Salamandar's Global Writing Entry.
Without Question
Your heart and mine, in passion and fire,
Our souls together, eternal and pure,
May the sea, and the love charms worn,
Affirm the oaths we both have sworn,
Carry them on the currents and tide,
Down and down to where whales hide,
To the endless night and the water deep,
Return our spirits when our bodies sleep,
May the sea whose strength is forever,
Bless the long life we shall live together.
Without question, it was supposed to have been the grandest and most splendid day of his life. That is what she had said.
He could remember every detail, it did not matter how small or insignificant, it had all been burned into his mind. The smell of her hair, an intoxicating mix of sweet jasmine and vanilla, silver strands falling lazily about her face like a waterfall of moonlight, the half smile she had given him as she lead him down to the sandy shore, every memory both a treasure and a terror. But it was not the treasures that stole his sleep.
Torrin awoke chest heaving and eyes wide open. Sweat had stuck his blonde hair to his face and the bed sheets were wet and clammy. He brought one of his hands up to his face and angrily brushed hair and sweat out of his eyes. Instinctively, he looked to his left, afraid he might have woken her up. Of course, he could not. There was no one there.
It was a quiet night, only the sound of his still pounding heart and the waves breaking upon the dark shore disturbed the stillness. Getting out of bed, Torrin threw the covers off as though he were also attempting to discard the horrors that had once again filled his dreams. He walked to the other side of the room where a wash basin sat atop a wooden dresser. He plunged his hands deep into the bowl and splashed water over his face. The water was cold, but he didn’t mind. The bite of the freezing water as it struck his face was a reminder of what was to come.
Face washed, he proceeded with the other stages of the routine. First, he ran his fingers along the necklace of sea shells hanging around his neck. Next he opened the left drawer of the dresser and removed a frayed length of silken cloth, all which remained of a once exquisite dress. Holding the cloth in both hands, he brought it up to his face and closed his eyes. Even after a month, her scent still remained. Grief gripped the back his throat. Quickly, he pulled the fabric away from his face, fearful that the memory would overwhelm him. Instead of returning the cloth to the drawer, however, tonight he wrapped it around his wrist, tightly, so that it hurt. Pain was good, pain was feeling.
He was almost finished.
Torrin slipped a simple white shirt over his head and pulled on a pair of linen trousers. Both were too big, so he had to tuck the shirt inside the trousers and tighten them with a corded belt. The village tailors always claimed they had simply made a mistake. Of course, they had not. She had never defended them though, instead had given them a disappointed look, a mother’s look, which caused more than one of the tailors to swallow down a mouthful of shame. And when he tried on the clothes, she would always tell him he was without question the finest and most handsome elf. Of course, he looked ridiculous.
A pair of boots lay on their sides beside the dresser. Torrin bent over to fetch them, but then thought better of it. Even on his best day, he was neither the quietest nor stealthiest of elves. Standing, he surveyed the circular room once then spun on his heels and hurried through the doorway.
The house was only made up of two rooms, the bedroom being one and the other larger room for cooking and eating, and making love. Often would they fall asleep embracing one another upon the thistle bear rug that lay in front of the fire. Normally, there would still be a few smoldering embers inside the hearth gasping and sighing, their tiny lights pulsing as they tried in vain to draw in enough energy to sustain them just a little longer. But tonight, the hearth lay bare, cold and cheerless, much like the elf that walked past it, out the entrance way and into the night.
Auberdine was little more than a scattering of dwellings and an inn which served those resilient enough to endure the grey skies and threatening mists that had given the region of Darkshore its name. Yet, as if in some undeclared defiance, those who had chosen Darkshore for their home challenged the gloom with the only weapon at their disposal, an unrelenting spirit. And just like the many fishing boats that braved the dark waters everyday, the residents of Auberdine did all they could to keep their dispositions as buoyant as possible. It was for this reason that most had voiced no complaint when Torrin came to live among them, but not all.
A pair of sentinels paced the cobbled path that cut through the centre of the village. Always alert, forever were they on guard against those who would threaten lands protected by the moon goddess. Though what peril would come to pass in the centre of the village, the two women had to wonder. It was the most wearisome patrol and a reminder of how important it was not to displease the head warden.
The sentinels stepped in front of Torrin. With his head down, he nearly ran right into them, but at the last minute they stepped to one side with innate and well-practiced deftness. Startled out of his stupor of troubled thoughts, Torrin jolted to a stop and took a step back. The sentinels stepped forward.
“Where are you going?” The two women spoke in unison, their sing song tones hitting Torrin like a blow across the face, for despite the perfection, their voices were frighteningly cold. When he looked up -they were both a good head and shoulders taller than he-Torrin’s eyes widened in recognition.
“Kumori. It’s only Torrin.”
The taller of the two women answered. “I know who you are. I want to know where you’re going?”
The sentinel’s silver hair and lovely face reminded Torrin of another’s. Caught by the unexpected likeness, he could only stare at her.
“Tell me where you are going,” the sentinel’s voice was harder than ice now, “or you’ll be in chains for the rest of the night.”
“Windweaver’s got a crawler on his back and he’s in a right temper,” the other sentinel added assertively, though Torrin noticed she stood slightly behind Kumori. “We don’t need any trouble…”
“Especially not from the likes of you.” Kumori finished the sentence for her, spitting out the final word with open revulsion.
The woman’s malice stung him. Torrin felt his face flush with humiliation, rage and worst of all, guilt.
“It’s none of your business where I go. Get out of my way!” He spoke through clenched teeth as he tried to force his way past them.
With speed made possible only by race, Kumori had tripped and pinned him to the stony ground before he had even finished the last word.
“You know,” she bent down low to whisper into one of his long ears, “I motioned for you to be killed. I got down upon my knees and begged the council to let me be the one to take a dagger to your wretched heart.”
The other sentinel’s agitation was obvious. Her head turned from side to side, silver eyes peering into the darkness, searching for any who might be witness to her comrade’s outburst. She stuck a hand out to touch Kumori on the shoulder, to try and calm her, but was rewarded with a hard blow across the wrist. Too stunned to even be made cross by her friend’s callousness, the sentinel just stood speechless with one hand holding her injured wrist.
Kumori remained unconcerned. Her voice was now loud enough to cause a few night creatures to scratch and squeal as they fled from the disturbance.
“I don’t know what pretty story you sung to those hopeful old fools, but you never fooled me. You’re like a spider’s web, your treachery hidden till the light catches and reveals you for what you are, a handsome pest. I tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen. You’d already poisoned her with your sweet corruption. Well, I won’t let you destroy another.”
Kumori took glaive and pressed it against Torrin’s throat.
“I wonder what tale I will spin to the elders when I give reason for killing you. Oh, but don’t worry, I’ll do my best to live up to your talents, brother.”
Despite himself, Torrin felt his body begin to shake and a bead of cold sweat ran down the side of his face. His jaw was still tight, however, and his next move surprised even Kumori. Torrin lifted his neck off the ground, pressing it harder against the razor-sharp edge.
“I told them the truth. I told you the truth. Damn it! I knew nothing of it. She hid it from me, too. By Elune, I speak the truth!”
Kumori was unmoved.
“By Elune!” she mocked, digging the blade harder into Torrin’s colourless skin. A trickle of blood ran down his neck. “I should slit your throat for just saying her name.”
Part of him wanted the woman to cut his throat, to end it now and save him from what he knew he must do if he escaped this woman’s wrath. No! He screamed silently. I won’t turn away, not this time!
Torrin closed his eyes and looked inward upon his own rage, his anger from lost love, his anger from a lifetime of mistrust and disregard. It was a powerful source, forbidden and unnatural, but he had no choice. They had forced him with their unspoken sentence of imprisonment. His eyes flicked open, their centres a dazzling green from the torrent of arcane energy burning behind them. Torrin’s hands shot upwards, grabbing Kumori’s wrist. The glaive fell instantly from her grasp and she opened her mouth in a wordless scream. Her mana, her life force was being dragged out of her, fuel for Torrin’s magic.
The other sentinel, realizing the threat, thrust out with her own weapon. But it was too late. The unstable energies exploded out of Torrin’s body with a clap like thunder, throwing the two sentinels backward. They did not get up.
Distant voices of alarm broke through the halting disbelief and sorrow at what he had just done. Torrin had no time to check if Kumori and the other sentinel were alive or dead. He hoped, hoped to all the Ancients that they were not. He had tried not to draw too much mana from Kumori, but his control was unpracticed, almost forgotten. There was nothing he could do for them anyway.
In his haste to get away, Torrin tripped on one of the cobbled stones, falling and tearing skin from his hands and knees. Whether it was the pain from the fall or the ache in his heart from what he had just been forced to do, he could not tell, but tears began to run down his cheeks. Airi forgive me.
By the time Torrin reached the beach, the voices had become screams. They would be coming for him and no poetic grace would save him this time. He was not one of them, had never been. They would hunt him down, without mercy, without restraint. He had broken the one rule that they demanded of him. Nothing would save him this time.
All this time, the many years, they had all wanted him to surrender to the terrible longing, his thirst for magic. They wanted him to fail, to prove his flaw, thus disproving their own.
It was all irrelevant now. All that mattered was reaching Mathystra, reaching her.
From the line of cheerless trees that ran parallel to the shore, the great stag watched through its silver eyes as the blood elf ran along the sand. To the white stag, however, there was no blood, no night, just elf. It too shed a lone tear, a single drop of honest and pure sorrow. The stag walked boldly out from the trees and stood beneath the moonlight. It threw its head back and brought forth a woeful keen that spread across the misty shore, piercing the fog and the ears of all who heard it. The night elf sentinels in pursuit fell to their knees clawing at their ears in an effort to make the noise stop. Only one remained unaffected, Torrin.
Kumori awoke where she had fallen to frantic movements and shouts of anger. Forcing herself up, she groaned as her weakened body reluctantly gave in to her demands. She looked around and saw sentinels running this way and that, some yelling orders, others silently preparing themselves for the hunt. Kumori swayed a little as she made her way over to the sentinel who had fallen with her, still lying silent a few feet away.
“Maili?” Kumori repeated the name a few times, each time her tone a little more desperate.
Her friend’s chest was moving up and down, so at least Kumori knew was she alive. Bastard! She would drive her glaive right through the traitor’s throat and finish what she had started.
Ignoring the protests from her body, Kumori hurried towards the saber stables. She gave the young sentinel stationed there a look of such utter fury, that the poor woman ran away from her without one glance backwards. The spotted saber she had chosen roared and clawed at the ground as she leapt atop its back. It could sense the agitation and stiffness of its rider. Kumori gave the beast no time to object further, driving her heels into the great cat’s flank. It opened its jagged maw and bellowed once more before using its powerful hind legs to propel them both out into the night. She knew where the traitor would go. The same place he had sent her sister. Mathystra.
Mathystra, once a great elven city, magnificent and righteous, was now nothing more than a collection of collapsed stone and broken glories. But there was still power there. Demonic blood from another age left to seep into ground and stone had become a corruption that clung to the ruins like a disease, rotting the vegetation and the minds of all that dared intrude upon the place. It was then, that Torrin was not surprised to see naga had made a home there. They were already rotten, being the twisted forms of what once had been elves. An unexpected but welcome smile curved his lips as he imagined what Airi would have said of the naga when she had seen them: Those things are without question the ugliest and most unpleasant creatures I’ve ever seen. How his people had ever agreed to ally with the serpent like monstrosities, Torrin could not fathom.
His goal was deep in the centre of the ruins, the place where the latent demonic energy had converged to keep a vigilant watch over its tainted land. Moving as silently and as swiftly as he dared, he zigzagged and hid behind great fallen monoliths, giant gravestones that he feared would somehow come alive and reveal his presence.
With every step Torrin came closer to the core of the unhallowed city, the more he could sense the evil’s hunger. Its thirst was not unlike his own and its powers were waning. There were simply not enough naga sirens to feed it. Torrin’s innate tie to magic and the fresh mana he had drained from Kumori, made the evil cry out in ravenous lust and craving.
Beads of sweat covered Torrin’s entire body, running down his legs and back making him shiver from the chill wind blowing in off the sea.The demon wanted him, called out to him, promising him powers far beyond what his feeble imagination could dream of, immortality, power, and revenge upon those that had scorned him. Together they would finish what its master had started, beginning with the pathetic elves in Auberdine. When Torrin ignored its temptations, the demon resorted to coercion. It showed him images of his beloved Airi, her spirit writhing and screaming within its clutches. Free her. The voice whispered to him. Free her and be with her once more or let her suffer for an eternity. Torrin wondered if other demons had lured Prince Kael’thas like such.
But he was not like his brethren, he had learnt to bear the hunger, had done so for her. He would prove himself to her this one last time even knowing she may never know of it. He owed Airi that much and so much more. When the demon grasped his intent, it cried out in fury and frustration, calling to the naga to destroy the intruder and guiding them towards him.
The giant serpents came at him from all sides, surrounding him with a cacophony of hissing that stung his sensitive ears. The distraction cost him dearly. Before Torrin could think to defend himself, two spears were driven into him. One was thrust through his leg, shattering the bone and the other caught him in the shoulder splattering his face with his own blood. Torrin cried out and let the pain crush the wall he had created to hold his obsession at bay. He reached out and opened himself to the fel power and calling to the demon that sought to enslave him. Despite himself, a smile spread across his face as he drank deeply of the demonic energy. A sense of euphoria swept over him, strengthening him and causing his pupils to explode into green flames. He laughed, a maniacal sound that had the naga males cower before him and sent the sirens slithering away into the shadows.
One foolhardy witch, probably a descendent of the Queen herself, began to cast a spell. Torrin pointed a finger in her direction and the witch burst into flames. Her head snapped backward and she screamed, a shriek that reverberated off the stone columns filling the ruins with a horrifying wail of incomparable suffering. Fortunately the witch’s torment was mercifullybrought to an end as Torrin spread his fingers wide and obliterated her with one blast of devastating fel energy. Nothing remained of the witch, the only evidence of her being a circle of charred ground and the stench of burnt flesh. An amulet the witch had been wearing lay unspoiled among her ashes. When Torrin saw it, he laughed even harder and began slaughtering the fleeing naga with abandon. The closest two naga fell to the ground, the spears they had used to skewer the blood elf now lodged in their own hearts. Another unusually large male naga had managed to slink behind Torrin, its nasty sword raised to cleave the elf in two. But Torrin remained oblivious to its existence, even as the massive serpent fell backward with a heavy thud, an arrow lodged between its eyes.
Kumori dropped the bow from trembling hands as though the wood had suddenly caught fire. Her heart raced and her mouth was dry, but still she swallowed hard. What had she done?
From the hills surrounding the ruins, Kumori witnessed the carnage. Naga were either blown apart or had their life forces sucked out of them, leaving hideous blackened husks. All through it she watched him laugh hysterically. She couldn’t understand why her hands were still shaking. She squeezed her hands into fists, knuckles turning white as she tried to steady them. It was then that she realized the giant cat she sat upon was shaking too.
Of course, she knew it would come to this. Stupid fools! Take in a rueful blood elf, allow his fair face and charming words to trick and deceive you. Believe his professions of love; allow him to claim one of Elune’s daughters as his own. Madness!
Kumori leapt down from the saber’s back and snatched up the fallen bow, strung another arrow and leveled it for the blood elf’s heart. There was a rustling of leaves behind her. Kumori assumed it was the saber slinking back into the cover of the forest and paid it no heed. That was until she felt a burst of hot breath spread across the back of her neck. On instinct, she dropped the bow and tossed herself forward, twisting her body so that she recovered facing her attacker, her glaive at the ready. When her eyes met his, for the second time that night she unwillingly let go her weapon.
Malorne the Waywatcher gazed upon her, his eyes of pure silver reaching right into her heart. Her rage and panic was swept away by a tide of calm and serenity that the white stag thrust upon her. Tears streamed down her face in reverence as she knelt before the Demigod. When it spoke, its voice emanated from inside her head.
You are wrong little one. Look!
Kumori’s head turned, though not from her own want, back towards the blood elf. His laughing had stopped. His face now wore a grimace of what could only be described as excruciating pain and he was bent over clutching his stomach as though he were about to throw up.
You see. Even now he battles the demons from without and within. Do not curse him little one. Pray for him.
And without really understanding why, Kumori did.
It had taken all that remained of his will, to take back some measure of control of the unstable fel energy that he had allowed into his body. It had felt good, so very good. All of his desires were possible, nothing was beyond him. The pathetic night elves and their two faces and false compassion, he hated them all. Their crime was far greater than his own. At least he could admit to his own failing. It was really their fault she had died. They had forced her to this place with their hinted contempt and coldness towards him. She had come looking for something, a trinket, a magical remnant of days long ago, anything that might sustain him or at the very least help alleviate some of the pain he suffered daily from his addiction. She had done this because no one else would. She had done this because she loved him.
That was when Torrin’s laughter had stopped. Three words were all it had taken to replace the wall in his mind and block the powers that would eventually control him, and then destroy him. Now he suffered. Fighting the demon’s hold was such an unbearable agony. He felt as though his insides would burst out from his body at any moment. And indeed in his mind that was exactly what they did. The demonic presence within clawed and hurled itself at his mental wall, sending terrible images, images of Torrin’s skin being torn apart and he desperately trying to keep his insides from falling to the ground. Torrin wanted to scream but it had stolen his voice too, its hideous words now coming forth from his own lips.
I will take much pleasure in devouring your spirit you pathetic fool. And when that no longer entertains me, I will continue my torture of your pretty woman.
The barrage of images continued to hammer upon Torrin’s mental block. This time the scene the demon chose to play before him was that of the ill-fated day when he had lost his beloved. It was shown to him with such merciless accuracy.
Airi took his hand, laughing because of the secret she was keeping from him. He pestered her to reveal the secret, but she would never. Airi loved to play games with him and truthfully he did not want her to end the game by telling him either. She forced him to chase her along the beach, sometimes letting him catch her just so she could frustrate him by starting to run again.
There was a sound in the distance he knew well, the sound of water charging its way between rocks as it raced towards the final plunge that would lead to the sea. Torrin’s heart raced along with it every time.
Finally, she came to a stop at her favourite place near Cliffspring Falls. She would tell him the secret now, but first he must give her without question the sweetest and most tender kiss. That was the part of the game he liked most. Between kisses she had whispered into his ear that she had a gift for him, to say thank you for the necklace of seashells he had given her. She pulled an amulet from one of her pockets and placed it into his hands before he could even register what is was. Immediately, the demonic corruption within the gem began to glow in response to his natural affinity to magic. Unlike the worthless female, it sensed that this was one it could manipulate, control.
Airi smiled at him, jumping with excitement. ‘I took it from Mathystra,’ she said proudly. ‘I think it’s magic!’ But he was not smiling. ‘Don’t you like it? It isn’t magic, is it?’ she moaned disappointedly. He screamed. She leapt back in fright. The stone was burning his delicate flesh, but he could not let go. He pleaded to Airi to help him, to take the stone away. But the stone had already begun to feed, it was not going to be denied its first feast in a millennia. As soon as Airi reached for the gem her body was engulfed in flame and her body crumpled to the sand, her spirit taken by the evil within it.
Torrin had been forced to douse the flames with sand and clumps of it remained stuck to her raw and blistered skin. Airi’s ruined body picked up more of it as he dragged his beloved along the beach back to the village. Much of her silken hair had been burnt away. Men and women yelled at him, demanded to know what he had done. ‘Nothing!’ he tried to shout back as he choked on his own tears. ‘Someone get a healer! Somebody please help her!’ But no matter how tightly he clutched his love or promised her she would be alright, there was nothing to be done. Without a soul there was nothing left to save and the only evidence of what had happened lay buried in the sand. He had gone back, of course, following the morbid tracks in the sand left by Airi’s body, had shown them where she had presented him with the amulet, but it was gone. And so too was his Airi.
The next day he was hauled before the grim faced village council. They feared that whatever new threat had taken Airi would come for Torrin too. He was not to leave the boundaries of the village without the protection of a sentinel. He would be kept safe; he had no need to fear. But what they were really saying was they did not wish to fear him.
When the demon ceased its torment and ended the vision, tears were streaming down his face. He had thought he could not cry harder than he had that day. He was wrong. Every burning tear felt like a drop of his goodness. All the good she had returned to him, was spilling out of him.
Torrin knew that it would not be long before the evil presence would wear him down. He could feel it rolling around inside, bathing in his misery. He fell to the ground, more from defeat than exhaustion. He had failed, it would not let Airi go, and he could not make it. He lay on his back unmoving, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. At least the demon was silent now, it knew it had won.
Kumori watched helplessly as Torrin dropped to the ground and lay still.
“What is happening?” she demanded of the stag.
He is losing. He will die and the demon will have his spirit and your sister’s.
“What…What do you mean my sister’s?”
The stag drew its eyes together and stamped at the ground. Open your eyes!He is not trying to save himself. He is trying to save your sister!
The shock of it overwhelmed her. Kumori froze for an instant then when her reality returned she threw her arms around the stag’s leg.
“Do something! Do something to save my sister,” she shrieked.
I will not. You must help him; help him find the courage to end his suffering.
Malorne kicked Kumori away and began to step backward. When she tried to grab him once more, he lashed out with his hooves, forcing her back. The stag then turned and began walking head down into the trees.
“Wait! I don’t understand. What should I do?” More tears fell.
The white stag stopped and raised its head. It did not turn to face her.
Go to him. He needs now what only one of you, your sister, had seen fit to give.
With a sudden burst of speed the white stag, Malorne, sprang away into the darkness. Kumori ran after it but stopped soon after, realizing the Demigod had vanished. Still crying and wailing, she ran back and began to make her way down the treacherous slope that lead down to the ruins below. Without her mount, the climb was perilous, the hill side being nothing but loose stones and jagged rocks. More than once Kumori fell, tearing skin and bruising bone, but she did not stop. When she had finally reached the bottom, she froze. The naga were back.
From out of the shadows and from behind the slabs of stone, they came, emerging as if someone had upturned a basket full of snakes. Emboldened by the blood elf’s anguish and apparent powerlessness the giant reptilians slid towards his body with a fit of hissing that declared their desire for revenge.
The first two reptiles to arrive stood over Torrin with spears raised to impale the elf through the chest. Two shrill sounds burst out of the darkness and both of the naga warriors were propelled away from the body, landing still at the feet of another pair of naga. Each had an arrow jutting out of its scaled head. The two standing naga faced the direction from which the arrows had come and hissed challenges into the dark. But she was a sentinel; they should have been looking behind.
Kumori’s glaive severed the head from one of the naga, which sent a spray of cold blood into the other’s face and it twisted itself around to face her. Blood got into its eyes forcing the creature to swing out wildly with its scimitar. But the swing was too high and slow, the sentinel moving catlike as she dodged and maneuvered for her counter attack. And it was ruthless. Kumori sliced open the naga’s unprotected belly, this time covering herself with a splatter of blood and foul smelling viscera. It was an awful wound, fatal, but the enraged naga swung its sword again, its own entrails swinging gruesomely along with it. But it did not swing a third time. Kumori pulled an arrow from out of one of the fallen naga and drove the pointed metal and wood through its throat and up into its brain.
Her dance of death went on unchallenged, but unlike Torrin’s hers was silent, though no less terrifying. When at last she stood unmoving next to the blood elf’s wasted body a dozen more naga lay dead, not killed but methodically slaughtered. Kumori sank to her knees looking at Torrin’s ashen face and into the emerald eyes that were staring wide into the night’s sky. Kumori’s hands shook as she slowly reached out and touched Torrin’s face, pleading with him, shouting at him, to awaken and let her sister go. He remained still, so she began to hit and shake his body. After a minute, she collapsed next to him, exhausted.
As she lay there panting and weeping, she saw the sea shell necklace he wore around his neck. The memory of her sister running to her, laughing and proudly showing off the gift her lover had made for her, came rushing into her mind. Airi had been singing too, a silly rhyme she said he had written for her. She sang it over and over again till Kumori had threatened to tickle her to stop. Kumori did not understand why or how, but the words of the song were clear to her now. She knelt beside the blood elf and began to sing. Her voice was deep and it faltered as she tried to hold back her tears, but like all elves it was nevertheless beautiful. The melody floated across the broken earth and shattered stones, filling the ruins with an air of peacefulness and warmth. She sang on:
Your heart and mine, in passion and fire,
Our souls together, eternal and pure,
May the sea, and the love charms worn,
Affirm the oaths we both have sworn,
Carry them on the currents and tide,
Down and down to where whales hide,
To the endless night and the water deep,
Return our spirits when our bodies sleep,
May the sea whose strength is forever,
Bless the long life we shall live together.
There was very little left of himself now. The demon had almost wormed its way to his heart and once there, there would be nothing. He should have been able to manipulate the magic, overpower the demon and force it to do his bidding, to release his lover’s soul. But he had failed her, again. He could not understand what had gone wrong.
Faintly, he heard someone yelling at him. The demon was mocking him yet again no doubt. In response, Torrin went deeper into the corner of his mind that was still hidden, the part of his mind where he kept the pleasant memories of Airi. It was strange though, as much as he withdrew within himself, the voice did not diminish, nor, he realized, was it violent and cruel. In fact, it was gentle and beautiful, certainly not of the demon’s making.
Torrin dared to let his consciousness return to the surface of his mind so he could better hear the voice. The voice was familiar but sounded as though it were being sung through water. Nevertheless, he recognized the words. They were his words, the vows he had written for his beloved. He repeated some of the words:
To the endless night and the water deep, return our spirits when our bodies sleep. May the sea whose strength is forever, bless the long life we shall live together.
In a sudden jolt of understanding, he knew what had been his mistake, a true failing, one that his incarcerators were right to fear. His arrogance and overconfidence had beaten him, and almost cost both his lover’s and his soul. He could not defeat the demon, once perhaps, a long time ago, but not now. He had not the power or control to force the demon to give up Airi’s soul, but he could at least destroy the wretched fiend. Of course he would likely perish too, but that was what he had promised, a life together. It mattered not whether it was this life or the afterlife.
When Torrin’s consciousness clashed with the demon again, he did not resist. Rather he embraced it; spoke the words it longed to hear. He did want to make the elves pay for their contempt and haughty righteousness. Together, they would fulfill the master’s vision and lay waste to the land and gorge upon the delicious energies beneath the world tree. But first he needed strength, strength to flee before the sentinels from Auberdine found his weakened body and slew him.
The demon hissed and cackled with wicked delight.
Yes, yes. Of course, it agreed, we must get out of here. We shall feed first, regain our strength and then return and destroy them all.
The demon sent its foul energy coursing through Torrin’s blood, knitting skin back together and fusing broken bone. Next it restored some of Torrin’s control over his body. Light filled the blood elf’s eyes once more and he could see Kumori staring down at him. He panicked. His hand shot out and gripped her around the throat. She didn’t understand. She would kill him and the demon would be freed and Airi’s soul lost. He expected her to resist, to slice his throat open with her glaive. But she did neither. Now that he thought about it she looked different somehow, so much more like Airi. Her face had lost some of its hardness, perhaps because of the tears and dust that had stained it. He let go her throat and instead took a hold of her wrist. Torrin locked his eyes upon hers as he spoke.
“Go, now. Run. Quick, there isn’t much time. Airi is here. I will protect her.”
He knew his lips had moved, but he wasn’t sure if any sound had accompanied them, for Kumori remained where she was. She was mouthing something to him. He couldn’t understand. She was speaking too fast. Torrin gripped the sea shell necklace and tore it from his neck. He thrust it into Kumori’s hand quickly closing her fingers tight around the necklace. Again he told her to run only this time he used some of his restored power to cause his eyes to ignite, just as they had done before he had attacked her in Auberdine. Thankfully, Kumori began to crawl backwards until she was out of his vision. He could only hope that she had kept going.
The demon was asking him why they were not moving. It was Torrin’s turn to laugh. While the demon was trying to determine the cause of its host’s mirth, Torrin was busy surrounding it with a mental prison made up of loving thoughts and cheerful images of his times spent with Airi. The memories were so strong and Torrin’s resolve so unwavering, that the demon began to panic and in its panic the demon let its own guard down, effectively giving Torrin the chance to see into its own vile consciousness. It took Torrin only moments to find what he was looking for, Airi’s captured spirit. It was the only white amid a swirl of sickening colours, blood red, putrid yellow and chilling black. Her spirit rushed towards the opening he made in the demon’s mind and wrapped itself tightly around his awareness. Torrin could feel her relief and gratitude as a soothing warmth that spread throughout his body diminishing even more the Demon’s hold.
Next, Torrin once more opened himself up to the fel energies that had seeped into the ruins for over a millennia. He withdrew Airi’s and his consciousnesses to a safe place deep within his mind, far away from the demon’s taint. He was careful, though, not to let the walls around the demon weaken. Satisfied, Torrin then drew in as much of the fel energy as he could, as fast as he could. Yellowish-green light began to sizzle and dance along his body. The demon howled and made one final attempt to break free from its prison. But it was too late. Torrin pressed his consciousness tight against Airi’s. I love you he thought. He felt her spirit warm him again in response. Then with one last massive draw of power, Torrin ended it.
Kumori had hesitated once, a pang of doubt halting her retreat. When she looked back, the blood elf’s body was afire. She began to choke. The air had become so thick and smelt horribly of rot and decay. She had no choice but to continue her retreat.
Once she had reached the boundary of the ruins, she sucked in huge gulps of air. Again, she looked back in the direction where she thought Torrin to be, but the powerful energy now radiating from his body had reached such intensity that it prevented her from discerning where he was. A humming began to permeate the ruins like an invasion of locusts that slowly began to increase in volume and pitch until she could stand it no longer. It was obvious now; she knew what Malorne had tried to tell her. Torrin did not plan on stopping the fel energy surging into his body. There could be only one outcome of such an act, he would be destroyed. No, he would be annihilated, reduced to nothing but ash, along with anyone near him.
Urgently, she began running, but stumbled on a piece of stone hidden by weeds and had to hurry on hands and knees. When finally Torrin’s body could no longer contain the power building within it, Kumori had reached the road that lead back to Auberdine. Sentinels were waiting there. Some were kneeling, once again forced to press hands to ears from another assault on their hearing. Others stood, spellbound as they gazed upon Mathystra and the light engulfing it. For many it was their first time to witness the destructive energies of the arcane. The ensuing explosion lifted their trance and their bodies, blasting them off the road and into the woods beyond. Then there was silence.
A week later, when her body had recovered enough, Kumori was called before the council. They demanded answers from her, demanded to know what had occurred inside the ruins. When she gave them the answer they all fell silent. Some gazed upon her with honest pity and others with open resentment, but when they spoke again, they came at her with fangs bared. A sentinel, one of Elune’s chosen, aiding a servant of darkness. She tried to explain, recalling her encounter with the white stag, with Malorne, recounting the blood elf’s inner struggle against the demon that had hidden itself within the ruins for a thousand years. She told them of his final sacrifice to destroy it and free her sister’s spirit. Kumori still had the seashell necklace, holding it protectively in her closed fist. At one point she thrust it into the council’s accusing faces demanding they call for Quintis Jonespyre the psychometrist to confirm her account. But they had had enough. Lies! Deception! The elders roared. The Waywatcher and Moon Goddess would never allow such a monstrosity to lay hidden within the lands of their chosen. The blood elf had obviously called it into existence, released it from its netherworld prison and died trying to enslave it to his will.And she was too weak, too lacking in faith to see past his lies and had allowed his evil workings to continue when she could have killed him and prevented such terrible devastation. She fought their accusations for over an hour until at last they had her dragged her from their sight.
If you venture to Darkshore, you will hear no mention in any lore, of a blood elf that had once been allowed to step through their door. All talk of him forbidden, his belongings destroyed by flame, none will ever dare mention his damned tainted name. For the night elves of Darkshore joined with the rest of their brethren in their hatred of Silvermoon and all of the pale elves therein. But one proof remains of their unspeakable crime, the sweetest song full of the most tender rhymes, sung between lovers in passionate times. It is whispered under breath, behind curtains and doors, that if one braves the mists of the darkened shores and arrives at the place they call Cliffspring Falls, a surprise awaits that may amaze or appall. Sit on a rock amid the cascading spray and with cheer and admiration this rhyme you must say, then sit and wait, patience you mustn’t lack, just open your heart and the water will sing back.
Your heart and mine, in passion and fire,
Our souls together, eternal and pure,
May the sea, and the love charms worn,
Affirm the oaths we both have sworn,
Carry them on the currents and tide,
Down and down to where whales hide,
To the endless night and the water deep,
Return our spirits when our bodies sleep,
May the sea whose strength is forever,
Bless the long life we shall live together.