Chapter Text
The cold of Silithus nights, so drastically contrasting the day’s heat, encouraged Saskia Rastout to adopt a more nocturnal lifestyle. Guards were needed at all hours to ward off silithid attacks, and she had been happy to volunteer. But on this particular night there was unusual quiet, so she was left twiddling her thumbs on the cliffs above camp. Or daggers--same thing.
The Bone Witches were also unusually quiet as of late. She wondered if they also slept, or if being trapped in the dagger was uncomfortable for them. Although their previous walking mummy of a host couldn’t have been much better.
“I didn’t mean to put you in here, you know,” she muttered. “It was you guys who tried to possess me. I was just defending myself.”
No response. Her head began to throb, and she grumbled a curse. It had been doing that a lot lately. Maybe the night life was starting to mess with her brain.
She sighed through her nose. The dagger was as much a burden on her soul as the gift it had originally intended to be.
***
“Can I trust you to hold onto this until I return?”
In the dead of night, freezing despite her thick furs, Saskia stood opposite the vrykul huntress. A dagger was in her outstretched hand. Tentatively, she grasped the leather-bound hilt, and shuddered. Something about this… thing … made her feel sick.
“Yeah, but, w-where are you going?” she asked. When she looked back up, she found the woman’s honeyed eyes shining, and that frightened her almost as much as the heavily-wrapped blade now in her possession.
“Where I can finally be rid of the curse of flesh,” she breathed. Her large, calloused hands covered Saskia’s as she pressed the dagger closer to her wiry frame. “Keep this sheathed unless you need to use it. That is not a request.”
“Why?”
“Are you familiar with saronite?”
Saskia gasped and dropped the dagger as if burned. “Where the hell did you get something like that?!” she hissed.
“Hush, or I’ll be discovered! It was a gift, from our people’s new savior, which I now bestow upon you.”
“I don’t want it,” she insisted, her words quick and firm.
“You will someday,” the vrykul huntress replied. Standing to her full height, Gertrude Eivor towered over little, underfed, twelve year-old Saskia. “I will return, hopefully. And perhaps then you will understand why I go to do this.”
Tears blurred her vision, and she clenched her fists so hard they shook. “You’re going to become like Ymiron, aren’t you?” she spat.
“Like I said, you will understand later.”
She watched her begin to walk into the sparse tundra forest. “Gerti!” she cried, and she paused momentarily. “Please don’t leave me…”
“Saskia?”
She heard her father calling for her. No doubt she would be in trouble for being out alone after dark. Yet in the face of this, she couldn’t make herself care. The woman she had grown up knowing and loving was abandoning her. Nothing else mattered. With a frustrated yell, she picked the dagger back up and threw it as hard as she could. It bounced harmlessly off Gerti’s armor.
By the sound of trampled grass, Roland Rastout had found her. “Gods, Saskia, you know the rules!” he exclaimed. But when he knelt at her side, he noticed her tears, and he softened. “Mit hjarta, what’s wrong?”
“She’s leaving,” Saskia whimpered, her glare still fixed forward. “So she can become like Ymiron.”
He stood slowly. Saskia finally looked to him and saw his knuckles pale for how he gripped his axe. “Does she lie, Eivor?” he called.
“She does not, Rastout,” Gerti replied evenly.
“Then go.”
She arched a quizzical brow, tilting her head slightly.
No! Saskia wanted to shout. Make her stay. Gods, please make her stay!
“And if you. Ever ,” he snarled, “come back here, come anywhere near my children, I will hack you to fucking pieces. The Lich King himself will not stop me.”
Tense silence settled between the two vrykul. Saskia tried to stifle her crying, gritting her teeth as her shed tears were chilled and burned her cheeks.
Then Gerti shrugged. “So be it.”
She turned and resumed walking. Soon enough, she disappeared into the darkness, but not before calling, without looking back, “Farewell, Saskia. I know we are fated to meet again.”
Her father snarled wordlessly. Saskia fell to her knees and sobbed. The dagger lay in the growing space between them, gathering frost.
***
“The next time we met she burned my fucking house down,” she mumbled, rubbing her sore eyes.
I tried so hard to keep her out of my mind and failed spectacularly. It’s like she never left.
The sun was barely starting to surpass the horizon. The desert floor was bathed in a pinkish-gold hue that never failed to take her breath away. And, of course, the blade of Sargeras glittered, morbidly beautiful. Canyon wrens began to sing, signalling the end of her shift. She picked her way down the cliffs and thudded wearily onto the hard ground.
“Morning, Yaga,” she said to the troll who took her place. Ey returned the greeting and made eir way to their shared perch, looking to have just barely woken up.
People moved in and out of the tents, the night crew swapping with the day, as Saskia slipped inside one of the larger group structures. Thankfully, each tent was enchanted to keep out the blistering heat.
She smiled upon seeing Natalie still curled up in her bedroll. Removing her armor and letting her hair down, she stretched out beside her and said, “Time to wake up, love.”
“Light, already?” the mage moaned. “Any trouble last night?”
“None at all. I’m starting to have withdrawals.”
Natalie laughed through her nose. Kissing her fiance’s cheek, she sat up and fussed with her hair until it was back in its proper shape. “Khadgar’s been working us mages to the bone, lately. I can’t sleep enough.”
“You know you love it.”
“Oh, of course! But I’d also love to spend a morning snuggled up next to you.” With a flick of her wrists, she was dressed for the day. “Sleep well, darling.”
She hummed in appreciation, and was out before Natalie left the tent.
***
Day in and day out, for the past three weeks, under the astute instruction of none other than Archmage Khadgar himself, Natalie was learning how to properly manage abysmal writer’s cramp. She aided him in his studies of Azerite and Sargeras’s blade and answered his many questions about her experience communing with Azeroth, and in exchange he thoroughly explained what it was that he was working on and how the experiments could be replicated. Though Khadgar was a bit of an odd duck, and he had a habit of anxiously rambling, their vaguely student/teacher-esque relationship felt more sustainable than her previous one. Which she did her best to not think about, and Khadgar was kind enough to only bring up once.
“It is unfortunate,” he had said sadly. “Though Jaina is a far cry from Medivh, I understand the feelings surrounding your situation. It is hard not to idolize them when you’re young and you’ve had a dream that’s suddenly come true. You see that, in the end, they’re just people, as everyone does, but then you see them fall, and it is easy to want to fall with them.”
The way he was able to put her feelings into words was comforting, as was the fact that he understood what she experienced. But it was still hard to not wonder if all she had done was squander the opportunity of a lifetime. Now she was an apprentice without a master. She assisted every other mage in the Bronzebeard Base Camp with their daily activities, not just Khadgar.
She entered Khadgar’s tent with a friendly, “Morning, Archmage. What are we working on today?”
He looked up at her from underneath a pair of small square glasses. “I’m afraid there isn’t much I need your assistance with today, apprentice. There are definitely others who will gladly accept your help, though.”
“Alright, well,” she said, “you know where to find me.”
She waited until she turned around to quirk her mouth to one side. The only other people in camp who consistently needed help were the ones who ventured out each day to study Sargeras’s blade. Which meant that, without fail, they would run into soldiers of the Alliance or Horde. But if that’s where she was needed, that’s where she would go. After all, that was what “for Azeroth, whatever it takes” entailed.
The group consisted of an even mix of Alliance and Horde affiliates. Experience had taught them that even one more person from either faction had the opposite faction’s soldiers itching for a fight. “Are you sure you aren’t being held hostage?” was a frequent question. Today’s six were Muln and Reghar Earthfury, Ritssyn Flamescowl, Broll Bearmantle, Yalia Sagewhisper, and a very sick looking Mariella Ward.
“Oh, thank the Light,” she groaned. “Can you replace me for today? I… I need to lay down.”
Yalia gave her a pat on the head and channelled some soothing mist to aid her. She made an appreciative noise in return, then suddenly bolted upright and made a mad dash for the outhouses.
The monk chuckled at Natalie’s grimace. “Bad chicken. She’ll be fine in a day or so.” She clapped her paws together. “Okay then! Let’s get going.”
Natalie pulled up her hood as the winds began to pick up and sweep fine sand into her face. The consequence was that the sweltering heat became trapped in the space. Plus she couldn’t see if any silithids were coming her way. They had only crossed paths once, but that was more than enough.
Mirages rippled across the horizon in all directions, obscuring the encampment behind them. Much of the sand had apparently been blasted away upon the blade’s impact, as had many layers of topsoil that were formally as hard-packed and unyielding as solid stone. The result was an absolute field day for the Explorer’s League and the Reliquary. Fossils were popping up as often as Azerite, some thousands of years old. Her parents had journeyed from Dalaran to Khadgar’s camp for that exact reason. It was an immense comfort to have them nearby. After an awkward confession about her recent activities, a thorough scolding, and a tearful celebration of her and Saskia’s engagement, they had set off to uncover a history of the silithids that the ground had thus far denied them.
Azeroth had conveyed its suffering to her with such poignancy the first time she had seen the blade up close that she had burst into tears. An embarrassing moment, to say the least. Khadgar specifically requested that she keep the connection to herself for the time being, just in case. So she had just looked like someone who couldn’t keep it together, and was sent back to camp. It grew easier from there--apparently Azeroth had gotten the hint--until she was almost numb to the sight.
“Hold it right there!”
She rolled her eyes. Here we go again . She flipped her hood back to see that it was Horde miners this time. Several goblins flanked a foreman perched upon a shredder and highly displeased with their presence.
“You got a reason for being here?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.
“Do you?” Flamescowl growled, fixing the man with a glare worthy of his surname.
“Heel, Ritssyn,” Yalia chided. “Look, we’re just as allowed to be here as you are. If you check with the Reliquary, they will vouch for us. We’re not trying to jump your claim, we’re here to study the blade.”
“Now hold up. You’re asking me to turn my back on you , leave , and just trust that you won’t run off with what is rightfully ours?”
“It’s rightfully Azeroth’s,” Natalie grumbled under her breath.
The foreman leaned over to look past Yalia. “Something you wanna say, kid?” he challenged.
Yalia frowned at her before turning back to the goblin. “You may send some of your people to keep an eye on us, if that will make you happy. Just let us pass-”
“Halt!”
Broll tilted his head back and let loose a very long-suffering groan just as Reghar said, “Every fucking time. Every fucking time this happens.”
A group of Alliance foot soldiers approached. “Are these Horde scum giving you trouble?” one of them asked.
“No. Go away,” Broll replied flatly.
Natalie tuned out the ensuing cat fight between the foreman and the foot soldier, kicking up dust with her boots. The one upside to all the heat was that the leather was now perpetually soft and supple, as opposed to when she was running around Boralus and getting her ankles rubbed raw through the socks.
Danger. Two days. Nightfall. Be ready.
The hair at the back of her neck stood on end and she broke out in gooseflesh. What kind of danger?
It was rare that Azeroth used words, so when she did Natalie stood up straight and listened well. The sensation of emerging from cold, dark, salty water flashed through her head, then Azeroth went quiet again.
Thank you , she thought back. She would need to warn Khadgar.
She didn’t even realize the squabbling between the Alliance and Horde had stopped until Yalia was calling for her further towards the blade. As usual, each faction had decided to send two “delegates” to accompany the group. It was sure to be an interesting afternoon.
“So…” one of the Alliance foot soldiers began. “What are you working on?”
“We’re trying to see if there’s a way to neutralize the blade’s power and remove it from Azeroth before it can do more damage,” Natalie explained.
She received a shrug in reply. “As long as it doesn’t stop the Azerite from coming.”
Her eye twitched. “Is that really what matters to you?” she scoffed.
Again, another shrug. “I have a family back in Stormwind to provide for. The longer these Alliance miners need help defending their claims, the longer I keep my job.”
“It ain’t your claim, bud,” one of the goblins retorted.
Broll threw his head back again and cried, “Shut up !”
A livelihood at the expense of the reason one had a life to begin with. As grandma-esque as it sounded, what was this world coming to?
Her spellwork was mechanical and focused. Nothing fancy, nothing deeply exploratory. She blocked out everything else in the world and tuned in to her arcane sense that poked and prodded the blade of Sargeras. Anything other than surface level investigation, as it turned out, had nasty consequences. The image of the three shamans currently bed-bound in the infirmary reminded her that throughout the day.
She was used to fel energies. The twisting and turning in her stomach never abated, though. How did warlocks get used to it? Did they react the same way to holy magics as the demons did? Her notes from the brief foray into nathrezim experimentation were probably still in her dormitory in the Kirin Tor’s sanctuary… as was the nathrezim corpse, which she had not disposed of before leaving with Jaina.
Oh. Fuck .
She yelped as a jolt of fel energy leaped out at her in her momentary lapse of concentration. The rest of the world rushed back into focus and she staggered backward, shaking her hands. Dammit, the tips of her fingers were singed. She conjured a bit of frost to cool them and brushed them against her sweaty brow. In the distance, the sun hovered dangerously close to the horizon line.
“It’s past time we head back to camp,” Muln said. “I don’t feel like hacking my way through a group of silithids in the dark.”
“Agreed,” Ritssyn replied.
“Natalie, can you open a portal back to camp?” Yalia asked.
Her face flushed. “I-I… don’t have the coordinates memorized yet. Sorry.”
“No need. We’ll just travel through my portal.” That was Ritssyn again.
Ugh, fel gates made her dizzy. Though it was better than nothing. Typically, they travelled the two hours on foot to build up their stamina, but Silithus was not kind to those who stayed out after dark. The days were much shorter as the last vestiges of autumn gave way to winter, restricting their work to a couple of hours at a time. Which was probably a good thing; her mana reserves were depleted and her mental focus was shot. All she wanted right now was a good meal, a good sleep, and some quality time with her fiance.
When clarity returned, she noticed her parents had returned early from their dig along the western edge of the region. They and a few others from the Explorer’s League surrounded Khadgar and spoke in hushed, worried tones. It looked as if the vision Azeroth had shown her was coming true much sooner than she had thought.
“Mom? Dad?” she asked quietly. “What’s going on?”
“We had a run-in with a group of naga. There’s more on the way,” David whispered.
Khadgar nodded as the report was finished and said, “Alright.”
The little crowd followed him as he sought a higher vantage point from which to address the camp. Foot traffic slowed to a halt as people turned to look up at the archmage, who raised his voice to speak: “Soldiers of Azeroth, reports have just come in of a large naga presence moving through Silithus towards us. Until they reach our location, I request that you all remain in camp; exceptions to this will have to be brought directly to myself or Speaker Bronzebeard.”
From the largest tent, which backed up against the mountains, the Speaker emerged. Natalie’s eyes widened in awe of the diamond-encased dwarf. It was rare that he made appearances at camp, as he had business to attend to in seemingly every corner of the world. The setting sun reflecting off every facet in the stone made him appear as if he were on fire, an absolutely mesmerizing thing to watch.
Her attention was brought back to Khadgar when he spoke again.
“We must begin preparations for the impending attack. Our very lives depend on it.”