moonshadows: (Warcraft)
[personal profile] moonshadows

            “We did as you commanded, Lord Illidan.” The Bonechewer captain saluted, one meaty fist thumping against his breastplate.

“Excellent. All of them are wearing the collars?”

“Yes, Lord Illidan.”

“Were there any casualties?”

“Only two.”

“Very well done. Bring in the rest.”

Illidan Stormrage sat on the stone chair that served him as a throne and waited while the Bonechewer patrol marched eighteen Aldor vindicators in, each one with wrists bound behind their backs and chain collars bearing purple crystals around their necks. When the draenei were lined up, the Bonechewers backed away and stood at the ready. Illidan regarded his guests impassively, giving them no hints as to his mood. They all glared at him, silently challenging him to do his worst. He stood up.

“I asked my soldiers to bring you here,” he said mildly, “so that I could present you with a choice.”

“We’ll never serve you, demon,” one of them spat.

“I’m not asking you to.” Illidan waited, but there was no further outburst. “I could have you killed easily, you must know that. And, should you refuse my offer, I may do just that.” Again, he paused. The draenei glanced uneasily at each other.

“What is it you want?” one of them asked warily.

“Ember!”

The girl, indigo hair tied back in a high tail, scampered into the room and began prowling around the confused vindicators.

“This is my daughter, Ember. Her body is an unwilling host to the spirit of a very powerful Eredar. I have tried many things, but I cannot remove it from her without causing her greater harm than leaving it there.” He gestured, and Zul’vii entered the room. “This is Zul’vii, the child of a celestial being. She is a font of healing energy, but she, too, is unable to purge the Eredar from my daughter. What I want, my dear Aldor, is for you to act as our honor guard and deliver us safely to your High Priestess. If there is a way that your people possess for Ember to be purged of the demon inside her, you will find me a grateful ally.”

Once more, the draenei looked at each other in confusion. “Why should we ally with you?” the wary one asked.

Inwardly, Illidan breathed a sigh of relief. This was going better than he had hoped. “I command powerful forces who hold no love for the Burning Legion. You have tried your strength against mine and won a few victories, but ask yourselves: have I or mine ever attacked you?”

Now the draenei began murmuring to themselves, reaching the obvious conclusion.

“Had I wished to, I would have eradicated you long ago. I would rather fight alongside you, as I do with several of the orc clans, and many tribes of Broken. We only waste lives by fighting each other, lives that could have helped push the Legion from this world.”

“What will you do if we say no?” the angry one demanded.

Rather than answer, Illidan darted forward and ripped the chain collar from his neck. He held it up for the others to see as the startled vindicator braced himself, then looked around in confusion, and finally started coughing. When he sank to his knees, still hacking, Illidan bent and re-fastened the metal around his neck. Immediately the coughing fit passed and the draenei, looking fearful, climbed back to his feet.

“The Temple of Karabor is thick with fel taint,” Illidan said quietly. “It is this taint which causes your kind to become Broken.” He let that sink in for a minute. “I want you all to escort me safely to your High Priestess. Only me, Zul’vii, and my daughter. No troops. No weapons. I can be a powerful ally, or I can be your doom. Ember!” She came running, and he scooped her up and settled her on his hip, smiling gently at her before turning back to his guests. “I will leave the room for one hour, as will Zul’vii and my troops. You may discuss this amongst yourselves. In one hour, I will return and you will tell me whether I am going to Shattrath, or whether I am going to war.”

=======================================================

Ember wrapped her arms around Illidan and buried her face in his shoulder, small body trembling, as the last of the vindicators filed out and the portal closed behind them. They formed up around Illidan and his half-troll, weapons returned to them and bonds untied, chain collars gifted to them as a token of goodwill. The fact that both troll and child also wore collars bearing violet crystals was not overlooked. Slowly, the party began moving up the road towards the city of Shattrath. They were challenged at the gates, but Illidan stayed silent and let his escort do the talking and soon they were parading through the streets of the city, towards the soaring towers of Aldor Rise.

“Lord Illidan!”

The sharp, semi-frantic cry brought the procession to the attention of everyone in earshot. Illidan winced inwardly, then frowned and looked around. “Voren’thal?”

“Stay back, Scryer,” one of the vindicators warned.

The elderly blood elf stopped where he was. “Lord Illidan, I had a vision of this, but none of my efforts could reveal how the Black Temple fell. What…?”

Illidan laughed. “At ease, Voren’thal. I am a guest here, nothing more.” He shifted to show the child clinging to him. “I have come in peace seeking Aldor aid for Ember.”

Voren’thal’s expression cleared. “I see now. Then…the other visions make much more sense. I am glad.” He smiled. “Enjoy your visit, Lord Illidan.”

One black eyebrow arched up from behind the cloth binding Illidan’s eyes, but he said only, “Let us proceed.”

The guards at the elevator to Aldor Rise took exception to allowing Illidan onto their holy ground; it took several minutes of discussion and a direct order for them to step aside. After that, the vindicator escort became significantly less polite with their fellows, but it sped up the procession greatly. In less than half an hour, Illidan found himself face to scowling face with Ishanah, High Priestess of the Aldor. Ember whined and buried her face in his shoulder again, and he stroked her hair soothingly, but she did not relax.

“Explain yourself,” Ishanah demanded of the vindicators.

“He gave us our lives,” the self-appointed leader said calmly, “in exchange for our protection so that he could speak with you. He treated us fairly, and so we agreed to escort him.”

“You know who this is,” the female draenei said coldly. “You know what he is.”

“Hear him out, High Priestess.” The vindicator who had briefly tasted the fel taint inside Karabor rubbed his throat, remembering the experience. “Despite what he is and has done, I believe the Light smiles on this meeting.”

Again Ember whined, the sound trailing off into a whimper, her little body shuddering as she fought to keep control without going feral. Illidan exchanged worried looks with Zul’vii; the vindicators remembered his words and backed away warily.

“High Priestess, I seek help for my daughter.” The words were tense, strained. “She has the spirit of a powerful Eredar inside her. She fights him bravely, but she is just a child. If your Light can exorcise him, you will find me a most grateful ally.”

“Daddy, I can’t stop him!”

The desperation in Ember’s voice tore at his heart, but the closed look on Ishanah’s face decided him. He set his daughter on the floor. “Let him talk to her,” he said gently. “He won’t do anything else here; he wouldn’t dare.”

The High Priestess watched in confusion as the girl’s expression went from terrified to coldly smug, her body language shifting to something unmistakably arrogant. Illidan’s hands clenched until dark blood dripped from between his fingers, and then Zul’vii took his hands in hers and a soft light washed over them. The eighteen Aldor vindicators prayed silently, unnerved by the emotion being displayed by someone so clearly demonic.

Ember opened her mouth.

The words that poured out were in no language that Zul’vii knew, but she was the only one. Illidan understood them by virtue of his demon half; the draenei were shocked to hear the accent of a world they’d long abandoned. Archimonde spoke through Ember’s body, smug and condescending, detailing what desecrations had been inflicted onto a few cherished monuments on Argus. He smiled wider as anger clouded Ishanah’s face, the cruel expression out of place on a child so young, and then surprise flooded Ember’s features for an instant, followed by a scrunched-up look of intense concentration. That faded into a mask of feral rage and Ember dropped to all fours.

“Zul’vii,” Illidan snapped.

Writhing tendrils of golden light burst from beneath the troll’s tunic, curling around to the front of her body and reaching for the small body now growling at Ishanah. While the half-demon held conspicuously still, Zul’vii’s wings entered Ember’s peripheral vision. The child whirled and pounced on one, teeth sinking into the golden light, growling as the wings retracted and dragged her to where the half-troll could pick her up. Ember bit viciously, breaking skin in several places, but the wounds closed again within seconds. Again dark blood dripped from Illidan’s fists as he watched the feral fit play out, and several minutes later the child went limp, panting in Zul’vii’s arms.

“He was gonna say mean things about you,” she said tiredly, looking at Ishanah with an apologetic expression. “I didn’t want him to.”

“Why not?” the High Priestess asked, startled.

“Because you’re a good person. I know ‘cuz he wouldn’t hate you so much if you weren’t so good. It’s why he hates my Mommy.” She paused. “Who’s Velen?”

“Prophen Velen is a very good man. He led our people-”

“-when they left Argus,” Ember finished. “I get it now. That’s why he thinks Velen is a coward. Velen left because he didn’t want to be a demon along with him and the other one.”

“Him and the other one? Child…who do you have inside your body?”

Ember squirmed uncomfortably. “…Archimonde.”

Silence ruled the temple.

“Can you get him out?” Ember asked, voice and face quietly begging Ishanah to say yes, as though she were asking for a piece of candy after a day of being very good. “…please?”

“Please,” Illidan echoed, voice rough with restrained pride.

“We need to talk, just you and me. Aldor, why don’t you escort the child and…her guardian…on a tour of the city?”

Illidan forced his hands open again and kissed the top of Ember’s head. “Be good for Mama Zul’vii,” he murmured.

“I will, Daddy,” the girl promised, leaning away from the half-troll to give her father a hug.

High Priestess and Lord of Outland watched as the rest of the procession trooped away; him proudly, her inscrutably.

“You said you would be a grateful ally,” Ishanah said without preamble as soon as they were alone. “However, I do not see where we would benefit from alliance with one such as you.”

Illidan held his temper with both hands, irrationally glad for all the times Zul’vii had needled him.

“You are a demon; your foul energy stains this holy place. You are an invader to this world, enslaving all those who stand in your path. And you squat atop the Temple of Karabor, our most holy site, desecrating it further.” She crossed her arms and glared, daring him to refute it.

“I am a half-demon,” Illidan growled carefully. “I became this way while attempting to cleanse the forests of my homeland from a powerful demonic artifact known as the Skull of Gul’dan. I absorbed the power of the Skull – foolishly, yes – and used it to slay the demon Tichondrius who was leading the undead and corrupting the forests. I was banished from my world and left without complaint, Gul’dan’s memories leading me to what had been his homeworld. However, I have not enslaved anyone. The orcish clans under my banner joined me willingly, as did the tribes of Broken that your people shunned for being twisted by fel energy, even as I was twisted by fel energy and shunned by my own people. All of the forces that answer to me do so because in me, they see redemption. They see that one can be cursed, twisted, abandoned, and yet still struggle to do good in this world. They see that they are not doomed to madness and despair, that they can still make a difference.”

“A difference in what way?” The priestess spat out. “You may have driven the Legion from our temple, but you fill its sacred halls with more filth!”

“You want your temple back?” Illidan asked, voice low and menacing. “Your temple sits on a nexus of power so great that the spell that shattered this world did so because it was cast from there. That is why the Legion took it. Your forces were not powerful enough to drive the demons out. I was. Your forces would not be able to hold the Black Temple against the Burning Legion for even a day should I relinquish it to you. Mine can. You want it back, but what would you do if you got it? The fel energy that chokes it would have you joining the Broken within days, assuming the Legion did not crush you first. Blind, arrogant fool! That is why I hold it. I hold the Black Temple because I can, because you can’t, and until I have cleared it of its demonic taint, I shall continue to hold it!”

Ishanah stared. “Until…Cleared…”

“You think me a conqueror? I have no such aspiration. Dominion was never something I desired. I only claim to be the lord of this world because the ones who have placed themselves under my protection need to see me as one. You think I want my troll-healer, my daughter, living amidst such thick fel taint? Did you not see the crystals they wear around their necks?”

“I did, but what-”

“They absorb and store demonic energy. Zul’vii would be unable to stand in Shadowmoon Valley without hers, fel energy smothering her healing energy. The one Ember wears drains Archimonde slowly. It’s not much, but it keeps him from gaining strength in this place. Each of the draenei that escorted us here now possesses a crystal that can keep him or her safe from fel energy even within the heart of the Black Temple, and my magisters have begun enchanting more of them so that the blood elves may return and give us their aid. Soon, I hope to set up great crystal pillars that will leech the fel taint from the very land.”

The High Priestess was silent for a long minute.

“And if you succeed, what then? If the Legion is driven from this world for good, and the land cleansed of its foulness, what will you do?”

“When the Temple of Karabor has been restored and is no longer merely a prize coveted by the Legion, you may have your holy place back,” Illidan replied calmly. “I will find somewhere else to raise my daughter, somewhere quiet. Perhaps I will take some of the crystals back to my homeland and once again attempt to cleanse the forests so that they may heal. I’m certain that by that time, my brother would welcome me home again.”

“And the forces under your command would be free to govern themselves again?”

Illidan laughed. “They are free to govern themselves now. I am no great leader, no king or chieftain. I am merely the strongest wolf in the pack, and they look to me for protection against other packs.” He raised one eyebrow in faint amusement. “By the time it is safe for me to step down, I hope that the familiarity of long association will have erased any ancient quarrels any of my forces may have had with each other. This world is not yet so peaceful that every life lost to fighting amongst ourselves could not have been better spent working for the good of all.”

“Is that why you ‘gave’ those vindicators their lives?” Ishanah looked skeptical. “What would you have done if they had refused to escort you here?”

Illidan rubbed his temples, sighing. “I don’t know. I couldn’t just let them go, and I am loathe to imprison anyone indefinitely. Killing them was never my intention, but just releasing them to harry my people again wasn’t an option, either. I suppose I should have had an alternative in place already, but I was more concerned with getting Ember to-”

“Why?” the draenei interrupted sharply. “Why would you not imprison them?”

Taloned hands curled into fists and bound eyes closed. The Lord of Outland took three deep breaths, visibly reining in his reaction. “I spent ten thousand years in a lightless cell, deep underground,” he said quietly, eyes still shut tight, fighting back the memories. “My warden loathed me. She made sure I did not die, but that was the extent of the comfort and courtesy I experienced. I went months, even years without seeing any living being aside from myself. Even ensuring that a prisoner has a cellmate, and that they are fed, and clothed, and checked on three times a day, I could not inflict imprisonment on anyone for an indefinite length of time. I have not tasted freedom long enough yet for those wounds to heal.”

“And your hatred for the Legion?” Ishanah asked gently.

Illidan smiled bitterly. “I was barely more than a child when they invaded my world. My brother and I came into our destinies then – he became a great druid, while I…” He sighed, opening his eyes and hands to stare at his bloody palms, the wounds closing slowly of their own accord. “I became a demon hunter, using their own magic against them. Between the two of us, we closed the portal that had brought the Legion to our world, but our plans to protect what remained of our people differed. I alone believed that arcane magic could still be a useful tool, a weapon. I was imprisoned for acting on that belief, an unwelcome reminder of both the demons who had ravaged our world, and the Highborne who had brought them down on us. It is not a comfort that ten thousand years proved me right, or that the Legion’s return brought about my release from the cell I had been imprisoned within. It was Archimonde who led that second assault, and even in death he could not be defeated. His spirit lurked within the body of my brother’s wife, waiting for her to conceive, and took Ember’s body for his host. Perhaps another would have been grateful to him – his actions bought me my freedom, and gave me my daughter – but I would rather spend another ten thousand years in my cell than have Tyrande and Ember suffer the way they have.” He looked at Ishanah and spread his arms as though inviting a blow to the heart.

“No,” she said firmly. “I will probe you no further. You have opened your heart to me and spoken truthfully. Truly, the Light smiles upon this meeting. I may not like what you have become, but I cannot denounce your actions when I myself have not faced the choices you had to make, and a heart acting out of love for another is always welcomed by the Light. Peace between your people and mine will not be immediate, but it will happen – and I hope it will happen whether or not we can resolve the situation with your daughter and her misguided guest.”

“Even if Archimonde cannot be restrained or removed, I will still do my best to ensure that this land is cleansed of fel taint,” Illidan promised. “When the Temple of Karabor has been restored and the Legion is no longer a threat to it, I will return it to you and yours.”

For the first time, Ishanah smiled. “Then let us bring your daughter back here and see what may be done with our wayward brother.”

===========================================================

“Why’s that kid sitting by himself?”

The Aldor vindicators collectively shrugged. “You’d have to ask the matron of the orphanage,” one offered.

Ember gripped Zul’vii’s hand tighter. “All those kids have no parents?”

“This is a harsh world, little one,” the draenei answered gently.

“Let’s go find the one in charge, hmm?” Zul’vii tugged Ember’s hand and led her over to the white-haired troll who seemed to be running things. “Excuse me, sistah,” she began, letting her orcish slip into her father’s lilt.

“Ah, not often I see another troll here,” the other woman smiled. “And who dis be?” she asked, crouching to look Ember in the face.

“Ember,” the girl answered, half-hiding behind Zul’vii’s arm.

“Well, ainchoo a pretty one?” the woman cooed. She stood up. “I be called Mercy. I run dis house for da children. How can I help?”

“Ember wanted to know why that draenei boy was sitting by himself,” Zul’vii said when it was clear the child clinging to her hand wouldn’t speak.

“Ah, dat one. He just arrived not too long ago, and he don’ speak orcish. He sits by himself because he don’ understand enough to play wit’ the other kids.”

“Can I play with him?” Ember piped up.

“If the matron says you can, but remember we’re waiting on your daddy.”

“Oh, you’re not here to drop her off?” Mercy’s eyebrows raised, and she noticed the armed and armored draenei milling about a short distance away. “Go play with him if you want,” she said distractedly.

Ember dashed over to the boy and skidded to a stop right in front of him. He was a few years older than her, his skin cool and pale, and brown hair trailed halfheartedly past his shoulders. He looked at her dejectedly.

“My name is Ember,” she said in draenic. “What’s yours?”

“Jorthan,” he said slowly. “You speak my language?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How?”

“I got an eredar inside me,” she said matter-of-factly. “He’s all powerful and bad, and my daddy is here trying to see if High Priestess Ishanah can get him out of me.”

“Possession.” Jorthan’s eyes widened. “That’s a dangerous ritual. Are you scared?”

Ember grinned. “Nah. ‘Snot scarier than he is.”

“You’re brave,” the boy said admiringly.

“Daddy says I’m too stubborn to be afraid,” Ember supplied cheerfully. “So, wanna play?”

Jorthan stared like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “…okay.”

===========================================================

“Zul’vii, where are you?” Illidan’s voice came thinly through the crystals around her neck.

She touched the appropriate one. “The orphanage, in the lower city. Ember is playing with a draenei boy.”

The pause went on so long that the troll wondered what Illidan was doing. “Bring her back,” he said finally. “The High Priestess wants to inspect her to determine how extensive the ritual is going to be.”

“Ember! It’s time to go back!”

The child paused, opened her mouth to reply, and was promptly tagged ‘it’ by Jorthan. Zul’vii found herself forgotten as the two argued about whether or not it counted since Ember hadn’t declared a ‘time out’.

“I don’t hear Ember behaving,” Illidan said, the amused smile nearly audible.

“Ember Stormrage!”

The argument died, both children freezing mid-gesture. For a long moment, there was silence and the ringing echo of Zul’vii’s voice.

“I gotta go,” Ember said in a small voice.

“Will you come back?” Jorthan asked mournfully.

“I’ll have to ask my Daddy, but Mama Zul’vii had to yell and Daddy doesn’t like that.” She twisted her loose, nearly oversized, tunic in her fingers for a moment, then sensed that she was wearing out her window of opportunity and dashed over to the half-troll.

“Is she behaving now?” Illidan asked.

Zul’vii touched the crystal, but Ember was faster. “Daddy, I made a friend and his name is Jorthan and he’s got no parents and he doesn’t speak orcish and I’m his only friend ‘cuz I can understand him and he asked if I could come back and play with him some more so may I pleeeeeeeease?” She took a deep breath and held it hopefully after having expelled the previous lungful in a rush of elvish words.

The crystal was silent for so long that Zul’vii started to worry about Ember passing out.

“If you’re a good girl for Ishanah, you can play with your friend afterwards,” he said finally.

Ember jumped in manic joy. “Thank you thank you thank you I love you Daddy!” For lack of the appropriate leg to hug, she wrapped her arms around Zul’vii’s. “Daddy said I can come back if I’m good, so I’m gonna be super good and I’ll come back and play later, okay?” she called over her shoulder to Jorthan, who had been following the exchange blankly.

“I think I followed that,” Zul’vii murmured, finger still on the stone. “You told her she could come back and play as long as she behaved, right?”

“Your elvish is getting better, swamp rat,” Illidan teased.

“No thanks to you, moldy old goat,” she fired back with a grin. “Come on, Ember. Let’s go see your daddy and the High Priestess.”

Ember allowed herself to be led away, craning her head around and waving to Jorthan with every other step.

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June 2023

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