The lightning is dim, but he can see how she’s stretched beautifully around him, her pearl taut and craving attention. He wets his fingers with his own spit and rests his other hand on her thigh. She trembles and gasps as he rubs her clit, raising her hips just a little further up and sinking back down a little harder. The feeling of bottoming out inside her has Zan’s stomach turning into a coil, her tantalizing movements pushing him closer to the precipice.
Thea’s moans are getting more frequent, and she juts her hips forward, rubbing harder against Zan’s fingers. He obliges, and presses down a little harder on her clit. Her movements go quicker and she slams down harder on his cock. He groans softly as he’s barely able to hold back, really wanting her to come first. His wish is granted moments later as she arches her back, a languid moan spilling from her lips. She trembles as she rides out the orgasm washing over her, her walls clenching hard around Zan, and that sends him over the edge too. He grabs her waist, and holds her in place as he rocks up, deep into her, filling her with his come. Her eyes are glassy and she shivers as she falls down on his chest. Zan strokes her sweaty back as he tries to catch his breath.
She rolls off him, wincing as he slips out and collapses beside him. For a while they only exist and breathe together, until she speaks, ever so softly.

“I am afraid to die.”

Zan is tempted to reply ‘aren’t we all?’ , but he doesn’t.

“We Draenei believe—or used to believe—that when we die, we become one with the Naaru. But that is simply not...true. Not anymore.”

She sounds almost bitter, but there’s more to it than that.

“When I first got here, I was excited, you know? Imagine getting to see the afterlife, but you’re not actually dead. What an opportunity, the things you could see, the things you could learn. But...now I just feel empty.”

Zan looks at her, and on impulse he takes her hand. She’s surprised, but she smiles softly.

“I feel stupid. The things we learn, the things we devote ourselves to, and then you find out they were not true?” she snorts.

“A truth isn’t always a fact.” Zan says, watching Thea knit her brows in confusion, “What I mean is, facts are set in stone, truths can be subjective.”

“I am not sure that I follow?”

“Neither am I.” Zan says, grimacing, “I just wanted to make you feel better, but clearly I shouldn’t parrot Kamijou’s words, he is way smarter than I am. I’ll ask him to explain it to you when he wakes up…If he wakes up...”

“Is that your friend in Oribos?” Thea asks gently.

“Yeah…” Zan replies, “I am so worried for him. I’ve been trying to not think about it, trust the attendant’s words, but I just can't do it. I miss him, I care about him, and I don’t want him to die.”

Thea squeezes his hand, humming gently.

“Naturally we all fear death, and the past couple of days has had me thinking way too much about the fragility of life, and the inevitable end, I have not enjoyed it.” she says, “But I also think—I also think I might understand things a bit better now.” her brows knits together and she chews on the inside of her mouth. Zan waits patiently for her to continue.

“It is not a fact that we become one with the Naaru, but for me, it is a truth that I gain comfort from the Naaru, and that comfort may also be gained from believing it is possible to become one. I guess this is what you can call a subjective truth, as it may not ring true for everyone.”

Zan is honestly impressed. Thea made better sense of Kamijou’s philosophical theories than Zan ever did, and she managed to say it in such a way he could actually grasp it. His heart gives off a loud thud and he squeezes Thea’s hand.

“That—actually makes sense.” he replies. Thea smiles.

“I am sure your friend will be fine. Sometimes we need to put our faith in others, we can’t do everything alone. May I?”

Zan nods, unsure what it is Thea is up to. She places her hand over his forehead and chants softly, her rune glowing gently in the dim light. A feeling unlike anything he’s ever felt before washes over him, it's akin to the Light, but more gentle, more subtle, and it eases his soul in a way he didn’t think possible. It’s a complete calm, perfect tranquility.

“What—was that?” he asks, voice full of awe.

“We call it the Gift of the Naaru. It is a blessing gifted upon us Draenei, to remind us that we are never alone, and to soothe our hearts in difficult times. I reckon you felt it then.”

Zan did feel it, and it spoke to him on a wholly different level.

“Thank you, Thea.” he says, watching her yawn softly.

“You are most welcome.” She says, “Oof, I am falling asleep here, I am so sorry.”

Zan rises to shrug off his robes and pick up the blanket from the floor. He throws it over them and motions for Thea to come lie in the crook of his arm.

“Better sleep then.” he says, kissing the top of her head, “No doubts they have more shit for us to do tomorrow.”

Thea groans softly, but snuggles close, and soon they both fall asleep, content, and blissfully unaware of the world, and of the future shenanigans to follow for just a little while.

 If you enjoyed this chapter, please considering leaving a kudos and/or a comment telling me what you liked about it♥️
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