jazelthegentle

[jazelthegentle]

Sweat, Gold, and Tears Pt 1

The gangway stretched out over the pier before dropping onto the wooden platform with a heavy smack. A chorus of footsteps rocked the old galleon as a hundred Kaldorei stepped out from the darkness. Still covered in the ashes of their beloved home, and kin, they shuffled down the gangway with barely a word spoken among them. Stormwind residents gathered to stare at the latest batch of refugees being corralled down the docks. Displaced, starving, and in mourning, the Night Elves kept their eyes on the ground, their voices in hushed whispers, and their faces soaked with dirty tears. All but the Tideclaws.

Sayuune looked no better off than the rest of them, but she kept her head held high. A month at sea didn't do her any favors; it had been days since she had access to drinkable water, and nearly a week since she had something solid to eat. Her exhausted eyes were bright with hard headed determination, and her face was as still as stone, yet she staggered and stumbled with every other step. 

Her daughter Nodas was faring better, but not by much; her stomach growled loudly and often, while her hungry gaze was fixed on the bands of mercenaries and sellswords who otherwise ignored the flood of incoming refugees. They went about their business in gilded armor and glimmering steel, with swollen coin purses swinging freely from their waists. Surely a few of them wouldn't notice if some of their riches went missing.

"Hello! Hello hello!" Humans descended upon the shuffling crowd pushing or pulling large empty carts. One such creature approached Sayuune and Nodas with an uncomfortable twinkle in his grin. The opulent rings adorning his hands could only mean one thing - merchants seizing an opportunity to prey on the less fortunate. "You need gold! I need moon elf items my collection! We trade be happy!" His Darnassian was awful, but clear enough to understand. Sayuune saw other refugees trading in what little rags they had for copper and silver coins, desperate for a bite to eat and drinkable water. 

The last thing Sayuune wanted to part with was her bramblestaff; not only was it a priceless family heirloom, it was one of the only things she had left of her husband. Reluctantly she raised the staff for the merchant to inspect. "How much will this get me?"

"Mom?!" Nodas hissed, her eyes flaring. "What are you doing?!" She squeezed her daughter's hand to get her to quiet down. 

"We need food."

Unsurprisingly he ripped them off. A staff easily worth twelve thousand gold was traded for less than three."What choice do I have…" When they reached the front of the line, Nodas was relieved to find a fellow Kaldorei sitting behind the desk, but Sayuune wasn't so easily pleased.

"Ishnu-alah, sisters." His dull yellow eyes scanned them both with a most unusual scrutiny. "My name is Lieutenant Armin Ashquiver. I'll need your names."

"Sayuune and Nodas Tideclaw." The mother proudly stated; they could take her home, her belongings, even her family, but their names would forever be theirs. He scribbled down their names in silence, adding them to the long list of poor displaced souls now forced to live in this strange and hostile city.

"There's a soup kitchen at the camps you'll be staying in. Courtesy of His Majesty." He looked up at Sayuune. "Plenty of jobs out there for a steady income, but they're filling up fast. I know you're tired, but I'd recommend looking before nightfall." He pulled out a piece of paper and planted a red stamp on the bottom. "Enjoy your stay in Stormwind City."

The goopy slop poorly masquerading as soup was a grievous insult to the Kaldorei people, but it was still the best meal she's had since Teldrassil. Nodas ate more than her fair share and fell asleep before their tent was even made, but that hardly mattered to her mother; she was just happy her daughter was finally resting. Sayuune, however, couldn’t rest. Once the tent was built around her snoozing daughter, she departed to the streets of Stormwind to find work.

Shop by shop, street by street, she was hit with disappointment again, and again, and again. Day in, day out, sunset to sunset.

"Sorry we're not looking for applicants right now!"

"I'd love to give you a job but I'm full already!"

"I can't hire you right off the street!"

"A buddy of mine across the city might be interested in extra help."

"Sorry, but we can't - what will my wife think hiring a woman like you?"

"Can't hire an elf around here. I got my reputation to uphold… you understand, right?"

"Yeah babe I can hire you, heheh… how much for the night?"

"You're filthy! Beat it vagrant!"

Two weeks of searching. Two weeks of asking. Two weeks of nothing. 

Every time she was turned away, the fake smile and forced persona was whittled down. Nightfall came and went, leaving her exhausted in the Mage Quarter courtyard. Her feet were screaming for rest and she could no longer ignore them; she found the nearest bench and almost collapsed onto it with a well-earned sigh of relief. The gold she earned selling her most prized possession was almost all gone; determination was turning into desperation, and if she didn’t find work soon, her daughter would begin to starve. For now her search would have to be put on hold until the shops reopened in the morning.

A woman eased herself down onto the bench beside Sayuune. Her fragrance was alluring but she couldn't recognize the scent, her silk clothes looked as expensive as the jewelry covering her hands and fingers; her painted nails were quite long, almost impractically so. She made Sayuune feel like a vagrant more than anyone else she's met in this abysmal city. "Hard time finding work?" The stranger asked with a seductively soothing voice. Sayuune was compelled to meet her gaze, but her words caught in her throat the moment she was confronted by her striking beauty; if she wasn't a Highborne, she could fool Sayuune.

"I…" Her timid mutter stirred the stranger to smile, her dark purple lips grinning from ear to ear.

Sayuune didn't notice the woman's hand until her nails traced the base of her chin. "Stunning, aren't I? There isn't a man alive that can resist my delectable charm. The dead ones aren't immune to it either." Sayuune wanted to pull away from her grip, but she felt paralyzed… mesmerized. "But look at you… these high cheekbones… these full lips… these glimmering eyes. You're quite the looker yourself, honey. How long do you plan on wandering these streets like a beggar when you can rule the underground scene like a queen?"

"What… do you…" It was difficult to speak when she gazed into her eyes, almost feeling like she was lost in a sea of swirling quicksilver.

The stranger's smile only grew. "I want to help you get back on your feet. I help run a little organization that's in serious need of gorgeous and flexible women like us. Interested?"

"An escort service?" That was enough to pull Sayuune out of her trance to rise to her throbbing feet. "I can't do that. To even approach me like… I can't. I have a husband I'm waiting on to return from the war… a daughter that looks up to me…"

"A shame." Her tone suddenly changed, as did the frigid expression on her face. "While you wait on your doting man, you and your daughter starve." She rose, towering over Sayuune in her jade heels. "Should you come to your senses, seek out the ugliest worgen you come across in Old Town." An uncomfortable grin spread across her lips. "Tell them Momma sent you." Before Sayuune could speak, Momma tossed a coin purse at her chest. "That's how much my girls can earn in a night. Sleep on it." 

Sayuune watched as the elegant woman turned and strode off, presumably to another potential recruit. She waited until she was gone before opening the coin purse. "Impossible!" Her eyes went wide. "Three hundred gold?! She's lying…!" With that kind of income most of her problems would be over. Her and her daughter would eat better than they ever did; her husband would bring back two to three grand every two months… she could out earn that within weeks! Within days!

"No…" Sayuune closed her eyes and shuddered. "To betray Vilaron like this… I couldn't! How could I look him in the eyes if I… sold my body...?" 

The journey back to the refugee camps was unbearably long. Her imagination played cruel games by asking her questions she didn't want the answers to. "What if Vilaron doesn't make it back in time before we starve to death? What if this woman already approached Nodas? What if she is being used by one of her 'clients' at this very moment?! What if she refused and they killed her?!"

Sayuune ignored the burning ache in her feet from sprinting back to the camps, darting through alleyways and ducking through corridors to get back to her daughter as quickly as possible. The soft glowing campfires down the hill only hastened her steps until she was almost gliding down the path to reach her tent.

She swung open the drape with an audible gasp, and her fears were put to rest; Nodas stirred in her hammock and mumbled under her breath, her feet blackened and calloused from wandering the streets as well. Yet her face was still wet with tears from crying herself to sleep. As Sayuune caught her breath and quietly approached her, she noticed the crumbled scroll still in her grip. Gently she wiggled it free from Nodas' hand, pulled it taut between her fingers, and read the distinct Darnassian letters neatly sprawled across the parchment.

To Sayuune Tideclaw and Nodas Tideclaw,

I regret to inform you the Sentinels recovered the body of one Vilaron Tideclaw. He will be delivered within the month so you can send him off properly.

Elune will grant us justice. 

-L. Armin Ashquiver

Sayuune only made it halfway through the letter before she was blinded by her tears. The shock of this news hit her in waves, crashing against her composure like the tide against the cliffside; she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, wishing he left with them when Teldrassil burned. Wishing she could go back in time and save him.

Wishing she was dead.

Yet Sayuune endured - she had to. With a sharp inhale and a weak sniffle, she swallowed her anguish for her daughter's sake, stepped out of the tent, and wrapped her arms around herself. Others receiving similar news took it worse than she did; their screams carried across the farmland and over the pointed tents, filling the air with sorrow so palpable she could taste it every time she licked her lips.

Nodas is all she has left of her beloved Vilaron. She is willing to die for her, now more than ever; if she can lay down her life for her daughter, surely she could lay down her dignity as well. What choice did she have? Every day she spends wasting her time looking for honest work, her daughter goes hungry. "For Nodas… no price is too great…"

With a slight grimace on her face and a shiver up her spine, Sayuune braced herself for the hardship she would endure in the unknowable future. 

[jazelthegentle]

The Vilaari Rift

Sliiiink! Sliiiink! Sliiink! Sliiink!

J’azel ran her whetstone down the edge of Sovaaki, her sanctified ambrosium greatsword. She had been here for hours, sitting in silence on an overturned barrel in the corner of the room. Her kin were upstairs, shouting and laughing in celebration of the Burning Legion's demise, but she paid them no mind. Here she was alone to wrestle with her thoughts, free to mentally prepare herself for the worst to happen.

Her last encounter with her sister was not a warm or welcoming one. The Man’ari almost killed her with her bare hands, tossing her around the command chamber of the Krakenax like she weighed nothing. Her pyromancy was supreme, wild, and feral; it took her and the Oathguard’s strongest elves to take her down, but much to J’azel’s shock, she didn’t stay dead. With Miraan’s demon soul regenerating her physical form in the Twisting Nether, this may be the J’azel’s final chance to save her sister from the brink and return to being a family again.

Light rushed into the chamber when the only door slid open. J'azel stopped sharpening her sword to see her beloved step inside, clad in lightsteel from neck to heel, and wreathed in a soft golden glow. Her faint smile was short lived, dying the instant she saw the two monstrous hands on his shoulders; she could tell by the slight grimace behind Folcan's nervous smile and the subtle threatening tone in Taarth's booming laughter that the Vice Admiral was giving her beloved a hard time.

"So this is human you speak so highly of?!" Taarth chuckled, the muscles in his hands tightening. "He is so puny, yes?! Like High Exarch Turalyon's soft, baby brother! Hahahahahaaahhh!"

J'azel rose to her hooves and lifted her sword over her head, letting it fasten to her back with a soft click. "Please stop crushing darling's shoulders."

"Aww I'm not hurting him. Isn't that right, darling?" Taarth mocked, playfully slapping Folcan on the back; he almost knocked the wind out of him. J'azel cleared her throat as loudly as she could, her piercing glare fixed onto the Vice Admiral. She wasn't amused at all. "I will do system check…" Without another word he mercifully released Folcan and trotted to the inactive transponder at the other end of the room.

“Your Vice Admiral sure knows how to leave an impression.” Folcan smiled, rolling one of his shoulders.

“Taarth is very protective of me, yes? Don’t let him intimidate you.” J’azel began helping him fasten his shoulderguards on. “Did he hurt your shoulders?”

Folcan looked up at J’azel with his dimly glowing silvery-brown eyes. “It’s nothing one of your back rubs can’t fix." As she tightened his other shoulderguard, Folcan glanced up to stare into her eyes; he waited until she was done before gently taking her hand. "Jazz… we’re going to get through this together. No matter what happens… we will weather this together.”

J’azel pressed her forehead against his with a faint smile on her lips. She wanted to believe everything would turn out for the best. As she looked into Folcan’s eyes, the fear of watching him drown in felfire caused her hands to tremble; she had to believe in him and his confidence, now more than ever. He playfully brushed their noses together and leaned in for a kiss, but Taarth had turned to face them again.

“You will be going in blind. Vilaari Rift is on edge of known cosmos, yes? The Void is strongest here.” The Vice Admiral stepped on a hovering metal plate, and a slow whirring sound vibrated through the floor as the transponder became active. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“We are.” Folcan drew a long breath before lowering his gilded helmet over his head; J’azel remained silent, choosing to attach a crystal apparatus to her lover’s back.

Vice Admiral Taarth slammed his weighty fist against his chest and stepped to the side. “Good luck you two. When you are done, signal for me. I will come get you.”

Everything about this place felt wrong. Stepping onto the surface of this strange land and Folcan could tell right away that they weren't on a planet. The supercontinent they now stood on was almost the size of Kalimdor, but just like Outland, it was broken and shattered, and still slowly spinning from an explosion that likely happened eons ago; asteroids large enough to flatten Stormwind drifted overhead, with the occasional collision rocking the alien sand beneath his boots. A flickering star as purple as amethyst cast a curious light upon the ravaged hellscape, doing sluggish laps along the horizon. Then Folcan looked up to see where the cluster of countless stars abruptly ended. Before him was an empty and shapeless expanse, stretching further and further out for eternity.

He felt a presence; the silhouette of an uninvited guest at the door, the shape of a stranger hiding behind a thin black veil. Something was tugging at him, the gentlest pull Folcan has ever felt. The longer he stared, the larger the black emptiness became. Before long the stars were behind him. The planets were behind him. J’azel was behind him.

“Folcan?” Her voice was far closer than he was prepared for. He blinked and turned around, noticing she was a few yards away. She was finishing up with their only way back home when she turned to look at her beloved from over her shoulder. “Where are you going…?”

“I…” He didn’t know how to answer that question. He really didn’t even know himself.

"Don't stare into cosmos." J’azel warned, beckoning him to follow her. "There are things out there that we don’t want, yes? Stay with me." Down the side of the hill they found strange and unsettling corpses sprawled out across the ground; tangled messes of tentacles and claws, innumerous glazed and lifeless eyes staring off at nothing, slimy arms and legs ribbed with jagged teeth and claws, and leathery hides gestating with poisonous fumes and leaking boiling black blood. Both Folcan and J’azel gave these faceless corpses a wide berth for good reason. What started as a sparse few scattered along their path turned into huge piles the moment they stepped through a crag and out into the valley. Some of these corpses were gigantic, easily towering over the storm giants in Northrend. They all had two things in common though - they were all dead, and all charred with felfire.

J'azel grabbed Folcan by the wrist and pulled him down behind one of the corpses. A colossal Faceless One came stumbling forward, dragging its elongated arms along the ground. A deep growl gurgled from its writhing appendages before it collapsed to join its fallen kin. A Man'ari as red as the Silithus sunset appeared on its back, with a sword buried to its hilt in the Faceless monster; her face was contorted into a half grin, half grimacing sneer, pumping ran felfire deep into the dying creature. When she glanced in their direction, they instinctively ducked down to hide.

"Come on out, cowards!" Her voice carried across the umbral plains of the Vilaari Rift, and the echo caused J'azel to tremble. "I can smell your pitiful Light from here!"

Folcan firmly squeezed J'azel's hand to get her attention. "Together." He whispered, smiling beneath his helmet. She took a long breath before nodding, and they both rose to confront her.

"Sister…?" Miraan sounded genuinely surprised. "I didn't think you would find me for another few centuries." Her eyes snapped to Folcan. "What is this human wretch doing with you?"

J’azel raised her hand to stop Folcan from answering. “He is friend.” She answered, shooting him a quick glance. “We want to help you, sister. Come back with us… it doesn’t have to end this way!”

“We’ve done this bit already.” Slowly Miraan pulled her hideous sword out of the Faceless Corpse, the felflame turning the corrupting blood into boiling hot vapors. “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you? Without the Burning Legion, the cosmos is doomed to die a slow and painful death in the hungering Void. We were to be its savior.”

“Savior?” Folcan couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “You torched countless worlds! You butchered millions of innocent people!”

Miraan’s eyes flickered back to him, but her face remained still as stone. “Salvation demands a heavy price. My Master’s methods were cruel, but they had to be. He couldn’t afford weakness in his Burning Crusade. Only the strongest had a chance of defeating the Void.” She raised her sword up to point at the empty darkness of space above them. “Do you see that? The endless black that slowly consumes our reality? The mightiest heroes can’t stop it. Your precious Light can’t stop it. Not even the Pantheon can stop it. At the zenith of his power, perhaps not even Lord Sargeras could stop it.” She lowered her sword to point at J’azel and Folcan. “Your ignorance has doomed us all. But… death would be mercy compared to what the Void Lords have planned for creation. The good news? Neither of you will be around to witness it.”

“I just want my sister back!” J’azel shouted, taking a few steps forward. “I just want us to be a family again! Miraan, please! Please return with us! We can fight the Void together! This isn’t-!”

“Just stop.” Miraan raised her hand; felflame began licking at her palm. “There’s nothing you can say to convince me to turn myself in and bow to your Lightforged overlords, and there’s nothing I can do to bring the Legion back to its former glory.” Folcan raised his shield and reached for his hammer while J’azel was on the verge of tears. “I’m going to continue killing these Faceless horrors until I starve to death. It’s what Lord Kil’jaedan would have wanted. But before that happens… I’m going to kill you and your human slave. I’m done talking.”

Folcan’s eyes widened at the flash of felfire in her open hand. “Jazz look out!” He tackled her to the ground, rolling in the sand for a heartbeat as a searing blast of raw fel magic hissed overhead. Miraan was upon them before they could regain their footing. She brought her sword down on Folcan hard, but he caught the strike with his raised shield to let it harmlessly ricochet away from his body. The blade came back down again, far faster and harder the second time; rising to a knee and ducking behind his shield was all Folcan had time for before he was struck again and again, with agony beginning to surge through his arm. He couldn’t withstand much more of this punishment.

In the corner of his eye he saw J’azel leaping through the air. Miraan turned around before she reached her and their blades clashed with a thunderous clang, showing sparks of Light and Fel all around them. Folcan rose to his feet with a pained grunt and lunged at Miraan from behind to finish her off. As the Man’ari jumped back to dodge J’azel’s downward thrust, she shot a quick glance in Folcan’s direction before one of her hooves shot outward as quick as lightning. She caught Folcan dead center, denting his chestplate and sending him airborne. He skipped across the sand like a smooth rock across still water before he began slowing down into a rough and disorienting tumble. Folcan felt his body begin to fall straight into a bottomless, lightless hole in the ground, but he managed to grab hold of a nearby Faceless corpse to stop himself from certain death.

“Folcan!” J’azel cried out, but he could barely hear her. The kick to the chest would’ve killed him if he was wearing his old armor; the wind was still knocked clean out of him, however, and rolling that hard and long had left him almost dizzy enough to pass out. He clung to the tendril in his grasp as his life depended on it, taking short and quick breaths to regain his senses. Slowly he began pulling himself up, ignoring the twitching of the tendril in his grasp, instead focused only on surviving. He gripped handfuls of sand to anchor himself the moment he felt confident enough to do so, hearing only his own heart pounding in his head, and the distant yet familiar song of swords.

J’azel and Miraan dueled each other with a grace he wasn’t expecting. Locked together in a dance of death, his beloved wasn’t giving her sister a moment of respite, staying right on top of her with an otherworldly flurry of seemingly reckless swings of her claymore. Yet every time she seemed to gain the upper hand, Miraan would erupt with a burst of felflame, and they would disappear in a cloud of smoke before reappearing to start the dance all over again. “F-Folcan?!” J’azel turned to see him still alive, but that brief lapse was all Miraan needed. The Man’ari raised her sword over her head and swung down with all of her might, clashing against J’azel with a crippling blow. Her fel-infused strength was enough to force J’azel to one knee, with keeping that fel sword from cutting her in half as her only course of action.

Miraan’s bladed tail flicked around her body and buried itself in J’azel’s side. Her surprised gasp of agony caused Folcan’s heart to skip a beat. “JAAAAZZZ!” His chest imploded with maddening fear and unshackled rage. He couldn't afford to lose another woman he loved, and this time no one was around to pull him away. He snatched his hammer out if the sand on his way to charge Miraan down before she finished his beloved off. Miraan disarmed her sister with one hand and grabbed her horn with the other, forcing J’azel to further scream out as all of her strength and will to fight escaped from the back of her throat.

“Not so fast, human filth!” Miraan turned around and held J’azel in front of her. “One more step and she dies!”

"Put her down!" Folcan shouted while he slid to a halt. "If you kill her…! I swear to the Light-!"

Miraan's cruel laughter drained the threat from his tone. "You two are lovers, yes?! I knew it!" Her hand that held J'azel by the horn lit up in felfire, burning through the bone and filling the air with his beloved's agony. "Are you paying attention, sister?! You and all your Lightforged puppets took everything from me! Now, I return the favor. Watch closely as I roast him alive and feast on his corpse!" With a twist and a yank, J'azel's horn came off, and she collapsed into the sand with a hard thud.

Miraan closed the distance between her and Folcan quickly. An underhanded swing almost took his head off if he didn’t leap out of harm’s way. His hammer came down to crush her wrist, but she leaned in and caught his weapon with her shoulder instead. Her tail lashed out and struck him just beneath the knee, punching through most of his armor but skidding across the chainmail underneath. Her other hand came up, tearing at his side with J’azel’s severed white horn. Then, she brought her sword around again with enough strength behind the blade to cleave his body in half.

Miraan’s movements were too quick to follow, her strength was too vast to counter, and her three weapons proved too much to handle against Folcan’s sword and shield; every time he would get the opportunity to strike, she would either brush it off or dodge it completely, and he would get punished for it. Folcan hurled his hammer at Miraan’s head in an attempt to anticipate her movement. She leaned back and let it sail harmlessly away before she lashed out with sword and tail and horn once more. He caught her blade and J’azel’s horn with his shield, but her tail punched another hole in his armor again. “As I suspected!” Miraan cackled, leaping back to let the human collapse to one knee. “Slow and weak!”

Behind his shield he clenched his hand and pulled backward, his hammer flying out of the sand to return to his grasp. It struck Miraan in the back of the head, shattering her horns into a shower of bone fragments. She bottomed out her lungs with her screech, stumbling forward to catch her face with the brunt of his shield. His hammer came down and slammed into one of her knees, filling the air with a wet crack before she buckled backward to fall flat onto the ground. The Holy Light surged through Folcan with the taste of victory on his lips, his righteous fury exploding out of his back in the form of shimmering white wings. It was short lived.

He heard and tasted the foul fel magic before he saw Miraan’s arms lit up in a sickly green flare. The Light within him surged outward to encase him in his divine shield just in time before the fury of the Man’ari came pouring out of her like a shattered dam against a raging river. Folcan was ripped off his feet and sent spiraling through the air in a colossal wave of raw felfire, blinded by the sickly green flash and deafened by its bellowing roar. He slammed into a cliffside so hard he swore he went to the afterlife right then and there. His arms certainly felt broken, as did his legs and ribs; he crumpled to the ground, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. His breathing apparatus had shattered into dust on his back, and now he was exposed to air that was too thin for comfort. He grasped at his throat to little avail, desperate to catch a full breath to recover his dwindling strength.

“You’re going to pay for that.” Malice dripped from Miraan’s words like venom. Blood oozed from her broken nose and split lips as she limped toward him. “You’re going to BURN for that!” Folcan tried to raise his shield to protect himself, but it was too heavy to lift; all he could do was gaze up at Miraan’s glowing palm in between ragged breaths, and brace himself for the final green flash that would guide him to the other side. He heard the roaring flames but he never felt them. Folcan opened his eyes to see Miraan staggering forward while she reached for something behind her; when she turned around he saw her wings had vanished, and the flesh on her back had been seared almost completely off. “Wh...aaat…..?!”

J’azel was standing again, wreathed in the Light. Looking directly at her was like staring into the blinding rays of a lighthouse, her body shimmering with newfound runes as her eyes were filled with cold fury. She raised her hand again, sending another volley of light that struck Miraan and ripped her off her hooves. Miraan collapsed in a heap of smoke and seared flesh, writhing about in the sand as her arrogance fled. “RAAAAUUUGH! WAIT! SISTER!” She was able to roll onto her stomach and push herself up, but one of her arms looked like it was half-eaten by the holy flames, and threatened to snap under her weight. “Y-you wouldn’t kill your sister, yes?! Without me, you have no family!”

“I have Folcan.” J’azel shot a quick glance in his direction. “He is family now.”

“No…! NOOOO!” Miraan hissed out when J’azel raised her hand again. “J'AZEEEAAAGH-!” The Light surged forth and washed over her sister in a blinding tide of cleansing fire. The silhouette of her sister's skeleton flashed amongst the searing heat before crumbling into dust and ash. In the end, her remains vanished in the wind with the pillar of smoke left behind.

Folcan felt her gentle hands reach down and lift him onto his feet. His arms were numb and unresponsive, his legs felt like jelly, and he was still trying to catch his breath. "I've got you." J'azel spoke into his ear while pulling his arm over her shoulders. Blood trickled from her wounds and each step took an eternity to make, but they slowly began heading back to the beacon. Back to safety. Back to home.

"You belong here." The softest voice whispered in Folcan's head, filling him with a strange soothing warmth. He used what little strength he had to look up, seeing the endless darkness above swirling and spinning ever closer. A distorted shapeless entity appeared for a brief instant at the edge of his vision, but when he looked at it directly, it vanished. "There is no misery, nor sadness, nor pain. You will be free. Safe. Happy."

"Don't listen to voice!" J'azel warned, staggering a bit before trying her best to pick up the pace.

"Stay with us. You are so tired. Rest now." The voice filled Folcan with overwhelming joy, but he was no fool; through a panicked smile he began forcefully lifting his dragging feet to help J'azel lead them to safety. Soon she began to tremble from giggling, affected by the same crushing presence. A rock shifted her hooves out from underneath, and they fell into the sand. "We can give you everything your heart desires."

Folcan burst into laughter while he lay face down in the sand. He knew he should be terrified, but this encroaching presence flooded his mind with joy. Euphoria washed over his body as he turned to look at J'azel, who was on her back while clutching her stomach, cackling madly; tears were streaming down her face while she pressed a few buttons on her wrist, but her maniacal laughter abruptly stopped the moment she sat up and saw something in the distance.

"Mom…? Dad…?" J'azel's jaw dropped upon seeing her parents standing beside each other. Her father Uverin waved at her with his huge hands, smiling faintly alongside her mother Xiraas. Both of them were wreathed in the Light, and lightforged just like J'azel. "You survived Argus…?"

"Of course, my Little Comet." Her father's voice caused her eyes to shimmer with tears. "Come. After we give Miraan proper burial, we should return to Argus, yes? We can be family again."

"Don't… hahahhhh… listen to it… haahahahaahh!" Folcan could barely speak through his fit of laughter. He tried to reach out and grab her by the wrist, but she was already on her hooves again. "Ja… jahahahh… Jazz…!"

"Family…" Slowly she began walking toward her parents, still clutching the wound on her side. Folcan watched helplessly as she walked toward the hallucination only she could see, desperate to stop her from wandering off into the dark to lose her sanity.

"Over here!" A familiar voice bellowed from behind. Gigantic hooves slammed into the sand beside Folcan before his body came into view; Taarth dashed toward J'azel and grabbed her by the wrist, sending her into a frenzy.

"Let go of me!" She begged, turning around to punch and kick at him. Taarth ignored her protest and scooped her under one of his arms, letting her flail aimlessly at his side. "NO! PARENTS NEED ME!" Taarth grabbed Folcan's hammer before grabbing him by the collar of his armor. The joy that filled his heart Immediately turned into fear and hatred; he weakly clawed at Taarth's grip, but he was too sore and weak to stop him. Other Lightforged Eredar surrounded them, escorting Taarth back toward the beacon.

"Don't leave us. We don't want to be alone." The voice pushed overwhelming guilt and shame into his mind, but he was helpless to stop Taarth. "Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't. Don't. Don't. Don't. Don't." The last thing Folcan saw before the blinding light from the beacon, was a gigantic mass of long tendrils choking out the purple star, and thousands of unblinking eyes staring straight through him.

Back aboard the Vindicaar, he sat upright on a makeshift bunk. Food grew cold on a plate beside him, but his appetite was nonexistent; pings of joy and sadness still shivered up his spine like a twitch, but the presence was thankfully gone. He tried raising his shield arm, but pain jolted through his body, from the tips of his fingers all the way up into his back. Folcan winced and looked down to see his skin was purple and swollen underneath his wound dressing. Terrible bruising to be sure, but at least nothing was broken.

The door slowly opened on the adjacent wall. A spark of excitement fluttered in his stomach at the prospect of seeing J'azel, but it was short lived. "You are not eating. You need to get strength back, yes?" Taarth gave him a warm smile, holding a tankard in his hand. "Here, drink."

Folcan did his best to raise his other hand in protest. "No thanks. My head is swimming already…"

"You are still under influence of evil from Void." Taarth furrowed his brow and jutted the tankard toward him again. "Drink. This will cleanse mind and soul of poison." Folcan couldn't argue with that. He's seen firsthand what that kind of corruption does to people if left untreated; a lot of good men were reduced to blathering cripples in Northrend after being exposed to Yogg-saron's influence. "Oh, you don't want liquid to touch-"

"Whauugh-?!" Folcan coughed and choked on the very first sip. Every muscle in his body was sore one way or another, so every time he coughed it felt like a group of gnomes were pummeling his stomach, chest, back, and head. The liquid was so foul tasting he swore it was boiled goat piss - a common dwarven prank he fell victim to more than a decade ago. "What the fel did you try to poison me with?!"

"Pfeh! Humans are dramatic. It is not that bad, yes? Give me tankard!" Taarth took it from Folcan's hand and took a quick sip. He almost dropped and spilled it all over himself. "LIGHT THAT IS RANCID!" The Eredar grabbed a flank of lukewarm meat from Folcan's untouched plate and began stuffing his face in a desperate attempt to get that horrid taste out of his mouth. "Uuhuugh! Eeuugh…! I think I am going to be sick…!"

"Don't vomit on lover." J'azel commanded, leaning against the door's threshold. Folcan looked up to see wound dressing stained brown around her waist and stomach. A blackened stump sticking out maybe an inch or two from her hair was all that remained of her right horn, and her head was slightly tilting to the side from the uneven weight. He gave her a weak smile before she limped over to sit beside him. "You must drink this before permanent damage, yes?" She took the tankard from Taarth and raised it to Folcan's grimacing lips.

Simply watching Folcan force it down was enough to make Taarth gag. "I will give you two space." J'azel pinched Folcan's nose and lifted the tankard up until most of it was down his throat. He coughed again, but his body began to feel too numb for it to hurt like it used to.

"I am very proud." She softly spoke, smiling at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Bad." Folcan admitted, trying not to gag. "Worse than you I hope?"

"I doubt this. Facing sister one last time was… exhausting. This is third time I mourn for sister, yes? This time she won't be coming back. Even worse… I saw parents again. They looked so real… I forgot where I was. Why I was fighting. What I was fighting for. It was all cruel ploy by Old God to lure me to death." J'azel inhaled sharply before weakly smiling down at him. "But I am glad you came with me. Facing sister alone… facing evil alone..."

"I'd do it all over again if I had to. As long as we're together." He assured her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Anything for my dazzling beauty from across the cosmos."

Slowly she leaned forward to press her forehead against his. Through a weak smile she said, "I am grateful, but… let's never ever do this again." before they both started nervously laughing.

[jazelthegentle]

The Mourning Sister

Taarth told her not to go. He warned her if she tried to visit her old home she would not like what she found. Some wounds long since scarred could reopen at the slightest touch, and many wounds on her people would never truly heal. Trying to find solace on Argus seemed like a waste of time to many, knowing it would only bring back memories too painful to endure.

But J’azel was not like many Eredar, and this wasn't about her. This was about her family.

The gentle trumpet of her lightforged elekk forced her to smile as they traveled across the ruined outskirts of Mac’Aree. Ko’duun was born among the stars and never set foot on the birthplace of his ancestors, but he could sense his master's pain. He avoided walking through the tall grass that managed to survive the Burning Legion’s wrath as well as the crumbling potholes along the road, not because he feared an ambush, but because this land was unstable; one wrong step could drop them both into a molten current. One day J’azel would set him free into the wilds of Azeroth to give him the closest thing she could to a natural elekk life; returning to what once was is often all she could think about, yet when Ko’duun neared the remains of the Kratisaan talbuk farms, she could barely think at all.

“Kath tonesk.” The command was friendly yet firm, causing Ko’duun to obey without delay; the massive elekk bull knelt on his front legs and waited for J’azel to climb off before sitting down completely. He snorted out a loud whine in her direction while she walked down the shattered street, but she didn't pay him any attention; she was adrift in a flood of memories that rushed her back to her tragically ended way of life.

Hardly anything remained of Kratisaan. Most of the buildings were reduced to little more than piles of rubble, with the crystal reservoirs scorched from felfire spells almost as old as she was. The overgrowth covering the few remaining walls almost concealed her own home from J’azel, but she knew exactly where she was going. The living room was in shambles just as she expected, with most of the floor covered in dirt, grass, and debris from the roof that threatened to collapse on top of her. The cupboards and nearby closet were seemingly ransacked only a month or so ago, but J’azel knew any clothing would have disintegrated long before. The other rooms either had the door sealed by dirt and foliage, or were completely caved in from years of rot and abandonment; either way they were inaccessible.

“Ku… ku...k-k-kuuu-uu-uuu…” A faint voice whispered from beneath the packed dirt mere inches behind her hooves. Immediately she turned to investigate, scooping handfuls to toss aimlessly away; the sight of her family's arcane-infused construct made her heart flutter. Such a simple machine lasting this long without maintenance was a testament to Argussian ingenuity.

Still, it was in some seriously bad shape. Dirt has been causing the little construct considerable trouble, preventing fine motor control and likely breaking hardware it needed to properly function. J’azel was careful when she pulled it out of the ground like a vegetable, fearing it would crumble in her hands at the slightest pressure. “A-a-a-alert… planeta-a-a-ary invasion in progress-ess. E-e-evacuate immediately-y. Eredar safety-y top priori-i-i...”

“Poor Tilbi… stuck in that mode for twenty five thousand years...” J’azel cradled the construct in her arms, occasionally flicking clumps of dirt away from its sensors. “Deactivate emergency protocols. Run diagnostics.”

“Voice recogni-i-ized. Diagnostics… c-c-c-c-omplete.” Tilbi tried to move its arms, but the damage rendered it paralyzed. “E-e-e-error. Internal-al power core… f-fail…ure….” The Eredar was quickly running out of time; if she didn’t restore power, the data stored within would be lost forever. Unfortunately it used arcane magic to power itself, and it was far too outdated for J’azel to requisition anything useful from the Vindicaar before it was too late. She was forced to improvise, and use the only thing left she had at her disposal. Her runic tattoos lit up with the Gift of the Light Mother, which surged forth from the Eredar’s hands and enveloped the construct in a soft golden light. “P… p… p-p-power restored. Retrieving-ing archived video recording.” It was not her intention to put any strain on Tilbi way out here. J’azel merely wanted to sustain it until she could return to the Vindicaar for repairs, but when it managed to turn its head around to face the center of the living room, and the grainy projection started playing, all she could do was stare wide-eyed with her mouth hanging open.

“Alright alright! Gather ‘round, little ones!” Her father's booming voice sent chills up her spine moments before he stepped in front of the camera. His giant face filled the entire living room and his hardened eyes stared right through her while he fiddle with Tilbi, clearly struggling to make it do what he wanted. “Damn thing is too tiny for hands… ah! I got it! Hurry before picture is taken!”

Her mother appeared next, slowly stepping into view with both of her hands resting on her extended belly. “Miraan! J’azel! Get out here so father can let me relax in peace!” She was more beautiful than the Eredar remembered; an absolutely stunning woman aglow with her pregnancy. She struggled to pull out a chair to sit down in, but her father moved faster than Tilbi could follow, causing his image to sputter and glitch when he rushed to her aid. J’azel held the ancient construct with trembling hands which made the image shake and shudder; with another surge of light she soothed herself to continue watching.

Miraan staggered out of her room with an obnoxious yawn. She was so innocent back then, before the Legion came and took her away; a myriad of emotions flowed freely through J’azel, making her clench her teeth at the sight of her young sister. “Miraan, where is your sister? We are running out of time, yes?” She gave their mother a carefree shrug and plopped down next to her. What a brat.

“Ah- I will fetch her. One moment.” Her father hurried out of sight to return a minute later, slowly leading a tiny J’azel into frame by her hand. The Eredar couldn't help but laugh at her six year old self with her stubby legs and messy crown of hair; back then her horns were still barely visible too, sticking maybe an inch or two out of her head. It looked like she was rudely interrupted from a nap. “This way my little Comet.” Her father swept her up into his massive arms and carried her the rest of the way. “Alright! Everyone ready? Lean in close!” J’azel felt her eyes begin to burn, but she did her best to stay as quiet and as still as she was able. “Three! Two! One!”

“SOVAAKI" They all shouted at once, except J’azel, who was already falling back asleep in her father's arms. They kept their grins for a few more moments until her mother began growing impatient. Watching her family stare at her put the biggest smile on the Eredar’s face. She couldn't stop the gigantic tears from falling either, but she neither noticed nor cared. There was so much she wanted to tell them. J’azel would give up what little she had for just five minutes to speak to them again… but they were gone.

“Where is flash?” Their mother asked, mildly annoyed. “Did you set Tilbi to camera or video?”

“It is video.” Miraan confirmed before stretching. “Next time I will set Tilbi. Father is bad at this.”

Their father let out an embarrassed chuckle before scratching the back of his head. “Kids and their tech these days… I will figure it out after work, yes? When J’azel wakes up, tell h-her th-that d-d-daddy-y…” The images began to flicker in and out, causing J’azel to stiffen with fear; at long last Tilbi was shutting down! She was blinded by her tears and desperate to hear the rest of this recording. Another surge of Light flowed from her trembling palms, but the intensity became too much for the decrepit construct. The frozen image of her and her family turned a sickly yellowish brown before they melted before her eyes like hot wax; Tilbi twitched in her trembling hands before drooping its head and popping, its internal hardware catching on fire with a low whirring sound being Tilbi’s final death rattle.

The last thing she had of her family was destroyed. J’azel pressed the remains of the construct against her breastplate and began sobbing uncontrollably; what started as weak sniffling and whimpering devolved into a loud wail, a lamented crescendo for twenty five thousand years of anguish out at once, at last.

Then the house shook, snapping her out of her mindless suffering just long enough for her to drop Tilbi and reach for her sword. Was it a demon attack? A wild animal fighting Ko’duun? Horde scavengers hunting down anything of value? Possibilities kept dancing around in her h-

The filtered light from her left cast in the living room was blocked by a giant shadow. J’azel snapped her gaze to the remains of the window, seeing a beady eye with long eyelashes blinking at her before a concerned trumpeting whine shook the house again. “I'm fine… I'm fine…” She tried to wipe her face dry, but the tears refused to stop. Unconvinced the elekk bull reached into the window with his trunk and began tugging at the wall to get inside. J’azel had just enough time to scramble onto her hooves before his third tug, which ripped what was left of the house apart.

The Eredar covered her head while the rest of the house came down around her in a thick cloud of smoke. When she opened her eyes she found herself standing atop an unrecognizable ruin, surrounded by shattered stone and twisted debris. Ko’duun waddled forward with a guilty snort, and watched her closely with his shimmering eyes. J’azel wanted to yell at him for what he did, but once he slowly wrapped his trunk around her slender waist and lifted her into the air, any anger she had disappeared. He gently swung her around until she started laughing again.

Eventually J’azel wrapped her arms around his lumpy face and pressed her forehead against him, listening to his steady breathing and the subtle grinding of his flat teeth. “Thank you, Ko’duun.” She sighed, feeling her hooves touch the ground again. She was ready to leave Kratisaan and never return to this tragic place again.

“Let us go home.”