#analyse emberbloom

[analyse-bloodwing]

@blood-wing BOUGHT ME A CHRISTMAS PRESENT, AND I AM SCREAMING. THIS IS ANALYSE. HOLY CRAP. SHE IS AMAZEBALLS. AHHHH SCREEEE!!!!!

The artist is http://shadowpriest.deviantart.com for any who are interested. He is A M A Z I N G. 

[blood-wing-blog1]

Gone (Part 1)

(Write up for in game RP: Analyse and Sori’thas went on a sort of reconnaissance mission in Kalimdor to test the waters of their recovery. After finishing the task at hand, they decided to relax at a bar in the Barrens for the night before returning home. This story starts after an argument between the two, and Sori getting very, very drunk. Analyse Emberbloom written with permission, this isn’t really proofread either so sorry!)

Sori'thas stormed away from the Ratchet tavern; he was furious, drunk, and heartbroken. The hunter paid no attention to the pleas of his companion coming from within the bar, begging him to come back. Tears began welling in his eyes as he walked, the cries getting fainter and fainter the further he got. Sori reached up to wipe away the moisture that had formed on the corner of his burning fel green eyes, and shook his head angrily.

How had this happened? The mission had gone perfectly prior to this. Was it truly his fault that he brought up Analyse's past relationships? Was it jealousy fused with cheap alcohol that caused him such an outburst? 

Sori could only think to himself as he neared a small, separate inn within the Goblin port. His steps wavered, his vision blurry from the alcohol and from tears that had found their way to his face.

No. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his past. It was hers, and she'd bring it up, almost seeming to mock him. Yes. It was her fault. All her fault.

The Elf stood by the door, not quite entering the inn. The warm glow of the light within was inviting among the cool, dark summer night. Before turning in for the night, he decided to look back across the way one last time towards the bar. What he saw instead made his heart sink: Analyse was being led arm in arm by an Orc, with another male Elf following in tow, and the three of them seemed joyous as they walked down to the docks. His heart stung, anger turning into regret, tears of rage turning into tears of sorrow.

It was his fault, and now he'd lost her to another's charm.

He could only watch as Analyse was clutched limp in the Orc's arm, her black leather boots dragging lifelessly up a gangplank and...

Sori was able to sober up just enough to process what he was now seeing: Ana didn't have control of where she was going. She wasn't going willingly, they were taking her. 

He sprinted as fast as his drunken legs would allow him to run towards the lower docks, constantly muttering "no", eyes fixated on the ship that was now leaving port.

He wasn't going to make it. He was too far away. They were going to get away with Ana.

Sori whistled once, the noise ringing throughout the town. A black Raven lazily fluttered from the sky above, landing on Sori's now outstretched arm. The bird turned to Sori, and cooed gently as the Sin'dorei said through slurred words.

"Faloren, I need you to get on that ship, and stay there. I'll be back. Trust me, alright. I'll come get you. I just can't lose that ship."

The Raven seemed to understand, as it fluttered away, heading for the ship that had exited the harbor and was full sail. The Hunter stopped at the dock's edge out of breath, watching the ship float away with a twisting knot in his stomach. Crying out in anguish, the Hunter dropped to his knees. Balling his hands into fists, he glared out on the ocean’s horizon at the now speck that was travelling away. Sadness fueled a surge of anger as he rose to his feet, turning away. his mind set on only one thing:

He was going to get her back.

[analyse-bloodwing]

LOST AND FOUND

“Move.”

All she could taste was blood and dirt. It was almost ironic considering her right cheek was pressed into the ground, the fine particles of dirt grinding into her cheek as more pressure was applied to the foot that kept her there. If it hadn’t been for the blood that was seeping from her mouth and the lacerations that covered the left side of her face, the same side that talons lightly rested against, that a foot was pressing into and threatening to crush the bone beneath, she would have laughed. She would have smiled. She would have shown how much of her damn mind she had lost.

“I said, move.” The demonic tongue sounded strange and hair raising to her ears as it ground out the words in orcish. A light shudder ran down the length of her spine and caused her hands to flex in the bonds that they had put them in behind her back. She didn’t move, though. She continued to lay there pinned beneath the foot of the Wrathguard.

Perhaps that was where she made her first mistake.

Suddenly, the foot was gone, and she was able to lift her head, and she did just that. Slowly she turned her head and tilted her chin upwards to crane her neck and peer up at the purple skinned demon. It glared down at her with eyes that seemed to drip with the fel energy that coursed through it and a snarl pulled back its cracked lips, revealing teeth that gnashed and clicked at her. “I know you can hear me, pathetic blood elf. When I say move, you move.”

Again, she defied the being. It reached down and with talons sharp enough to cut further into already ribboned cheeks, it lifted her by her chin until her toes barely scraped the ground. Hot, rancid breath washed across her face, and she visibly recoiled while trying not to gag on the molded contents of her stomach. Her breathing was forcibly shallow because of the way its hand cut into her throat, and yet that did not stop her from acting on impulse.

Blood and saliva splattered across the demon’s face and she was thrown roughly back to the ground where she landed with a grunt and a small cry of pain as her legs collapsed under her. Her left ankle rolled to the left at an angle it shouldn’t have and an audible crack filled the air. Tears stung at her eyes as she winced, and yet, she kept her head up, one eye opened and she stared up at the demon through watered vision. “No. I will not.” The words were ground out through gritted teeth, and they came out a mere rasp, barely whispered, but loud enough to be heard in the silence that surrounded them.

“You will, or you will endure pain.”

She suddenly found herself unable to breathe. The armor along her stomach had long ago been shredded by the torture and punishment she had been put through for her defiance. Now, though, as the demon’s foot connected and talons tore into the supple flesh, she found herself wishing that perhaps she had not been so stubborn, that perhaps she had given up like so many of the others had done. Her eyes squeezed shut and she coughed, blood flying from her mouth with the hacking, and staining the ground in front of her. As she opened her eyes a scant amount, she barely spied it before she was crying out in pain once more.

Again, she found herself being lifted, except this time by her hair, and if it hadn’t been for the chains that held her captive, she would have been reaching to scratch and claw at the hand that threatened to tear her scalp from her head. Her feet dug into the ground in an attempt to hinder the way the demon drug her, and yet it was futile.

“No. NO. NO! Get the fuck off me! Let me GO!” Angry tears dripped from eyes that flared with sudden fel energy and the armor that still remained along her body flared and flickered as the Light surged through her and along the runes that were carved into the metal pieces. “I said, let me go!”

Right as her hands began to glow and holy flames began to lick along her armor, they went out as quick as they had ignited. All of her concentration, fermented in anger and steeped in a slow simmering rage, left her when she was flung through the air into a larger cage, her back impacting the bars with such force that when she landed on her stomach, she simply lay there. She stared at the feet that moved closer, flinched as talons raked across her back while her bindings were undone, and simply sobbed when she heard the clank of the cage door.

Analyse barely registered the others that were there until they moved toward her, bending and speaking to her in foreign tongues, hands gentle as they moved to sit her upright. The fierce glow of her eyes had faded. They had once again dulled to barely lit embers. Her stomach lay heavy with stones, and her senses dulled to those around her and her surroundings, and time, again, became an entity that seemed to slip through fingers like sand and yet as difficult to wade through as the swamp of Dustwallow Marshes.

Prisoners were added constantly. Where the cage had started out barely filled, it grew to encompass a press of dirty and sweat-stained bodies of all races, genders, and ages. Crying became a daily sound, something that she fell asleep to and awoke. Her eyes roved over them. Perhaps it was in search of something, perhaps it was just out of habit. Yet none stood out. None moved her to move or even care, and as each day passed, her eyes grew dimmer, and the heavy stone in her stomach that had roiled with righteous anger faded, simply becoming a burned out coal.

It was only when the cage had become so full that it seemed to be overflowing that something caused her to stir, for the ashes of her anger to once more ignite the coal.

A tabard, stained and torn, bearing the mark of the Phoenix Guard.

A pair of eyes filled with hope and determination glowing bright in the greys of her world as the man they belonged to moved like a lynx through the cage, slinking through the bodies, grabbing at the bars of the cage and shaking them vigorously.

Her stomach rolled with the fires that, somehow, still managed to burn.

[analyse-bloodwing]

THE DAMNED

A sudden clang rang down the hall, announcing that someone had entered her personal pit of hell. Dull eyes flicked to the gloomy dark just past her bars, and ears that had long since taken on a permanently wilted state perked. Feeding time was past, which meant…

Her heart beat like a war drum in the confinements of her chest. It matched the sudden rush of blood that flowed through her veins, alighting the fine hairs that coated her arms and that were not encrusted with the grime of her imprisonment.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

 The footsteps matched the echo of her heart as it pulsed, and they grew louder with every resounding thump. Her breath quickened, and a tickle at the back of her throat threatened a coughing fit, and yet, she sucked in a quick gasp of air, the whistle hanging in the air, and then…

 The wrathguard came to a stop outside of her cell, its gaze a resentful glare. Creeeeaaaaaak! The sound of the lock was like nails on metal to her ears, making the already painful headache arch through her skull like the backhands she had felt so many times during her time here, and the door swung open with the sound of rust on rust shifting.

 She didn’t bother to move as she stared at the being with a snarl curling her lips, and a growl rumbling in her throat. It never made its way past her lips though, as she was overtaken by hacking that left her doubled over with a hand pressed to her mouth while her meager meal threatened to make a reappearance. The emaciated Blood Knight was given little time to recover from it as the Wrathguard grew impatient, his own growl making itself known with the loudness of it.

 Analyse felt her legs give out from beneath her when the demon grabbed her by the back of the worn vest she was garbed in. The fabric snagged and ripped, echoing in the hollow space of her cell, and a sharp hiss of pain emerged from her when talons tore through barely healed flesh, adding to the half-healed wounds and scars that littered her back as it was. She gave no fight, though. Not even the fury that swirled within the pits of her stomach and burned the back of her throat in its heat could cause her to muster the energy to lash out at the demon. Enough time had passed on insufficient meals and enough beatings had been doled out that she had finally begun to succumb to their wishes when they would move her unwillingly.

 Her legs had fought to keep her upright from where the demon had grabbed her from behind and begun to drag her from her cell and down the long, darkened hallway. They finally gave out and she was torn from the Wrathguard’s grip. Her hands scraped against the stone passageway when she tried to push herself up, but even those limbs shook with the fatigue that held her firmly in its grasp. The demon did not hesitate when he turned back to grab her once more, pulling her to her feet and thrusting her forward while still maintaining a hold on her that threatened to crack the bones of her arm.

 A grimace overtook her features as she was forced from the pit into weak sunlight that dazzled and blinded her. It did her no favors with the way pain lanced through her head, seeming to double her headache and making her lungs creak with the sharpness of the breath she drew in. Another coughing fit struck her, and she was given no time to recover as she was shoved forward a few staggering steps. Before she could fall, she was pushed again, and her legs fell from beneath her, bringing her to the soot covered soil where stones bit into bared knees and scratched palms.

 This time, the demon did not simply hoist her back to her feet. Instead, it growled its anger at her pathetic state and a foot smashed into the supple and bruised flesh of her stomach. Her entire body quivered in the agony that sparked along nerves that were vulnerable prey to physical harm from her debilitated state, and her muscles seemed to silently scream as they tensed, expecting more to come.

 Yet none did.

 Instead, her ears pinned themselves back as the harsh and throaty tones of demonic filled them when the Wrathguard spoke. Another growl followed whatever had been said and Analyse curled in on herself. She wondered if perhaps she would finally find the peace that she had been praying for, even willed herself to succumb to the sweet embrace of death with every time she closed her eyes when weariness would overcome her. A new voice spoke up, this one high and whiny and lilting even as the gut wrenching demonic spilled from its mouth and set her hairs alight with the sound of it. It held a double cadence to it, one that was high and one that was pitched on a discordant note that made her nauseous just to hear it and made her head pulse that much more.

 A hand touched beneath her chin, fingers pressing her to lift her head and with the encouragement, her eyes opened.

 Dull green met violet, and a peacefulness washed over her. Thoughts fled from her mind, and a weary yet empty smile curved her lips. She welcomed the emptiness, the ocean of invalidness that began to fill her mind, but yet her parting thought rung in the back of her mind as her inner self was forced into a small box within her subconscious.

 This is not right.

 She wasn’t sure how long she was encaged within her own head, unable to see anything and unable to know what was happening around her. Time seemed to slow and each moment was painstakingly lengthened. Analyse yelled and screamed at the top of her lungs within her own mind and all it did was echo back at her. She wondered if she was dead. She wondered if the Burning Legion had finally mastered the perfect torture of locking oneself away in their mind while turning the body into a useful drone to undertake and carry out simple orders.

 When she awoke from her magic induced coma, it was with a bleary vision and a falter to her steps as they guided her down another darkened hallway to a barely lit cell at the end of it. Her senses all came alive at once, and the smell of unwashed bodies, waste, mold, and the earthy aroma of being underground assaulted her all at once. It was as they were pushing her into the cell that she turned and stumbled, falling to the ground, and vomiting at the same time. Nothing came up, though, except for darkened mucus and yellowed bile. Her throat burned while tears stung her face, and her retching was loud in the silence of the new prison.

 It was only when she had quieted that she heard the shifting of a person, a masculine groan as another wearied body moved. Her head came up and twisted about so fast that her neck stung with the reaction. The sight that met her eyes, though, was unexpected, welcoming, and heart sinking all at the same time. Time seemed to still for a split second as she took in the sight of her lost companion. Stripped bare of his armor down to nothing more than a pair of sullied pants, raven black hair was dirtied and greasy in the small amount of light offered. His face was bruised but his eyes shown bright, unlike hers. She could see clearly from the grimace on his face that he was in pain, that something had happened, and it made her throat bob with emotion. Then, suddenly, time was moving once more.

 A moment later, she was sobbing as Sori’thas wrapped his arms around her small frame from where she had stumbled to him, her legs giving out and collapsing beneath her and causing her to fall in his lap from where he had been lain against the wall. There they sat embracing and whispering each other’s names with hope filled voices that rang with undercurrents of dread and happiness and sadness that they both were still here.

 Hope once again roared within her, yet it was fury that quickened her heart and vengeance that sent the blood swirling through her veins while a fire burned at the pit of her stomach.

 She was the wick, and Sori’thas was the flame.

 He would be the reason for her continued perseverance. He was the light in the ocean of darkness. He was the salvation for her damnation.

[blood-wing-blog1]

Found (Part 2)

(The final write up of RP with @analyse-emberbloom . Ana was written with her permission!)

"On my mark," Sori whispered over a Comm Stone to the four other Farstriders who were flying in formation with him.

The Squad was flying somewhere over the Great Sea, their Dark Phoenixes almost invisible to the naked eye amongst the night sky. Below them was a large Pirate vessel, sailing silently upon the sea. Faint torches moved slowly on the deck, night shift crewmembers going about their business, oblivious to the five elves that were above them.

"Ready," Came another command from Sori.

Each pulled a parachute from a saddle bag on their Phoenix, and strapped them tightly on their backs. Once their parachutes were fully equipped, each muttered a short incantation and became completely invisible, magically camouflaging themselves.

"Drop." Came the final command from Sori as each in turn slid off the saddle of their Phoenix and began plummeting towards the ship below.

Sharp wind blew with incredibe force against the skydiving Farstriders, but their fall remained true as each one pulled their chute just above the deck of the ship, landing gently on the upper deck. No alarms, no cries for help. They were still undetected. The mission could proceed as planned.

Sori cut the cords of his chute, and began stalking closer towards the inner deck of the ship. He reached for his Comm Stone, brought it to his lips and whispered, "You four make sure we have an exit. Kill any that you deem necessary to make that happen. I'm going to retrieve the package."

He stealthed past a couple Troll crewman as he made his way towards an open doorway, lantern-lit stairs leading down to the inner rooms of the Pirate Ship. As he entered the stairwell, he could hear a cry of pain somewhere behind him, before quickly becoming silenced. He stopped cold in his tracks, waiting to see if any of the Pirates had picked up on their now dead shipmate, but the air still remained calm. Sighing in relief, he continued downward, knowing she was somewhere within these wooden planks.

The stairs led to a wide storage area, various supplies scattered throughout the room. He made out the signs of a metal cell formed into the side of the ship, and his heart jumped. If she was anywhere on this ship, that's where she'd be. He crept carefully through the room, and upon finally reaching the prison, what he saw within the cell walls ignited a fire that burned his soul.

Analyse lie on the wooden floor, her ankles and wrists bound with thick rope, and a white hankerchief wrapped around her lower face served as a gag. Two Human Pirates stood above the woman, looking down and laughing at her plight. One of them held a dagger, its tip covered in a red substance.

Her blood.

Sori's face burned with rage as he made his way behind the two captors. The cage door was unlocked, and the two were too busy laughing at Ana to notice the Hunter gently open the door and make his way into the room. When one of them moved their hand towards Ana, he pulled a dagger from his belt and struck from the shadows. The Human that held back had a few moments to process his throat had been cut before he collapsed into a bloody heap. The second Pirate turned around at the sound, watching his companion fall dead. He gave out a small cry at the sight, before being silenced by several sharp pains to the chest. He too fell over, dead of mulitple stab wounds.

The Hunter sighed in relief as the two lay dead at his feet, but his heart moved into his throat when he saw Ana squirming away from the bodies, eyes wide with fear. Sori muttered a cancelling spell, and became visible once more. Not looking at her reaction, he rushed over, pulled off his helm, untied her gag, and gave her a long, passionate kiss. She was his once again.

"I am so, so, so sorry, Ana." He whispered between generous kisses. He stopped to put his forehead upon hers, tears starting to brim in his eyes, "I should have never have gotten angry, or left you. I love you, Analyse."

A moment, before her reply.

"I love you too."

[blood-wing-blog1]

Broken

(How Sori'thas found himself a prisoner of the legion, and his fateful meeting of Analyse Emberbloom. Based on RP from in game! Not really proofread so sorry if there's mistakes!) Sori’thas opened his eyes slowly, trying to remember what had transpired as he felt himself moving forward. Limp legs were dragged across the rough terrain, arms held firm and outstretched by unknown captors. His entire body ached, a combination of excruciating pain and crippling exhaustion. His armor, a light set of mail and leather, felt like a coffin encasing his very bones as he was forcibly pulled forward. He began to piece the scene together within his mind as he was led on. He remembered the initial destruction of the transport vessel, jumping into the shallow water as the ship combusted into fel flame. He remembered the screaming and cries of terror as his fellow shipmates burned alive. The Fel Bats swooping down and capturing prey, clutching their screaming victims to carry them off to a certain death. The bloody gash to his side as he realized he was the only survivor to make it to shore. The encroaching demons on every side, and realizing his fate was hopeless. The death note he wrote to Ina’thia, sending off with his Raven Faloren as darkness found him. He /couldn’t/ be a prisoner. He knew what that meant, it was a fate worse than death. Before the Hunter could process his situation further, he stopped, legs hanging limp beneath him. The sound of Eredun rang though his ears, the demons that were gripping him conversing to one another. Before him was the bars of a cage within a demonic encampment, and within that cage stood perhaps a mass of a hundred other prisoners. Sori’thas was thrown into the blob of bodies as the cage door was quickly opened and shut, demons locking the door behind him. No one seemed to pay him any mind; humans, elves, dwarves, orcs, all were the same. They were crying, fearful creatures that cared nothing about petty wars or politics that their races forced upon them. They were all prisoners now. Sori quickly brushed past an orc, his mind now set on escaping this terrible fate. He squeezed his way towards the perimeter bars of the cage, gripped them tightly with his bare hands, and began pulling. They were strong, he noticed, probably made of some variation of Fel Steel. This wasn’t going to be easy. He moved past a human couple clutching each other in a tight embrace to reach another wall of bars. Again, Sori tested the strength of the steel, trying to find any weakness, any gap he could make for him to slide through and escape. To his dismay, every bar he tried, every wall he went to, he wound up with the same result. Escape was not going to be easy. Before he could search for any further weakness in his prison, a light hand grabbed his shoulder from behind. Spinning around to see who had gripped him, what met his eyes caused his heart to leap into his parched throat. A Sin’dorei woman, gorgeous even with the grime and filth of imprisonment. Her auburn hair was a beautiful, tangled mess. Soft, fel green eyes met his own as she spoke, “That’s the tabard of the Phoenix Guard you wear, right?” Sori nodded once, clearing his throat to gain his bearing, “Yeah, that’s my Unit.” He scrunched his brow, “How did you know that?” The woman gave a small smile, a rarity in their current environment, “It was once my former unit.” Sori shook his head, not believing his luck, “That’s incredible. I didn’t think I’d find someone from my Unit in this hell. I’m Sori’thas. Sori’thas Bloodwing.” The woman responded with a simple nod, “Analyse Emberbloom.” As Sori began to speak, the cage door was opened again, and two Wrathguard stepped through. They began forming a line of prisoners that would start hobbling out the door. The Hunter’s hand slowly reached down and gripped Ana’s hand in his own. Sori wasn’t sure the move was due to a surge of confidence or out of desperation, but the Paladin didn’t make a move to let go. It was at this moment Sori’thas knew if they could stay together, they could survive. They /would/ survive. Sori and Ana were forced into the line pouring out of the cage door. Their hands were still tightly intertwined, the metal of her plate gauntlets pressed against his leather and mail gloves. “We’re going to stay together, and we’ll be fine,” Sori muttered under his breath to Ana behind him. “I promise we’ll get through this.” There was no response, but Ana’s hand tightly squeezed his own for a brief moment, indicating she understood his words. A bark of Eredun came from the lips of a Felguard ahead, as Sori walked in the line of prisoners being led to an unknown destination. He noticed something happening at the front of the line in response to the demon’s words. Prisoners shuffled left and right, forming two separate lines that led in opposite directions. The Hunter gulped, knowing that there was a chance for separation. Agonizing seconds passed as he walked continuously forward, until finally it was his turn to move to a line. The Felguard motioned left, eyeing Sori viciously. Sori glared back at the vile demon, and began moving left, Ana still behind him. It was then he felt a tug on his hand, his grip loosening. Ana had been grabbed by the shoulder pad, the Felguard clawing at her to stop. They were going to be separated. He stopped in his tracks, turned around and stared at the demon, chin raised in defiance. “She is coming with me.” The Felguard laughed, and nodded once. Before Sori could react, a Wrathguard that had been patrolling nearby rushed up the defiant prisoner, and instrumented a swift kick to the ribs. Sori’s grip on Ana’s hand fell as he hit the dirt, gagging and coughing on his own blood that had formed within his mouth. That pain was the least of his worries, however, as the same foot now found itself above Sori’s head, and began rubbing his face against the ground. A second Wrathguard gave Ana a brutal backhand to the chin, jarring the Blood Knight. While she was stunned, the demon grabbed her by her hair and began pulling, dragging her in the opposite direction of Sori’thas. Her cries of pain were overwhelming, the only thing Sori could hear or focus on from his spot in the dirt. From what little strength he could muster, he managed to raise his head to turn to her direction, tears now flowing down his cheeks like tiny rapids. He raised an arm weakly, grabbing at her form, “I’ll find you, I promise I’ll find you.” He yelled through tearful sobs. Sori watched as she was dragged away, her cries and screams growing faint until nothing remained but a line of prisoners that were led behind her. He felt another force of pressure rearing down on his skull from the Wrathguard’s foot, and his world turned black.

[analyse-bloodwing]

"You're the strongest person I know." "I'm only strong because of you."

[analyse-bloodwing]

BARS OF FURY

The smell of rot and decay was overpowering. It rolled through the pit of cells like a thick fog, coating everything in its stench and leaving the taste of mildew in her mouth with each breath she drew in. Or maybe that was just the weeks old bread they shoved through the slats of her personal hell every day. Once every twenty-four hours, accompanied by stagnant water that was speckled with Khadgar knows what, and with the unpleasant notes of metallic tanginess. It made her skin crawl and her stomach grumble with a distinct tone of unhappiness. But it was better than the hollow feeling of hunger, although there were days that not even the two slices of measly bread and water could combat the gnawing pangs that thrummed at her center and seemed to spread like a weakening plague throughout the rest of her body.

Today was one of those days. The last bite of bread had slid down her throat heavily. It had left behind the sensation that her throat was coated in slime, thick and gelatinous strings that threatened to seal her esophagus shut. The feeling made her chest constrict, and a cough pushed its way out past her lips. The forceful expulsion of air from her chest was loose and wet hinting at the phlegm-y mucus she was positive was living in her lungs. They came fast and heavy, leaving little time to breath between each set, and at the end of each, she drew in a sharp, whistling breath that left her gasping and wheezing as if she were a broken squeaky toy that she’d seen some of the Farstriders giving to their pets to play with. This time broken bits of oozing green came up with the coughing fit, and it was with a disgusted wrinkle of her nose, nostrils flaring like a horse’s, that she reached up and rubbed away the remnants on the back of her hand and forearm. It smeared along the dirtied skin, leaving a trail of slime in the soiled and darkened grit that had wrapped itself about her like a slovenly blanket.

She didn’t even bother to wipe the offensive bodily fluid off of herself as she let her arm fall back through the bars of the cell wall that faced the long, gloom darkened hallway. Her head was leaned against the cool metal, even though the pressure of it against her skull had long ago started a staccato banging in the forefront of it, but it offered a semblance of relief from the heat that seemed to flare beneath her skin with a vengeance. The air seemed to swirl and shift around her in a sweltering manner, and if anyone had asked her, she would have growled out that it felt as if it were the peak of summer in the plains of the Barrens except with a humidity that even Un’Goro couldn’t concoct.

Yet she knew that it wasn’t actually.

It was the illness that had taken hold of her from being confined to a damp, musky cell for Light only knew how long. She could only tell that a day had passed by the meal they had bought her, and she had taken to carving tally marks in the moss that was slowly threatening domination upon the right wall. So far there was a total of twenty-three tally marks. Three weeks and two days had passed since she had been ripped away from her only salvation, since she had been stripped of her armor, whipped, kicked, beaten, left bloodied and gasping for air through a chest that felt as if it had been crushed. Since she had watched Sori’thas Bloodwing being dragged through the dirt away from her with blood pouring from his nose and his head lolling to the side.

The image still burned like a flame against the front of her mind, causing her hands to curl in white-knuckled rage around the bars she laid against. Her teeth ground together as she pulled herself upright.

It wasn’t fair. They had just found each other, clasped hands and smiling at the hope that had come to life in both of them, only to be torn apart just minutes later. It was still so vivid in her mind, how her fury had burned through her, lighting up the runes along her armor and how flames had licked along her gauntlets. The smell of burning flesh lingered in her nostrils even now and her ears twitched as she recalled the way jade blood had splattered to the paved stones beneath her when she had reached out and grappled the throat of a felguard while it had tried to subdue her. She had screamed herself bloody at them, trying to fight them off as they had swarmed her even while he was drug away, her throat raw and her voice hoarsened by the curses that had streamed from her tongue. If only words were a weapon, all of them would have been left bloodied and broken from the lash of them. Like the demons had done to them and her and Sori’thas would have been far away from this prison, this nightmare.

Her grip along the bars tightened, even with the sweat that broke out across her palms and made them slick against the metal. She could hear the echo of the grit of her teeth as she ground her jaw. Pulling her head back, she struck her forehead against the bars in a fit of frustration, enfeebled in knowing that there was little she could do to change her circumstances and that there was nothing to be gained from reliving the memory of her hope being squashed as he was torn apart from her with the parting promise that he would find her.

He wouldn’t find her, just as she wouldn’t find him. If the Light was on his side, he was hopefully already dead and spared the torture of this existence unlike herself.

A rumbling growl broke the stale air around her, and it took her several moments to realize it had come from her. Another one loosed itself from her chest only to be drowned out by the coughing fit that the reverberations caused. It was with a wheezing final hack that she drew herself to her feet, stumbling and grabbing at the bars for assistance with the movement that left her legs shaking. Several moments passed and the weakness faded with it. Slowly, she stumbled towards the moss plagued wall, her legs almost giving out beneath her with the last step. She caught herself in time. Barely, but that was good enough.

“One more day…” The words were a whispered rasp on the wind as a ragged nail drug itself down the wall, marking that twenty-four days had passed.