[[To euxnthe on response to this.]]
❅—“Iｎ ｏｒｄｅｒ ｔｏ ｓｕｒｖｉｖｅ ｔｈｅ ｇｎａｓｈｉｎｇ ｏｆ ｉｔｓ ｔｅｅｔｈ…
“Iu oɹpǝɹ ʇo snɹʌᴉʌǝ ʇɥǝ ƃuɐsɥᴉuƃ oɟ ᴉʇs ʇǝǝʇɥ…”
The pain, both profound and abrupt, seared across his awareness, thrashing against his long-dormant nerves in a madness, in anguish. The Plaguelord did not pause in his work, he only mentally touched at the sensation with caution, sparing a fragment of his attention to inquire as to its origin. But the messenger consumed its recipient, and burned the questions to husks. The San’layn set his ink-soaked pen down, letting its bone-wrought stem hit the surface of his desk in a vexed collision. He inclined his head, listening to the plague-burdened cells within his lifeless skin. Instinct angled his ear downwards, as if to listen in the direction of these phantom wounds. What was this clumsy, irreverent report? A strand of burning silk seemed hooked into his skin, and somewhere, the spider’s web was being disturbed - each pull of its threads sent another ache screaming into his awareness. In such a place, at such a time, who was it that possessed the ability to- ... Wordlessly, his eyes widened in a frigid realization. The Plaguelord had collected for himself, a small number of individuals in whom he felt directly invested. And among them, there was but one that he refrained from assigning a servant to observe in his absence. Her strength, and the nature of her duty had deemed it unnecessary. Now he wished he could demand from a servant, an explanation of her state, so closely bound to him. But he had woven her spirit to her body before, with his own haunted threads. It was no surprise that he could feel her spirit wavering - and her fragility was broken glass against his senses.
There was no hesitation in his actions, then. He turned to one of his massive, Vrykul lieutenants, a hulking monster of bone and sinew, and conjured the specter’s attention with a subtle gesture. It awoke, and stepped forward once, from within its stonework tomb. Assured of the monster’s compliance, he began sealing the wheezing samples into protective casings. The process was so close to completion... but the experiment would have to bear a delay.
❝Permit no entry into my laboratory until I speak otherwise. This project is to endure no disturbances. If the Lich King himself demands access, inform me before you obey our Lord’s command. I will return in no less than three days - regardless as to the severity of the situation. And... I may not return alone... ”
The skeletal behemoth offered a soft growl of acknowledgement, before it stepped back into his corpse-shaped station in the laboratory wall. Anak'Sokhen, Myrundíel’s necropolis, drifted avariciously along the border of Sholazaar Basin. The Plaguelord’s desire for that territory was well-known among his forces, and he encroached through the Lost Lands subtly, gathering samples and subjects for his tests from the life-soaked wilds nearby. But it was far, far from Euanthe’s location. The San’layn summoned a Death Gate without another delay - and when he stepped through it, his surroundings would be the edge of her people’s village.
And he would expect their cooperation. Require it. What had become of his fire-singer?
—ｗｅ ｃｒａｗｌｅｄ ｗｈｏｌｅ, ‘ǝloɥʍ pǝlʍɐɹɔ ǝʍ
ｉｎｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｂｅｌｌｙ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｂｅａｓｔ.” “.ʇsɐǝq ǝɥʇ ɟo ʎllǝq ǝɥʇ oʇuᴉ
