Breathlessly, Eranice Starveil kept running.
It felt as if she had been doing so for weeks, even if it only had been a few days, with very little rest to sustain her. Portals and teleportations had been almost futile. Once blooming forests of eternal summer had now given their place to scorching heat and coarse sand poorly lit under the two moons of Azeroth. Troll ruins could barely be seen in the distance even if the earth was flat and their proximity closer to that of the Dark Titan's sword. Yet it was only its dark silhouette she could see opposing the canvas of a starlit sky. Its burning gaze was impossible to escape from.
Eyes from above. Eyes from below. Yet eyes from the back? The Sin'dorei did not dare check. She kept running.
A violet crystal was held within her grasp, preserved carefully like the last anchor of salvation. It could not have been more than two hours that it had started humming and glowing, though the hope such fact was meant to resonate had been lost somewhere amidst the terror and exhaustion. Had they lost her by now? They should have. They could not be following still. It had an entire day since she had last felt them tailing her, yet the first time she had not seen them coming. None of them had. It had cost them everything.
The wind was howling. Eranice raised her arm in order to protect her eyes from flying grains of sand. A strong torrent blew against her, but she kept running. There was no other choice.
She stumbled a few times. Slowly but surely, the wind was stirring the dunes, raising brown clouds to cover otherwise clear skies. Loud curses escaped her lips, for who would hear? Hopefully no one was there, no one behind her. To be caught in a sand storm was not ideal, but she had to keep going. It could not be far now.
In the constantly darkening cloud, something shined; Eranice could tell even through her shut eyelids. It was now vibrating against her palm, the humming growing stronger. The might of the wind threatened to take it away from her, but she secured it, pressing on.
Eranice Starveil opened her eyes.
Proximity was causing the sand cloud to thin, now revealing solid shapes in the storm. Walls. Ruins, most likely of the Farraki tribe. A barrier was suddenly risen in the darkness, its light bearing the welcoming promise of shelter. Surprisingly, the Sin'dorei had no fear in spite of the relentless chase which had chased her to the ends of the world. Not as long as she kept the crystal near.
She reached the walls as they stood defiant against the winds, weaving her way through them to approach the barrier. It was larger than she had anticipated. Instead of blocking her entry as one would assume it to, it let her in. After running for so long, the Sin'dorei was at long last able to stop. She fell on her knees, the crystal rolling on the sand. It mattered no more. Its purpose had been fulfilled.
Figures rose all around her, some empowering the barriers, while others simply stood. All of them were as dark as the night, twisted by the darkest powers of the cosmos. They watched her struggle, gasp and pant. How pathetic it would have otherwise been, but she was now not ashamed of that weakness, not if it was a testament to her loyalty. It was not long until someone knelt in front of her, passing a waterskin within her line of sight. Without looking at her kind benefactor, she jerked her head back and started consuming the refreshing liquid greedily. It was almost rejuvenating.
Droplets still lingered on her chin and lips once she stopped. At long last she looked up wearily, finding the figure of a robed man. He wore a hood, but his features were not concealed. He had been beautiful once. A priest of shadow whose fate was to eventually be consumed by the very power he wielded.
"Evercrest."
She was surprised at the sound of her own voice. Where her tone had once been firm, full of authority, it had now been reduced to weakness and pathetic relief. Pleading.[/font]
"Starveil." He set a hand on her shoulder and turned to the elf closest to his right. "Send for Al'cehar." he commanded, before focusing back on her. "What happened?" His tone was soft, almost gentle in spite of his mutation. He always had that about him. "Why are you here? We have not managed to contact Alendis?"
Her lips parted, but she could not speak. They simply trembled. Evercrest shook her again.
"Starveil." he repeated.
"Alendis is dead."
With her announcement, silence fell beneath the barrier. Beyond it, the storm still raged.
"Who." The priest finally spoke, his voice betraying no emotion, no tension. "Who killed him?"
Eranice shook her head, suddenly feeling her weariness catch up with her. "I don't know." she managed to utter. "But they must have found his files. The spheres. Everything. The Spire then came for us. All of us. Only I managed to escape."
Evercrest frowned and nodded. "Led by Morrowsun?" he asked.
She shook her head yet again. "Runeheart."
Silence fell upon the Ren'dorei encampment for once more. Eranice lowered her head and closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing. The hooded man was still holding her.
"Runeheart."
Her eyes opened widely.
The new voice was more serene than that of Evercrest, yet burdened with greater authority. Absolution. As the void elf priest rose instantly to bow, she raised her gaze slowly, almost fearfully. The robe figure shifted and moved to the side, revealing one commanding figure, accompanied by another individual. To the left stood Al'cehar, the former Spellbreaker, with his sword and pieces of dark plate barely covering his exposed chest. He would not claim the right, Evercrest's rightful position.
The newcomer's attire was of traditional elven attire in the colours of the night. His chest was only partially exposed beneath his long, stiff coat, several buttons undone. Short, grey hair complemented by a trimmed beard clung on his dark skin. His white eyes looked down at Eranice, who hurried to bow from the ground.
The authoritative figure linked his hands behind his back and walked forward, the sound of his boots inaudible on the sand. No one dared to say anything. The name of the Sin'dorei Magister had been the last thing to be spoken, now lingering in the minds of the fallen Lord's few subjects.
"So I have been a fool." Maridren Ravenfall claimed calmly. No one dared to agree, nor oppose. They simply listened, as if obeying an unspoked command. "My fixation with my sister. Ashfury. Both remnants of a dying line, unworthy of this legacy." He paused and looked away. "My legacy."
Eranice reluctantly followed his gaze to one of the ancient Farraki walls. The sudden urge to scream was too great; she managed to suppress it, but little could be done for the terror in her eyes. How had she not noticed until now? Chained on a wall was a woman - no, that was no woman. An abomination. In spite of her elven heritage, she seemed to be neither Sin'dorei, nor Ren'dorei, but rather a monstrosity trapped within and bearing the worst aspects of the latter world. Her eyes were white and her skin still pink, but dark blue, glowing cracks spread all across her form, emitting the vile power of the Void. Tendrils sprand from her neck and back alike, though as if that was not enough, one of her arms had turned into one as well. Disheveled, grey tufts fell at her face, failing to conceal her constantly moving, blackened lips, as if she was raving, whispering to something unseen.
On her normal hand there was a golden ring. The very object which she must have held dear in another life. The very object Alendis had chosen from this woman to bind to the Void sphere. The very object which had damned her to this state.
Was this what became of those poor souls then once the spheres were delivered to Magister Ravenfall and the people whose objects were bound, unaware of what they held dear being cursed, fell prey to the Lord's promises and sweet tongue? Was this one of his failed experiments, or exactly what he had intended?
Two spheres once belonged to elves who had died during Ravenfall's ritual of turning when the spheres reached him. Two had been unbound, never harming the ones they had been intended for. Two were still out there, but after finding out about Ashfury, the Spire would perhaps find the other one as well. Eranice found herself almost hoping, even if it would oppose the hand feeding her.
There was no helping the poor soul in front of her though.
Ravenfall kept staring at the twisted woman, oblivious of his spy's horror. Evercrest looked at her, but if he could tell he chose not to comment on it. The Magister stood tall and closed his eyes, facing the sky. "Check mate, Runeheart. You and your puny Spire can have this round."
The subjects of the exiled Lord did not react. Only the abomination kept raving, though she was not making a single sound. Eranice's shoulders stiffened. There was nowhere to run. There was nowhere to hide.
Maridren Ravenfall opened his arms widely in a rather ceremonious manner, raising them as if to regard the universe beyond Azeroth's sky, the very darkness which stirred beneath the waves, beneath the planet's flesh. Subtle whispers rose around him, their foul energy almost palpable.
"Savour this victory while you can." he uttered calmly. The Magister's white eyes opened. "For this world will soon come to an end."
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