What that means has changed

[moonshadows]

Shan’do Stormrage. Your brother still refuses food and water, sneering that he is sustained by the fel magic inside him. He does not respond to any hint that he should feel shame or remorse, except where the High Priestess is concerned. I judge him rational in all other respects, and still of sound body. Warden Maiev Shadowsong.

Shan’do Stormrage. The last bits of fel green have faded and I can only assume that with the glow extinguished, your brother has finally consumed the last of the demon energy. He still refuses food, although he drinks when presented with water. Suggestions that he should feel shame or remorse result in anger and threats of violence. Further observation is impossible at this time. Warden Maiev Shadowsong.

Shan’do Stormrage. Your brother seems unaware of his surroundings, searching blindly for a source of fel energy to feed his hunger. His words ramble, he does not respond to anything said to him, and his limbs shake. I fear he is suffering only the first symptoms of withdrawal. Given how long he was under fel influence, my next several reports are likely going to be very unpleasant. Warden Maiev Shadowsong.

I skipped a few.

Shan’do Stormrage. The screaming continues, even when your brother has shouted himself hoarse. Attempts to restrain him only result in localized damage where the restraints are, and I fear they cause more damage than they prevent. There is no recognition of anything when he is awake, not even when water is poured into his mouth. We are dripping diluted water from Nordrassil into his mouth while he is unconscious, and I only hope we are not prolonging his symptoms by sustaining his body this way. Warden Maiev Shadowsong.

Cringing, I skipped a few more.

Shan’do Stormrage. Your brother has passed into the final stage of withdrawal. He no longer screams and thrashes, but presses himself into a corner where he shakes and rocks, moaning. Sometimes he utters streams of gibberish. He seems unaware of our presence, although he will eat and drink if food and water are left within reach. There does not seem to be any permanent physical damage, although he is thin and weak from what he has suffered. He does not respond to anything spoken to him, not even the High Priestess’s name. I anticipate three more years of this before we will be able to tell if there is anything left of him but a broken shell. Warden Maiev Shadowsong.

Shan’do Stormrage. Your brother no longer exhibits symptoms of withdrawal from his addiction to fel magic. However, I fear his mind may be broken from what it has endured. He displays nothing but apathy towards the needs of his body, despite being practically skin and bone. He reacts sluggishly to commands to eat and drink, and not at all to any other spoken stimulus. What few hours he is conscious are spent staring blankly from a limp curl on the floor. When he sleeps, he shudders and whimpers. I have not heard him speak. Warden Maiev Shadowsong.

Shuddering myself, I set the pile of reports aside and hugged Illidan, cheek pressed against his back. Hearing his heartbeat soothed me.

“I figured out later that shortly after that last report, you and Illidan found a way for him to ride behind your eyes,” Dad said heavily. “The next one states that ‘he spends most of his time in an unresponsive state’, and she tries to get some kind of reaction to see if he has any sanity left.”

Illidan pulled me around to hug me to his chest. “Twenty-five years,” he whispered. “By the time you found me, I had gone through more years of withdrawal than you had spent alive.”

“No wonder I stumbled over you as soon as possible,” I whispered into his shoulder. “And no wonder you were so convinced that he was dangerous, Dad.”

My brother-buck held me tighter, his mind clinging to mine. “Reading the reports, I almost would not believe that I could be anything but a broken wreck, even knowing differently. No, Furion,” he said as Dad no doubt opened his mouth to protest. “You did what was best. It was no one’s fault but my own that I consumed so much demonic essence, and certainly I bear sole responsibility for the things I did under its influence. If you wish to fault yourself, Furion, then accept blame only for not locking me up sooner. No one should have had to endure me until I was clean of that filth.”

“There were others,” Dad said solemnly. “The Shadow Wardens watched over other night elves who had tasted fel magic, guarded them until they were clean. None had had as big a dose as you. Many did not survive the withdrawal. And of the ones who did and were freed, many of them went right back to finding a source of fel magic. Attempts at re-capturing them ended badly, and before you even entered withdrawal, Tyrande and I gave the order to kill rather than capture and risk losing more of our people.”

“You were afraid you would have to kill me,” Illidan said.

“It would have broken all of our hearts. I’m not certain I would have been able to bring myself to do it.” He stepped closer, and we shifted from hugging each other to hugging him. “I am eternally grateful that I did not have to make that call.”

My brother-buck laughed shakily. “I was nearly sick when I realized I would have to take in fel energy and use it against Tichondrius. I was nearly sick again when I actually felt it inside me, and when Tichondrius had been absorbed into the acorn…” He laughed again. “I had never been so happy to vomit, except when Kayne forced the rest of it out of me.”

“He was prepared to be locked up again,” I said softly. Illidan flinched. “He knew the fel magic would get to him soon, and he was prepared to go back to a dark cage and be forgotten again so that he didn’t hurt anyone.”

“And I snapped at you. Illidan, I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

“You had no way of knowing, Furion.”

“No, but I also had no trust in you or in my daughter. I didn’t even give you the benefit of the doubt. I was wrong, and I wronged you.”

Don’t, I said silently as he opened his mouth to insist there was nothing to forgive. Ten thousand years is more than enough time to prove yourself, no matter the sin. Don’t keep thinking that you deserved to be mistrusted, that’s the scars talking.

You’re right, sister-doe. “I accept your apology,” he said slowly. “And I forgive you.”

Dad relaxed, and we all took a step back. “Thank you, Illidan. You know,” he said as he turned and began to gather the reports into a neat pile again, “caring for you during your period of withdrawal greatly helped us work out how to care for druids taking shifts in the Dream. Of course, the others who went through their withdrawals before you contributed a great deal in making sure you survived yours.”

“And now there will be many others benefiting from that experience,” Illidan said grimly.

“Yes, but we have hope that nearly all of them will be cleansed and safely return to their homes and families.” Dad smiled over his shoulder, the expression somehow resolute. “Especially since we know Elune’s light can flush out even the strongest case of fel taint.”

Reflexively, Illidan spread one hand over his chest. “Then it was worth it.”

“Illidan!” I’d opened my mouth to protest, but Dad beat me to it. “You destroyed a very powerful demon and an even more powerful source of fel magic. You saved the forest, and saved countless night elves from corruption or war. That was worth it. If Kayne had not been able to cleanse you, if you’d had to be locked up again, it would still have been worth it. That your cleansing will also aid others in being cleansed takes it far past merely being worth it.” Dad took a deep breath, gentling his stern expression while my brother-buck stared, mouth open. “We are in your debt, Illidan.”

“But…”

“Kayne told me everything. You faced the worst horror imaginable, one that came straight from the darkest days of your past, and you strode unhesitatingly into it for the good of others. How many could face their greatest fear without flinching? How many would submit themselves to it the way you did, not knowing if they would come out intact at the end? Illidan, you did something so brave, so noble and selfless, that it makes me feel cowardly and selfish. While I huddled safe behind the front lines, you risked your life and your sanity. You are a hero, and my heart weeps that I can’t do enough to make that known to everyone.”

“But…” Illidan blinked in the way that meant he would be shedding tears had he any to shed. “Furion…you’re the mighty Shan’do Stormrage. Everyone knows and venerates you. I’m just Illidan.”

“A lifetime of small deeds that add up.” Dad made a dismissive gesture. “Have I ever done anything as noble, as humbling as you did when you took out Tichondrius?”

Illidan scowled. “I seem to recall a certain dragon-back ride.”

Dad smiled tightly. “You do, and I do, and a handful of others might remember it after being told about it ten thousand years ago. But just as your sins have been forgotten by time, so too have my heroics. I am Shan’do Stormrage, known and venerated by all, but I am like Nordrassil in people’s hearts. I am there, I have always been there, and I will always be there – supporting, yes, but never doing anything amazing. You, Illidan, are mysterious and exotic. You travel with an amazing person and you do amazing things. You convinced the Spellweaver to leave his hidden sanctuary and bless Nordrassil. You brought dragons wearing mortal form to teach young mages their art. You, and you alone, have blue eyes. See yourself as others see you, Illidan. You are a legend that appears out of nowhere, does amazing things, and vanishes again. And now – now, you have single-handedly stopped a second demon war before it truly began.”

“It wasn’t me alone,” he protested. “I couldn’t have done it without Kayne.”

Dad nodded to give him the point. “Fine. You and the equally legendary Ellekayne stopped a war by yourselves. People only know what you tell them of yourself, Illidan. What they witness with their own eyes. They cannot see into your heart to know how many years you spent with eyes that burned green. They don’t know what your tattoos are, or how they came to be. They only know that you are the greatest kaldorei mage alive, and that your skin is marked with Elune’s light.”

“They don’t know why you don’t use your surname,” I added, “only that you don’t need one because everyone knows who you are. No one could ever mistake you for any other Illidan – not that there would be any, because no parent would give their child such a weighty name and doom the poor thing to a lifetime of unflattering comparison to his namesake.”

He thought about that for a minute, and I could feel his fractured pride shore itself back up.

“I am Illidan,” he said slowly, “and what that means has changed over the centuries. My actions have outweighed my past. I can – Furion, can I truly be proud of myself for what I’ve done?”

“I certainly hope so,” Dad said dryly, “because I’m so proud of you that it quite nearly causes me pain to not be able to tell people that you’re my brother. You would bring a great deal of honor to the Stormrage name if you went by it, but perhaps it’s better for me that you don’t. Like Kayne, if you used your surname, people would quickly identify it with you instead of me, and that would get awkward.”

We both blushed.