“Heard you died. Kaevia is worried about you.” he said stoically. It seemed a matter of practice in expressing the statement in consideration of his lover but he personally wasn’t concerned with trying to express care for the Shadow Priest’s welfare. An eerie calm as the morning mist cleared about them as they stood in the largest graveyard in Tirisfal Glades. Or rather, what was left of it. Even with the mist parting it was still dim as the sun couldn’t penetrate the overcast clouds hanging over the ruins of Brill. A green tinge could be seen reflecting off the receding the mist.
The Priest held his newly mended hand in front of him. “I’ll go see the little dove sooner or later. Right now I need to find something. I’m surprised to find you here.”
“My sister is buried here.” he lamented dryly looking down to a broken headstone and scorched earth.
“Oh. That’s right. I forgot.” Areus responded casually.
“I’m surprised you would’ve known in the first place.” Whit responded.
“Well. When you weren’t busy courting my niece, we were enemies once.”
“Know thy enemy.” the Death Knight quoted the vague statement. “Well, that explains what I’m doing here. What are you doing here?”
The Priest took a deep breath and answered, “Visiting the old Guild Hall. Well. What was beneath it at least. Only a select few knew what was buried underneath. There’s a shortcut somewhere here and I feel like I’m going to have a hard time finding it in this rubble. If only I moved sooner. I was too busy worried about mending my arm that I wasted precious time.”
“You don’t have much time left.” Whitstan commented. “Whatever is keeping your body moving is going to wear off. You’re not quite alive and you’re not quite dead yet. I’m guessing there’s a nice long story behind that.”
“You noticed huh?...” an awkward pause followed, “I heard you killed my brother.”
“I-”
“Thank you for putting him to rest. It was my failure. His death. Ashelin’s death. They’re both on my shoulders. Thank you for saving our little dove.”
Areus seemed out of sorts. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so somber and serious. To be grateful and courteous to the Death Knight. Whatever the man had been through the last few months had left a number of scars on what was left of his heart.
The Priest shot his hands out as blackness and shadow energies encompassed his extended arms. Most of the graveyard remained intact, however there were parts where Alliance siege weapons, artillery, and shrapnel had destroyed. Collateral damage.
Unlucky for them, it was where both their destinations were. The earth beneath them rumbled as a void tendrils erupted from the ground to move collapsed stone monuments and slabs from what was once a standing mausoleum. The rubble was shifted with a series of thunderous crashes. Whitstan could see the physical exertion the magic brought upon the Priest. Sweat beaded down Areus’ visage as his hands began to shake. A single slab remained of what was left of the Mausoleum blocking the path to what appeared to be a set of stone stairs.
The void tendrils wrapped around it but tugged to no avail as they slowly lost their strength and dissipated. Areus gripped his chest as he tried to catch his breath- the shadow receding from his forearms until they disappeared completely.
“Looks like you’re still not in tip-top shape.” Whitstan decided to do him a favor, dark tendrils of energy sprouting from his own hand this time, gripping the stone from its resting place to send it flying across what was left of the Alliance camps and supplies sending wood, grain and dirt exploding in every which direction.
“Thanks.” he replied, rubbing at his left wrist. He moved forward to stop at the top of the stairs leading down below. His eyes narrowed, “Looks like the seal is still intact.”
The Death Knight was beside him again before he could turn to notice. He observed an old metal door rounded at the top and slit down the middle. Various emblems and symbols had been integrated in the construction of the entry. “What did you say was down there again?”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, seems like the door is sealed. I don’t see a keyhole. Magic?”
“Only one person had access to this area. My brother, Alucieus.”
“Well then, that’s a problem isn’t it?” Whitstan replied.
“Not necessarily.” Areus reached behind him to pull out a tome. He levitated the object in front of him. “This belonged to my late brother. His personal libram. I took me some time to find it… luckily for us it wasn’t tucked away into the vault itself.” The book turned in place and opened, the pages flipping through before stopping at the mid-way point laying bare for them to see, “Holy spells known only to him of his own device. I’m sure you got to see one or two of those during your fights with him...”
Areus shot his injured arm forward and plunged his fingers into the open libram. His hand seemed to move into the tome as a bright yellow light swallowed it. The holy magic shifted to a shimmering gold hue while it spread across the book. The color had consumed the book and collapsed it into Areus’ grasp. Whitstan turned his head, wincing from the sharp ringing of the magic and the sheer magnitude of holy power emanating from whatever was occuring.
Whitstan slowly lowered the arm he had raised to instinctively shield himself. Though he sustained no injuries it had felt as if a torrent of flames had marred him. Runic magic flowed harshly through his blood subconsciously while frost magics worked their way through his system to combat the overwhelming sensation he had only felt once before. He shook his head and blinked his eyes to fight off the slight disorientation that blurred his vision only to witness Areus holding his hand up to the sky. A curious sight. The wrist that seemed mangled on the Shadow Priest was now mended.
A smirk came to Areus’ lips a moment before he readjusted his mask over his face. The Death Knight’s eyes shifted at the magic forming above them both. A colossal spear conjured from pure light came into existence. Before he could even blink and in a flash, the spear found itself embedded in the sealed entrance. Slowly the object was absorbed as the magic flooded into different runes and mechanisms placed on the ominous doorway. Grinding of metal could be heard as different locks unsecured one after the other, several metallic clicks and clacks echoed thunderously.
The blinding light receded as Whitstan regained his senses and settled his gaze on the silhouette of Areus who was descending the staircase. “Wait-...” his voice echoed out while he moved swiftly to catch up to him.
Areus’ hand rested on the door as it slowly and loudly creaked open.
“That was something I’ve only seen your brother conjure… how did you manage?” Whitstan asked, matter-of-factly.
“I absorbed the tome’s knowledge. Trust me, it isn’t because I’m some prodigy with the Light.” he replied casually as he held the door open, gesturing for Whitstan to pass through. “I’ve disabled the traps, don’t worry.”
“Well… if you didn’t, it wouldn’t be the first time you tried to kill me.” he replied in a stoic manner as he waded through the palpable magic residue.
“My brother’s libram was undoubtedly pre-prepared for Covaya or more likely Kaevia to have one day…” he commented as he walked beside Whitstan, “It’s a favor I now owe to them both, so before I pass I’ll have to strive to leave Kaevia a keepsake worthy of the one I used. Perhaps I can pass down a semblance of what Alucieus left for his daughter and then some. Maybe the little dove will find some use in my conjuration of shadow ravens.”
They wandered down as small series of corridors as they conversed.
“Just leave the taint of the void you carry with you out of it.” Whitstan spoke plainly as his eyes settled viciously on Areus for a moment. “I’m sure she’d be grateful.”
A brow perked as he observed the Death Knight. “Out of what?”
“You said you’d pass something down. I imagine it’d be akin to that libram her father left. She doesn’t need more instability in her life than what I bring to the table.”
“...How’d you notice?”
“Don’t tell me you actually thought you were the only one who has madness whispering into his ear? Scratching at the very last vestige of sanity you hold on to? You’d be mistaken if you were that naive. It’s in the eyes. Even among Death Knights, Demon Hunters and others plagued by the void, there are some worse off than others. I can recognize my own kind. You may not be a Death Knight, but you are as far away from being whole as we are. Incomplete. Broken. Your incessant smoking of dangerous alchemical reagents. The painkillers and potions you pour into your flask of bourbon to numb the pain and voices. We both have an affliction, but it seems you medicate yours differently than my own.”
The Priest’s footsteps came to a halt as he waved his hand dismissively. “That was very insightful. All that good stuff. We’re here.”
One more door and he was at his destination. The hairs along their neck gave rise as they felt a sinister aura in the room. “And where… exactly… is here?”
Areus muttered a response as he stopped at a table before him in the center of the room, “The innermost vault of what was once known as the Keepers of Shadow. For years we sought to keep evil at bay. Unwanted children of society banding together to ensure Azeroth’s survival. Until recently very few Keepers remained in existence. Now, with the death of my brother and my wife, even less remain. Covaya, myself, and Syrahn are all that is left of our legacy. It seems the fates of our houses are tied in blood. Maybe this was all preordained...”
Areus spoke grimly as his hand reached out consumed by shadow, dark tendrils materializing into existence with malevolent magic. Countless books hung along the walls, chained in place adjacent to each other. Several pedestals held artifacts afloat and bound in place with holy magic.
Tomes and artifacts were torn from their supernatural bindings and casings as the tendrils gripped them all in before Areus. “...But I’d like to believe our fate is our own.” he continued before plunging his hand into the books before him.
Unlike last time with Alucieus’ libram, these books gave off a forbidding and malignant aura. His hands were consumed by what at first appeared to be shadow magic.
“Areus… what… are you doing?” Whitstan approached cautiously as he began to speak and question the Priest’s intentions.
“Looking. And learning.” he replied frankly as his eyes took on a sinister shade of black. “There we go.” he continued as all the books and artifacts were absorbed and dissipated into nothingness. All except one. He reached for the ancient tome.
“This. This is it.”
“What?...” he regarded Areus with caution and reached for his blade.
“The Myurkodn. An ancient grimoire that predates the black empire…” he quoted instinctively.
In the flash of an eye, the tendrils and darkness that seemed to gather around Areus disappeared. “I told you... not to worry.” the Priest assured him.
“You’ll have to excuse my distrust of you. Last time I checked, you and your brother sought my true death.”
“I was kept alive for a reason. Something dark beyond my imagining wanted me to escape the clutches of death. Something even more sinister than your ‘Lich King’. This is the key to finding it.”
“Sometimes it’s better to leave old wounds to heal. You start scratching at the surface and you never know what you’ll find…” Whitstan offered, thinking how hypocritical the words were as they left his mouth.
“I’m going to follow this thread no matter what it ends up unraveling, Whitstan. Do be a good fellow and keep to this facade you’re managing. Stand by my niece and ensure no harm comes to her. In the meantime… this vault still holds too many malicious artifacts and dark codices to let loose into the world. I’ll send word to her before I leave to follow this trail of crumbs. In case it doesn’t reach her, let her know this: Azeroth’s cry has been sounded. The call has been made. The planet bleeds and only the dark secrets we’ve collected in this tomb has the answers. They are hers to collect and relocate. She must be the Keeper of Shadows now. Help her find allies that would serve well in the interest of preserving the lifeblood of Azeroth at all costs. And trust no one.”
Areus gasped out with a wet cough, spilling blood and spit along the uneven stones beneath him. The icy hand of death no longer gripped his body, but merely hovered over him like an indecisive card player; the uncertainty of his surroundings only furthered his desperate need to survive. Areus ran his trembling hand across his chest- soaked and sticky with what had to be his own blood. He’d survived wounds far more grievous before, stabbed deeper and closer to his heart; with a simple binding spell and a lot of liquor he could endure, but this time it was different. The Holy Light intervened for all the wrong reasons. Without the shadows bending to his will, the old wounded soldier was blind and helpless to treat his own injuries, and now time was his greatest enemy.
The crisp breeze indicated early morning, but with most of his senses dulled, he couldn’t be sure. First he tried crawling to something stable enough to force him on his feet, but his legs wouldn’t budge, and the cold weight spreading over his chest and into his limbs made any sort of movement an agonizing uphill battle. His fingertips clawed into stone and dirt and snow with all his might, nails scraping against mortar from a fallen wall, threatening to tear off with every forceful yank. Bit by bit every attempt tore at the flesh of his fingers. He needed to make it out of the Bloodsworn Vanguard ruins and onto a main road but was bleeding out far faster than he had ever imagined. The man managed to patch together what was left of his shredded arm with what little mana he had left yet even with two halfway decent extremities, it wasn’t really working out for him.
Finding his Alucieus would be easy. For better or for worse, his stalwart brother was always reliably predictable in that regard; it was wearing him out and luring him into the trap that Areus was having a problem with. Would Alucieus see through his tricks, like so many times before? How could he be so sure that arcane prison Syrahn’s sister was preparing could even hold him? They say Tirion Fordring was offered to become a High Justicar, but he refused; if Alucieus could truly hold a candle to the late Highlord’s power, Areus would have to be in the best shape of his life to face him, if his brother was even capable of striking him.
The Western Plaguelands is and always was his favorite forest; he could no longer look upon the greenery like he once could, true, but the crisp air and the heavy musk of pine always lifted his spirits. The roads were empty now that the Scourge was completely eradicated, and the Argent Crusade gone. The beautiful forest was now as quiet and peaceful as it once was for countless centuries before the first humans or elves settled in these lands.
Except for Alucieus. He hammered away at his dented and rusted armor, patching hole after hole, but the once rhythmic clashing did nothing for him now. Despite his escape from Dalaran the High Justicar’s head was still swimming; it was a terrible burden that prevented even a wink of decent rest, but it was his burden to bear.
“Alucieus has been missing for far too long.” Syrahn clenched her jaw at the thought of one of her oldest friends laying face down in a ditch somewhere; she’s lost so many good people over the years, and she wasn’t prepared to lose another. “He must be starving, delirious… weak. We have to find him and we have to find him now.”
Miriam scoffed at the idea, but she kept her voice down in front of the stranger sitting on the other side of the table. “An unhinged High Justicar on the loose is dangerous, and a stain on the Sin’dorei legacy. If he manages to kill innocents, they will never let another Blood Elf ascend to that kind of power again.” She paused a moment to look her sister over. “I heard his trail went cold after he left Dalaran. He could be anywhere. How do we even hope to find him?”
“You know him better than we do. Better than I ever could. He’s your brother, Areus.” Syrahn sounded desperate, but she didn’t have the patience to maintain her composure. “You would know where to find him, yes?”
Everyone was fast asleep or otherwise indisposed. The house was silent all for a few creaking floorboards as she approached the simmering embers of the fireplace. Kaevia sat along the cushioned furniture to adjust into a state of repose while her eyes settled on the last dances of the dying light. Several sparks lit up and the fire found itself reigniting with another log tossed in. The unexpected noises and hissing almost caused her jump out of her seat but she managed to contain her surprise as she witnessed the figure of her uncle emerge from the darkness while using a poker to stoke the flames.
“In the middle of the journey of my life, I found myself astray in a dark wood, where the straight road had been lost…” Areus uttered dryly, reading a passage from a worn and familiar leather-bound book in his left hand by the fireplace. “A Broken Paradise… have you ever read this one, little dove?”
A blink came to the Priestess followed by a shake of her head, “I do not believe so. What is it that you read?” With a purse to her lips Kaevia settled back along the seat, tucking the collar of her jacket a little tighter around her for comfort. It wasn’t often she got a visit from her Uncle but it seemed he and Ashelin had much of the same approach through shadows.
“Oh. Well. Your new friend left this on your nightstand before he went out to sit in the darkness on the front porch. Seems like he’s being a good old guard-dog. I’ve read this before. It’s a unique interpretation of the typical story of the knight, the princess and the villain. Not too many editions of the book sold. Eventually, it went out of circulation pretty quickly. Yet still… he has a pretty old copy. One of a kind, I imagine. Looks to be from Lordaeron almost a couple centuries ago. It’s a story about a villain, if you could imagine that.”
He continued narrating, “The villain is a self-proclaimed king who terrorized a nation and ruled it in fear. He kidnaps the princess and takes her to his kingdom. The knight, ever-brave and unrelenting in his pursuit of justice follows the princess into that dark world to defeat the lieutenants of the grand villain one at a time, each time sacrificing a part of himself and learning a lesson from each enemy defeated to obtain an artifact. By the way, these artifacts to free the princess were known to him only through the advice of a holy sage.”
“With every sacrifice, with every victory, he learns that things are not quite what they seem. These champions of the evil king were entrusted with these artifacts to protect something greater than he knew and he feels it: A dark secret. Now that the hero possesses these artifacts at great cost his feet feel heavy as he approaches to fight the evil demon king. He trudges through and almost sacrifices his very being to defeat the demon king who does not seem surprised at his own loss and instead of becoming enraged or lost in vengeance…he seemed saddened for our hero.”
“It’s revealed that the holy sage who gave the knight the keys to defeat the demon king was the villain himself. Irony at its best. The evil king knew that the woman he loved and gave everything for only sought after the knight, and in turn he allowed the knight to sacrifice all that he was to reach this princess. All these trials were only to facilitate the realization that the princess wanted absolute control over him and to murder the demon king to prove that the knight was unequivocally hers and only hers. Only through sacrifices he made could he see the true colors of the princess. This was the villain’s goal all along, to reveal the truth to the knight.”
Far too long had gone by since promised communications had occurred. For one reason or another, it seemed that Elenaris and Areus had not found the time to sneak about one another’s chambers in the dead of night like the shifty characters they tended to be. At this point, however, should he have attempted, he might have been greeted with a sight he likely did not wish to see as her union with Lord Duskhollow had blossomed into the fell effect upon her life.
Of course, the little rendezvous made by the other dark priest was not intimate in nature, but more that of a habit that he had as Elenaris tended to catch onto. Popping in and out of places when least expected, bringing about conversations unaware or unplanned on at least one of their ends.
Areus had brought her the relic of souls, with extended promises to one another, promises that even Cineas was unaware of currently. The contents had fed her familiar and in turn grew her strength in power to an extent she had sought out originally on her own and was quite grateful that such an artifact had simply fallen into her hands.
The last they spoke, there had to seemed to be an agreement between them that there were further discussions to be had. Of what exactly, she was unsure of on his end but the time had come when she was ready to have these talks of her own accord. She needed to find a way to secure her son’s life from the void for a time, allow him the healthy growth within her belly that they both needed. Perhaps Areus could help her with such a task. Perhaps he could weasel his way into finding it as work for Kaevia and her crew behind a veil of another purpose. Though to lie to Kaevia in such regard, she was unsure he would. Did he keep things from his niece, yes of course, but he was loyal to her above all else.
Nonetheless, there would only be one way in which to find out and that was to ask. A missive was quickly drafted, sealed with crimson wax, and placed between the beak of an onyx raven to fly to meet with Areus. She would learn in time if he was able or even willing to help her.
( For Ambience: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nP-AAlZlCkM )
Crumpled papers rested in his hand. Letters to his wife written decades ago that had just recently returned to his possession. But… they were nothing but crumpled papers in the end. That’s all they were after all. Just papers. Ink on parchment. Nothing of value or note anymore. Yet he couldn’t… nothing could stop the tears flowing from his face. The pouring rain helped conceal that moment of weakness; The torrential downpour hid the flow of tears from his visage. He lived behind a mask for so many countless years, decade after decade. His eyes shifted to her face, a sense of overwhelming defeat flowing through his very blood. He had only ever lowered that mask and opened his heart to two women over the centuries and now neither remained to be at his side.
He had always thought he would be the one to move onto the next life before the people he cared about. He lived life with a cavalier attitude, risking it carelessly moment after next, praying that he wouldn’t again outlive the ones he loved. Yet this woman, laying still in her casket was the last person that would ever have seen him unmasked. Raw and painful emotion poured from him as his let out an agonized shout.
His hands dug into the sides of the cart holding her casket, the wood bent and gave way to the unfiltered emotion running through the fingers which bled as they pressed against the splinters. He bit into his lower lip to gain some level of composure, realizing that he had been losing himself completely- whispers from the void reaching out to the darkest recesses of his mind; ‘Just let go… destroy anything that hurts you. Then you will be free of such unbearable pain…’ the voices rose in a chorus of dissonance and his heart was filled with a torrent of anguish. Blood began to drip from his lip while he bit down to keep what sanity he had left to him. His hand trembled violently as he moved to grab at his flask. Between the rain and blood in his grip it was a struggle to even bring it to his lips and again, he fought the urge to vomit from the twisted sickness that plagued at his very soul at the loss of his wife. The voices quieted down just a little bit more as he gave into that vice of his. The booze, the drugs, anything that would help keep the voices at bay, he gave into. Such was the price of power. Power he traded his soul for to protect his family… and now, it meant nothing. Her smile, her lips, the breath that tickled lightly along his ears and neck whenever Ashelin embraced him… feeling her form meld against his own. Feeling her lashes grace his skin like the lightest touch of a butterfly... they were all things he would never feel again.
There was nothing else for him here. Yet he stood, because it was all he knew how to do. He moved to caress the face of his lover one last time, her skin cold to the touch. Never again would he feel her warmth, and never again would she experience his. In that delicate moment of realization he knew he had lost more than just half of his self. No… he had lost everything that ever mattered to him.
The night came as it always did though this time, sleep had become sparse. Somewhere in the back of her mind Kaevia’s Uncles words continued on repeat, ringing in her ears. Her heart burned and for some odd reason she could only think of how deep his pain must have ran. Although she was without spouse, the thought of losing a loved one was immeasurable. She once loved someone and he her – but death had never claimed either of them. Her Aunt and Uncle had been together for….well, centuries or more. It was sad to see that the only thing placing space between them now was her death.
This meant no more bundles of herbs and floral teas during the autumn when Ashelin took to drying out her stock for concoctions. Much of it was used for medicines that had been privately bought in the city, used in tonics and elixirs or even poisons. The other part of her stock was made into loose teas for family members. Another thing that some hadn’t known about her Aunt was that she was rather good at cooking and baking, she even made pies on the regular for her husband which wasn’t something most people would have expected with snowberries and thistle woven into the sweetened jams of the pie.
“This isn’t fair… she always thought Syhris… she always thought our son was mad at her. But he was afraid to come home… let his mother see him the way he is.“ now…
Areus shook his head, “And now you’re telling me, she’s gone… and she’ll never get to see him again? That she died thinking her own child hated her?” he began shaking, “How… how is that fair? How is that…” he choked on his words.
Kaevia sat with her fingers intertwined just under her chin, eyes staring at the basket that sat before her in the study of her room. Within were some of the teas Ashelin had left with her a year prior. A few weeks from now would have been when the next stock would have been carried on from Ashelin’s harvest. There was a sense in drinking what remained out of respect and homage to the family member but somewhere deep down it was hard to just do away with what remained. Consumption was the final path.
For as long as she could remember, her Aunt and Uncle lived in a small cottage deep in the woods with various little apartments all over due to their job and constant travel. Having only been inside the cottage a few times as a child she remembered the hanging herbs and flowers in front of the fireplace just over the hearth, the strong smell of incense filled the cozy warm home and the stone flooring was always dusty from the grind of foliage and ingredients. It was more a workshop than house but it was their little haven they called home.
She hated it in her youth. Turning her nose up at how untidy it was kept but now in her age she had come to appreciate the quality and characteristics that made the home what it was. It was the breath of Ashelin.
Inhaling deeply, Kaevia plucked a small package of tea from the basket and glanced at it, turning it over once to inspect the design of the delicate parchment it was pressed and concealed in. The scent of starlight and goldthorn tickled her senses, a fond memory faded as fast as it came but it was just a sad reminder that the person who touched these teas was now in a box, no longer breathing air.
“Minn’da?” Rhistel’s voice came and stirred Kaevia from her moment.
Tucking the tea away, a tired smile stretched down to her daughter who stood at the other side of the desk, “Yes my little firefly?” She placed her hands a top the desk.
“Why is Uncle Areus here? He looks sad and won’t talk to me. Did he lose his happy voice?”
A twitch came to Kaevia’s lips to hide the defeated look her heart screamed, “Come.” She beckoned the child, pulling out her chair enough for the six year old to hop along her lap with some help. The Priestess knew exactly what ‘happy voice’ Rhistel had been referring to, Areus’s silly side.
“ Uncle Areus is missing someone today, Rhistel.” she managed and she hugged the child close.
“Who?”
“Aunty Ashelin.”
“How come? She’s here, I seen her already when Illdarien wasn’t looking. Minn’da, she looks hurt.”
“She was dalah’surfal.” Kaevia drew back some hair from the child’s eyes and tried her best at another smile which was only met with a doe-eyed look. Children… “She isn’t hurt anymore.”
“Is she pretending?”
“No. Your Aunty Ashelin isn’t coming back, little sparrow. Do you remember how you were taught about the Demons?” Kaevia drew her hand away for a moment to point outside the window, “That green planet, Argus? She was there.” Rhistel’s eyes followed and for a long moment she stared outside the window to the blue sky, Argus not present in the moment but she knew the planet was still there, she seen it every day on her way to lessons, “She was there, you know what death is but I do not think you truly understand.”
The child looked to be hard in thought and she gazed back to her mother offering a small nod, “I’ll give Uncle Areus a hug when I see him again.”
“I think he’d like that. Try not to pry with too many questions, okay?”
A gentle hum escaped Rhistel and she slid off her mother’s lap to toddle towards the door, “Oh…Minn’da?” She asked and she turned slowly towards her mother, “There is a man in our house. He has no name….no face. I see him sometimes when I sleep and Silvia says he’s just pretend but he tells me of a far off place.”
Perplexed, Kaevia’s brow furrowed and her head tilted, “Does your….uh, friend, happen to have said what this place is?”
Rhistel shook her head, “No. But he says you do.”
The two were quiet for some time and as if though nothing transpired, Rhistel’s lullaby carried down the hallway making her departure known. Kaevia sat staring at the door for quite some time, so long in fact she wasn’t sure when she heard the humming dying down or how many minutes passed in those moments of uncertainty and then a chill found her spine.
Kaevia rushed down the hallway with Silvia in tow, her boots clicking along the wooden floor boards as she gave haste, “What do you mean they found a body?”
“I’m not sure ma’am. I made them wait out by the gates incase it was a possible mistake.”
“It sounds quite urgent.” Kaevia replied and hastily she darted down the stairs of the Sun’rael estate, flung open the door and started down the gravel path towards the gates. In the distance she could see the wagon, three men and a dark wooden crate the length of a body stretching out the entire length of the wagons bottom; panic began to strike.
She knew her father had been missing for several days and no one seemed to know where he has escaped to after the medical ward in Dalaran. He was ill, deathly ill at that.
Her pace quickened as she drew closer, when reached the gates and the iron swung open at her appearance, she was addressed but barely heard as she drew up along the side of the wagon, breath stilled in her throat.
“Our condolences my Lady.” one of the tattered men offered and he removed his hat, “They collected her belongings, however much they could in the moment.”
“No my lady.” the man replied and he waved a hand for the other two to begin removing the lid, “We had tried the main estate with notice but it had gone unheard, the next we thought to try was here. The city wouldn’t hold her on account of the lack of papers and proof of person.”
With the crack of the lid from the rest of the crate Kaevia slowly gazed in, hand placing to her mouth the moment she regarded her aunt within the crate upon hay. Ashelin was still smothered in her blood now since dried, a pouch placed along her chest just over the fist sized hole and her eyes already closed. Kaevia would have stumbled back had it not of been for Silvia’s fingers at her shoulder and hand along her elbow to keep her balanced.
Ashelin and Kaevia had rarely gotten along in the past but for the first time in her life she was gazing upon a family member, dead, unmoving. No more would their words and breath leave them. Panic returned and quickly in a form of a pinched and painful exhale leaving her, reality hit and Silvia did her best to sooth the stricken Priestess, “There Lady…here..” was all Kaevia heard into her ear as she felt her hands be taken up by the elder and the woman lead her a few paces from the wagon, “This responsibility falls to you without your mother present. She needs her papers for a proper burial. You will need to inform your Uncle if you can find him and you have to arrange something in her memory.”
“I can’t - I’ve never done this before. Where do I start?”
Silvia rose her hands to Kaevia’s cheeks and forced a glance from her, “See to the registry. She might not be of noble birth but there should be something. If not there then your Uncle –”
“What should we do with her belongings?” the man held out the small pouch in hand.
While Kaevia covered her mouth and her other hand made to plant along her front, Silvia stepped forward to take the offered leather pouch, “We will see to her personal belongings as well as the body.” She motioned the three men and the wagon forward, “Please bring her to the guest house for the time being, I will send Illdarien right away so that he may assist you all from there.”
Guiding Kaevia from the gates the pair followed after the wagon. They were technically one Sun’rael short – one missing somewhere in Dalaran, her mother abroad trying to settle the matters of her husband and her Uncle….well…her Uncle was doing what he did best. A man who was often unable to be found unless he wanted to be. The only way would have been to draw him out and to bring him to her.
Reaching out, Kaevia halted Silvia and looked down to the pouch, “Please have this sent to my Uncle. If at the very least his ravens will see to it that it finds him.”
“Whats inside?”
“I’m not sure but I think he’d know and would want to have it.”
“And your cousin?”
“That….is a decision Areus will have to make.”
[[ @areussunrael ]] In regards to the end of Ashelin’s story.
It was all a mistake. The last job, the last mission…
There was a time in everyone’s lives where they found themselves too big for their britches, that they’d come to learn a lesson in those small errors. Sometimes critical. Some had second chances to learn how being humble could balance them. Others, not so much.
There was such an eerie driness to Argus, all of Mac’aree seemed to differ on some spectrum because water still remained and grass to some degree. While the planet was broken asunder and chunks orbited nearby, Mac’aree held shape to the past. Life had grown here at one point and still in the face of all that had transpired, there were memories and imprinted vestiges of the past.
Ashelin wasn’t so lucky to have seen some semblance of harmony, not so much as a blade of grass all the way out in the Antoran Wastes.
It was just as they placed the name to it, a wasteland. For as far as she could see the fel colored blasts riddled the skies overhead just a little south of the Crucible. The yells and screams of her allies rung in her ears as her vital painted her palm and front.
She had been too late.
Her cockiness had gotten the better of her this day while she sat limp along a cold rock with all but her heart in her hand. She had underestimated the Paraxis and its fire power and overestimated her ability in the shadows. Here, they did not serve her as well as they did on Azertoh. A shutter in her breathing came and while no tears were shed she found it harder and harder to labor through each dry breath.
This was it.
She was going to die on this poisoned hunk of rock.
Spitefully and with determination her hand planted to the rock below her to raise herself in attempts to find a beacon. South east. All she had to do was find south east and then just get to the Vindicaar.
“Just….one more day in the office.” Her injuries had gotten the better of her and once more she felt herself like dead weight against the rock. Felfire had wasted much of her armor away like acid, her hand still peppered with the black ink of her tattoo – a tattoo she earned early in life after her training with her father had been complete. With determination she shoved her hand into her pouch that remained intact and her fingers shook and fumbled through her personal belongings. Crumbled pieces of parchment that looked several years old, a small rag doll she had since childhood and…her lucky dice was all that remained.
A pained chuckle left her and with her bloodied hand she gripped the dice to toss them out in front of her one more time. They landed with a clutter against the rock and another agony-laced breath left her, shorter this time as she laid dying along the crooked rock. How typical that her fate would have been alone on some gods forsaken planet all in the name of good.
At least she still wore the Oathguard colors.
She blinked, slower than usual and her gaze stared down to the snake eyes before her.
For the first time in years, she was finally ready to admit….
She missed her husband’s absence but most of all she missed her son.
The last easel was gently propped into place. His residence had been destroyed and broken from the inside-out. He kept his composure and retained his patience while he pieced everything together. Bit by bit, piece by piece, he gathered and reconstructed what remained of his life. His feelings had been very much detached from him for the better part of his existence. Yet now, he was faced with coping with the feelings that were now reignited.
He paused, looking at the one piece he was concerned with in the moment, noting every detail within the painting and taking relief in the fact that it was undamaged. “Kaevia…” he released a cold breath. His arm felt heavy as he lifted it, fingers outstretched to land on the face in his painting. The light, frosted sigh finished as he turned away, reaching at his runeblade’s hilt.
“I’m not in the mood for your trickery, shadowpriest. This time, I won’t go easy on you just because you’re Kaevia’s uncle.” he breathed out gently.
“I wasn’t expecting you to. I just wanted to talk.” Areus said as he shifted out from the shadows. The blackness rescinded as he stepped into the light.
“You want to talk now?” The Death Knight asked incredulously. “It’s been twice now that you’ve tried to kill me. On top of that, you stole the latest bounty I gathered for your niece.” he took a moment to straighten the painting before him, a frozen sigh escaping his lips. “I’ve done some atrocious deeds in my time but I’ve never stolen from family.”
“Everything I do, I do for family. Remember when you kidnapped my son?… Whitstan… We all have to do what we all have to do… for family.” he continued his raspy breath behind the mask. He reached behind him for the poisoned dagger he kept at his lower back, “Forgive me for this.” Areus spoke softly.
[Collab between @areussunrael and myself! Lead in story thanks to @k-sunrael!]
The familiarity of Quel’Danas assisted him. His birthplace wasn’t one he was unfamiliar with over the decades, or even centuries. Ward after ward, rune after rune, even out in the gardens, the Eventide estate was protected more heavily than he anticipated. He slithered about using the darkness as his ally, avoiding guards one after the other. On top of guile was magic that assisted him. A slight mental suggestion incepted into the minds of his targets helped him avoid those that might cross his path. A premature visit to the bathroom, a decision to patrol down the right instead of the left, small choices here and there that averted interception of his presence helped him land his feet on the outside ledges of the highest tower in the eastern wing.
Luckily for him, the Lady enjoyed a cool breeze coming in from the seaside. He casually walked in the window and didn’t attempt to hide his presence. If he knew she was in there, she knew that he was outside and chose not to act. “Lady Eventide…” he offered in greeting as he sauntered about, a slight limp in his step.
He sniffed at the air behind his mask, a familiar smell of smoke and alcohol wafted about the room. “Is that… a hint of bloodthistle paired with a bit of red wine? Very refined if I say so myself.” Areus commented.
The Matriarch would be found in a rather lounged manner, her feet propped up comfortably and each hand held just as he suggested due to the scent in the air. Her gaze slowly lifted to meet the man’s, head tilting not quite out of curiousity but moreso in approval. The wine stained lips curled into a soft grin as she nodded to a vacant chair to her right, adjacent to the table that held the remainder of the wine and an empty glass.
“Areus.” She stated simply, returning her vintage once more to enjoy the taste. “Refined, indeed. Care to join me? I assume you might be here for a bit, seeing as you took such detail in making it to my chambers in the manner of which you did instead of simply asking for me.”
“I do relish a challenge,” he responded with a hidden smile, “However, I relish an opportunity for drink and conversation with an old friend even more.” The man shifted into the empty seat, pouring a glass for himself next to her. “Remind me to bring you something from my own reserve next time we meet. I suppose I was remiss in planning because I was so motivated to see you.” he responded, removing his own pipe and lighting it with the flash of his fingertips: a simple trick for a spellflinger. He tilted his mask down just enough to situate and puff from his elegant pipe, “For what little it means, I did miss your company, Elenaris. It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”
She retained her gaze toward him for the time it took for the masked figure to find his seat and pour his glass. A simple breath filled her lungs, the rise of her chest preluding to the slow release while her attentions turned once more toward the horizon just on the other side of the balcony. “Ah, Areus, you are quite the charmer, hm?”
A single inhale came as her lips cupped the small pipe between them, the trail of smoke soon following. Lids lowered as she relished in the often frowned upon vice, placing it at her side as she no longer needed it. “It has not been that long, though I suppose if you miss someone’s company then you miss it despite the time.” As the words flowed, she found herself looking over to him yet again. “And yet, I feel as though there might be something you want as a more likely outcome.”
He sighed lightly, taking another puff from his pipe. He reached over to the wine to give a light sip. “You certainly do have taste. I prefer the more bitter stuff though.” he commented. His eyes found hers and and an appropriate reply. He placed the glass back down before he opened his left hand, attempting to hide the wince he held due to the pain at his side. An orb formed within his palm consisting of shadow energies swirling with no end. The energies found form and converted into a raven that flapped its wings. “I understand that you’re delving more into the darker side of our talents. Embracing the shadow. I wouldn’t dare presume my experience is more well-versed than yours into the darkness because each of our journeys are distinct and unique. However… I would caution you as you step closer to the void. That is the purpose of my visit and my desired outcome.” he continued, “The line between sanity and justice become a little more convoluted with each step we take toward that darkness. You are a paragon of Light, as is my brother, his wife, and to an extent their daughter- your apprentice. But… both you and her dance about a dangerous line that’s very easy to cross. She errs on the side of caution. I feel… the draw of power is more prominent in you. You were never one to allow others to decide your fate or strength, where I think Kaevia takes after you and draws hers as well. But…” his voice took a darker tone, “She is more cautious in delving to the darkness. However, conversely, this would be an appropriate source for you to bolster your own strength… at a price.”
The dim glow of her green hues held over him as he spoke, ever growing interest with each word. With yet another sip of the wine, she found herself chuckling lowly as a simple gesture came in the form of denial. “Oh, Areus, I suppose this is coming from a place of concern?” Her tone was low, dripping with the tinge of sarcasm as she inquired of her friend.
“The public may view me as a beacon of Light, a shining star among the night sky, or even a guiding hand through a bitter and dark path… but that is not what I am and you should be far more aware of that than most. The Light left me years ago, and I in return shunned it from ever having any power over me by any means.” The woman leaned toward him, her weight resting upon her arm that rested against the chair. She reached her own hand outward, after having set aside her glass, swirling it through the gathered shadow energy that levitated above Areus’ palm. “However I am curious, what makes you so sure that I seek to delve further into the void?”
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