(6) Enemy

She stood there before the Auction House, reading the words in the letter over and over, the metal clangs of Ironforge reverberating in her head. Bastion wished to see her now, after his long absence from her life. Anna did not know what to make of it all, especially since her most recent revelations. Together, she and Damos began to unravel the mystery of the fallen House of the D’Morts, after bodies of animals had been discovered in and around Goldshire with the crest of the D’Morts scrawled beneath them. The last body was found in the crypts of the Slaughtered Lamb, and it shook both of them to their very core when they found that it was a young man, barely more than a boy. It had thrown Stormwind into an uproar, tales of a murderer on the loose, and many believed it to be a warlock’s doing, since the body was found in the Slaughtered Lamb, a known meeting place of those that knew the Dark Ways. Anna knew soon enough the ugly head of persecution would be turned on her friends if nothing was done, and so she thought it wise to look into the murders. Else all that she had found would be stripped away again. And she would be damned if the Scions were taken from her.

It was not the first letter that she had received from Bastion Delaurac. In previous letters, he hinted that he knew her friend Damos, that he had been watching his apprentice grow strong…and that he thought she owed it all to “Sarah”. Though the name seemed familiar, as the name was quite a popular one, she knew no one personally by the name. Bastion was not known for his sanity, though to his student, his mind was merely a maze no one else could navigate. Words from the teacher were words to listen to, and with Damos’ help, the two had searched through the Library of Stormwind. The ritualistic circles scrawled under the bodies struck Damos most of all, the blood intricately “painted” upon the ground to illustrate a raven, perching on a skull. Besides the nausea that had crept in her stomach, Anna found that the longer she reflected on the blood-drawn insignia…her own blood began to boil with a hint of unexplained recognition. Looking into the history of the D’Mort family, Damos discovered that his House had a long time rivalry with a prestigious family of mages…the Delauracs. The same surname which Bastion bore.

Absently placing the letter within her satchel, she made her way toward the gryphon master, the red of the fires of the Great Forge outlining her form as she ran. Annaliese eyed the dwarf for a long time, weighing her options, sifting through the information she knew of her tutor in her mind, wondering what he meant, wondering why he wanted to see her now. Her focus went to the band of shadow on her finger, the ring of the Scions. And her voice came soft as she addressed it, bringing the hooded face of the Dark Lord to her mind.

“Yes, Annaliese…?” came the voice, the ring’s translation seeming to make it no more than a dark echo as it played in her head. She was shocked that he responded so quickly to her call, and she found it took her a moment to respond, though he patiently waited for her thoughts to come to him across the waves of Shadow.

“I…my teacher has found me, and I’m going to see him, in Goldshire.”

“Will you need assistance?”

“No…he is my teacher after all. A reunion, that is what this is.”

“I would very much like to meet your “teacher”, Annaliese.”

She paused again, but the semblance of argument was in the wavering of her thought as it transferred to him. All that was heard was a gentle laugh, cloaked in a mask of darkness which the shadowy link fed to his voice. It unsettled her more than anything she had heard since knowing the Dark Lord.

“The ring will relay your location to me. I will follow shortly, Annaliese. Darkness embrace you.”

And, suddenly, the thoughts were closed from her mind, the mind link interrupted through his force. There was no sense in arguing. She, after all, had contacted him. Damos was already waiting in Goldshire, having contacted him earlier about the strange letter. She wondered what Lord Keruptis would think, accepting the help of a paladin…

She shrugged the thought out of her head, and at last approached the Flight Master, and he smiled through his beard at her.

“Where to darlin’?” he asked, his bright eyes overlooking a pretty woman, oblivious to the shadows she wielded. Annaliese did not look the part she played at all.

“Stormwind,” she said softly as she mounted the gryphon, the Flight Master wishing her a belated safe trip as she was whisked outside of the great fortress and into the bitter cold of Dun Morogh.


The house was empty, though clearly someone lived quite well within its walls. The table was set with a now cold dinner, a lantern placed in the middle of the meal. Damos and Anna looked at each other, no sign of her teacher in sight. Damos merely smiled as he pointed upstairs, and immediately, she crept up to the second floor, the wood creaking with each footfall. Upstairs, the house consisted of two rooms, and she peered into the smaller one to only see a rather large bed, but no one else occupying it. The paladin followed her into the second, larger room, and she paused in her step as she saw the one who called her here.

Bastion Delaurac stood with his back toward them, hands clasped behind him, looking out a window silently. She saw his torso expand as he breathed in deeply, and his head turned to the side, his long ponytail dancing across his back.

“Well, I was beginning to think you’d never show up…” Bastion said then, and turned to face the two completely, holding his head high with a knowing smile. He glanced at Damos momentarily before he stepped toward Anna, eyeing her up and down.

“My, my…how you’ve grown,” he said with a grin. “So strong with the dark arts, aren’t you? How does it feel, hm? That pull of a soul, the drain of life as it leaves the body into yours…delicious.”

Annaliese returned his dark grin, knowing what he spoke of…the addiction to soul siphoning. She had a full soul pouch now, which she was grateful for, but even now, she could feel the need to drain again. The teacher smiled dotingly, though the same menacing gleam still touched his emerald eyes, making Annaliese quiet with uncertainty, the smile leaving her face. Seeing her expression, he chuckled heartily and stepped off to the side, looking between his pupil and her companion with an amused grin.

“And the company you keep is odd, my dear! But nonetheless, it must be necessary to have such friends…lovers even…”

The warlock shuffled slightly, her feet brushing against the wooden floor.

“He is not my lover. A friend only,” she replied in a soft tone, much to Damos’ chagrin. Another belt of laughter erupted from the yellow-haired Master. His eyebrow arched high upon his brow, the leering smile belying a tempest of unsaid remarks. Yet, he said nothing…only ridiculed with the wide smile. Damos thought he would break the smile in half with his hammer, but he remained steadfast, steadying himself, looking to the woman to his side. He allowed the flow of scarlet tresses to calm him, following it’s path around her shoulders with his eyes, breathing in deeply. However, it was apparent that Annaliese was nowhere near calm, her hands clenching and unclenching, her posture one of a nervously pacing doe.

Bastion finally took his menacing stare from the paladin, strolling to the window nonchalantly, his steps certain, arrogant even.

“I have a gift for you, sweet Anna,” he replied coolly, his body shifting slightly, as if to prepare for a summon. Hands came upwards to before him, and soon, the familiar lights of the circle of the spell danced about him, his lips muttering words ancient…of demons, of darkness, and of fire. Both Anna and Damos stood spellbound as Bastion summoned the voidwalker to his side, the shadow curling around it, eyes blinking lights within the dark. The shackles upon its arms were the only things that seemed completely corporeal, the rest ever-shifting, ever moving within the mass. Something struck Anna as unusual about this demon, however…a thin nimbus of otherworldly light pulsed at its center, something…trapped within it…?

Bastion’s eyes seemed filled with pride as he eyed his servant, and he returned his gaze to his nervous student.

“Do you approve? What do you think of her, hm?” Bastion said to the confused woman, gesturing at the voidwalker. It was then that she heard a whimpered cry, strangled, echoing in her bones. It was in her head, only in her head, a memory of a tortured past, a memory of those long dead.

“….mommmmy….?” it came again, high pitched and filled with tears, a voice that tore at her heart. Bastion let out a gentle chuckle, his voice just as soft.

“It’s alright little one, mommy will wipe the boo-boos…” he said to the void walker, and the nimbus at the center of the demon seemed to intensify as it shrieked again in the voice of her long-dead daughter: “Mommy!”

Annaliese crumpled to the ground before the void walker, and Damos reached down to her, but she brushed his hands away.

“Wh…what have you done…?!” she managed to choke out, her face a wreck of pain and confusion. She reached out to touch the void walker, but her fingers passed through it, feeling nothing.

“Only a mind’s eye reflection, love. I am not here in the flesh so to speak…but I thought you should see my latest creation. Isn’t she beautiful? Better than a corpse of burned flesh anyway…” he leered at Anna, his form shimmering to betray the simple illusion. Annaliese could only stare back, her mouth agape, realizing what he meant to say.

“Oh come now, darling. You and yours martyrs to a great cause! Yes, your family died…perhaps a little painfully…but really! Never mind that…just look at her now. So obedient to my call, so powerful…”

Annaliese choked again, trying to find her breath amongst the tears that spilled across her face, her hands trembling as she knelt before the illusion. The words could not come from her throat, and instead Damos stepped forward, ready to end the spell with a swing of his enchanted hammer.

“What are you saying, Shadoweaver?” Damos muttered through gritted teeth. Bastion laughed aloud.

“No need for such formalities, Damos D’Mort. We are all just pieces on a board, no matter who we swear our services to, or what force we wield. Anna, you should thank me! Yes, yes, your family was killed, but you rise from their ashes so strong! Of course, I could not control the fact that you went and offed yourself, but that was rectified was it not? Now you stand just as beautiful as the day you stood before that glorious fire, a masterpiece, filled with all I’ve taught you. Seize the day, Anna…or the five years you have left to live it…”

The hammer was brought down violently upon the spell at the same time Annaliese shrieked into the night. Immediately, she spun around the room a whirlwind of shadow bolts and fire, her rage flowing into the fires that caught the sheets of the bed on fire, the streams of shadow smashing the window, making it implode. Damos watched the woman expel her rage and pain, shocked…he had never seen her act in such a way. Finally, against his better judgment, he leapt upon the furious warlock lest she make the room cave in on itself. She thrashed against him as he held her wrists, and they both toppled downwards together, the paladin pinning her to the wooden floor. She lay beneath him, out of breath, her chest heaving as she tried to calm herself, eyes resembling embers of a dying fire.

“Breathe, Anna…just breathe. That’s it…calm down,” he whispered to her soothingly, brushing the hair that clung to her wet face as she cried. Damos began to release her wrists… but not before he was hit in the back by a heavy, numbing force, sending him flying into a dresser. He winced as he tried to sit up from his crash into the chest, his eyes trying to focus. When his visions did clear, he was met with the a dark figure standing before him which sent shivers down his spine, the red eyes from the shadows of the hood boring into him. He looked down across the way at Annaliese, who still lay sprawled on the floor recovering from her rage. The Dark Lord shifted across the floor toward her like a shadow, looming over her, until he knelt at her side. He turned the brimstone eyes again on the paladin, and Damos swallowed hard.

“If you have harmed her…” his voice rolled out heavy, seething, eager to evince terror.

Annaliese sat up weakly then, holding out her hand in an effort to stop the threat. Her words were feeble, low, and trembling, like the whisper of the Fallen.

“He did nothing…only tried to help..”

Keruptis looked to the distressed woman, then to the paladin, then back to the warlock, a quiet stretching between the three of them, until at last it was broken.

“I trust you will tell me what happened here, Annaliese,” he said calmly then, then stood, offering her his hand, the nails black, like talons. She only stared at it, then drew her knees up to her chest, folding into herself. Damos attempted to rise, but was kept in his position by the dark figure, still staring at him menacingly.

“The damage…is done,” she said softly. Her voice grew cold, low, a growl.

“But his pain is yet to come…”