Chapter Text
Renathal and Draven let out a combined sigh of relief as the last stoneborn fell, Draven feeling a slight twinge of regret as one of his brethren collapsed to the ground with a thud.
Turning to stare up at the looming door of the Nightcloak Sanctum, the pair waited with bated breath. They had been able to hear Denathrius's booming voice earlier in the fight, his deep tones taunting the brave maw walkers that were risking everything in battle against him as Renathal and Draven held back Denathrius's forces. Now it was completely silent, without Denathrius's voice *or* the sounds of a multitude of weapons and spells being used against him, the shouts of the maw walkers having fallen silent.
It did not bode well.
"Do you think..?" Draven moved forward, eyes trained on the door, his mighty wings held tight behind his back.
"I have trust in our mortal allies, they've proven themselves competent in the skills of battle..." Renathal moved next to Draven, standing at the base of the massive door. "But perhaps we moved our plans into action too early... I begin to fear that we were not as prepared as I had hoped."
Renathal moved to cast the spell that would open the door, when it opened by itself, revealing the shadowed room.
Renathal felt his heart sink as the maw walkers moved into sight from within the shadows.
They were... beaten to a pulp, for lack of a better term. Barely any stood on their own, rather leaning against each other for support. Those that could stand on their own two feet helped carry those that could not walk.
Their armor and skin were covered in cuts and blood spatter, their weapons scraped and their eyes dulled. They gathered outside the Sanctum, the scent of blood filling the air.
They had... failed.
The two maw walkers that had led the fight against Renathal's Sire limped to stand in front of him, the pair clearly having taken the brunt of Denathrius's rage. A few of their healers cast gentle streams of healing magic towards their wounds as they looked up at the Prince, not even needing words to explain who had been the victor in the fight.
"He- Denathrius... just let you go?" Renathal glanced over the maw walker's shoulder, almost as if expecting to see his Sire emerging from the shadows behind the disheveled group of mortals.
"Well, my dear Renathal," Renathal whirled, just in time to see the last wisps of anima forming into his Sire as the larger Venthyr teleported himself onto the platform where the maw walkers had defeated Kaal and Grashaal earlier. "what am I, if not merciful?"
"A cruel and corrupted ruler is what you are," Renathal snarled. "and you are anything but merciful."
"Oh, Renathal!" Denathrius grinned, his sharp fangs bared for all to see. "How I have missed your sharp retorts."
"Get on with it Denathrius!" Renathal held Vorpalia out, ready for anything. "Why have you spared these mortals? We both know you don't miss out on bloodshed unless it suits you."
"Well, if you *must* know..." Denathrius raised a hand, leisurely inspecting the nails upon it, sighing as he saw how scratched and bloodied they were. "They're leverage."
Renathal stilled, his eyes narrowing as he realized his Sire's plan.
"For?" Renathal questioned, but he already knew the answer.
"Why, you, of course!" Denathrius chuckled. "I know you've become too enthralled with your whole little," Denathrius waved a hand in the air carelessly, " 'rebellion' to return to me willingly, so I figured a little... encouragement could help with that."
"And if I refuse?" Renathal glanced away from Denathrius to observe the maw walkers. By now they had gathered in a group, weakly slumped against each other as they shared potions and whispered words of healing, but it was clear that they were exhausted - and in no shape to fight if Denathrius decided he didn't want to be 'merciful'.
"Why, I would snuff out their pitiful lives with the snap of my finger," Denathrius's previously carefree demeanor switched to one of rage and bloodlust in an instant, swirling tendrils of bright red, lethal anima writhing around his fists as he clenched then. "And then I would send my minions to storm that little base of yours, killing every being that you deem important. And then, inevitably, I would find you. You cannot escape me for as long as you remain in Revendreth, my dear prince." Denathrius smirked, "Your very home betrays you to her Master."
Renathal hesitated a moment in silence, contemplating his options.
These maw walkers, these brave mortals that had risked everything for Renathal's home, only to fail at the very end, they were precious to the Shadowlands. They weren't just from Revendreth, some hailed from the golden plains of Bastion, the mystical forests of Ardenweald, the great arenas of Maldraxxus, all gathered together to fight against the one that had helped to cause the drought in the beginning. Each and every one of the maw walkers was an irreplaceable piece in the puzzle that would lead to fixing the tragedies that had befallen upon Revendreth - and the whole of the Shadowlands.
One life, in return for many.
"Master!" Remornia shrieked loudly as she danced in the air, droplets of blood flying off of her blade and spattering across the ground. "I grow weary of this talk, let me rend these mortals into itty-bitty pieces!"
"Keep a hold of yourself, Remornia." Denathrius waved his hand, beckoning the violent weapon to float back to his side. "I promised my Prince that I would let them go, and I will not betray that promise. But depending on his choice," Denathrius's piercing gaze met Renathals. "perhaps you will have flesh to tear into... soon enough."
Draven, ever intelligent to the inner workings of Renathal's mind after spending millennia serving him, could guess as to what his prince's answer would be.
"My prince, no; you mustn't let him capture you again. There's no telling what he'll do to you..." Draven stood beside Renathal, staring into his eyes as he pleaded for him to not give in to his Sire's threat.
"I will not willingly sacrifice the lives of these mortals for my own Draven, you know this." Renathal smiled sadly, resting a gentle hand on the cool stone of the stoneborn's arm. "I trust you and the Accuser, and everyone else pledged to our cause, to not lose sight of the mission while I am gone."
"We... we will not fail you, my Prince." Draven stood tall as he spoke, his tone soaked deep with resignation.
"We will see each other again, old friend." Renathal smiled, an expression that was laden with many deep emotions. Regret, sorrow, resignation, many others that Draven couldn't bear to name. "That, I promise."
With a heavy stride, Renathal walked across the platform to stand at his Sire's side, turning to face Draven - and the bedraggled group of maw walkers - with a faint smile.
"Oh, won't you say goodbye to your friend, my dear Renathal?" Denathrius rested a hand on the Prince's shoulder, with a grip that was crushing, "I'm sure you don't want them to have a bad last memory of you."
"From the day we first were acquainted, I looked upon you all and I dared to feel... hope." Renathal inhaled, glancing around and meeting eyes with each and every one of the maw walkers. "That has not changed. Do not let my absence change your goals. Farwell, maw walkers. For the Shadowlands."
"Oh, you've always been good at speeches my prince." Denathrius chuckled as he gripped Renathal's shoulder, beginning to fade away into wisps of anima and taking Renathal with him. "A shame they won't be able to enjoy any more of yours in the future."
With that, the pair disappeared into the wind.
Renathal was gone.
*****
Draven watched as the maw walkers went on their way, riding off on exotic steeds or disappearing to wherever their hearthstones took them, leaving to report back to their covenant leaders and recover from the brutal fight.
Those left behind, the maw walkers belonging to the Venthyr covenant, looked to Draven for instruction.
"We must return to Sinfall, there is nothing more we can do here." Draven rumbled. "Gather your strength and recover. We will not leave the prince in the hands of Denathrius for any longer than is needed to regain our strength and rescue him."
The maw walkers went on their way, heading through the castle to the way they had entered, their way littered with the corpses of the powerful foes they had defeated on their path to Denathrius.
Draven took to the skies, his powerful wing beats propelling him through the air as he soared towards the blazing grounds of the Ember Ward, towards Sinfall.
As Draven roughly stepped off of the stairs and into the upper reaches of Sinfall, Theotar rushed up to him from where he had been nervously pacing in front of one of the blood mirrors, his two dredger companions standing next to him with a pot of what looked like tea that had long since gone cold. He had clearly been waiting for any sign of news for a long time.
"Draven!" Theotar looked up at the stoneborn, clearly anxious, "You are the first one back, beside the Accuser and her new soul. Did the assault...?"
Draven hesitated. Theotar was one of Prince Renathal's closest companions, the news of the Prince's capture would affect him terribly.
"Where is the Accuser? I must speak with her. Immediately." Draven said stiffly, avoiding the topic for the moment.
"Oh!" Theotar turned, thinking for a moment, "she is below, in the depths, getting her new soul settled in. She was very insistent that she not be disturbed. May I ask-?"
"Come with me Theotar," Draven moved past the Duke to make his way to the blood mirror that would take them to the lower levels of Sinfall, the Duke meekly following in his footsteps. "You'll want to hear this."
With a quick step into the shimmering red surface of the mirror, the pair were stepping out into the depths of Sinfall. The Curator was the only Venthyr in sight as the rest were busy aiding the assault efforts throughout Revendreth, or returning from the failed assault. She spotted them first, her eyes widening as she almost dropped the book she was examining.
"Draven, Theotar!" The Accuser silently swept into view with the Curator's cry, gracefully gliding up to Draven as the Curator looked them over. "Did we succeed? Is Denathrius..?"
"Draven..." The Accuser looked him over, her sharp eyes taking in everything in one glance, and quickly noting the absence of one key figure. "Where is Prince Renathal?" The Curator gasped quietly as she realized the absence of the Prince. Theotar trembled at the General's side, looking up at him with a gaze that begged for anything but the truth.
"The Prince..." Draven looked at the ground, before raising a heavy gaze to meet the Accuser's eyes, "Renathal is in Sire Denathrius's clutches."
The Accuser inhaled sharply, her eyes hardening as she took a half-step back. "No... How? The Maw Walkers had seemed impossible to best before I left with Kael'thas... for once I had thought we had a chance at success..." She took a step back, clearly deep in thought. "This changes much, for Revendreth and for the other covenants."
"What will we do now..?" Draven questioned, already knowing what his first personal priority was - rescuing Renathal.
"Theotar," as the Accuser spoke his name the Duke looked up, visibly distraught by the information Draven had shared. "You are soulbound with Renathal, yes? One of the very few, if I remember correctly."
"Yes... Denathrius selected my soul specifically for Renathal eons ago. Our soulbind has lasted through so much..." Theotar's hand was trembling as he clutched it to his chest, his gaze staring blankly.
"Can you..?" The Curator prompted, standing beside the Duke.
"I will see if I can feel what he feels, I do not know if Denathrius has a way to block the powers of a soulbind..." Theotar, avoiding his usual jokes for once, closed his eyes as he concentrated. For a moment, all was still. The group waited with tense breath as Theotar deeply inhaled, his eyelids fluttering and his hands twitching at his sides as he reached out for his Prince's consciousness.
Then, havoc erupted.
Theotar dropped to his knees with a loud wail, his hands rising to press against his eyes as he bent forward. A strangled cry forced its way past his clenched teeth, his back bending as he pressed - slammed - his head against the stone floor, writhing in agony as strangled groans forced their way past his fangs.
"Theotar!" The Curator quickly knelt beside the Duke, grabbing his shoulders as he tried to curl tighter into himself, his fingernails leaving deep indents in his skin as they dug in. "Theotar, you must distance yourself from the bond! You won't last much longer under this stress!"
It took a minute, and the encouraging whispers from the Curator, but eventually Theotar relaxed, the venthyr listing sideways to lean against the Curator with an exhausted sigh as his eyes opened, his half-lidded eyes rolling in their sockets before focusing on the gathered group surrounding him.
"Theotar...?" The Curator glanced him over, worry clear in her gaze.
"The Prince..." Theotar gasped out the words, his chest heaving as he tried to replenish the air his anguished screams had stolen from his lungs. "The soulbind connection only relays a dulled version of what the other part of the pair is feeling... and what I felt, just the dulled version was enough to make me wish for my final death..."
"And that means the Prince is going through so much more..." The Accuser finished for him with a heavy sigh, "Our Prince is strong, but he won't last long in Denathrius's clutches. Nobody would."
"Will you block the soulbind, Theotar?" The Curator hesitantly questioned, a gentle hand resting upon the Dukes.
"Never." Theotar straightened and glanced up with a blazing gaze in a burst of strength, "It is our only remaining source of knowing if Renathal still lives. I will endure this pain, my Prince is surviving much worse. If all goes well, I won't have to suffer for long."
"Indeed," Draven rumbled. "but I do not believe that we currently have the resources to rescue him on our own... We put everything we had into the Maw Walker's assault on Nathria."
"No," The Accuser inclined her head, "it seems we must let the other covenants know of this development. We must meet with the Eternal Ones."
"Do we know how to?" The Curator spoke up from her spot beside Theotar.
"Prince Renathal showed me how to, soon after he discovered the depths of Denathrius's treachery. I fear he expected that falling into his Sire's clutches was inevitable for him." The Accuser explained.
"I will stay behind with Theotar, he isn't recovered from that ordeal quite yet." The Curator waved them off as she supported Theotar, the Duke still looking pretty out of it as he leaned heavily upon her shoulder. "Go! There is no time to waste if we wish to save the Prince!"
The Accuser and Draven nodded sharply to the Curator and the Duke, before making their exit. Draven followed a few steps aside as the Accuser walked with a brisk pace through the winding hallways of Sinfall that stretched deep within the depths of Revendreth, her floor-length skirts almost magically managing to stay out of the way of her stomping heels as she led the way down testing hallways and through shimmering blood mirrors that led to countless unknown locations.
Finally, they reached a room at the end of a lonely hallway, the Accuser muttering a quick incantation under her breath to unlock the door to allow them inside.
Inside was a single raised platform, reminiscent of the architecture of Oribos, with the symbol of the Venthyr engraved upon it.
"Step up onto the platform. When I complete the spell the other Eternals will be called to meet with us before the Arbiter." The Accuser stood in the middle of the platform, swirls of anima flowing around her hands as she lifted them into the air.
Draven moved to stand beside her, his wings shifting and his eyes scanning their surroundings as he waited for something to happen.
Slowly, as the Accuser muttered her incantation and anima swirled around them, the room around them disappeared, being replaced with the Crucible. The great Arbiter hovered above them, as lifeless and motionless as she had been since souls ceased their journey to Revendreth.
Pulling his gaze from the Arbiter, Draven watched as the great figures of the Winter Queen and the Archon materialized before them upon their respective platforms, the Eternal Ones towering over the Stoneborn and Venthyr. The platform marked with the symbol of Maldraxxus remained empty aside from a lone banner, reminding them all of the mysterious disappearance of the Primus.
"The Maw Walkers pledged to my covenant have returned with dire tales of what occurred at Nathria." The Archon spoke, her heavy wing beats keeping her suspended in the air as she spoke.
"Mine as well." The Winter Queen nodded solemnly, "I fear that our brother was more prepared than we first thought."
"He was." The Accuser stood tall as the great beings turned in unison to look upon her. "We sent out greatest forces, and he was barely injured. The assault upon Castle Nathria failed, and the Maw Walkers narrowly escaped with their lives."
"I am surprised that Denathrius let them escape instead of sending his forces after them..." The Archon mused.
"That is why we are here." Draven spoke up, "Prince Renathal traded himself for the lives of the Maw Walkers, both those from our covenant and yours."
"An honorary sacrifice... if only his Sire was the same." The Archon turned to the Winter Queen, awaiting her input.
"The Prince Renathal is the strongest of the Venthyr beside our brother Denathrius," The Winter Queen frowned, shaking her head as she spoke, "but even his strength pales in compassion to the might of an Eternal One. We can only hope Denathrius sees worth in keeping Renathal alive, because I doubt he will survive long otherwise."
"Indeed... which is why we must ask for the aid of both your Covenants."
"My covenant will aid you, as long as you aid us in return." The Archon nodded.
"Mine as well." The Winter Queen agreed.
"Then we are in your thanks." The Accuser curtsied respectfully, a sign of the days where she would attend courts and balls instead of war rooms and battles. "Let us return to our Covenants, and recover our strength. We will send our Maw Walkers to aid you once they have recovered from their ordeal in Nathria."
"We will see this through." The Archon faded from view, leaving her platform empty.
"Go with the blessings of the wilds." The Winter Queen bid them farewell as she faded.
"Let us return to Sinfall, Draven." The platform around them began to fade away as the Accuser spoke, "We have much to discuss."
"Indeed. And if the Prince is to survive, we have much to accomplish."